"It is too bad to have our jolly vacation spoiled by this provoking storm. Didn't mind it yesterday, because we could eat all the time; but here we are cooped up for a week, perhaps, and I'd like to know what we are to do," growled¹ Geoff, as he stood at the window looking gloomily at the bleak³ scene without. It certainly was discouraging; for the north wind howled, the air was dark with falling snow, and drifts were rising over fences, roads, and fields, as if to barricade⁴ the Christmas party in the great country house.  
"We can bear it pleasantly, since it can't be helped," said gentle sister Mary, with a kind hand on his shoulder, and a face full of sympathy for his disappointment. "I'm sorry for the coasting, skating, and sleighing frolics we have lost; but if we must be shut up, I'm sure we couldn't have a pleasanter prison or a kinder jailer. Don't let grandma hear us complain, for she has made great exertions⁵ to have our visit a merry one, and it will trouble her if we are not gay and contented⁶."[2]
 
"That's easy for a parcel of girls, who only want to mull over the fire, and chatter⁷, and drink tea; but it's rough on us fellows, who come for the outside fun. House is well enough; but when you've seen it once, there's an end. Eating is jolly, but you can't stuff forever. We might dig, or snowball, if it didn't blow a gale⁸. Never saw such a beast of a storm!"—and Geoff flattened⁹ his nose against the window-pane and scowled¹⁰ at the elements.
 
A laugh made him turn around, and forget his woes¹¹ to stare at the quaint¹² little figure that stood curtseying in the door-way of the keeping-room, where a dozen young people were penned while the maids cleared up the remains¹⁴ of yesterday's feast in the kitchen, the mothers were busy with the babies upstairs, and the fathers read papers in the best parlor¹⁵; for this was a family gathering¹⁶ under the roof of the old homestead.
 
A rosy¹⁷, dark-eyed face looked out from the faded green calash, a gayly flowered gown was looped up over a blue quilted petticoat, and a red camlet cloak hung down behind. A big reticule and a funny umbrella were held in either hand, and red hose and very high-heeled, pointed¹⁸ shoes covered a trim pair of feet.
 
"God bless you, merry gentlemen!
May nothing you dismay;
Here's your ancient granny come
To call, this Christmas day,"
sang Minnie, the lively member of the flock, as she bobbed little curtseys and smiled so infectiously that even cross Geoff cheered up.
 
"Where did you get that rigging?" "Isn't it[3] becoming?" "What queer stuff!" "Did grandma ever look so, I wonder?"
 
These and many other questions rained upon the wearer of the old costume, and she answered them as fast as she could.
 
"I went rummaging²⁰ up garret for something to read, and found two chests of old duds. Thought I'd dress up and see how you liked me. Grandma said I might, and told me I looked like her when she was young. She was a beauty, you know; so I feel as proud as a peacock." And Min danced away to stand before the portrait of a blooming girl in a short-waisted, white-satin gown and a pearl necklace, which hung opposite the companion portrait of an officer in an old-fashioned uniform.
 
"So you do. Wonder if I should look like grandpa if I got into his old toggery!" said Geoff, looking up at the handsome man with the queue and the high coat-collar.
 
"Go and try; the uniform is in the chest, and not much moth-eaten. Let's have a jolly rummage²¹, and see what we can find. We didn't eat ourselves sick, so we will amuse these lazy invalids²²;" and Min glanced pityingly at several cousins who lay about on sofas or in easy chairs, pretending to read, but evidently suffering from too great devotion to the bountiful dinner and evening feast of yesterday.
 
Away went Min and Lotty, Geoff and Walt, glad of anything to beguile²³ the stormy afternoon. Grandma smiled as she heard the tramp of feet overhead, the[4] peals²⁴ of laughter, and the bang of chest-lids, well knowing that a scene of dire²⁵ confusion awaited her when the noisy frolic was done, but thankful for the stores of ancient finery which would keep the restless children happy for a day.
 
It was truly a noble garret, for it extended the whole length of the great square house, with windows at either end, and divided in the middle by a solid chimney. All around stood rows of chests, dilapidated furniture, and wardrobes full of old relics²⁶, while the walls were hung with many things for which modern tongues can find no names. In one corner was a book-case full of musty books and papers; in another, kitchen utensils²⁷ and rusty²⁸ weapons; the third was devoted²⁹ to quilts hung on lines, and in the fourth stood a loom² with a spinning-wheel beside it, both seemingly well cared for, as the dust lay lightly on them, and flax was still upon the distaff.
 
