Abridged from Just Mary
Just Mary: Part 1
A young uncle who had no use for “girl babies” and a little baby girl who wins his heart make a setting for the dealings of God in both their lives. We hope you will find this abridged biography to be a blessing to you.
Mother Harmon glanced at the postmark on the letter which the delivery man left in her mail box, and then hastily breaking the seal, she drew a few sheets of folded paper from the envelope and began to read:
My Own Dear Mother:
I just had to write to you so that your anxiety will be relieved, for I know that you have been very anxious for the past few days. I can now tell you that it is all over, and we have a lovely little daughter which was born yesterday afternoon. When we decided on a name we thought of you and of Mother Dennison, and could decide on no better name than the name you both have, so we call her Mary. Just Mary. We thought there was no other name to go with it that is suited to our baby, since she has the name of both of her grandmothers, so she is just Mary Dennison.
Mother Harmon donned a big sunbonnet, and with letter in hand started down the lane toward the field where a man and two boys were plowing.
“Elsie’s baby is a girl,” said she as she lifted the letter in her hand and then handed it to Father Harmon, “and they have named her Mary.”
“Well, I am glad,” Father Harmon said as he folded the letter. “And I was almost sure that they would name her Mary should the baby be a girl, but I think I could have found a name to go with it. Ann, Jane, Elizabeth, Lou, or Susan—any of them would sound good with Mary, and they could have called her by both names.”
At this time the two boys had come over and Mother Harmon announced, “Elsie has a little girl baby.”
“Yes,” said Father Harmon, “you are Uncle Roy and Uncle Dave now, and you have a little niece whose name is Mary.”
“Hmph,” said the younger of the two, who was Roy, “I don’t see why it couldn’t have been a boy.”
“The principal reason why it could not be a boy is because it is a girl,” laughingly replied Father Harmon, “and I think that is reason enough, don’t you?”
Roy had no reply to make, but Dave said, “I do not know as it makes much difference to me which it is, but it seems like I am getting old, to be called Uncle Dave.”
“You can’t expect her to call you Uncle Dave for a few days yet,” retorted Roy, and he turned to go back to his plow.
It was late in the summer when another letter came from Elsie. She was coming home again, bringing little Mary that the grandparents might see her darling. Ever since Mary had come into the Dennison home, Elsie’s letters had been full of what a wonderful baby she had. David and Roy would say, “Why can’t she tell us something else besides, ‘Baby, baby’ all the time?”
“Just wait until you boys see her baby and you may not wonder at her writing so much about it,” replied Father Harmon. “I am guessing that each of you will think the same.”
“Not I,” retorted Roy. “I don’t think girl babies are so wonderful. I do not see why it could not have been a boy anyhow.”
Nevertheless, when the hour for leaving to pick up Elsie arrived, Father and Mother Harmon found two boys eager to go along. It took some time to persuade them to remain at home, but when Father Harmon told Roy that he might go along if he would hold Elsie’s baby on his lap on the return home, that settled the question, and he was willing to remain at home. So Father and Mother Harmon climbed into the carriage, leaving the boys at home to attend to some chores which must be done.
As the sun began to sink below the western horizon two boys sat on the gatepost with their faces turned toward Whitefield watching for the approach of the team. At last they heard the buggy wheels and ran to open the gate which led into the barn lot.
“Hello, David; hello, Roy,” said Elsie as the carriage passed through the gate. “My, my, I never thought to find you boys so big. You have grown so much the last year!” She jumped down and gave each of them a big bear hug. “But come on, boys, I want to show you little Mary. Do you not want to see her?” And she reached out and took the little bundle from Mother Harmon’s arms.
David looked at baby and to the inquiry of Elsie, “What do you think about her?” replied, “I can’t tell you what I think about her yet; you will have to wait until she begins to cry and then I can tell you.”
But Roy could not be persuaded even to take a peep at the little baby face. Elsie took it all as a great joke, and they went into the house together. As Elsie laid the bundle of white cap, dress, and pink bootees on the bed, little Mary opened her eyes and began to look about her, as if to say, “Where am I?” Elsie began to talk to her, and soon a smile spread over the little baby face which went straight to David’s heart. When Elsie removed her cap he exclaimed, “Look at that curly hair!” But no amount of persuasion could induce Roy even to take a peep at her all that evening.
The next morning after being dressed little Mary found her thumb and began to suck it. Roy had stood in the doorway watching her, and when little Mary found her thumb he burst into a big laugh and before exclaimed, “Mama, look at that baby go after her thumb; isn’t that cute?” His face turned scarlet as all the others began to laugh, but he still lingered near the bed. “Mama,” he said that evening, “Elsie has got a cute baby, hasn’t she?”
All of them tried to find a name suited to her other than Mary. Mother Harmon called her little Dumpling; David called her Curly, because of her curly hair; Father Harmon called her Sunshine because she was always smiling. “I know what I shall call the baby,” Roy said at last. “Her name is Peachy, because she is sweet as a peach.” And that is what they called her ever after.
