The Burial of the Guns | Page 4

old
times, which had been raised in the county, and had beaten the famous
Boston in a great race. She always spoke of "Fash" with a tone of real
tenderness in her voice, and looked after her, and discussed her
ailments, which were always numerous, as if she had been a delicate
child. Mounted on this beast, with her bags and bundles, and shawls
and umbrella, and a long stick or pole, she used occasionally to make
the tour of the neighborhood, and was always really welcomed; because,
notwithstanding the trouble she gave, she always stirred things up. As
was said once, you could no more have remained dull where she was
than you could have dozed with a chinkapin-burr down your back. Her
retort was that a chinkapin-burr might be used to rouse people from a
lethargy (she had an old maid's tongue). By the younger members of
the family she was always welcomed, because she furnished so much
fun. She nearly always fetched some little thing to her host -- not her
hostess -- a fowl, or a pat of butter from her one old cow, or something
of the kind, because, she said, "Abigail had established the precedent,
and she was `a woman of good understanding' -- she understood that
feeding and flattery were the way to win men." She would sometimes
have a chicken in a basket hung on the off pummel of her old saddle,
because at times she fancied she could not eat anything but chicken
soup, and she did "not wish to give trouble." She used to give trouble
enough; for it generally turned out that she had heard some one was
sick in the neighborhood, and she wanted the soup carried to her. I
remember how mad Joe got because she made him go with her to carry
a bucket of soup to old Mrs. Ronquist.
Cousin Fanny had the marks of an old maid. She was thin ("scrawny"
we used to call her, though I remember now she was quite erect until
she grew feeble); her features were fine; her nose was very straight; her
hair was brown; and her eyes, which were dark, were weak, so that she
had often to wear a green shade. She used to say herself that they were

"bad eyes". They had been so ever since the time when she was a
young girl, and there had been a very bad attack of scarlet fever at her
home, and she had caught it. I think she caught a bad cold with it --
sitting up nursing some of the younger children, perhaps -- and it had
settled in her eyes. She was always very liable to cold.
I believe she had a lover then or about that time; but her mother had
died not long before, and she had some notion of duty to the children,
and so discarded him. Of course, as every one said, she'd much better
have married him. I do not suppose he ever could have addressed her.
She never would admit that he did, which did not look much like it. She
was once spoken of in my presence as "a sore-eyed old maid" -- I have
forgotten who said it. Yet I can now recall occasions when her eyes,
being "better", appeared unusually soft, and, had she not been an old
maid, would sometimes have been beautiful -- as, for instance,
occasionally, when she was playing at the piano in the evenings before
the candles were lighted. I recollect particularly once when she was
singing an old French love-song. Another time was when on a certain
occasion some one was talking about marriages and the reasons which
led to or prevented them. She sat quite still and silent, looking out of
the window, with her thin hands resting in her lap. Her head was turned
away from most of the people, but I was sitting where I could see her,
and the light of the evening sky was on her face. It made her look very
soft. She lifted up her eyes, and looked far off toward the horizon. I
remember it recalled to me, young as I was, the speech I had heard
some one once make when I was a little boy, and which I had thought
so ridiculous, that "when she was young, before she caught that cold,
she was almost beautiful." There was an expression on her face that
made me think she ought always to sit looking out of the window at the
evening sky. I believe she had brought me some apples that day when
she came, and that made me feel kindly toward her. The light on her
hair gave it a reddish look, quite auburn. Presently, she withdrew her
eyes from the