"A rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun."
GOLDSMITH.
A little, old, decrepit woman, bent double with age, leaning on a staff, and shaking with palsy, stood as suddenly before them as if she had sprung up through the earth. Her dress was the most astonishing complication of rags that ever hung together on a human back before. A long old-fashioned cloak that, a hundred years before, had probably been all the rage, swept behind her; and as it trailed along, seemed in imminent danger of throwing the unfortunate old lady over her own head, every minute. A brown, sunburned face, half hidden in masses of coarse, gray hairs, peered wildly out; and from under a pair of bushy, overhanging, gray eyebrows, gleamed two keen, needle-like eyes, as sharp as two-edged stilettos. This singular individual wore a man's old beaver hat on her head, which was forcibly retained on that palsy-shaking member by a scarlet bandanna handkerchief passed over the crown, and tied under the chin.
Altogether, the little, stooping, unearthly-looking crone was one of the most singular sights that mortal eyes ever beheld.
So completely amazed were the whole assembly that for some five minutes they stood staring in silent wonder at this unexpected and most startling apparition. The little old woman, steadying herself with some difficulty on her cane, shaded her eyes with one hand, and peered at them with her sharp eyes.
"Don't be afeard, pretty ladies and gentlemen," said the little old lady, in a shrill, sharp falsetto. "I won't hurt none o' you, ef you behave yourselves. I guess I may come in?"
And suiting the action to the word, the little owner of the extraordinary head-dress hobbled in, and composedly dumped herself down into the rocking-chair Mr. Toosypegs had lately vacated.
"Now, what in the name of Hecate and all the witches, does this mean?" exclaimed Pet, first recovering her presence of mind.
"It means that I'll take some breakfas', if you'll bring it down, Miss," said the little old woman, laying her formidable-looking stick across her lap; and favoring the company, one and all, with a prolonged stare from her keen bright eyes.
"Well, now, that's what I call cool," said Pet, completely taken aback by the old woman's sang froid. "Perhaps your ladyship will be condescending enough to sit over here and help yourself?"
"No thankee," squeaked her ladyship. "I'd rather have it here, if it's all the same to you. I ain't as smart as I used to was; and don't like to be getting up much. Perhaps t'other young gal wouldn't mind bringing it here," she added, looking at the astonished Erminie.
Roused out of her trance of astonishment, not unmingled with terror, by claims of hospitality, Erminie hastened to comply; and placing a cup of fragrant coffee and some buttered waffles on a light waiter, placed it on a chair within the old woman's reach.
That small individual immediately fell to, with an alacrity quite astonishing, considering her size and age; and coffee and waffles in a remarkably short space of time were "among the things that were, but are no longer."
"Thankee, young 'oman, that was very nice," said the old woman, drawing out a flaming yellow cotton pocket-handkerchief, and wiping her mouth, as a sign she had finished; "my appetite ain't so good as it used to be; I reckon that'll do for the present. What's your dinner hour, young gals?"
"Little after midnight," said Pet.
"Humph! I reckon you're trying to poke fun at me, Miss Pet Lawless; but no good ever comes of telling lies. Have ye ever heard tell on Ananias and Sapphira?" asked the old woman, turning sharply on Pet.
"Whew! ghosts, and goblins, and warlocks! She knows my name!" whistled Pet, in unbounded astonishment.
"Yes; I know more about you than I want to know," said the little old woman, with a scowl.
"Well, you ain't the only one in that plight, if that's any consolation," said Pet, carelessly.
"Do you know who I am, too?" said Ray.
"Yes, I've heern tell on you," said the old woman, shortly.
"And no good either, I'll be bound!" said Pet.
"Well, no; sence you say it I never did hear any good of him," said the old woman, taking out a huge snuff-box, and composedly helping herself to a pinch.
"What did you hear about me, mother?" said Ray, laughing, as he shook his curly black locks.
"Well, I heard you was a noisy, disagreeable, fightin' character; allus a-kickin' up a row with somebody, and forever a-tormentin' of that nice young gentleman, Master Ranty Lawless, who is a brother of that little yeller gal over there, and worth a dozen like her!" said the little old woman, with asperity.
"Well, upon my word, if that ain't polite, not to say complimentary," said Pet, drawing a long breath. "'Little yeller gal!' Good gracious!"
