Faith Bickford

“ Told Uncle Reuben how many different kinds of stuffs were on Mrs. Snow’s bonnet; and that beautiful, beautiful song going on all the while. It wasn’t wicked! The choir at church isn’t wicked, and this is fifty times nicer. ’Sides—” Her hands dropped limply to her lap. Her eyes lifted from their watch down the road which lay white and smooth in the moonlight, the shadows of the trees crouching dark on either side. Gazing up at the stars she continued, tenderly, “My Daddy Joe made music on one. He called it his ‘dear old fiddle,’ he loved it so. No, it can’t be wicked.” ”

“ For one glorified hour you listen. And when the last evangel note has trembled its message to every part of the vast room, even from the frescoed dome to the deepest places in the hearts of the listeners, you silently turn away.
[104] People of different races, speaking different tongues,—each soul with its own burden, griefs, or sins,—have all been lifted nearer heaven by the same voice of lingering music.
Is it a wonder that no other instrument, however precious, can say to weary hearts, “He is sure to have heard; it will be all right pretty soon,” as Daddy Joe’s fiddle? ”

“ At last, kneeling by her bed, she said over the carefully chosen words, “Our Father, who art in heaven and everywhere, I love Daddy Joe’s fiddle very much. Better even than the real china tea-set that Cousin Gertrude sent me, or my string of beads. But I can’t make music on it, I’m afraid it’s too old. Mr. Green said it couldn’t be, but I’m afraid I didn’t understand him right. I want to ask him. Can’t Thou make him not call me wicked, nor Daddy Joe, nor ever tell Aunt Mean, ’cause Thou knows how mad she’d be.” Chee paused. ”

“ I love the violin, too—not as you do. I wanted to play because people expected I would. I felt too proud to say that, after years of study, I could never be a great player, and so I kept on working with one teacher after another. Finally, [62] Mr. Farrar, that is my Herman, told me I had better not spend all my time and money for that any longer. He said I had come to a place where I could never go much beyond, and that I wanted to play more from pride than from love—just because my parents had decided, when I was but a child, that music was my first gift. ”

“ Chee did not like the grandpa very well, he made her feel chilly, she said; but often she longed to change her own stiff, jetty hair for Sadie’s fuzzy curls. Her thoughts of the birds and the trees and Sadie’s curls were suddenly checked by Mr. Green, the minister, who was saying, “It is something like a violin—the older it grows, and the oftener it is used, the more valuable it becomes.” ”

“ With an upward, yearning glance the child began to play.
If before, the dazzling, fantastic garb of the [98] player had blended with the dreamy legends of her tender music, not so now; none looked at the girl save unconsciously to watch her face. Each person felt alone in holy communion with the music which descended as from heaven itself to the depths of their souls.
These strains spoke not of the forest, nor of the sea. They rung out in condemnation; they plead with tender reproachfulness ”

“ The turmoil of life is forgotten in the hush of this peacefulness.
While you wait, a strain of tender music breathes softly through the place. The sounds scarcely break the silence. Stillness itself is given a voice. The faces about you brighten. ”

“ Mr. Farrar considered himself an apt student of human nature. “It’s only natural the child should have a little pride. It’s a good thing Gertrude intends to see to a gown for her.” So said the young man to himself, little doubting the exact nature of Chee’s request.
Satisfied with his promise to say “yes,” the little girl began to play her chosen piece.
It had taken so long to make a selection from her old pieces, Cousin Herman had bought several [82] new ones—marvels of creation they were to Chee. ”

“ Grandfather lets him kill animals sometimes.
“His other sons are kind, gentle boys; they never do any harm, but cool the air instead, and make the earth fresh again. Thunder that just threatens and mutters is grandfather’s voice.”
“What about lightning?” asked Cousin Herman, with a twinkle in his eye. “Is that kind and good?”
Chee laughed. “Lightning? She’s—well, she’s his wife.” They all laughed at her answer, and Mr. Farrar mischievously glanced at Gertrude. Chee noticed that she blushed, but took courage and added, “There’s an old story about grandfather ”