When the time came for Elsie to be taken to the station for her return home, Roy needed no persuading to hold the baby on his lap on the trip to the station, for he was reluctant to turn her loose. When the train pulled out from the station taking Elsie and little Mary back to their own home, he laid his head on his mother’s shoulder and sobbed as only a twelve-year-old boy can sob. Peachy had won Roy’s heart.
Each year Elsie made two visits to her parents, and each time all could see how rapidly Mary was growing and learning. In her third year she could talk plainly and ask so many questions that it kept the Harmon family busy trying to answer them. Though the others might send her away, Uncle Roy never tired regardless of how many questions were asked nor how fast they came.
Peachy was Roy’s favored pet, and all could see that Uncle Roy was the chosen one for her. She was with him when he went to attend to some chores about the barn, or when he went to the field to bring up the stock to water, and ride back with him on old Fan. It seemed while she was with them, he had no other thought than to find some way to amuse her. This was a great relief to both Mother and Grandmother, for Peachy was ever trying to satisfy her curiosity, and often this led her into places where baby hands and fingers should not be found.
But all things must come to an end sometime, and so did Peachy’s visit with Uncle Roy come to an end, and Elsie returned to her home again, leaving Roy in tears as he said, “Good-by” to his little Peachy at the station. Elsie promised to be with them during Christmas. He looked forward to that time with all his heart. Every spare piece of money he could get was laid away that he might get something for little Peachy, that there might be something nice for her to find in her stocking on Christmas morning.
Roy could talk of nothing else. Among the toys which he selected for her was a set of building blocks which contained all the letters of the alphabet together with the picture of a number of animals and their names. When asked why he had selected these, he said, “Peachy is so quick to learn anything that I wanted to teach her the letters on those blocks while they are here.”
The long-expected letter came at last, but what disappointment and anxiety it brought with it, for it stated that Peachy was very sick of a fever, and they could not come and would not feel safe to take her from home for the remainder of the winter, so they need not expect a visit from them now until they felt it would be safe to take their little darling away from home.
“I know this is a great disappointment,” Mother Harmon said as she saw Roy’s dismal face. “But it is all for the best, I am sure. I would not want her to come now with the baby sick, for I fear it would only make her worse, and I want her to take care of our little Peachy.”
Roy nodded his head and walked away, but there was a sad, disappointed look in his eyes as he appeared at the dinner table, and he had no appetite.
Mother Harmon looked at her two sons as they sat there before her. David, her happy-go-lucky boy who never took anything seriously, was of strong, muscular build like his father. He was a good mixer and could go with any crowd and had many friends, but he was the source of much anxiety on the part of his mother, for he was easily persuaded by his associates.
Roy, on the other hand, was light-haired and blue-eyed. He was a slender, tender-hearted boy, so quick to love and so quick to hate. No one could persuade him unless he had confidence in them and loved them. And when he loved them, their burdens became his also, for he took them into his own life. He was very reserved and therefore had few associates. Mother Harmon could see her boys as they were and loved them for what they were.
After supper they began to pack presents for Elsie and her family. Roy went to the buggy shed, and when he returned to the house was carrying under his arm a package which he had purchased in town that day. Mother Harmon unwrapped it to find a lovely dressed doll with real hair and eyes that would open and shut.
“Oh, son, why did you get such a good doll for her?” exclaimed Mother Harmon. “I fear it will last no time and she will just break it right away.”
“There is not anything too good for my Peachy girl,” said Roy, “and I wish that I might see her when they give it to her.” When the last thing was packed David returned to his work, but Roy took the box into town and mailed it at the post office in Whitefield.
Christmas morning dawned, and Uncle Rufus and his family arrived in the old bobsled.
When dinner was called and the two Harmon families sat down to the table, Father Harmon bowed his head to offer thanks for the food before them and ask the blessings of God upon it. “Bless, also, the absent ones from among us today,” he continued, “and may they be as well supplied with the good things of life as we are, and may their every need be supplied.” Mother Harmon was seated next to Roy at the table; as her husband repeated these words she heard Roy take a short breath, and at her husband’s “amen,” she looked at her youngest son and saw his face get pale and his eyelids bat quickly as if to check tears which wanted to start. She saw also the trembling of the lips; yes, Mother saw and understood. Long before any other of the family had finished, Roy excused himself, put on cap and muffler, and started toward the barn. Climbing the ladder to the hay mow, he threw himself face downward and there burst into tears. Unmindful of the cold he lay there for some time until he had wept out the tears that had been held back for a number of days; then he rose, descended the ladder, washed his face with snow and dried it on the back of his knitted mittens, and started for the house.
The others arose from the table, and the women folk began to clear away the dishes and wash them. When about half finished, they heard a loud call from the back of the yard; they looked out and saw Roy rolling a huge ball of snow across the yard.
