Poppea of the Post-Office, Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  THE NAMING

  The Feltons, in common with their neighbors of Quality Hill, dined atone o'clock and had tea or supper, according to the heartiness of themeal, at six or half past, the village and farm folk having theirmid-day meal at noon. While a number of these families kept the samehours in their winter city life, during the past four or five seasonsthere had been a move toward afternoon dinner at five. Dinner partieswere given at even a later hour, oftentime not beginning until six, theFeltons being among those who adopted the extreme custom. So far,however, no one had brought the innovation to upset the almost historicdomestic regulations of Harley's Mills.

  Promptly at half-past two on this April afternoon, the carriage camearound to take Miss Felton to the meeting of the Hospital Aid Society,where she was preparing to inaugurate a better system of work, thematerial for which was tied in a great bundle in the porch,--cottoncloth, soft unbleached muslin for bandages, and rolls of the gray blueflannel of the hue that for years after was known as army blue.

  "Are you coming, Emeline? Or are you too tired after your long driveyesterday?" asked Miss Felton, as she stood before her bureau fasteninga wide lace collar with the brooch to which Gilbert had referred, andthen catching the folds of her India shawl with an inconspicuous pin ofScotch pebbles that blended with the fabric. Her bonnet was of finelybraided straw of soft brown, the chaise-top front being filled in withgeraniums of crimson velvet; the broad strings of brown watered ribbonwere of the exact shade of her gown. Though the Misses Felton were buttwo years apart, Elizabeth, by far the handsomer of the two, dressed asa doting mother, who considers that all the daintily pretty things oflife belong by right to her daughter.

  Miss Emmy, who was searching for something in the many small drawers ofher dressing-table, did not answer immediately, and her sister repeatedthe question.

  "I'm not in the least tired, but I'm not going with you because I'vepromised dear quaint Oliver Gilbert that I will go to the christening ofthe mysterious lady baby this afternoon."

  "Do you think under the circumstances it is necessary? Is it not arather public expression of our approval of what the conservativetownspeople consider a very unwise action of Gilbert's?"

  "It certainly is approval,--_my_ approval, that is,--for really,Elizabeth, the only objection that I have to Gilbert's taking the ladybaby is that it prevents me from adopting her myself. No, this isn't oneof my little pleasantries, as you call them. I asked Gilbert for herand he refused. From your standpoint it may seem strange, and I have nowish to compromise you. I've come to think now that as we are both pastforty and likely to remain the Misses Felton and live in one house tothe end of our days, it is time that, at least, we allow ourselves tohold different opinions. It will make variety and keep us fresher, youknow. See, I'm going to take the lady baby these coral beads that I woreat her age. She has precisely the colored hair and eyes to wear coral;when she looks up from under her long lashes, she might be a mer-baby,or whatever a mermaid's child should be called."

  Miss Emmy chatted gayly along, nonchalantly and without the slightestair of being put out, yet Miss Felton knew that some great change hadcome over her volatile sister, but instead of accepting the warning insilence, she still felt called upon to chide.

  "Do you think under the circumstances it is a wise thing to giveornaments to a foundling of whose antecedents we know nothing? Isn't itputting possible temptation in her way?"

  "The knowing nothing is precisely what makes it right, my dearemotionless sister. As we know nothing about her, we can take it forgranted that she is everything we could wish for. There, don't be vexed;you are so compounded of judgment and righteousness that you can'tpossibly understand people that want to do things simply because theyfeel that they must. Don't wait for me, but send the carriage back,please; I'm taking down some flowers."

  Miss Emmy went on with her toilet, Nora lending a helping hand now andthen to adjust the net of silk and beads that to-day held her curls, butso rapid and nervous were the fragile lady's movements that she had theair of a paradise bird pluming itself, and while the color her exertionsspread upon her cheeks lasted, no one would have guessed her due inyears by ten or fifteen.

  The front yard at the post-office house was decked as for summer whenMiss Emmy arrived. She had refused Nora's aid, preferring to carry herown bundles, and had a little single-handed tussle with the gate thatallowed her to see in detail the row of pink conch shells, alternatingwith round stones freshly whitewashed, that outlined the path. While twosettees, also spotless white, of the form once used in schools, set offthe bit of lawn, one resting under a tall lilac bush, the other standingaimlessly in the open, as though it lacked the decision of characternecessary for a choice of background, between a crab tree, the grapearbor, or the bank that rolled up to John Angus's garden. Thelittle-used front door was open, and a pair of gigantic overshoes besidethe mat told that one guest had arrived from a region where the roadswere still "unsettled."

  Satira Pegrim was at the door before Miss Emmy had reached the top step,and rushing out, laid hold of the boxes of flowers with one hand, whileshe half led, half shoved her visitor in with the other.

