Chapter 11
Chapter 11 of Grandma's Miracles or Stories Told at Six O'Clock in the Evening by Pansy. The Slibrivox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 11. An Intercessor. I am the vine, ye are the branches. He will guide you into all truth. He ever liveth to make intercession for them. The last verse is mine, said Marian, and I do hope the story is about it. I know one, said Grandma. I know it well. There is nothing which happened to me in
my girlhood that I remember much better. I was older than you, Marion, nearly fourteen. Yes, I'll tell you about it. You may as well know that your grandmother went astray sometimes, for all she was surrounded by the best and wisest friends a girl ever had. It will help you to remember how full of temptation the world is, and how weak we all are. I was spending a month at my Aunt Barbara's. I didn't like to be there. My aunt was a cold kind of woman, who knew very little
about girls, but I had to go, for mother and father were away. They promised if I would wait patiently at my Aunt Barbara's, they would take me with them to see the ocean. Mother was to go, and I might go with her and stay a whole month. I had read about the ocean, but had never had a glimpse of it, and I was just wild to go. Well, I got through three weeks at Aunt Barbara's, and did not disgrace myself more than a dozen times in the course of a day. You see, children,
your aunt was a good woman, but she wasn't a mother, nor a bit like one. It was just a lovely summer evening, with a great big moon climbing up through the trees. Aunt Barbara and her niece, Miss Pauline, and her niece's intended husband, Mr. Robert Van Horn, were out on the lawn, and I was fidgeting about, first in the garden and then in the parlor, wishing I could get a letter from mother, or could run home, or could do something that I wanted to, when down the
carriage drive came the loveliest four-horse equipage I ever saw. Dick Wulsett was driving, and a girl whom I liked ever so much was in the carriage, and a boy who was really bright and handsome and good-natured got out, and took off his hat politely to my aunt, and asked if I couldn't go with them for a drive. Oh, I tell you, if ever I was in a flutter in my life, it was then. I felt as though I must go. I had been brought up with horses, and could drive them as well as my
brothers could, and Dick was a first-rate fellow, and the handsome one was his cousin, whom my uncle called a very well-intentioned youth. And I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't go and have a nice drive. But my aunt did. She said, no indeed, she couldn't think of trusting my neck to those horses. It was a great responsibility to take care of other people's children. She was sure my father would not allow it. In vain Dick told her they were his father's well-trained horses, all of them,
and he had driven them four in hand hundreds of times, and we would be back by nine o'clock without fail. They might as well have talked to a stone. Aunt Barbara never even smiled. She sat up straight, looked dignified, and said she could not think of such a thing, and they drove away. Well, children, I know you would never believe it of your old grandmother. It does seem as though I must have been kind of crazy that night. I never did such a thing before
or since, but I ran away and went on that ride. The audience exclaimed over this in wide-eyed astonishment. Yes, said Grandmother, I did. Now that's a solemn fact. I didn't really mean to do any such thing. When I slipped out at the back door with my hat in my hand, I just meant to go across the common over to Jane Hancock's and ask her if she didn't think it the meanest thing in the world that Aunt Barbara never let me go anywhere. Jane Hancock was a nice girl several
years older than I, but I liked her, so did everybody. Now whom should I find when I got over there but the party in the four-horse carriage? They had stopped for Jane, but Jane's folks were all away, and she had charge of the house and couldn't go. When they saw me, they set up a shout, Oh, there's Ruthie after all! Ruthie, jump right in, this is splendid! If you'll believe it, and I hardly will myself, before I knew what I was about, in I got and away we went. Jane thought it was all right, the rest thought that my aunt had changed her mind, but I knew better.
I know what happened next, said Ralph, wisdom on every line of his face. The horses got scared at a cow or something and ran away and pitched you all out and killed everybody, no, almost killed them, and all the horses were spoiled and the carriage knocked to pieces, and your father had to pay lots of money. Said Marion, Ralph, do hush and let Grandma finish. said grandma no my boy you are wrong things don't always turn out that way though they do sometimes
we had as pretty a ride as i ever took and i should have enjoyed every minute of it had aunt barbara let me go but as it was i began to be so ashamed of myself i could hardly sit up straight and take my share in the talking. They didn't know what to make of me, for I was a great talker in those days, but that night I kept still. I voted for home before any of the others were ready, and I made up my mind to walk straight up to Aunt Barbara and tell her where I had been,
and that I was ashamed of myself, and would willingly take any punishment she thought best. I had it all planned out, but nothing happened as I planned it. I guess the party began to suspect that something was wrong, for Dick asked if he should leave me at Jane's. I flushed up at that and said, No, if you please, I am not stopping with Jane, but with my Aunt Barbara. So he drove to the door, but the one who came out and held up his arms to
take me down from my high seat was my own father. Think of that, children. I thought I would have been glad if he had dropped me down under the horse's feet or anywhere. He and mother had come a week earlier than they had been expected, and the first thing Aunt Barbara did was to send across to Jane's for me. I was always there when I couldn't be found at home, and of course Jane told them I had gone on the ride, and there it was. I apologized humbly enough to my aunt,
but she thought it was because my father said I must, and he did not know, of course, how fully I had made up my mind to do it before I knew he was there. It was all miserable. Aunt Barbara was as stiff as an icicle, which was certainly no wonder. She said she hoped father would give me a severe enough punishment to keep me from going to ruin. But the way she said it made me feel as though she thought going to ruin would be the best thing I could do.
But I tell you, I thought my punishment was severe enough when father told me he had decided that I could not be trusted to go with my mother to the seaside. I might take a fancy to run away and give her trouble. I was to go home with him, and my sister Nanny was to go in my place. I cried all night. I was so homesick for mother, and Nanny had been with her all summer, and I wanted to see the ocean, and I was so ashamed to have to go home after I had told
all my friends I was going to go to the seashore. It was a miserable night. The next morning, early, father called me to his room. Mother wasn't up yet, and Sister Nanny sat on the side of her bed, and father stood before them. He turned, as I came in with my eyes very red, and said he, Daughter, here's an intercessor for you, and she is waxing so eloquent she has almost succeeded. She wants us, for her sake, to forgive you, and let you go with your mother, and take her home
with me to keep house. What do you say? I looked at Nanny and smiled, a weak kind of a smile, and then I burst into tears. I never will, I sobbed. I have been a bad, wicked girl, but I won't be selfish. Nanny shall go to the ocean, and I will go home. But Nanny had her way just as she nearly always had, and a sweet, unselfish way it always was. I remember just how sort of half-frightened I was to think that Father would take back his word when it was once
passed, for he was a very strict man. Some people called him stern. One day I asked him how it was that he came to let me go after all. I can seem to see the smile on his face now as he said, I could not say no to the intercessor, Ruthie, and, daughter, we are always to remember there is one to whom the Heavenly Father never says no, and he ever liveth to make intercession for us. Do you wonder that I remember the verse? Grandma, said Marion, after a thoughtful pause,
that was the dear Aunt Nanny who died before I was born, wasn't it? Yes, said Grandma, with a gentle little sigh, years and years before. End of chapter 11