A glorious rummage followed the irruption of the Goths and Vandals into this quiet spot, and soon Geoff quite forgot the storm as he pranced³⁰ about in the buff-and-blue coat, with a cocked hat on his head, and grandfather's sword at his side. Lotty arrayed herself in a pumpkin³¹ hood³² and quilted cloak for warmth, while Walt, the book-worm, went straight to the ancient library, and became absorbed in faded souvenirs, yellow newspapers, and almanacs of a century ago.
 
Having displayed themselves below and romped³³ all over the house, the masqueraders grew tired at last, and early twilight³⁴ warned them to leave before ghostly shadows began to haunt the garret.
 
"I mean to take this down and ask grandma to[5] show me how it's done. I've heard her tell about spinning and weaving when she was a girl, and I know I can learn," said Minnie, who had fallen in love with the little wheel, and vainly tried to twist the flax into as smooth a thread as the one hanging from the distaff, as if shadowy fingers had lately spun³⁵ it.
 
"Queen Victoria set the fashion in England, and we might do it here. Wouldn't it be fun to have a wheel in the parlor at home, and really use it; not keep it tied up with blue ribbons, as the other girls do!" cried Lotty, charmed with the new idea.
 
"Come, Geoff, take it down for us. You ought to do it out of gratitude³⁶ for my cheering you up so nicely," said Min, leading the way.
 
"So I will. Here, Walt, give it a hoist³⁷, and come behind to pick up the pieces, for the old machine must be about a hundred, I guess."
 
Shouldering the wheel, Geoff carried it down; but no bits fell by the way, for the stout³⁸ little wheel was all in order, kept so by loving hands that for more than eighty years had been spinning the mingled³⁹ thread of a long and useful life.
 
Glorious fires were roaring up the wide chimneys in parlor and keeping-room, and old and young were gathering around them, while the storm beat on the window-panes, and the wintry wind howled as if angry at being shut out.
 
"See what we've stolen, grandma," cried Min, as the procession came in, rosy, dusty, gay, and eager.
 
"Bless the child! What possessed⁴⁰ you to lug⁴¹ that[6] old thing down?" asked Madam Shirley, much amused as the prize was placed before her, where she sat in her high-backed chair,—a right splendid old lady in her stately cap, black silk gown, and muslin apron⁴², with a bunch of keys at her side, like a model housekeeper⁴³, as she was.
 
"You don't mind our playing with it, do you? And will you teach me to spin? I think it's such a pretty little thing, and I want to be like you in all ways, grandma dear," answered Min, sitting on the arm of the great chair, with her fresh cheek close to the wrinkled one where winter roses still bloomed.
 
"You wheedling⁴⁴ gypsy! I'll teach you with all my heart, for it is pretty work, and I often wonder ladies don't keep it up. I did till I was too busy, and now I often take a turn at it when I'm tired of knitting. The hum is very soothing⁴⁵, and the thread much stronger than any we get nowadays."
 
As she spoke⁴⁶, the old lady dusted the wheel, and gave it a skilful⁴⁷ turn or two, till the soft whir made pleasant music in the room.
 
"Is it really a hundred years old?" asked Geoff, drawing nearer with the others to watch the new work.
 
"Just about. It was one of my mother's wedding presents, and she gave it to me when I was fifteen. Deary me, how well I remember that day!" and grandma seemed to fall a-dreaming as her eyes rested on the letters E. R. M. rudely cut in the wood, and below these were three others with something meant for a true lover's knot between.
 
"Whose initials are these?" asked Min, scenting⁴⁸ a[7] romance with girlish quickness, for grandma was smiling as if her eyes read the title to some little story in those worn letters.
 
"Elizabeth Rachel Morgan, and Joel Manlius Shirley. Your blessed grandfather cut our names there the day I was sixteen, and put the flourish between to show what he wanted," added the old lady, laughing as she made the wheel hum again.
 
"Tell about it, please do," begged Min, remembering that grandma had been a beauty and a belle⁴⁹.
 
"It's a long tale, my darling, and I couldn't tell it now. Sometime when I'm teaching you to spin I'll do it, maybe."
 