  "Do mind your step, Miss Emmy; Oliver hasn't got the storm door off'nyet, he's been so eat up with worry this last month. Neither have I hadthe pluck to attack that hall tread and turn it. It's now dark figgerson light, but bein' three ply, if turned it would be light on dark and asight fresher; so if you kin just play to see it that way, you'll easemy feelin's. Won't you step up into the best room and lay off yourbunnit?

  "Going to leave it on? Well, it's real handsome, and I've heard say thatfolks in New York keep their hats on to most all kinds of day parties,which I lay to folks not bein' as well acquainted as they are this way.Besides, there being such a heap o' ornery thievin' ones, the bunnitsmight get mixed or done away with if laid off'n. Still, bein' as it'sright here in town, I do wish you'd loosen yours; it would seem morefriendly like, and as if you was one of the family, of which the goodLord knows there's a lack, 'specially on an occasion like this."

  Miss Emmy laughingly expressed her willingness to take off herhead-gear, and after arranging the roses in two yellow and brown lustrepitchers on the mantel-shelf, and laying the little bouquet beside thedeep bowl of Russian cut glass that was to do duty for the christening,she followed Mrs. Pegrim upstairs.

  "Why, where is the lady baby?" she asked in surprise.

  "I'm letting her sleep until the last moment, and Oliver, who's dressingand fussing between his room and the kitchen's, got an eye to her.'Lisha Potts's in there talking to him. Oliver would have 'Lisha to thenaming 'cause of his being the one to open the door _that_ night, youknow." (This was as near as Satira ever allowed herself to approach theforbidden subject.) "He balked considerable, not being used to societydown here at the centre, and settin' in there now he does look uncommonlike a coon they had in a cage last county fair, 'n' we-all didn't tellhim one of the Miss Feltons was coming, for fear he'd streak it, soyou'd best stand just behind the door 'ntil he gets in.

  "I'm turrible glad to see your bunnit off'n, and how you do your hair.Only a few of the daring hereabout has fixed theirs in what's called awaterfall, and those as has looks like they'd put spice bags on the backof their necks for a crick' n' they'd stuck fast. Yourn is just elegant,trickles down and hangs as easy as if there wasn't no net to gather it.

  "Who all is coming to the naming? Only First Selectman Morse, littleHughey Oldys, me and you and 'Lisha and Gilbert, besides Mr. Latimerthat does it. Gilbert he wanted more, but, says I, not having cleanedhouse I'm not ready for a charge o' the whole town 'at would come if weloosed the line, so we'd best draw it close as we can without chokingourselves, and that's how.

  "No, brother hasn't told me the name yet, but I suspicion it's somethingchoice and bookish, for though Gilbert never made out to get further'nthree terms at the old Academy (that little building 'nexed behind thenew one), he's always thought a sight of books. In fact, he go
tsomething of the taste from pa, who was a carpenter and theforehandedest man about naming his family in all Newfield County; he'dnames for us all before he'd picked out his wife, pa had.

  "You ain't never heard? Well, it come about this way: Thomas, Henry, andGideon had been the male names among the Gilberts ever since they setfoot in this land o' promise near two hundred years ago, and as theyslumped down in one spot and didn't journey to speak of, with first,second, and third cousins all clinging to those names, things got mixedpretty well.

  "Father, he that was to be, was jobbing around down at the Harley house,which is now Mis' Oldys's, fixin' more shelves in grandsir' Harley'sliberary. My, but isn't there a sight of books there! They do claim thatgrandsir' Harley had every one that was made from Adam up to the time ofhis death, and the Oldys folks has been buyin' ever since.

  "Well, they knowin' and trustin' father, he put in his dinner hour therein the liberary instead o' coming clear home, and he got real interestedin the printing outside the books, and he came to find there was quite afew double names he'd never heard of. So he says to himself, says he,'I'll put a few down; they'll come handy some day mebbe, and freshen upthe family,' and so he did, and after ma died we found his pocket-bookall full of figgerin' on work and the names writ in the end. There wasmore than he ever used, there bein' only ten of us, six boys and fourgirls. Some o' the names he'd passed over, I reckon, 'cause he wasn'tquite sure of their sect.

  "The first of us was a girl and she was named Jane Grey, but didn't liveout her second year; then come Edmund Spenser, Christopher Marlow, andClarissy Harlow, Robinson Crusoe, Charlotte Temple, Daniel Defoe,Oliver Goldsmith, Cotton Mather, and lastly me, with Oliver, all that'sliving. I was called for grandma on ma's side on account of her silverspoons, two candlesticks, and snufflers, which I didn't get, marryin'against her wishes before she died.

