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  SPINNING-WHEEL
  STORIES.

  BY
  LOUISA M. ALCOTT,

  AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN,"
  "EIGHT COUSINS," "ROSE IN BLOOM," "UNDER THE LILACS,"
  "JACK AND JILL," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," "WORK, A
  STORY OF EXPERIENCE," "MOODS, A NOVEL,"
  "PROVERB STORIES," "SILVER PITCHERS,"
  "AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG."

  BOSTON:
  LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY,
  1902.




  _Copyright, 1884,_
  BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.

  University Press:
  JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.




                        CONTENTS.


                                                PAGE

  GRANDMA'S STORY                                 1

  TABBY'S TABLE-CLOTH                            25

  ELI'S EDUCATION                                47

  ONAWANDAH                                      71

  LITTLE THINGS                                  91

  THE BANNER OF BEAUMANOIR                      115

  JERSEYS; OR, THE GIRL'S GHOST                 137

  THE LITTLE HOUSE IN THE GARDEN                163

  DAISY'S JEWEL-BOX, AND HOW SHE FILLED IT      187

  CORNY'S CATAMOUNT                             209

  THE COOKING-CLASS                             233

  THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE                     255




[Illustration]

Grandma's Story


"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," growled Geoff, as he stood at the window looking gloomily at
the bleak 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 barricade 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 exertions to have our
visit a merry one, and it will trouble her if we are not gay and
contented."

"That's easy for a parcel of girls, who only want to mull over the fire,
and chatter, 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 gale. Never saw such a beast of a
storm!"--and Geoff flattened his nose against the window-pane and
scowled at the elements.

A laugh made him turn around, and forget his woes to stare at the quaint
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
remains of yesterday's feast in the kitchen, the mothers were busy with
the babies upstairs, and the fathers read papers in the best parlor; for
this was a family gathering under the roof of the old homestead.

A rosy, 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, pointed 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 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 rummaging 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 rummage, and see what we can find. _We_ didn't eat
ourselves sick, so we will amuse these lazy invalids;" 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 beguile the
stormy afternoon. Grandma smiled as she heard the tramp of feet
overhead, the peals of laughter, and the bang of chest-lids, well
knowing that a scene of dire 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 relics, 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 utensils and rusty weapons; the third was devoted to quilts hung
on lines, and in the fourth stood a loom 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 pranced
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 pumpkin hood
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 romped all over the house, the
masqueraders grew tired at last, and early twilight warned them to leave
before ghostly shadows began to haunt the garret.

"I mean to take this down and ask grandma to 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 spun 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 gratitude
for my cheering you up so nicely," said Min, leading the way.

"So I will. Here, Walt, give it a hoist, 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 stout little wheel was all in order, kept so by loving
hands that for more than eighty years had been spinning the mingled
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 possessed you to lug that 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 apron, with a bunch of keys at her
side, like a model housekeeper, 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 wheedling 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 soothing, and the thread much stronger than any we get
nowadays."

As she spoke, the old lady dusted the wheel, and gave it a skilful 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, scenting a 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 belle.

"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 determined 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 lure 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 cane was heard, and the old lady came rustling 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 bent on learning."

Establishing herself in the straight-backed seat, a 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, beckoning 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 it is very
sentimental. 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 prospect was.

Grandma gave a loud "hem!" and began at once, while the little wheel
hummed a soft accompaniment to her words.


                           GRANDMA'S STORY.

"When I was fifteen, my mother gave me this wheel, and said: 'Now,
daughter Betsey, it is time for you to begin your wedding outfit, for I
mistrust you'll marry young.' In those days girls spun and wove webs of
fine linen 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 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 saucy 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 tangled, 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 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 hurrah, 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 pious 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,