But the girl was determined⁵⁰ to have her story; and after tea, when the little ones were in bed, the elders playing whist in the parlor, and the young folks deciding what game to begin, Minnie sat down and tried to spin, sure that the familiar sound would lure⁵¹ grandma to give the lesson and tell the tale.
 
She was right, for the wheel had not gone around many times, when the tap of the cane⁵² was heard, and the old lady came rustling⁵³ in, quite ready for a chat, now that three cups of her own good tea and a nap in the chimney corner had refreshed her.
 
"No, dear, that's not the way; you need a dish of water to wet your fingers in, and you must draw the flax out slow and steady, else it runs to waste, and makes a poor thread. Fetch me that chair, and I'll show you how, since you are bent⁵⁴ on learning."
 
Establishing herself in the straight-backed seat, a[8] skilful tap of the foot set the wheel in swift and easy motion, and the gray thread twisted fine and evenly from the distaff.
 
"Isn't it a pretty picture?" said Min to Lotty, as they watched the old lady work.
 
"Not so pretty as the one I used to see when my dear mother sat here, and I, a little child, at her knee. Ah, my dears, she could have told you stories all night long, and well worth hearing. I was never tired of them."
 
"Please tell one now, grandma. We don't know what to play, and it would be so nice to sit around the fire and hear it this stormy night," suggested Min, artfully seizing the hint.
 
"Do! Do! We all love stories, and we'll be as still as mice," added Geoff, beckoning⁵⁵ to the others as he took the big arm-chair, being the oldest grandson and leader of the flock.
 
Camping on the rug, or nestling in the sofa corner, the boys and girls all turned expectant faces toward grandma, who settled her cap-strings and smoothed her spotless apron, with an indulgent smile at her little audience.
 
"I don't know which one to tell first."
 
"The ghost story; that's a splendid one, and most of the children never heard it," said Walt.
 
"Have Indians and fighting in it. I like that kind," added Geoff.
 
"No; tell a love story. They are so interesting," said Lotty.
 
"I want the story about the initials first. I know[9] it is very sentimental⁵⁶. So do begin with that, grandma," begged Min.
 
"Well, dears, perhaps I'd better choose that one, for it has the battle of New Orleans, and wolves, and spinning, and sweethearts in it; so it will suit you all, I hope."
 
"Oh, lovely! Do begin right away," cried Minnie, as the clapping of hands showed how satisfactory the prospect⁵⁷ was.
 
Grandma gave a loud "hem¹⁹!" and began at once, while the little wheel hummed a soft accompaniment to her words.
 
"When I was fifteen, my mother gave me this wheel, and said: 'Now, daughter Betsey, it is time for you to begin your wedding outfit⁵⁸, for I mistrust you'll marry young.' In those days girls spun and wove webs of fine linen⁵⁹ and laid 'em up in chests, with lavender and rosemary, for sheets and table-linen after they married. So I spun away, making all manner of fine plans in my silly head, for I was a pretty piece, they all said, and young as I was, two or three fine lads used to come evenings and sit staring at me while I worked.
 
"Among these, was my neighbor Joel Manlius Shirley, and I was fond of him; but he hadn't much money, so I put on airs, and tried his patience very much. One day he came in and said: 'Betsey, I'm[10] going a-soldiering; they need men, and I'm off. Will you think of poor Joe when I'm gone?'
 
"I don't know how I looked, but I felt as if I couldn't bear it. Only I was too proud to show my trouble; so I laughed, and gave my wheel a twist, and said I was glad of it, since anything was better than hanging round at home.
 
"That hurt him; but he was always gentle to saucy⁶⁰ Betsey, and taking out his knife, he cut those letters under mine, saying, with a look I never could forget:—
 
"'That will remind you of me if you are likely to forget. Good-by; I'm going right away, and may never come back.'
 
"He kissed me, and was off before I could say a word, and then I cried till my flax was wet and my thread tangled⁶¹, and my heart 'most broken. Deary me, how well I remember that heavy day!"
 
Grandma smiled, but something shone in her old eyes very like a tear, and sentimental Lotty felt deeply interested at this point.
 
"Where does the fighting come in?" asked Geoff, who was of a military turn, as became the descendant of a soldier.
 
"I didn't know or care much about the War of 1812, except as far as the safety of one man was concerned. Joe got on without any harm till the battle of New Orleans, when he was nearly killed behind the cotton-bale breastworks General Jackson built."
 