  "Some of the names were a mouthful, but they did look real choice onheadstones, and liven up the West Hill graveyard a lot. The marble manthat came from Boston to set up John Angus's father's moniment allowedhe'd never seen such a litery crop o' stones outside eastMassachusetts."

  A knock at the door sent Mrs. Pegrim scurrying away, Miss Emmy followingmore slowly, as the front stairs were so steep and high that a misstepwas all that lay between the top and bottom. In the foreroom Mr. Latimerwas alone, standing hands behind him looking out the south window, thewaking voice of the lady baby having called away Mrs. Pegrim.

  Miss Emmy had entered softly and waited a moment before she spoke. Therewas something about Stephen Latimer that always seemed as though itbelonged to another world and appealed physically to her spiritualsense. Though of American birth and ancestry, he was a type of theold-world vicar, well born and cultured, yet who, through his intenseintrospection, spends his life in a small church of a remote parish,seeing each morning's sun through the dimly colored glass of the chancelwindows, as a light sent especially from heaven to him, and basking inmystic joy as, between times, his fingers draw from the organ thesimple linked notes that hold the village children to their hymns.

  In figure Latimer was rather above the medium height, spare withoutthinness; a smoothly shaven face was saved by distinct mouth lines and afirm chin from the perfect symmetry that seems to lack sympathy.Iron-gray hair belied his age, which was barely forty years. In NewEngland towns at this time people looked askance at men of this type.Patriotism rushed to any form of dissent in which to cloak itself ratherthan lean toward anything that might be preestablished and, therefore,un-American,--the middle classes knowing no distinction betweencatholicity and Romanism.

  Such feelings had Stephen Latimer met with in coming to Harley's Millssix years before, yet he stayed on and soon came to be reckoned with asan influence, holding his own and more, by seeing over what he might notsee through. The Misses Felton, though not of his fold, had given St.Luke's an organ, such as was not known in Newfield County, and throughit, Latimer's influence went out even more than by the pulpit. Forthough his young wife played at service, on Wednesday afternoons, rainor shine, he sat before the keys and let his fingers speak the wordsthat all might hear who would.

  Sometimes the little church was filled by the Quality Hill folk andtheir guests, sometimes a tired woman with a fretful, half-sick child,or a pauper laborer creeping in to rest from his work on the roads,would be the only audience--it made no difference in the music.

  Presently Latimer turned,--"Ah, so you are here! I thought I recognizedyour roses. Is it not a brave deed of Gilbert's, this going again intothe fray after time had healed his wounds and let him at least build ashelter around his sorrow? Talk of the bravery of those who go tobattle, I believe his courage in this matter in facing the unknown isthe real heroism."

  "I think you are right, though I had not looked at it in this waybefore; I only thought of the amusement of the child's companionship,not the responsibility. Ah, here is little Hugh Oldys."

  Presently, Satira Pegrim came in, carrying the lady baby, who would havemuch preferred to walk, for having acquired this accomplishment all of asudden, she was loath to relinquish it. Gilbert and 'Lisha Pottsfollowed. It was not until Potts had come quite into the room, crossingto between the centre-table and Mary's melodeon that stood between thewindows, that he saw Miss Emmy. All retreat being cut off, he gave asort of gasp and tried in vain to sink into the depths of hisstiff-collared, deep-cuffed Sunday shirt as a turtle disappears into itsshell.

  The sight of Miss Emmy produced a different effect upon the child, whocrowed and stretched her hands toward her new friend, quietly allowedher to fasten the corals upon the plump, bare neck, and afterward triedto look at them with real satisfaction, moving them up and down with herdimpled chin.

  For a moment general conversation reigned, then--

  "What is she to be named? I cannot wait another moment," cried MissEmmy.

  "It's writ in this book," said Gilbert, taking a small morocco Biblefrom the table and showing the fly leaf, upon which, in characterspainfully round and precise, was "Julia Poppea Gilbert, from her lovingDaddy on her first birthday, April 20, 1862."

  For a moment no one stirred, for all realized the final way in which thequiet man had settled the matter of birth and name, giving her ananchorage so far as might be.

  Then Stephen Latimer spoke.

  "Julia Poppea! Where did you find that name, Gilbert?"

  "Julia was my mother's name; seems as if there should be family in itsomehow. And the other--I've read it somewhere, and it's got my fancy."(Not a word of the locket.)

  "If I remember," said Mr. Latimer, hesitatingly, "it was the name of oneof Nero's wives; would not something nearer home be more suitable,neighbor Gilbert? Mary, or a flower name, if you like fanciful things,such as Violet or Rose?"

