Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm | Page 6

but such a bother, and cost so much to feed, you see,"
she rippled on. "Hannah and I haven't done anything but put babies to
bed at night and take them up in the morning for years and years. But
it's finished, that's one comfort, and we'll have a lovely time when we're
all grown up and the mortgage is paid off."
"All finished? Oh, you mean you've come away?"
"No, I mean they're all over and done with; our family 's finished.
Mother says so, and she always keeps her promises. There hasn't been
any since Mira, and she's three. She was born the day father died Aunt
Miranda wanted Hannah to come to Riverboro instead of me, but
mother couldn't spare her; she takes hold of housework better than I do,
Hannah does. I told mother last night if there was likely to be any more
children while I was away I'd have to be sent for, for when there's a
baby it always takes Hannah and me both, for mother has the cooking
and the farm."
"Oh, you live on a farm, do ye? Where is it? --near to where you got
on?"
"Near? Why, it must be thousands of miles! We came from
Temperance in the cars. Then we drove a long ways to cousin Ann's
and went to bed. Then we got up and drove ever so far to Maplewood,
where the stage was. Our farm is away off from everywheres, but our
school and meeting house is at Temperance, and that's only two miles.
Sitting up here with you is most as good as climbing the meeting-house
steeple. I know a boy who's been up on our steeple. He said the people
and cows looked like flies. We haven't met any people yet, but I'm
KIND of disappointed in the cows;-- they don't look so little as I hoped
they would; still (brightening) they don't look quite as big as if we were
down side of them, do they? Boys always do the nice splendid things,
and girls can only do the nasty dull ones that get left over. They can't
climb so high, or go so far, or stay out so late, or run so fast, or
anything."
Mr. Cobb wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gasped. He had
a feeling that he was being hurried from peak to peak of a mountain

range without time to take a good breath in between.
"I can't seem to locate your farm," he said, "though I've been to
Temperance and used to live up that way. What's your folks' name?"
"Randall. My mother's name is Aurelia Randall; our names are Hannah
Lucy Randall, Rebecca Rowena Randall, John Halifax Randall, Jenny
Lind Randall, Marquis Randall, Fanny Ellsler Randall, and Miranda
Randall. Mother named half of us and father the other half, but we
didn't come out even, so they both thought it would be nice to name
Mira after aunt Miranda in Riverboro; they hoped it might do some
good, but it didn't, and now we call her Mira. We are all named after
somebody in particular. Hannah is Hannah at the Window Binding
Shoes, and I am taken out of Ivanhoe; John Halifax was a gentleman in
a book; Mark is after his uncle Marquis de Lafayette that died a twin.
(Twins very often don't live to grow up, and triplets almost never--did
you know that, Mr. Cobb?) We don't call him Marquis, only Mark.
Jenny is named for a singer and Fanny for a beautiful dancer, but
mother says they're both misfits, for Jenny can't carry a tune and
Fanny's kind of stiff- legged. Mother would like to call them Jane and
Frances and give up their middle names, but she says it wouldn't be fair
to father. She says we must always stand up for father, because
everything was against him, and he wouldn't have died if he hadn't had
such bad luck. I think that's all there is to tell about us," she finished
seriously.
"Land o' Liberty! I should think it was enough," ejaculated Mr. Cobb.
"There wa'n't many names left when your mother got through choosin'!
You've got a powerful good memory! I guess it ain't no trouble for you
to learn your lessons, is it?"
"Not much; the trouble is to get the shoes to go and learn 'em. These
are spandy new I've got on, and they have to last six months. Mother
always says to save my shoes. There don't seem to be any way of
saving shoes but taking 'em off and going barefoot; but I can't do that in
Riverboro without shaming aunt Mirandy. I'm going to school right
along now when I'm living with aunt Mirandy, and in two years I'm