"Yes, I know all about it. Jackson fought against twelve thousand, and lost only seven men. That was[11] the last battle of the war, January 8, 1815. Three cheers for grandpa!" shouted Geoff, waving a tidy, as no hat was at hand.
 
The others echoed the hurrah⁶², and grandma beamed with pride as she went on: "We couldn't get news from the army very often in those troublous times, and Joe was gone two years before the war ended. After the great battle we had no news for a long spell, and we feared he was one of the seven men killed. Those were dreadful days for all of us. My honored mother was a pious⁶³ soul, and so was Mrs. Shirley; and they kept up their hearts with hope and prayer; but I, poor thing, was young and weak, and I cried myself half blind, remembering how naughty I had been. I would spin no more, but set the wheel away, saying I should have no need of wedding gear, as I should never marry; and I wore black ribbon on my caps, and one of Joe's buttons strung about my neck, mourning dismally⁶⁴ for my lost dear.
 
"So the winter ended, and the summer went, and no news came of Joe. All said he was dead, and we had prayers at church, and talked of setting up a stone in the grave-yard, and I thought my life was done; for I pined sadly, and felt as if I could never laugh again. But I did; for the Lord was very good to us, and out of danger and captivity⁶⁵ delivered that dear boy."
 
Grandma spoke solemnly, and folded her hands in thanksgiving as she looked up at the picture of the handsome officer hanging on the wall before her. The elder children could just remember grandpa as a very old and feeble man, and it struck them as funny to[12] speak of him as a "dear boy;" but they never smiled, and dutifully lifted their eyes to the queue and the high-collared coat, wondering if Joe was as rosy in real life as in the portrait.
 
"Well, that's the sentimental part; now comes the merry part, and that will suit the boys," said the old lady, briskly, as she spun away,—and went on in a lively tone:—
 
"One December day, as I sat by that very window, dreaming sorrowfully at my sewing work, while old Sally nodded over her knitting by the fire, I saw a man come creeping along by the fence and dodge⁶⁶ behind the wood-pile. There were many bad folks 'round in those times; for war always leaves a sight of lazy rascals⁶⁷ afloat, as well as poor fellows maimed and homeless.
 
"Mother had gone over to the sewing society at Mrs. Shirley's, and I was all alone; for Sally was so stiff with rheumatics she could scarce stir, and that was why I stayed to take care of her. The old musket⁶⁹ always hung over the kitchen chimney-piece, loaded, and I knew how to fire it, for Joe had taught me. So away I went and got it down; for I saw the man popping up his head now and then to spy the land, and I felt sure he meant mischief⁷⁰. I knew Sally would only scream like a scared hen, so I let her sleep; and getting behind the shutter⁷¹ I pointed my gun, and waited to blaze away as soon as the enemy showed signs of attacking.
 
"Presently he came creeping up to the back door, and I heard him try the latch⁷². All was fast, so I just slipped into the kitchen and stood behind the settle, for I was surer than ever he was a rascal⁶⁸ since I'd seen him nearer. He was a tall man, dreadful shabby in an old coat and boots, a ragged⁷³ hat over his eyes, and a great beard hiding the lower part of his face. He had a little bundle and a big stick in his hands, and limped as if foot-sore or lame⁷⁴.
 
"I was much afeard; but those were times that made heroes of men, and taught women to be brave for love of home and country. So I kept steady, with my eye on the window, and my finger on the trigger of the old gun, that hadn't been fired for years. Presently the man looked in, and I saw what a strange roll his great eyes had, for he was thin-faced and looked half-starved. If mother had been there, she'd have called him in and fed him well, but I dared not, and when he tried the window I aimed, but did not fire; for finding the button down he went away, and I dropped on the settle, shaking like a leaf. All was still, and in a minute I plucked up courage to go to look out a bit; but just as I reached the middle of the kitchen, the buttery door opened, and there stood the robber, with a carving⁷⁵ knife in one hand and my best loaf of spice bread in the other. He said something, and made a rush at me; but I pulled the trigger, saw a flash, felt a blow, and fell somewhere, thinking, 'Now I'm dead!'"
 
Here grandma paused for breath, having spoken rapidly and acted out the scene dramatically, to the intense delight of the children, who sat like images of interest, staring at her with round eyes.
 
"But you weren't dead? What next?" cried Walt, eagerly.
 