  "No, I've settled to Poppea. I've known of some one called by it thatwasn't kin of any Neroes or spoken of in Mr. Plutarch's books. Poppeacomes near to being a posy too,--poppies, nice cheerful flowers that,come to recollect, have long lashes to their eyes, just like the ladybaby."

  When Stephen Latimer explained the need of sponsors according to hisritual, and their duties, Gilbert knit his brows at the unforeseencomplication.

  "It is customary to have some others than the parents of the child tostand, as it were, in their place of responsibility in case of need;under these circumstances, surely no one can be more suitable than Mrs.Pegrim and yourself, neighbor Gilbert."

  "I couldn't stand for any such strange customs or their results," saidSatira, closing her jaws quickly; she had been reading the sentences ofpromise in the prayer-book that Mr. Latimer had marked. "I couldn't gofurther than to agree to keep her in clothes, her body clean and wellfed, and to say, 'Now I lay me.'"

  "As I am in the eye of the law her father, the choice must be outside ofme, parson," Gilbert said slowly. "Who is usually asked?"

  "Near kin, or friends upon whom one can rely to take a true interest inthe child."

  "Then I ask you, Miss Emmy, and you, 'Lisha Potts."

  "
I'm Baptist born, but no church-member," said Potts, his words forcedout as by some explosive.

  "And I am a Channing Unitarian and therefore an arch dissenter," saidMiss Emmy; yet at the same time, through the yearning of her eyes, shealready had the lady baby in her arms.

  Stephen Latimer looked from one to the other, an expression ofsatisfaction stealing over his features as if he saw some specialsignificance in this strange combination, then whispered to Miss Emmythat upon her devolved the duty of holding the child, who began to fretstrangely and pucker her face for tears.

  Latimer said something to little Hugh, his music pupil, and going tothe melodeon, covered and silent these many years, threw back the lid,coaxed the fitful breath and reluctant keys to speak again, so gentlythat there was no discord, only a far-away voice as of memory. Then thetwo, the childish treble and the baritone, sang,

  "Saviour, Who Thy flock art feeding With the shepherd's tenderest care, All the feeble gently leading, While the lambs Thy bosom share."

  * * * * *

  "That was her tune, Mary's, the last she sang to Marygold. How did youknow?" asked Gilbert when the hymn ended, his voice sinkingunconsciously to an awed whisper.

  "_I_ did not, but God does not forget."

  Slowly and clearly Latimer read the brief service of private baptism,ending with the sentence, "If thou art not already baptized, JuliaPoppea, I baptize thee in the Name of the Father, Son, and HolyGhost--Amen."

  "Is that in the book?" asked Gilbert; "then if it is, there are enoughother children named that 'tisn't known about where or when, so that sheisn't the only one."

  "No, we are none of us the _only ones_ either for sorrow or joy; in thatlies the love of God, which is brotherhood;" and seeing the light of thesmile upon Stephen Latimer's face, the child laughed and crowed, andsucceeded in wriggling from Miss Emmy's arms down to the floor, wherethe pup was wagging furiously, as though trying to shake hands witheverybody at once, having slipped in as Mrs. Pegrim hurried out for thechristening cake.

  "It is not as light as it should be," she said, bustling back, "but Imade it sponge, so's the children could have it (I've fruit cake comingfor we-all). It was the last of the limed eggs I used, and though freshto taste, they do act sort of discouraged when it gets spring o' theyear and the responsibility o' hefting sponge cake is laid on them.

  "Would you mind, Miss Emmy, seeing as you stepped so far into thefamily, as to cut it, I mean break it, as a knife spiles sponge cake,while I pour the coffee?"

  "Hasn't the pup got any name yet?" asked Hughey, joining the pair on thefloor. "Mr. Gilbert, you promised he should have a name and that I mighthelp choose."

  "The boys in the office of nights call him Mack, after that littleGeneral McClellan, 'cause he's always busy barking and running about,planning great things he never does, so I reckon that'll stick to him."

  "Oh, I forgot! I've brought _her_ a present," and Hughey tugged at asmall parcel that was bulging from the pocket of his overcoat. "It's tinsoldiers and a little cannon; father brought me them from Bridgeton.Aren't they fine? I'll show her how to stand them up."

  "I've a whimsey name for you," said Miss Emmy, as she set down hercoffee cup, a relic of grandma Gilbert's old Lowestoft with the littlehalf Chinese flower on front and in bottom, and stooping over the child,kissed the rim of her ear that had an odd break in its curve like theblemish on the petal of a flower that has folded too tight in the bud,"a name that won't mix you up with any Mrs. Nero. You aren't to becalled lady baby any more, but Poppea of the post-office!"

  Poppea, however, gave no heed; she was absorbed in the ecstatic task oftasting tin soldier.