Reaping
Another year passed, and there came a great hubbub in the Denison home, for Mary received a letter from Uncle Roy, sent from the Philippines, stating that he was soon sailing for the United States. His time had expired in the navy, and he did not mean to reenlist, so it would not be long until he would come to see his little Peachy girl. A few days after receiving this letter, another one came from San Francisco stating he was in the States expecting to get his discharge in a few days, and he would then come to see them. So they were daily in a state of expectancy, for they did not know just when he would walk in.
But days passed, and then weeks, and the weeks stretched into months, for when entering the States he obtained employment which kept him close so that he could not get away often. So Mary contented herself with his letters, although her disappointment was very great.
But Mary’s life was not so hard, for there were many bright spots in it. Dan was indeed a changed man and very kind and tender to Mary. This only enraged Myra all the more, and often she told Dan he cared for no one but Mary, and Mary surely did not escape her sharp tongue. Dan did indeed care for Mary, and his tenderness toward her now was meant to be doubled, so that he might in some way atone for the neglect of bygone years. She no longer had to dress in cast-off clothing, for when the other children got new dresses there was always one or more new ones for Mary. As she was neat about sewing, her clothes always looked nice, and she was developing into a beautiful young lady. After her illness, she lost all her hair, and now it hung in a mass of curls about her shoulders. Dan would often run his hands through her hair and say, “My old curly-head,” proud of the fact that her hair hung in curls. It had been dark before her illness, but now was a glossy black. Otis would often run his blind fingers across her head and say, “Such pretty, pretty curls.”
Such attentions to Mary only angered her stepmother all the more, and she resented it with all the power there was in her, threatening many times to wait until she caught Mary asleep and cut the last one of them off close to her head. But she did not get this opportunity, and, as she was so often cruel to the extreme with Mary and Otis, making them do things that were so unnecessary, Dan held a conference with Mary one day which brought desired results.
In the Dennison community the women often came together to quilt, and Myra invited a number of her neighbors to her place for a quilting. They were about twelve in number, and they came in the morning, remaining to dinner. Myra had been busy with the women about the quilt, leaving Mary to see to the cooking of the dinner.
Mary was stirring up some dough when Myra came to the kitchen to get a saucer to make some round markings on the quilt, and when opening the cabinet door to get the saucer, she knocked the bowl containing the dough off, and it landed bottom side up on the floor. She flew into a rage and began to heap abuses on Mary for letting the bowl sit there. Mary went about cleaning up the mess that was made on the floor, and Myra returned to the room where the women were, telling what a time she had with Mary and how careless she was, stating that Mary had been so awkward and knocked a bowl of dough off on the floor.
Mary heard her through the open door, and all the resentment of her soul went out against her stepmother. Rising, she went into the room and confronted Myra, saying, “Now, Mother, you know that is not true at all, for you know that you upset that bowl yourself.”
Here Myra turned toward her and with her voice pitched high in anger said, “I’ll teach you to dispute my word like that,” and, raising her hand, tried to strike Mary on the face, but Mary was not there, as she had dodged the blow. When she straightened herself, she struck Myra with her open hand across the mouth. Those present stared open-mouthed as they saw these two return blow for blow. Mary was quicker than Myra, and so dodged many of her blows. Soon Myra sank into a chair and told Mary to behave herself. Mary was so angry she could not control herself and there before those women told Myra of the past, of the threats made, of the many brutal beatings she had given her, and of putting her out in the lean-to to sleep and trying to make her stay there when she had measles. No one present interfered, and so Mary was left to have her say. She took advantage of the opportunity. She told her stepmother that her father had told her to do this very thing the next time she tried to punish her unjustly, and she did it and concluded by saying, as she pointed her finger in Myra’s face, “And I never expect to take another beating from you, for from now on the beatings will go the other way.” As this was the first time that Mary had ever done such, Myra sat dumb-founded, and then tried to silence her. After some time Mary became quiet, and then, returning to the kitchen, completed the dinner.
When Myra related the incident of the day to Dan, there was another scene in the Dennison home, as he informed her that he had instructed Mary to do the very thing she had done that day. Needless to say she was never compelled to take any more abuse from her stepmother, but a bitterness sprang up in Myra’s heart against Mary which ripened into hatred, and from that time on Mary made Myra’s life miserable. Many times Myra was tempted to drive her from home, but she was needed badly for the work which she did, and then she knew also that Dan would interfere, and she also knew that she now was being paid back and in good measure for some things she had done in the past. She was beginning to reap some things she had sown.