"Bless you, no! I only fell into Joe's arms, and when I came to, there the dear fellow was, crying over me like a baby, while old Sally danced round us like a bedlamite, in spite of her rheumatics, shouting: 'Hosanna! Thanks and praise! He's come, he's come!'"
 
"Was he shot?" asked Geoff, anxious for a little bloodshed.
 
"No, dear; the old gun burst and hurt my hands, but not a mite⁷⁶ of harm was done to Joe. I don't think I could tell all that happened for a spell, being quite dazed with joy and surprise; but by the time mother came home I was as peart as a wren⁷⁷, and Joe was at the table eating and drinking every mortal thing I could find in the house.
 
"He'd been kept a prisoner till exchanged, and had had a hard time getting home, with little money and a bad wound in the leg, besides being feeble with jail fever. But we didn't fret⁷⁸ over past troubles, being so glad to get him back. How my blessed mother did laugh, when we told her the reception I gave the poor lad! But I said it served him right, since he came sneaking⁷⁹ home like a thief, instead of marching in like a hero. Then he owned that he came there to get something to eat, being ashamed to go in upon his mother with all her company about her. So we fed and comforted him; and when we'd got our wits about us, I whipped away to Mrs. Shirley's and told my news, and every one of those twenty-five women went straight over to our house and burst in upon poor Joe, as he lay resting on the settle. That was my revenge for the scare he gave me, and a fine one it was; for the women chattered⁸⁰ over him like a flock of magpies⁸¹, and I sat in the corner and laughed at him. Ah, I was a sad puss in those days!"
 
The old lady's black eyes twinkled with fun, and the children laughed with her, till Walt caused a lull⁸² by asking:—
 
"Where do the wolves come in, grandma?"
 
"Right along, dear; I'm not likely to forget 'em, for they 'most cost me my life, to say nothing of my new slippers⁸³. There was great rejoicing over Joe, and every one wanted to do something to honor our hero; for he had done well, we found out, when the General heard his story. We had a great dinner, and Judge Mullikin gave a supper; but Major Belknap was bound to outshine the rest, so he invited all the young folks over to his house, nigh ten miles away, to a ball, and we all went. I made myself fine, you may believe, and wore a pair of blue kid slippers, with mother's best buckles⁸⁴ to set 'em off. Joe had a new uniform, and was an elegant figure of a man, I do assure you. He couldn't dance, poor dear, being still very lame: but I was a proud girl when I marched into that ball-room, on the arm of my limping beau. The men cheered, and the ladies stood up in chairs to see him, and he was as red as my ribbons, and I could hardly keep from crying, as I held him up,—the floor being slippery as glass with the extra waxing it had got.
 
"I declared I wouldn't dance, because Joe couldn't; but he made me, saying he could see me better; so I footed it till two o'clock, soon forgetting all my sorrow and my good resolutions as well. I wanted to show Joe that I was as much a favorite as ever, though I'd lived like a widow for a year. Young folks will be giddy, and I hope these girls will take warning by me and behave better when their time comes. There mayn't be any wolves to sober 'em, but trouble of some sort always follows foolish actions; so be careful, my dears, and behave with propriety⁸⁶ when you 'come out,' as you call it nowadays."
 
Grandma held up a warning forefinger⁸⁷ at the girls, and shook her head impressively, feeling that the moral of her tale must be made clear before she went on. But the lassies blushed a little, and the lads looked all impatience⁸⁸, so the dear old lady introduced the wolves as quickly as she could.
 
"About half-past two, Joe and I drove off home with four fine hams in the bottom of the sleigh, sent by the Major to our mothers. It was a bitter-cold February night, with just light enough to see the road, and splendid sleighing; so we went along at a good pace, till we came to the great woods. They are all gone now, and the woollen mills stand there, but then they were a thick forest of pines, and for more than three miles the road led through them. In former days Indians had lurked⁸⁹ there; bears and foxes were still shot, and occasionally wolves were seen, when cold weather drove them to seek food near the sheep-folds and barn-yards.
 
"Well, we were skimming along pleasantly enough, I rather sleepy, and Joe very careful of me, when, just as I was beginning to doze¹³ a bit with my head on his arm I felt him start. Old Buck⁸⁵, the horse, gave a jump that woke me up, and in a minute I knew what the trouble was, for from behind us came the howl of a wolf.
 
"'Just the night to bring 'em out,' muttered Joe, using the whip till Buck went at his quickest trot⁹⁰, with his ears down and every sign of hurry and worry about him.
 
