818 
The RURAL NEW-YORKER 
April 24, 1920 
S9 
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An April Day on the Crossroad 
“But you live on a crossroad,” he said. 
“And thank Heaven for it.” I replied. 
There is no endless procession of auto¬ 
mobiles by our door, with their dust and 
noise. We are placed just right; far 
enough up from the State highway to 
escape the incessant going and coming, 
and yet. if we choose, catch now and then 
its stir and life.” 
“And you have lived all your life on a 
farm ?” 
“Yes. And I have never got over my 
surprise that I should have been born into 
the most estimable place in all the 
world’.” 
“I wish you would select one of your 
interesting days and tell me what occu¬ 
pies you,” he said. 
“An interesting day !” I replied scorn¬ 
fully. “They are all interesting on a 
farm in Spring, Summer and Fall. In 
Winter, I grant you, there are some dull 
days.” 
It was Greek to my listener, and I 
knew it. But he had a tedious journey 
before him ; we were on a crowded train. 
J and lie had been glad to discover an un¬ 
occupied half seat, and an acquaintance 
in me. providing, he hoped, something to 
pass the time. Now, when I mingle with 
the world. I am willing to do my share at 
making the “wheels go around,” so I pro¬ 
ceeded to do my best to visualize an in¬ 
teresting day in the country for him. 
I told him what the day before had 
been, one of those April days, when the 
little white clouds made clear chasing 
shadows over the fields and woods. I 
hope I made my listener realize what 
could be seen from my east windows, 
when I got out of bed in the morning. 
Xo old brick wall opposite, and paved 
street, but the low hills far off against the 
flushed sky, the open fields, the woods, 
the distant farmhouses in their clustered 
orchards. All in browns and faint greens, 
except the vivid wheat patches, so wel- 
blowing in at them brought the song of 
the birds and the shrilling chorus of the 
frogs. Then when we turned the contents 
of the chests out there were old gowns to 
admire, old letters to laugh at and he 
touched to tears by, old books to snatch a 
few words out of. old pictures to won¬ 
der at. 
It was nearly 11 when we heard the 
door open, and whose head should appear 
above the stairs hut Colin’s! 
Such a shout as he raised. “My! ain’t 
this a stir-up !” 
And the manager exclaimed, “Why, 
Colin Hsten. where did you come from?” 
“My dearest aunts.” he saluted us, “I’m 
back to the old farm and I don’t mind 
kissing you if you are dusty,” and lie 
gave us a sweeping embrace. 
“Isn’t this just grand !” Then he made 
a dive at the manager’s open trunk. 
“What are these? If they ain’t breeches 
—broadcloth breeches! The man that 
wore these never heard of the high cost of 
living, and here’s the coat, too; hut 
wasn’t he a slim one; I don’t -believe I 
could get a foot into the pants.” 
“Don’t you dare try!” The manager 
was alarmed. “They were your grand¬ 
father's wedding suit!” 
“He couldn’t have had much weight; I 
bet he never played football !” 
“He was a much handsomer man than 
you will ever be !” 
“And knew more in a day, my dear 
nephew, than you will know in a year!” 
“I'm not going to dispute with either 
of you, but,” making another dive, "I 
know whose these, are, these are great¬ 
grandfather Hollis’ white satin breeches 
and his silver knee buckles. He was a 
swell; I believe I could get into these!” 
She snatched them away from him. 
“You’re not going to if you can; you 
would burst every seam ! Now, how came 
you here?” 
The Useful Wheelbarrow 
come against the long-continued white 
covering of our bitter Winter. 
But Mr. Rebstoek returned to the prac¬ 
tical side, and wanted to know if I got 
i breakfast. 
“No. I didn’t. The manager does that. 
I get dinner.” 
“I suppose you have no help?” 
“Help?” We don’t know what the 
word means in the country ; it is a per¬ 
fect miracle that we have a woman to 
| wash!” 
He was not interested in bed-making 
and dusting, and having a hotbed made, 
and setting a hen, but he was in getting 
things ready for dinner, and wanted to 
know what I had for dinner. 
I said veal potpie. of which he ap¬ 
proved. Then I told him about cleaning 
the attic, and that certainly interested 
him. The manager had said to me the 
day before that we must get at the house 
cleaning, and the attic of course was the 
place to begin. So by 9 o’clock I ascend¬ 
ed the attic stairs and found her already 
there. 
Now. our attic covers the whole of the 
main part of the house, and all this space 
was to be occupied, so when I surveyed 
the scene of action, I said to her: 
“The windows are open; let’s pitch 
everything out and have Jake make a bon¬ 
fire!” 
“I am sure I am willing,” she respond¬ 
ed. Then she added, gloomily: “This is 
what comes of always having lived in the 
same place as your ancestors! If we had 
ever moved things would have thinned 
out.” 
I laughed. “And not only your own 
immediate ancestors, but all the collateral 
ancestors, and possessing the New Eng¬ 
land spirit of never wasting anything.” 
“Oh. what’s the use of our standing 
here and looking at it! You begin over 
there in that corner, and don’t read the 
letters,” she implored. 
But I did not commit myself, and 
really after we had once begun there were 
extenuating circumstances to that clean¬ 
ing. The attic has six windows looking 
all over the country, and the soft air 
"Mr. Ross sent me out to see about the 
sale. I’ve got the whole day, and I want 
some of t'ncle Lance’s old duds; I’m go¬ 
ing to help him and .Jake burn brush. 
Have you got enough for dinner, Aunt 
Bess?” he demanded. 
I congratulated myself on the potpie. 
“I stopped in the pantry as I came 
along and I see you’ve got a blackberry 
pie. Haven’t you got but one?” 
Misgiving seized me. "Colin Esten, did 
you touch that pie?” 
“I think that’s downright unkind of 
you. Aunt Bess.” he said in an injured 
tone. “When did I ever cut a perfectly 
whole pie?” 
“But doesn’t your mother expect you 
down home?” asked the manager, desirous 
of keeping him in the path of duty. 
“No, she doesn’t, because she’s come to 
dinner, too! She said she didn’t know 
how she could-” 
“Well, of all things! Why didn’t you 
say so! Your mother is going to stay 
this afternoon, isn’t she?” 
“No, because she says the Welfare 
Club is going to sew this afternoon for the 
Lesters and she said she’d ride down with 
you, and Grandma said to find some 
clothes up here to take with you. And. 
Aunt Bess. Mr. Boardman telephoned 
that there was a meeting of the library 
trustees tonight. ” . 
“Mercy! that’s the end of the attic for 
today,” said the manager. . 
“Never mind,” I put in soothing y. 
“there’s another day coming. 'Vo " 
lock the door; it will all stay. 
But Colin protested. “Find me some¬ 
thing to put on first; I’m going to stay 
all night. Oh, me for the farm . 
The trip to Allingham was all too short 
for the tale of an interesting day s oeai 
pation on a farm, for just there the b ' 
man opened the door and shouted - 
ing-ham!” I gathered up my bundles m 
the midst of Mr. Rebstoek s polite thanks 
and as I stepped off the train he saul ie 
gret fully : - . 
“I had so many questions I wan 
vm, ” MARY ELIZABETH DAUit. 
