He said that was to brush the snarls off little Tommy’s face. Tommy is a tip-top little chap; but he’s apt to make a fuss. Sometimes he teased to drive, and then he teased for a drink, and then for a sugar-cracker, and then to sit with Matilda, and then with Hannah Jane. And, every time he fretted, Uncle Jacob would take out the flyflapper, and play brush the snarls off his face, and say, “There they go! Pick ’em up! pick ’em up!” And that would set Tommy a-laughing. Tommy tumbled out once, the back end of the cart. Billy was driving, and he whipped up quick, and they started ahead, and sent Tommy out the back end, all in a heap. But first he stood on his head, for ’t was quite a sandy place. I drove part of the way, and so did Bubby Short. We didn’t hurrah any going. Some men that we met would laugh and call out, “What’ll you take for your span?” And sometimes boys would turn round, and laugh, and holler out, “How are you, teakettle?” I think a hay-cart is the best thing to ride in that ever was. Just as we got through the woods, we looked round and saw Billy’s father coming, bringing Billy’s grandmother in a horse and chaise. Then we all clapped. For they said they guessed they couldn’t come.
When we got to the shore the horses had to be hitched to the cart, for there wasn’t a tree there, nor so much as a stump. Uncle Jacob called to us to come help him dig the clams. Billy carried the clam-digger, and I carried the bucket. Isn’t it funny that clams live in the mud? How do you suppose they move round? Do you suppose they know anything? Uncle Jacob struck his clam-digger in everywhere where he saw holes in the mud; and as fast as he uncovered the clams we picked them up, and soon got the bucket full.
Then he told us to run like lamplighters along the shore, and pick up sticks and bits of boards. “Bring them where you see a smoke rising,” says he.
O, such loads as we got, and split up the big pieces with the hatchet! Uncle Jacob had fixed some stones in a good way, and put his iron fireboard on top, and made a fire underneath. Then he spread his clams on the fireboard to roast. O, I tell you, sis, you never tasted of anything so good in your life as clams roasted on a fireboard!
And he put some stones together in another place, and set on the teakettle, and made a fire under it,—to make a cup of tea for mother, he said. Tommy kept helping making the fire, and once he joggled the teakettle over. Aunt Phebe and the girls sat on the rocks, the side where the wind wouldn’t blow the smoke in their eyes. But Billy’s grandmother had a soft seat made of sea-weed and the chaise cushions, and shawls all over her, and Billy’s father read things out of the newspaper to her. He said they two were the invited guests, and mustn’t work.
It took the girls ever so long to cut up the cakes and pies, and butter the biscuits. I know I never was so hungry before! The clams were passed round, piping hot, in box covers, and tin-pail covers, and some had to have shingles. You’d better believe those clams tasted good! Then all the other things were passed round. O, I don’t believe any other woman can make things as good as Aunt Phebe’s! Georgianna had a frosted plum-cake baked in a saucer; and, every time she moved her seat, Uncle Jacob would go too, and sit close up to her, and say how much he liked Georgie, she was the best little girl that ever was,—a great deal better than Aunt Phebe’s girls. Then Georgianna would say, “O, I know you! you want my frosted cake!” Then Uncle Jacob would pucker his lips together, and shut up his eyes, and shake his head so solemn! He keeps every body a-laughing, even Billy’s grandmother. He was just as clever to her! picked out the best mug there was to put her tea in,—Aunt Phebe don’t carry her good dishes, they get broken so,—and shocked out the clams for her in a saucer. When you get this letter, I guess you’ll get a good long one. After dinner we scattered about the shore. ’T was fun to see the crabs and frys and things the tide had left in the little pools of water. And I found lots of blanc-mange moss. We boys ran ever so far along shore, and went in swimming. The water wasn’t very cold.
When it was time to go home, Uncle Jacob drummed loud on the six-quart pail, and waved his handkerchief. And the wind took it out of his hand, and blew it off on the water. Billy said, “Now the fishes can have a pocket-handkerchief.” And that made little Tommy laugh. Tommy had been in wading without his trousers being rolled up, and got ’em sopping wet. Just as we were going to leave, a sail-boat went past, quite near the shore, with a party on board. We gave them three cheers, and they gave us three cheers and a tiger; then they waved, and then we waved. Uncle Jacob hadn’t any pocket-handkerchief, so he caught Georgianna up in his arms, with her white sunbonnet on, and waved her; then the people in the boat clapped.
O, we had a jolly time coming home! In the woods we all got out and rested the horses, and I came pretty near catching a little striped squirrel. I should give it to you if I had. Did you ever see any live fences? Fences that branch out, and have leaves grow on them? Now I suppose you don’t believe that! But it’s true, for I’ve seen them. In the woods, if they want to fence off a piece, they don’t go to work and build a fence, but they bend down young trees, or the branches of trees, and fasten them to the next, and so on as far as they want the fence to go. And these trees and branches keep growing, and look so funny, something like giants with their legs and arms all twisted about. And every spring they leaf out the same as other trees, and that makes a real live fence. My squirrel was on that kind of fence. I wish it was my squirrel. He had a striped back. I got close up to him that is, I got quite close up,—near enough to see his eyes. What things they are to run!
Coming home we sang songs, and laughed; and every time we came to a house we cheered all together, and waved our flags. Everybody came to their windows to look, for there isn’t much travelling on that road. O, I’m so out of breath, and so hoarse! But I’m sorry we’ve got home, I wish it had been ten miles. Now I hear them laughing and clapping over at Aunt Phebe’s. What can they be doing? Now Uncle Jacob is calling us to come over. Bubby Short’s jumped up. He says his throat feels better now. I wonder what Uncle Jacob wants of us. We must go and see. Good by, sis. This letter is from your
Brother Dorry.