Summer approached with its heat and scorching winds, and everybody busy on the farm. Dan had harvested and threshed his wheat and oats and finished his last piece of corn. Mary had been very busy that year, for she had been a helper in the field. She was with her father in the preparation of the ground and then in the planting of the seed and also in the harvesting of the grain. Caroline was now getting big enough to assist her mother in the house, but Myra did not find the willing helper in her that she had found in Mary. Much as Mary assisted in the field, she also did what she could in the house, but regardless of what she did or what she did not do, she was unmolested by her stepmother.
One evening, in the last week in August, as the Dennison family sat down to their evening meal, a livery rig stopped at their front gate. A man and woman alighted, a couple of hand grips were set out of the rig, and the driver turned about in the road and headed his horses toward town. These two opened the gate and started up the walk. The Dennison’s did not recognize either of them until they were near the house, and then Mary ran through the room calling out, “It’s Uncle Roy; it’s Uncle Roy.” Soon Roy was again holding his little Peachy girl in his arms. He then presented the lady with him as her Aunt Ethel, and as Mary felt her warm handclasp and the loving caress on her cheek, her heart went out to her aunt; and Ethel in turn loved the curly-haired niece of her husband. Dan and Myra received them cordially, and all noticed the tears that fell from her eyes as Aunt Ethel felt the blind fingers of Otis pass over her face, as he tried to “see” his new Aunty. A pleasant evening was spent together, and before the Dennison family retired for the evening, Ethel had found a warm place in each of their hearts.
Roy and his wife had not been with the Dennisons very long until Dan found the object of their visit. Roy had seen how Mary’s education had been neglected, and he asked that he might take her and Otis and educate them. He approached Dan the next day after his arrival, and was asked that he might consider it for awhile. At the end of the third day Dan told him, and then the children were consulted as to their desire. When Mary was informed as to the desire of her uncle, she fell on her Aunt Ethel’s neck and wept tears of joy, for the desire of her heart was now to be realized, and she could go to school at last. Otis, too, was delighted beyond words, for he was to be sent to a school for the blind in the same city where Uncle Roy lived. The next few days were spent in making preparation, with Myra moody and sullen. But she could say nothing, and did not, until the morning of their departure, when there was another scene in the Dennison home which made Uncle Roy more determined than ever to care for his sister’s children.
During the preparation for the children to take their departure, Ethel marveled at the deftness of Mary’s fingers, and her neat sewing, and she would sit in admiration of the girl as she sat at the sewing machine or bent over the table either sewing or preparing some garment to sew. Uncle Roy would often come about her and, running his hands through her hair, would say, “My curly-headed, Peachy girl.”
Dan went with them to the train, and, as he told his children goodbye, he broke down. Gathering them both in his arms, he sobbed like a child. He knew that he would not see them again for many days and possibly never, and although he had not done as some would think that he should have done, he loved the children of his young wife. It was hard to part with them although he knew it was all for the best for both him and them.
Otis and Mary enjoyed the trip greatly, as it had been some time since either had taken a trip on the train. Mary could remember when she had been on a train, but Otis was too small to remember, and this trip was an enjoyable one for him. He would move his fingers over the cushions, feeling of the soft plush, and then over the window of the coach, trying to see what kind of place it was. For many hours they were on the train, and then when they arrived in the city where they were to live, they stared about them open-mouthed. Neither had ever seen a street car, and Otis was attracted by the sound and immediately began all sorts of questions about it. They took a car to their home and again Otis’ fingers helped him to see what he was riding on.
Upon entering their new home, Mary stared in amazement, for there stood an upright piano, the first she had ever seen. When Aunt Ethel seated herself on the stool and began to run her fingers over the keys and bring out beautiful music, Mary looked on top of it, around the back of it, and then, getting on her hands and knees, tried to peep under it to see where the music was coming from. To others this would have been very amusing, but tears of sadness rolled over Uncle Roy’s cheeks as he thought of the neglected children who were so dear to him. He meant to do all that he could that others could see his Peachy girl as he saw her.