“ After Mrs. Green had asked for her uncle and aunt, if they had green corn yet, and if Miss Almeana’s currant-bushes would be heavy that year, conversation flagged. Chee still sat on the edge of her chair as though waiting for something to happen.
[30] “What can ail the child?” wondered Mrs. Green. Finally she ventured to ask Chee if she had come on any special errand.
“No-o, not ’zactly an errand, but—but,” she hesitated, slowly twisting around her fingers the hem of her short gingham skirt. “Could—please do you care if I see the minister a minute?” ”

“ Cousin Gertrude patted Chee’s braids. Mr. [92] Farrar whistled softly to himself. Chee noticed that neither answered her question.
“Well, anyway,” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing, “you can ask just as many people as you like, and every one will tell you that there never was an Indian or anything he owned killed in a thunder-storm. [4] My daddy asked lots of wise people, and none ever could tell of a single one.” ”

“ After repeated trials and no music, she grew discouraged; even her untrained ear found something very, very wrong. “It’s the fiddle,” she concluded, “it’s too old. It won’t work. If I only had a new one now, brandy-new from the store, I know I could do it. I hear lots of songs in my head, but I can’t hear them in the fiddle.” However, the idea that the violin was too old was soon corrected.
One Sunday morning Chee sat in church, thinking [20] there must be baby birds just outside a window near. The songs the old birds were singing made her think so. ”

“ For some reason Aunt Mean has never taken these away from her. With a fold of her night-robe she began to polish the instrument. [17] In doing so she disturbed one of its yellow strings. A low, trembling note vibrated through the loft. Chee’s face glowed. She would make music for herself. Why had she not thought of that before? In her delight, the child put both her arms around the old violin and passionately hugged it. ”

“ Chee wondered if Aunt Mean spoke from experience, [68] and if it wouldn’t have been a very serious matter indeed if Aunt Mean had ever attempted to “git” any man other than her brother. During the embarrassment that followed, Mr. Farrar found occasion to remark that it was getting late, and Cousin Gertrude felt obliged to go for her hat. But before entering the carriage she managed to whisper to Chee, “Don’t undress when you go up-stairs to-night—we shall be home early.” ”

“ Whittaker,—when thim unairthly sounds blowed up softly loike, roight out of the chimbly.”
“What in the world could the fellow have heard?” asked Uncle Reuben at breakfast.
“Heard? Why, the whiskey rattling his brain,” replied Aunt Mean. “Don’t look so frightened, Chee. It’s wicked to believe in ghosts, and I don’t want you to get no sech notions in your head.” Perhaps Aunt Mean was giving orders to herself as well as to her niece. ”

“ He was a gruff man, and though they had often proved his kind-heartedness in a case of measles, or scarlet fever, small urchins stepped aside with alacrity as he passed.
“Some on you is wrong, and some on you is maybe right,” said Bill Saulswick, the village wag and philosopher, “but I know good tunes when I hears ’um; just gimme the sort, be it fiddlin’, or singin’, or drummin’,—that tells me why I’m who, and which I’m what, and when I’m where, and I’ll sit there till the lights go out.” ”

“ DADDY JOE’S FIDDLE
CHAPTER I. A TALL clock in the hall was striking eleven. A tired, but very wide-awake, little girl was climbing the stairs. “Land sakes, child! Hear that? Go straight to sleep now. It’s wicked for grown folks to be up this time of night, say nothing of young ’uns.”
The child made no reply. She had nothing to say. Older people than Chee have learned to be silent; in her case, lessons had been unnecessary. Softly closing her chamber door, Chee blew out the little flame that had lighted her way up the creaking stairs. ”

“ This last was added a little wearily. “What has the way I hold Daddy’s fiddle to do with Cousin Herman?” she wondered.
“It’s just as I say,” exclaimed Mr. Farrar, turning to Gertrude,—“inherited talent. Probably the father was only a fair player, but unless I’m stepping down a peg, the child’s a genius.” Chee wondered if a genius was something nice, but, because she disliked to show her ignorance, refrained from asking. ”

