There were several families on the island and more on the
main that had done this, kept a son or daughter when a family removed
for one reason or another. She pictured Amos happily folded in with
Mary’s brood and was flooded with terrible feeling. Baby Sallie in her
arms seemed to sense it; she began to wail.
“Hush!” Claris jiggled the baby and felt her own heart pound as
the crying grew worse. Young Bowdoin Leach would be waiting for them
at the landing, ready to sail them out home. She had packed the few
things they’d brought and the many things they’d been given, hand-me-
downs and keepsakes and new things for the baby.
“I have to go back, and you have to go with me. You’d miss us
terribly if I left you behind. You’re my son.” She could see that this
utterly rational statement of fact meant nothing to him beside the huge
emotion he was feeling; he’d found the place that felt like home to him,
and it wasn’t with her.
Mary reached out and took the howling baby from Claris and began
to croon to her. Almost at once Sallie grew calmer; then something worse
happened. Claris turned on her sister and grabbed the baby back, setting
off a fresh shrieking.
“Claris—I was trying to help,” Mary said.
“I don’t need help, I can comfort my own child!” said Claris, though
she manifestly could not. Sallie was arching her back now and screaming,
hysterical. Amos watched with horror the explosion of emotion he had
set off. More than anything he wanted the conflict to stop, but almost
as much he wanted to choose for himself. He wanted to stay.
Mary had turned to her sister Alice, who put an arm around her
and whispered to her. William slipped closer to Amos and stood with
him, shoulder to shoulder. Mrs. Osgood watched her daughters quietly,
8 4
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
deeply upset. Claris tried angrily to calm Sallie. So fierce were her com-
mands and ministrations that more than one person in the room worried
that she might accidentally hurt the baby.
Oddly, it was Leander, the bachelor uncle, who solved the impasse.
He came and knelt beside Amos so they were eye to eye.
“So, nephew,” he said. “I have a going-away present for you.”
“What is it?”
“Watch out—it doesn’t work that way. If you go with your mother
and take care of her, the way we count on you to do, then you can take
it with you. Otherwise I have to keep it.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the way the world works. Uncles make the rules.”
There was a pause.
“What is it?” Amos had a glimmer of an idea, but it was so huge
he didn’t want to let it grow. It would be like a genie out of a bottle.
Leander made a show of thinking this question over. “I don’t think
I can tell you. There’s a rule about that. I’ll give you a hint. Then you
have to decide, fish or cut bait. Bargain?”
Amos thought hard and then nodded.
Leander nodded. “All right then. It’s something Otis would want
you to have. You, out of all his nieces and nephews.”
Amos seemed frozen, considering Leander. He hardly dared to
breathe.
“That’s it then. Now it’s your turn. Are you going to look after
your mother for us, and baby Sallie, so they won’t get lost on the way
home and sail off to China and never come back and visit us again?”
Amos nodded, all fifty pounds of him full of manly gravity.
“All right then,” said Leander. “Get your things.”
The rest of the leave-taking went as expected. Sallie finally wore
herself out and fell asleep. Mary and Claris hugged each other good-bye,
if stiffly, then Alice and Mabel hugged Claris in turn. Claris turned to
8 5
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
her mother, who was weeping. She led the children next door to say
good-bye to Aunt, and to the cousins, then came back to hug her mother
once more. And there, standing at the foot of the stairs, was Leander,
waiting to say good-bye, holding Otis’s fiddle.
“Next time I see you,
main that had done this, kept a son or daughter when a family removed
for one reason or another. She pictured Amos happily folded in with
Mary’s brood and was flooded with terrible feeling. Baby Sallie in her
arms seemed to sense it; she began to wail.
“Hush!” Claris jiggled the baby and felt her own heart pound as
the crying grew worse. Young Bowdoin Leach would be waiting for them
at the landing, ready to sail them out home. She had packed the few
things they’d brought and the many things they’d been given, hand-me-
downs and keepsakes and new things for the baby.
“I have to go back, and you have to go with me. You’d miss us
terribly if I left you behind. You’re my son.” She could see that this
utterly rational statement of fact meant nothing to him beside the huge
emotion he was feeling; he’d found the place that felt like home to him,
and it wasn’t with her.
Mary reached out and took the howling baby from Claris and began
to croon to her. Almost at once Sallie grew calmer; then something worse
happened. Claris turned on her sister and grabbed the baby back, setting
off a fresh shrieking.
“Claris—I was trying to help,” Mary said.
“I don’t need help, I can comfort my own child!” said Claris, though
she manifestly could not. Sallie was arching her back now and screaming,
hysterical. Amos watched with horror the explosion of emotion he had
set off. More than anything he wanted the conflict to stop, but almost
as much he wanted to choose for himself. He wanted to stay.
Mary had turned to her sister Alice, who put an arm around her
and whispered to her. William slipped closer to Amos and stood with
him, shoulder to shoulder. Mrs. Osgood watched her daughters quietly,
8 4
M O R E
T H A N
Y O U
K N O W
deeply upset. Claris tried angrily to calm Sallie. So fierce were her com-
mands and ministrations that more than one person in the room worried
that she might accidentally hurt the baby.
Oddly, it was Leander, the bachelor uncle, who solved the impasse.
He came and knelt beside Amos so they were eye to eye.
“So, nephew,” he said. “I have a going-away present for you.”
“What is it?”
“Watch out—it doesn’t work that way. If you go with your mother
and take care of her, the way we count on you to do, then you can take
it with you. Otherwise I have to keep it.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the way the world works. Uncles make the rules.”
There was a pause.
“What is it?” Amos had a glimmer of an idea, but it was so huge
he didn’t want to let it grow. It would be like a genie out of a bottle.
Leander made a show of thinking this question over. “I don’t think
I can tell you. There’s a rule about that. I’ll give you a hint. Then you
have to decide, fish or cut bait. Bargain?”
Amos thought hard and then nodded.
Leander nodded. “All right then. It’s something Otis would want
you to have. You, out of all his nieces and nephews.”
Amos seemed frozen, considering Leander. He hardly dared to
breathe.
“That’s it then. Now it’s your turn. Are you going to look after
your mother for us, and baby Sallie, so they won’t get lost on the way
home and sail off to China and never come back and visit us again?”
Amos nodded, all fifty pounds of him full of manly gravity.
“All right then,” said Leander. “Get your things.”
The rest of the leave-taking went as expected. Sallie finally wore
herself out and fell asleep. Mary and Claris hugged each other good-bye,
if stiffly, then Alice and Mabel hugged Claris in turn. Claris turned to
8 5
B E T H
G U T C H E O N
her mother, who was weeping. She led the children next door to say
good-bye to Aunt, and to the cousins, then came back to hug her mother
once more. And there, standing at the foot of the stairs, was Leander,
waiting to say good-bye, holding Otis’s fiddle.
“Next time I see you,
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