"'Are you afraid of them?' I asked, for I'd never had a scare of this sort, though I'd heard other people tell of the fierceness of the brutes⁹¹ when hunger made them bold.
 
"'Not a bit, only I wish I had my gun along,' said Joe, looking over his shoulder anxiously.
 
"'Pity I hadn't brought mine—I do so well with it,' I said, and I laughed as I remembered how I aimed at Joe and hurt myself.
 
"'Are they chasing us?' I asked, standing⁹² up to look back along the white road, for we were just on the edge of the woods now.
 
"'Shouldn't wonder. If I had a better horse it would be a lively race; but Buck can't keep this pace long, and if he founders⁹³ we are in a fix, for I can't run, and you can't fight. Betsey, there's more than one; hold tight and try to count 'em.'
 
"Something in Joe's voice told me plainer than words that we were in danger, and I wished we'd waited till the rest of our party came; but I was tired, and so we had started alone.
 
"Straining my eyes, I could see three black spots on the snow, and hear three howls as the wolves came galloping⁹⁴ after us. I was a brave girl, but I'd never tried this kind of thing before, and in a minute all the wolf stories I'd ever heard came flying through my mind. I was mortally afeard, but I wouldn't show it, and turned to Joe, trying to laugh as I said: 'Only three as yet. Tell me just what to do, and I'll do it.'
 
"'Brave lass! I must see to Buck or he'll be down, for he's badly scared. You wait till the rascals are pretty close, then heave over one of these confounded hams to amuse 'em, while we make the most of their halt. They smell this meat, and that's what they are after,' said Joe, driving his best, for the poor old horse began to pant, and limp on his stiff legs.
 
"'Lucky for us we've got 'em,' says I, bound to be cool and gay; 'if we hadn't, they'd get fresh meat instead of smoked.'
 
"Joe laughed, but a long howl close by made me dive for a ham; for in the darkness of the woods the beasts had got closer, and now all I could see were several balls of fire not many yards away. Out went the ham, and a snarling⁹⁵ sound showed that the wolves were busy eating it.
 
"'All right!' said Joe. 'Rest a bit, and have another ready. They'll soon finish that and want more. We must go easy, for Buck is nearly blown.'
 
"I prepared my ammunition⁹⁷, and, in what seemed five minutes, I heard the patter of feet behind us, and the fiery⁹⁸ eyes were close by. Over went the second mouthful, and then the third, and the fourth; but they seemed more ravenous⁹⁹ than ever, and each time were back sooner in greater numbers.
 
"We were nearly out of the woods when the last was gone, and if Buck had only had strength we should have been safe. But it was plain to see that he couldn't keep up much longer, for he was very old, though he'd been a fine horse in his prime.
 
"'This looks bad, little Betsey. Cover up in the robes, and hold fast to me. The beasts will begin to snatch presently, and I'll have to fight 'em off. Thank the powers, I've my arms left.'
 
"As he spoke, Joe pulled me close, and wrapped me up, then took the whip, ready to rap the first wolf that dared come near enough to be hit. We didn't wait long; up they raced, and began to leap and snarl⁹⁶ in a way that made my heart stand still, at first. Then my temper rose, and catching¹⁰⁰ up the hot brick I had for my feet, I fired it with such good aim that one sharp, black nose disappeared with a yelp¹⁰¹ of pain.
 
"'Hit 'em again, Betsey! Take the demijohn and bang 'em well. We are nearing Beaman's, and the brutes will soon drop off.'
 
"It was a lively scrimmage for a few minutes, as we both warmed to our work, Joe thrashing away with his whip on one side, and I on the other flourishing the demijohn in which we had carried some cider for the supper.
 
"But it was soon over, for in the fury of the fight Joe forgot the horse; poor Buck made a sudden bolt, upset the sleigh down a bank, and, breaking loose, tore back along the road with the wolves after him.
 
"'Run, Betsey! run for your life, and send Beaman's folks back! I'm done for—my leg's broken. Never mind. I'll crawl under the sleigh, and be all right till you come. The wolves will take a good while to pick poor Buck's bones.'
 
