18. CHAPTER XVIII.
“Now, where 's Sally Kittridge? There 's the clock
striking five, and nobody to set the table. Sally, I say!
Sally!”
“Why, Mis' Kittridge,” said the Captain, “Sally 's gone
out more 'n an hour ago, and I expect she 's gone down to
Pennel's to see Mara; 'cause, you know, she come home
from Portland to-day.”
“Well, if she 's come home, I s'pose I may as well give
up havin' any good of Sally, for that girl fairly bows down
to Mara Lincoln and worships her.”
“Well, good reason,” said the Captain. “There a'n't a
puttier creature breathin'. I 'm a'most a mind to worship
her myself.”
“Captain Kittridge, you ought to be ashamed of yourself,
at your age, talking as you do.”
“Why, laws, mother, I don't feel my age,” said the frisky
Captain, giving a sort of skip. “It don't seem more 'n yesterday
since you and I was a-courtin', Polly. What a life
you did lead me in them days! I think you kep' me on the
anxious seat a pretty middlin' spell.”
“I do wish you would n't talk so. You ought to be
ashamed to be triflin' round as you do. Come, now, can't
you jest tramp over to Pennel's and tell Sally I want
her?”
“Not I, mother. There a'n't but two gals in two miles
square here, and I a'n't a-goin' to be the feller to shoo 'em
apart. What 's the use of bein' gals, and young, and putty,
if they can't get together and talk about their new gownds
and the fellers? That ar 's what gals is for.”
“I do wish you would n't talk in that way before Sally,
father, for her head is full of all sorts of vanity now; and as
to Mara, I never did see a more slack-twisted, flimsy thing
than she 's grown up to be. Now Sally 's learnt to do
something, thanks to me. She can brew, and she can make
bread and cake and pickles, and spin, and cut, and make.
But as to Mara, what does she do? Why, she paints pictur's.
Mis' Pennel was a-showin' on me a blue-jay she
painted, and I was a-thinkin' whether she could brile a bird
fit to be eat if she tried; and she don't know the price of
nothin',” continued Mrs. Kittridge, with wasteful profusion
of negatives.
“Well,” said the Captain, “the Lord makes some things
jist to be looked at. Their work is to be putty, and that
ar 's Mara's sphere. It never seemed to me she was cut out
for hard work; but she 's got sweet ways and kind words
for everybody, and it 's as good as a psalm to look at her.”
“And what sort of a wife 'll she make, Captain Kittridge?”
“A real sweet, putty one,” said the Captain, persistently.
“Well, as to beauty, I 'd rather have our Sally any day,”
said Mrs. Kittridge; “and she looks strong and hearty, and
seems to be good for use.”
“So she is, so she is,” said the Captain, with fatherly
pride. “Sally 's the very image of her ma at her age —
black eyes, black hair, tall and trim as a spruce-tree, and
steps off as if she had springs in her heels. I tell you, the
feller 'll have to be spry that catches her. There 's two or
three of 'em at it, I see; but Sally won't have nothin' to say
to 'em. I hope she won't, yet awhile.”
“Sally is a girl that has as good an eddication as money
can give,” said Mrs. Kittridge. “If I 'd a-had her advantages
at her age, I should a-been a great deal more 'n I am.
But we ha'n't spared nothin' for Sally; and when nothin'
would do but Mara must be sent to Miss Plucher's school
over in Portland, why, I sent Sally too — for all she 's our
seventh child, and Pennel has n't but the one.”
“You forget Moses,” said the Captain.
“Well, he 's settin' up on his own account, I guess. They
did talk o' giving him college eddication; but he was so unstiddy,
there were n't no use in trying. A real wild ass's
colt he was.”
“Wal', wal', Moses was in the right on 't. He took the
cross-lot track into life,” said the Captain. “Colleges is
well enough for your smooth, straight-grained lumber, for
gen'ral buildin'; but come to fellers that 's got knots, and
streaks, and cross-grains, like Moses Pennel, and the best
way is to let 'em eddicate 'emselves, as he 's a-doin'. He 's
cut out for the sea, plain enough, and he 'd better be up to
Umbagog, cuttin' timber for his ship, than havin' rows with
tutors, and blowin' the roof off the colleges, as one o' them
'ere kind o' fellers is apt to when he don't have work to use
up his steam. Why, mother, there 's more gas got up in them
Brunswick buildin's, from young men that are spilin' for
hard work, than you could shake a stick at! But Mis' Pennel
told me yesterday she was 'spectin' Moses home to-day.”
“Oho! that 's at the bottom of Sally's bein' up there,” said
Mrs. Kittridge.
“Mis' Kittridge,” said the Captain, “I take it you a'n't
the woman as would expect a daughter of your bringin' up
to be a-runnin' after any young chap, be he who he may,”
said the Captain.
Mrs. Kittridge for once was fairly silenced by this home-thrust;
nevertheless, she did not the less think it quite possible,
from all that she knew of Sally; for although that
young lady professed great hardness of heart and contempt
for all the young male generation of her acquaintance, yet
she had evidently a turn for observing their ways — probably
purely in the way of philosophical inquiry.