"Well, you ain't white, you know," said the old woman—who, whatever her other infirmities might be, was certainly not deaf. "You're rayther of the tawniest, as everybody what's got eyes can see for themselves. It's a pity you ain't good-looking, like your brother Ranty; I don't think I ever saw a prettier young man nor he is, in my life."
"Why, you hateful old thing!" burst out Pet, indignantly; losing all her customary respect for old age in these unflattering remarks. "I ain't tawny; and I am pretty—I just am! and I'm not going to believe anybody that says anything else. If you and everybody else think I'm ugly, it's all your bad taste! Ranty prettier than me! Likely story!" said Pet, between contempt and indignation.
"Well, look what a nice white skin he has!" said the old woman, with whom Master Ranty appeared to be an immense favorite.
"White skin! bleached saffron, more like!" exclaimed Pet; "if our Ranty's good-looking, I guess he keeps his beauty in his pocket; for nobody but you ever discovered it. Humph! 'Little yeller gal!' I vow, it's enough to provoke a saint!" exclaimed Pet, in a higher key, at the remembrance of this insult.
"May we ask the name of the lady who has favored us with her company this morning?" said Ray, at this point, bowing to the old woman with most ceremonious politeness.
"Yes, you may, young man," said the old lady, with a sharp asperity that seemed rather uncalled for; "it's a name I ain't never ashamed of, and that's more'n some folks can say. I'm Goody Two-Shoes; and if you don't like it you may lump it." And the shrill falsetto rose an octave higher, as she gave the snuff-box a furious tap on the lid.
"A mighty pretty name," remarked Pet.
"And we like it, exceedingly," said Ray; "though, if we didn't, what awful meaning lies hidden under the mysterious phrase of 'lumping it'? I confess, it passes my comprehension. Perhaps, my dear madam, you would be good enough to translate it from the original Greek, to which language I should judge it belongs, and let us know its import in the vulgar tongue, commonly called plain English."
"Young man!" exclaimed the beldame, facing sharply round, "I dare say you think it mighty amusing to keep poking fun at me—which shows all the broughten up ever you had, to go showing no respect to people what's in their old ages of life. But if you think sich onchristian conduct"—here the sharp voice rose to the shrillest possible treble—"will go onpunished on this airth, or in the airth to come, you're very much deceived, young man: let me tell you that! I have power, though you mayn't think so, and could turn you into a cracked jug, or a mustard-pot, just as easy as not."
"I wish to mercy you would, then, old Goody Two-Shoes! Lor'! what a showy appearance you'd make, Ray, as a mustard-pot!" said Pet, bursting into a fit of laughter.
"Why, my dear madam, I hadn't the slightest idea of 'poking fun' at you, as you elegantly expressed it," said Ray, looking deeply persecuted and patient; "and as to being turned into a cracked jug, or a mustard-pot, I think would rather retain my present shape if it's all the same to you."
"Take care, then, how you rouse my wrath," said the old woman, with a scowl, which was unfortunately lost in a succession of short, sharp sneezes, as her pinch of snuff went the wrong way. "I'm a patient woman; but I can't stand everything. I'm used to be treated with respect. Where I came from, no such conduct was ever heerd tell on."
"It's a warm climate there—ain't it?" insinuated Pet, meekly.
"Humph! there's some inference in that, if a body only could make it out," grunted the old woman; "anyways, I was always treated with respect there, young 'oman; which I'd advise you to remember, for you need it."
"Now, who would think the little demons would treat the old one with respect?" said Pet, musingly, but in an exceedingly audible tone. "I never knew they were so polite down there, before."
"Young woman," began Goody, with kindling eyes, when Pet interrupted her impatiently with:
"Look here, now! old Goody Two-Shoes, I ain't a young woman, and I never intend to be; and I'd thank you not to keep calling me out of my name. I'm Miss Petronilla Lawless, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd feel grateful to you if you'd call me so. There!"
"Good gracious! Miss Pet, take care!" whispered Mr. Toosypegs, who, gray with terror, had been all this time crouching out of sight, in a corner; "it's real dangerous to rouse her; she might bring the roof down about our heads, and kill us all, if you angered her."
"Who is that young man?" said the old woman, in an appalling voice, as she slowly raised her finger, and pointed it, like a pistol, at the trembling head of Mr. O. C. Toosypegs.
"I—I—I'm Orlando C. Toosypegs, I—I'm very much obliged to you," stammered Mr. Toosypegs, dodging behind Pet, in evident alarm.