"Just waiting to see Joe safe, I ran as I never ran before,—and I was always light of foot. How I did it I don't know, for I'd forgot to put on my moccasins (we didn't have snow-boots, you know, in my young days), and there I was, tearing along that snowy road in my blue kid slippers like a crazy thing. It was nigh a mile, and my heart was 'most broke before I got there; but I kept my eye on the light in Hetty's winder and tugged¹⁰² along, blessing¹⁰³ her for the guide and comfort that candle was. The last bit was down hill, or I couldn't have done it; for when I fell on the doorstep my voice was clean gone, and I could only lie and rap, rap, rap! till they came flying. I just got breath enough to gasp¹⁰⁴ out and point:—
 
"'Joe—wolves—the big woods—go!' when my senses failed me, and I was carried in."
 
Here Madam Shirley leaned back in her chair quite used up, for she had been acting¹⁰⁵ the scene to a breathless audience, and laying about her with her handkerchief so vigorously that her eyes snapped, her cheeks were red, and her dear old cap all awry¹⁰⁶.
 
"But Joe—did they eat him?" cried the boys in great excitement, while the girls held to one another, and the poor little wheel lay flat, upset by the blows of the imaginary demijohn, dealt to an equally imaginary wolf.
 
"Hardly,—since he lived to be your grandfather," laughed the old lady, in high feather at the success of her story.
 
"No, no,—we mean the horse;" shouted Geoff, while the others roared at the mistake.
 
"Yes, they did. Poor old Buck saved us, at the cost of his own life. His troubles were over, but mine were not; for when I came to, I saw Mr. Beaman, and my first thought and word was 'Joe?'"
 
"'Too late—they'd got him, so we turned back to tell you,' said that stupid man.
 
"I gave one cry and was going off again, when his wife shook me, and says, laughing: 'You little goose! He means the folks from the Major's. A lot came along and found Joe, and took him home, and soon's ever you're fit we'll send you along, too.'
 
"'I'm ready now,' says I, jumping up in a hurry. But I had to sit down again, for my feet were all cut and bleeding, and my slippers just rags. They fixed¹⁰⁷ me up and off I went, to find mother in a sad taking. But Joe was all right; he hadn't broken his leg, but only sprained¹⁰⁸ it badly, and being the wounded one he was laid up longer than I. We both got well, however, and the first time Joe went out he hobbled over to our house. I was spinning again then, and thought I might need my wedding outfit, after all—On the whole, I guess we'll end the story here; young folks wouldn't care for that part."
 
As grandma paused, the girls cried out with one voice: "Yes, we do! we like it best. You said you would. Tell about the wedding and all."
 
"Well, well, it isn't much. Joe came and sat by me, and, as we talked over our adventure, he cut that true lover's knot between the letters. I didn't seem to mind, and spun away till he pointed to it, saying, with the look that always made me meek¹⁰⁹ as a lamb, 'May it stand so, my little Betsey?'
 
"I said 'Yes, Joe,' and then—well, never mind that bit;—we were married in June, and I spun and wove my wedding things afterward¹¹⁰. Dreadful slack, my mother thought, but I didn't care. My wedding gown was white lutestring, full trimmed with old lace. Hair over a cushion with white roses, and the pearl necklace, just as you see up there. Joe wore his uniform, and I tied up his hair with a white satin ribbon. He looked beautiful,—and so did I."
 
At this artless bit of vanity, the girls smiled, but all agreed that grandma was right, as they looked at the portraits with fresh interest.
 
"I call that a pretty good story," said Walt, with the air of an accomplished¹¹¹ critic.
 
"'Specially¹¹² the wolf part. I wanted that longer," added Geoff.
 
"It was quite long enough for me, my dear, and I didn't hear the last of it for years. Why, one of my wedding presents was four hams done up elegantly in white paper, with posies on 'em, from the Major. He loved a joke, and never forgot how well we fought with the pigs' legs that night. Joe gave me a new sleigh, the next Christmas, with two wolf-skin robes for it,—shot the beasts himself, and I kept those rugs till the moths¹¹³ ate the last bit. He kept the leavings of my slippers, and I have them still. Fetch 'em, Minnie—you know where they are."
 
Grandma pointed to the tall secretary that stood in a corner, and Minnie quickly took a box from one of the many drawers. All the heads clustered around grandma, and the faded, ragged shoes went from hand to hand, while questions rained upon the story-teller till she bade them go to bed.
 
Nothing but the promise of more tales would appease¹¹⁴ them; then, with thanks and kisses, the young folks trooped away, leaving the old lady to put the little wheel to rights, and sit thinking over her girlhood, in the fire-light.