Silver Pitchers: and Independence, a Centennial Love StoryAlcott, Louisa May
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Silver Pitchers: and Independence, a Centennial Love Story
Alcott, Louisa May
Fiction; Short stories, American
Plenty of dry drift-wood lay about the watercourse, and soon a brisk
fire burned on the rocks not far away. Shingles for plates, with pointed
sticks for forks, seemed quite in keeping with the rustic feast; and
when the edibles were set forth on leaves the girls were charmed, and
praised the trout, as it came hot from the coals, till even the flushed
cook was satisfied.
"I'd like to live so always. It is so interesting to pick up your food
as you go, and eat it when and where you like. I think I could be quite
happy leading a wild life like this," said Rose, as she lay in the
grass, dropping berries one by one into her mouth.
"You would soon tire of it, Miss Caprice; but, if it amuses for a single
day, I am satisfied," answered Milly, with her motherly smile, as she
stroked the bright head in her lap, feeling sure that happiness was in
store for so much youth and beauty.
Lulled by the soft caress, and the song of the waterfall, Rose fell
asleep, and for an hour dreamed blissfully, while the maple dropped its
shadows on her placid face, and all the wholesome influences of the
place worked their healing spell on soul and body.
"A thunder-shower is rolling up in the west, my dears. We must be
getting toward some shelter, unless we are to take a drenching as part
of the day's pleasure," said Uncle Ben, rising briskly after his own
nap.
"I see no house anywhere; but a big barn down in the intervale, and a
crowd of people getting in their hay. Let us make for that, and lie on
the sweet haycocks till the shower comes," proposed Milly.
As they went down the steep path, Rose began to sing; and at the
unwonted sound her uncle and friend exchanged glances of satisfaction,
for not a note had she sung for weeks. A happy mood seemed to have taken
possession of her; and when they reached the intervale she won the old
farmer's heart by catching up a rake and working stoutly, till the first
heavy drops began to fall. Then she rode up to the barn on a fragrant
load, and was so charmed with the place that she declined his invitation
to "Come up and see the old woman and set a spell," and declared that
she depended on enjoying the thunder-storm where she was.
The farmer and his men went their way, and Rose was just settling
herself at the upper window, where the hay had been pitched in, when a
long line of gay red vans came rattling down the road, followed by
carriages and gilded cars, elephants and camels, fine horses and frisky
ponies, all more or less excited by the coming storm.
"It's the circus! How I wish Gusty and Dan could see it!" cried Rose,
clapping her hands like a child. "I do believe they are coming here. Now
that will be charming, and the best adventure of all," she added, as a
carriage and several vans turned into the grassy road leading to the
barn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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