"Young man, come over here," solemnly said the beldame, keeping her long finger pointed, as if about to take aim, and never removing her chain-lightning eyes from the pallid physiognomy of the unhappy Mr. Toosypegs.
"Go, Horlander," said Pet, giving him an encouraging push. "Bear it like a man; which means, hold up your head, and take your finger out of your mouth, like a good boy. I'll stick to you to the last."
With chattering teeth, trembling limbs, bristling hair, and terror-stricken face, Mr Toosypegs found himself standing before the ancient sibyl, by dint of a series of pushes from the encouraging hand of Pet.
"Young man, wouldst thou know the future?" began the old woman, in a deep, stern, impressive voice.
"I—I—I—I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Two-Shoes," replied poor Mr. Toosypegs. "It's real kind of you, I'm sure, and—"
"Vain mortal, spare thy superfluous thanks," interrupted the mysterious one, with a wave of her hand, "Dark and terrific is the doom Fate has in store for thee—a doom so dreadful that dogs will cease to bark, the stars in the firmament hold their breath, and even the poultry in the barnyard turn pale to hear it. Woe to thee, unhappy man! Better for thee somebody else had a millstone tied round his neck, and were plunged into the middle of a frog-pond, than that thou shouldst live to see that day."
"Good gracious!" ejaculated the horror-stricken Mr. Toosypegs, wiping the cold drops of perspiration off his face, as the sibyl flourished her snuff-box in the air, as if invoking kindred spirits to come to her aid.
"Sublime peroration!" exclaimed Ray, laughing inwardly.
"Live to see what day?" inquired Pet, whose curiosity was aroused. "The day he gets married, maybe."
"Awful will be the results that will follow that day," went on the seeress, scowling darkly at the irreverent Pet. "Tremendous clouds will flash vividly through the sky, the blinding thunder will show itself in all the colors of a dying dolphin, and a severe rain-storm will probably be the result. On thyself, oh, unhappiest of mortals, terrific will be the effects it will produce! These beautiful snuff-colored freckles will shake to their very center; these magnificent whiskers, which, I perceive, in two or three places show symptoms of sprouting, will wither away in dread, like the grass which perisheth. This courageous form, brave as a lion, which has never yet quailed before man or ghost, will be rent in twain like a mountain in a gale of wind; and an attack of influenza in your great toe will mercifully put an end to all your earthly agonies and troubles at once! Unhappy mortal, go! Thou hast heard thy doom."
A more wretched and woebegone face than Mr. Toosypegs displayed, as he turned round, no earthly eye ever fell on before. Ray had turned to the window in convulsions of laughter.
"I ain't well," said Mr. Toosypegs, mournfully, as he took up his hat. "I've got a pain somewhere, and I guess I'll go home. Good-morning, Mrs. Two-Shoes. I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure."
And slowly and dejectedly Mr. Toosypegs crushed his hat over his eyes, and turned his steps in the direction of Dismal Hollow.
"Poor Horlander!" said Pet; "if he isn't scared out of his wits, if he ever had any. Say, Goody, won't you tell my fortune, too?"
"Come hither, scoffer," said the sibyl, with solemn sternness. "Appear, and learn the dark doom Destiny has in store for thee. Fate, that rules the fortunes of men as well as little yaller gals, will make you laugh on 'tother side of your mouth, one of these days."
"Oh, Hamlet! what a falling off was there!" quoted Ray, laughing. "What a short jump that was from the sublime! Don't pile on the agony too high, Mother Awful."
"Peace, irreverent mortal!" said Goody Two-Shoes giving her snuff-box a solemn wave; "peace, while I foretell the future fate of this tawny little mortal before me!"
"Well, if you ain't the politest old lady!" ejaculated Pet. "But go on; I don't mind being called ugly, now. I'm getting used to it, and rather like it."
"You'll never be drowned," began the sibyl, looking down prophetically in Pet's little dark palm.
"Well, that's pleasant, anyway," said Pet.
"Because you were born to be hanged," went on the old woman, unheeding the interruption.
"Whew!" whistled Pet.
"Your days are numbered—"
"Well, I never saw a number on one of 'em yet," interrupted the incorrigible Petronilla.
"Peace, scoffer!" exclaimed the beldame, fiercely. "The fates disclose a speedy change in thy destiny."
"I expect they do," said Pet; "for I'm going to be sent to school soon."
"Some dark torture is in store for you, an agony that nothing can alleviate, a nameless secret misery—"
"Perhaps it's the colic," suggested Pet "If it is, I ain't afraid; 'cause gin and water will cure it."
