William Henry to Aunt Phebe.
My dear Aunt,—
Thank you for the bosom shirts and the ones that helped make them. They’ve come. I like them very much and the bows too. They’re made right. I lent Bubby Short one bow. His box hadn’t come. He kept running to the expressman’s about every minute. We began to go last night. If we miss any questions to-day, we shall have to stay away next night. That’s going to be the rule. O, you ought to ’ve seen Dorry and me at it with the soap and towels, getting ready! We scrubbed our faces real bright and shining, and he said he felt like a walking jack-o’-lantern. I bought some slippers and had to put some cotton-wool in both the toes of ’em to jam my heels out where they belonged to. I don’t like to wear slippers. My bosom shirt sets bully, and I bought a linen-finish paper collar. I haven’t got any breastpin. I don’t think I’m good looking. Dorry doesn’t either. I know he don’t. That’s girls’ business. We had to buy some gloves, because his cousin said the girls wore white ones, and nice things, and ’t wouldn’t do if we didn’t. Yellowish-brownish ones we got, so as to keep clean longer. But trying on they split in good many places, our fingers were so damp, washing ’em so long. Lame Betsey is going to sew the holes up. When we got there we didn’t dare to go in, first of it, but stood peeking in the door, and by and by Old Wonder Boy gave me a shove and made me tumble in. I jumped up quick, but there was a great long row of girls, and they all went, “Tee hee hee! tee hee hee!” Then Mr. Tornero stamped and put us in the gentlemen’s row. Then both rows had to stand up and take positions, and put one heel in the hollow of t’ other foot, and then t’ other heel in that one’s hollow, and make bows and twist different ways. And right in front was a whole row of girls, all looking. But they made mistakes theirselves sometimes.
First thing we learned the graces, and that is to bend way over sideways, with one hand up in the air, and the other ’most way down to the floor, then shift about on t’ other tack, then come down on one knee, with one hand way behind, and the other one reached out ahead as if ’t was picking up something a good ways off. We have to do these graces to make us limberer, so to dance easier. I tell you ’t is mighty tittlish, keeping on one knee and the other toe, and reaching both ways, and looking up in the air. I did something funny. I’ll tell you, but don’t tell Grandmother. Of course ’t was bad, I know ’t was, made ’em all laugh, but I didn’t think of their all pitching over. You see I was at one end of the row and W. B. was next, and we were fixed all as I said, kneeling down in that tittlish way, reaching out both ways, before and behind, and looking up, and I remembered how he shoved me into the room, and just gave him a little bit of a shove, and he pitched on to the next one, and he on to the next, and that one on to the next, and so that whole row went down, just like a row of bricks! Course everybody laughed, and Mr. Tornero did too, but he soon stamped us still again. And then just as they all got still again, I kept seeing how they all went down, and I shut up my mouth, but all of a sudden that laugh shut up inside made a funny sort of squelching sound, and he looked at me cross and stamped his foot again. Now I suppose he’ll think I’m a bad one, just for that tumbling in and shoving that row down and then laughing when I was trying to keep in! He wants we should practise the graces between times, to limber us up. Dorry and I do them up in our room. Guess you’d laugh if you could see, when we do that first part, bending over sideways, one hand up and one down. I tried to draw us, but ’t is a good deal harder drawing crooked boys than ’t is straight ones, so ’t isn’t a very good picture. The boys that go keep practising in the entries and everywhere, and the other ones do it to make fun of us, so you keep seeing twisted boys everywhere. Bubby Short was kneeling down out doors across the yard, on one knee, and I thought he was taking aim at something, but he said he was doing the graces. I must study now. Bubby Short got punished a real funny way at school to-day. I’ll tell you next time. I’m in a hurry to study now.
Your affectionate Nephew,
William Henry.
P. S. Dorry’s just come in. He and Bubby Short and I bought “Seraphine” some wedding presents and he’s done ’em up in cotton-wool, and they’ll come to her in a pink envelope. Dorry sent that red-stoned ring and I sent the blue-stoned. We thought they’d do for a doll’s bracelets. Bubby Short sends the artificial rosebud. He likes flowers,—he keeps a geranium. We bought the presents at the Two Betseys’ Shop. They said they’d do for bracelets. Dorry says, “Don’t mention the price, for ’t isn’t likely everybody can make such dear presents, and might hurt their feelings.” We tried to make some poetry, but couldn’t think of but two lines.
When you’re a gallant soldier’s wife,
May you be happy all your life!
Dorry says that’s enough, for she couldn’t be any more than happy all her life. “Can too!” W. B. said. “Can be good!” “O, poh!” Bubby Short said; “she can’t be happy without she’s good, can she?” But I want to study my lesson now.
W. H.
Those bosom shirts are the best things I ever had.