Mr. Pryor's Door

"Grief will be joy if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray,
Joy will be grief if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day."

"Have Sally and Peter said anything about getting married yet?" asked
my big sister Lucy of mother. Lucy was home on a visit. She was
bathing her baby and mother was sewing.

"Not a word!"

"Are they engaged?"

"Sally hasn't mentioned it."

"Well, can't you find out?"

"How could I?" asked mother.

"Why, watch them a little and see how they act when they are together.
If he kisses her when he leaves, of course they are engaged."

"It would be best to wait until Sally tells me," laughed mother.

I heard this from the back steps. Neither mother nor Lucy knew I was
there. I went in to see if they would let me take the baby. Of course
they wouldn't! Mother took it herself. She was rocking, and softly
singing my Dutch song that I loved best; I can't spell it, but it
sounds like this:

"Trus, trus, trill;
Der power rid der fill,
Fill sphring aveck,
Plodschlicter power in der dreck."

Once I asked mother to sing it in English, and she couldn't because it
didn't rhyme that way and the words wouldn't fit the notes; it was
just, "Trot, trot, trot, a boy rode a colt. The colt sprang aside;
down went the boy in the dirt."

"Aw, don't sing my song to that little red, pug-nosed bald-head!" I
said.

Really, it was a very nice baby; I only said that because I wanted to
hold it, and mother wouldn't give it up. I tried to coax May to the
dam snake hunting, but she couldn't go, so I had to amuse myself. I
had a doll, but I never played with it except when I was dressed up on
Sunday. Anyway, what's the use of a doll when there's a live baby in
the house? I didn't care much for my playhouse since I had seen one so
much finer that Laddie had made for the Princess. Of course I knew
moss wouldn't take root in our orchard as it did in the woods, neither
would willow cuttings or the red flowers. Finally, I decided to go
hunting. I went into the garden and gathered every ripe touch-me-not
pod I could find, and all the portulaca. Then I stripped the tiger
lilies of each little black ball at the bases of the leaves, and took
all the four o'clock seed there was. Then I got my biggest alder
popgun and started up the road toward Sarah Hood's.

I was going along singing a little verse; it wasn't Dutch either; the
old baby could have that if it want