Silver Pitchers: and Independence, a Centennial Love StoryAlcott, Louisa May
General
Silver Pitchers: and Independence, a Centennial Love Story
Alcott, Louisa May
Fiction; Short stories, American
Letty ran for basin and towel, and, pointing to the well, modestly
retired into the kitchen, while Aunt Liddy watched the vigorous
scrubbing that went on in the yard; for the tramp splashed the water
about like a Newfoundland dog, and Bran assisted at the brief toilet
with hospitable zeal.
It seemed as if a different man came out from that simple baptism; for
the haggard cheek had a glow upon it, the eyes had lost their
hopelessness, and something like courage and self-respect shone in the
face that looked in at the door as the stranger gave back basin and
towel, saying, with a wave of the old straw hat,--
"I'm heartily obliged, ma'am. Would you kindly tell me how far it is to
the next big town?"
"Twenty miles. The cars will take you right there, and the deepo ain't
fur," answered Aunt Liddy, showing the way.
The man glanced at his ragged shoes, then squared his broad shoulders,
as if bracing himself for the twenty long hot miles that his weary feet
must carry him, since his pockets were empty, and he could not bring
himself to ask for any thing but food enough to keep life in him.
"Good-by, ma'am, and God bless you." And, slouching the hat over his
eyes, he limped away, escorted to the gate by Bran.
At the turn of the road he stopped and looked back as wistfully as ever
Letty had done along the shadowy road, and as he looked it seemed as if
he saw a younger self setting off with courage, hope, and energy upon
the journey, which alas! had ended here. His eye went to the old well,
as if there had been some healing in its water; then turned to the
porch, where he had been fed and comforted, and lingered there as if
some kindly memory warmed his solitary heart.
Just then a little figure in blue gingham ran out and came fluttering
after him, accompanied by Bran, in a state of riotous delight. Rosy and
breathless, Letty hurried to him, and, looking up with a face full of
the innocent compassion that never can offend, she said, offering a
parcel neatly folded up,--
"Aunt Liddy sends you some dinner; and this, so that you needn't walk,
unless you like, you are so lame."
As if more touched than he cared to show, the man took the food, but
gently put away the little roll of greenbacks, saying quickly,--
"Thank you for this; but I can't take your money."
"We ain't rich, but we love to help folks. So you needn't be proud about
it." And Letty looked ruffled at his refusal.
"I'll take something else, if you don't mind," said the tramp, pulling
off his hat, with a sudden smile that made his face look young and
comely.
"What is it?" And Letty looked up so innocently that it was impossible
to resist the impulse of a grateful heart.
His answer was to stoop and kiss the blooming cheek, that instantly grew
scarlet with girlish shame and anger as she turned to fly. Catching her
by the hand, he said penitently,--
"I couldn't help it, you're so good to me. Don't begrudge me a kiss for
luck. I need it, God knows!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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