“ Daddy told me so. But anyway, I shouldn’t be afraid because it’s just the same. He won’t let anything hurt me. Daddy told me that, and I think I should know it, anyway. Sometimes when the breeze blows softly against my cheek, it tells me so, and if ever I forget, the stars at night tell me how wrong it is to fear Our Father who loves us so.”
Cousin Gertrude made no reply, she only held the little one closer. Chee was not a heathen, but she was certainly a strange child.
[94] CHAPTER XIV. EVENING came. Mr. Farrar drove Gertrude and Chee to the minister’s home, and then hurried to the hotel. ”

“ A small, brown-faced girl stood near the centre. [96] She was dressed in gay Indian clothes; her long black unbraided hair fell nearly to her knees; bright beads were twined about her neck and arms; bare ankles showed above wee moccasins. In one hand she carried a small red violin and a long bow.
The people were too much interested to applaud. All strove for a better view of the dark, flushed face before them. ”

“ The little ones are all well. Herman has promised them a trip to the farm at Easter. Gertrude’s cold is better. They enclosed a letter from Chee.”
And so together they sit in the lamplight, lingering over their weekly pleasure—the children’s letter.
Most old places have their ghost stories. The Whittakers’ at the Bend is not an exception. Long ago the incident happened, but to this day neither of the old people are fond of the attic. Even the creaking stairway brings to Aunt Mean’s mind sad strains of music. ”

“ Moreover, she had an indescribable notion that by allowing her niece to frequent the parsonage, she might in some way counterbalance the child’s heathendom. “It’s no use for you to tell me different, Reuben,” she would argue. “Her mother was a heathen, or Injun” (the two were synonymous in Aunt Mean’s mind) , “and do what we can, the girl will allers be half a savage.”
So Chee—in spite of her aunt’s arguing, decidedly a whole person—was allowed to spend one or two days of every week with her friends. ”

“ Chee shook her head dubiously. “Aunt Mean never lets anything make her feel as though she must fly straight to heaven. She can’t,” said the little girl, translating Gertrude’s words into a language of her own.
[78] CHAPTER XII. BUSY weeks followed. Mr. Farrar frequently came and went—of course to see Gertrude, but often their afternoon drive together was only to and from the parsonage gate.
Finally the day for the concert was set. Artists from a distance were engaged, and the children’s rehearsal commenced. Chesterfield life had begun to lag. ”

“ The minister understood, and many a day, when his burdens were heavy, he recalled the faith of a little half-Indian child.
[36] CHAPTER V. IT was Sunday. The morning sermon was ended, and the choir-leader had played the “walkout,” as Chee termed the postlude.
The choir-leader was a very interesting person. He not only led the singing and played the organ at church, but could whistle. And such whistling! Not the every-day wood-pile sort, but the kind that made every boy in town his friend. ”

“ She hasn’t eyes for nobody but her, gaddin’ off every day, or ridin’ to town. I should most expect her beau would make some kind of a row over it.”
For they did “gad off” every pleasant day, sometimes to the grove to plan, but more often to the minister’s. There Chee would practise on Mr. Green’s violin, while Gertrude read or talked with Mrs. Green.
[81] A few days before the concert, Mr. Farrar met them that he might hear, for the last time, Chee’s piece.
“Cousin Herman, if I play very well indeed, will you please say ‘yes’ to something?” ”

“ He told the girl she must give him a smoke when he asked for it, to show she was grateful. Then he sent her home safe and sound. Do you like that story?”
“Very much,” answered Cousin Herman. “But I can see from her face that Gertie is wondering how in the world the girl could give old Thunder a smoke.”
“The Indians used always to do that after grandfather was so good to one of their people. They build a fire out-doors every time grandfather calls for it, and put some tobacco in it; it goes up in the smoke, and so he gets it. ”