“A snow man,” exclaimed Henry as he hastily donned mittens and cap; “come on, David, let us help him.” And out the door he went on the run. The girls were soon wrapped in coats, hoods, and scarves, and even little three-year-old Danny went out to see the sport of building a snow man. When completed they called to Mother Harmon and Aunt Susan to see what they had done.
As the women stepped to the back porch, Roy walked to where they were standing and called out merrily, “What do you think of it, Aunt Susan?”
Aunt Susan laughingly replied, “It looks almost like a real man, doesn’t it? You boys have certainly done well, for that is about the best snow man I have ever seen.”
Roy seemed very much pleased, and stepping to his mother’s side, said in a low tone, “I wish Peachy could see it; don’t you?”
Mother Harmon laid her arm about her son’s shoulder, pulled him to her and said, “Yes, son, I do.”
There was something about her voice as she spoke to him that caused him to look up into her face, and he saw something in her eyes which drew him to her as never before, for he now knew that although he might be laughed at and ridiculed by others, Mother understood. Yes, Mother did understand her boy, and she knew what a battle was being fought that he might hide his disappointment and try to enjoy the Christmas festivities with the others. Yes, she understood, and in the pat of her hand, the glance of her eye, and the tone of her voice, she tried to carry the message to her young son, “Mother understands.”
Roy waited anxiously to hear from Elsie after sending the gift package, and a few days after Christmas a letter came telling them how much the package was appreciated, but Elsie closed her letter by saying, “I thought surely little Mary would love the doll Roy sent her more than anything else, but she lays it aside to play with her blocks. I never saw a child enjoy anything so much as she does those blocks, and she plays with them by the hour. It is surprising to see how she is learning the letters, too. She knows quite a few of them, and I think in a short time she will know all of them. She says, ‘Tell Untle Woy thanks for the pitty blocks.’ ”
In March came another letter saying, “Mother, you would be surprised to hear how Mary can spell. She has learned all those letters on the blocks Roy sent her for Christmas and can now spell all the little words on them and can put them together. You do not know what a time I am having, for I have to keep her in the house all the time and she must have something to entertain her, and I am certainly kept busy for there is no end to her desire to learn, and what is so remarkable about it is that she remembers what I tell her so well. I do not think it will be long until she will be reading. If I could get away to get her a book I should do so, but yet, I think she is doing well as she is. I give her pencil and paper, and she lies on her stomach on the floor for an hour at a time making letters.”
All these things were talked over by mother and son. When Roy returned from town the following Saturday afternoon after receiving Elsie’s letter he opened a package containing a Primer, some paper and pencils, some chalk, and a small blackboard. These were sent to Peachy the following week.
After more than a two weeks’ wait he was rewarded for there was not only a letter from Elsie, but little Mary had also sent a printed letter to Uncle Roy, thanking him for the pretty book, the pencils and paper, the chalk and blackboard, and telling him that she was learning to write. This was all printed, and some of the letters were large, and some small, running up and down the lines, but they meant much to the big boy who loved this little girl so much.
But another disappointment was awaiting him, for as much as he had planned on having Peachy with him that summer, in April came a letter from Elsie stating that it would be impossible for her to visit them that summer. Roy was too disappointed to hide the tears, and laying his head over on Mother’s shoulder, the two of them wept out their disappointment together.
“I just feel like starting out and hoofing it there, getting that little Peachy and bringing her right back with me,” said Roy rather indignantly. Mother noticed the indignant ring in his voice and, sitting down with him beside her, she there told him that his future life depended a great deal on conquering self in his early youth, and that he could make this disappointment make a man out of him, or could harbor his disappointment, feeling that he had been badly abused and thereby cultivate a sullen, morbid disposition.
“Those who accomplish anything in this world are those who rise above their disappointments and seek to help others,” said she as she gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “I know that my boy is greatly disappointed, but no more so than I am; but now what shall we do? I mean to try to help you by making things pleasant for you and bring something else in your life to cover this disappointment in a measure, and now what are you going to do?”
Roy looked down at the floor where he was sitting for some time and then, lifting his head, he gave his Mother that knowing look as he said, “I understand, Mother, and I shall forget my own disappointment and try to cover yours in some way,” and this he did. There was not any little act of kindness which he did not perform for her. He had always been a very tender, affectionate child, but he became more tender and Mother, noticing each little attention, tried in every way that she could to do something for her boy to help him to overcome in this disappointment in his life. Roy would whistle as he went about his work at the house or barn or in the field, and often when his Mother denied herself something that she might do for her boy, Roy would whistle or sing the louder as he would say, “Mother understands.” Then there would be something for him to do that he might repay his Mother for the little sacrifice which she had made for him. In this way Roy soon overcame his own disappointment, and in after years looked back on this as an experience which helped him to be an overcomer in later life.