"Silence, girl! and mock not destiny thus. At some future day, you will be a wife."
"Well there ain't anything very wonderful in that, I'm sure; I didn't need to be told that. You didn't expect I'd be an old maid—did you?" said Pet.
"I behold here," continued the seeress, peering into the little palm quite heedless of the interruption, "a miserable little hut, where thirteen red-haired children are playing, and a tawny woman, with a dirty face, in the midst of them, is—"
"Spanking them all round!" interrupted Pet, eagerly. "If she isn't, it ain't me."
"Will you be silent?" vociferated the ancient prophetess, with increasing sharpness. "Terrible is the doom of those who scoff at fortune as thou dost! Don't withdraw your hand. It is here plainly revealed that if you travel much you'll see a good deal."
"Go 'way!" ejaculated Pet, incredulously.
"And if you have a great deal of money you'll be rich."
"It ain't possible!" once more broke in the unbelieving Miss Lawless.
"And if you don't die, you'll live to be pretty old."
"Now, who'd 'a' thought it," said Pet.
"Leave me, wretched unbeliever!" said the old woman, flinging away Pet's hand, with angry disdain. "Leave me; but beware! I am not to be mocked with impunity."
"Neither am I," said Pet; "so I'm not going to believe a word about them thirteen red-headed children. A baker's dozen, too; as if twelve wasn't enough! Poh! I ain't such a goose, Goody Two-Shoes."
"Well, wait, you misdirected, sunburned, unfortunate, turned-up-nosed misbeliever!" exclaimed the old virago, shaking her fist at Pet, in a rage. "Wait! And when my words come true, remember they were foretold by Goody Two-shoes."
"Well, I declare!" said Pet. "If I wasn't the patientest, best-tempered little girl in Maryland, I wouldn't put up with all this abuse. Not even my nose is allowed to escape; and it never injured you or anybody else in its life."
And Pet, with a deeply-wounded look, ran her finger along the insulted proboscis, as if to soothe its injured feelings.
"Will you tell my fortune, Mother Two-Shoes?" said Ray, turning round. "I am particularly anxious to know the future."
"Well, you needn't be, then," said Goody, snappishly; "for it has nothing good in store for a miserable scapegoat like you. I won't tell it; but I will tell that little gal's," pointing to Erminie, who all the time had been quietly looking on, not knowing whether to laugh or be afraid, and wholly puzzled by it all. "She gave me some breakfast; and 'one good turn deserves another,' as the Bible says. Give me your hand."
Afraid of offending the old lady, Erminie held it out.
"You'll be rather a nice-looking young woman, if you don't grow up ugly," began the seeress, looking intently at the little white palm that lay in hers like a lily-leaf; "and will have some sense, if not more, unless you get beside yourself, as most young gals nowadays mostly do. It's likely you'll be married to somebody, some time; very likely the first letter of his name will be Ranty Lawless, who, by that time, will be one of the nicest young men you or anybody else will ever see. If he makes you his wife—which is a blessing you ought to pray for every day—don't forget to learn to make slap-jacks and Johnny-cake, two things that good youth is very fond of, as I am given to understand. As he will probably be away up there among the big-wigs in Congress every day, don't forget to give him your blessing, and a paper of sandwiches every morning before he starts; and meet him at night, when he returns, with a smile on your lip, and a cup of tea in your hand. By following these directions, an unclouded future will be yours, and you will probably be translated, at last, in a cloud of fire and brimstone, and your virtues inscribed on a pewter-plate, as an example for all future generations."
"What an enviable fate, Erminie!" exclaimed Ray.
"Seems to me, old lady, our Ranty's a great bother to you," said Pet, suspiciously, as she fixed her bright, searching eyes keenly on her face.
"I always take an interest in nice youths," said the old woman, rising and grasping her stick, preparatory to starting. "I guess I won't mind staying for dinner. I'll call some, other day, thankee."
"Not so fast, Goody Two-Shoes," exclaimed Ray, coolly, catching the old woman by the collar. "I've discovered you at last. 'Off, ye lendings.'"
And to the horror of Erminie, he grasped the cloak and tore it off, in spite of the vigorous struggles of the beldame. Then followed the hat, and red handkerchief, and the venerable gray locks; and Erminie stifled a scream as she fancied head and all was coming. The bushy gray eyebrows came off, too, and the bright, handsome, mischievous face of Master Ranty Lawless stood revealed.