CHAPTER VIIIA NEW GLIMPSE OF SERVITUDE
Marilla wandered about a little. The stars were coming out and afar off the wood robin was singing his low sweet song. The dew was scattering the fragrance of flower and shrub and she drew in long breaths of it that seemed to revive her. Was Miss Armitage sitting at the organ and evoking the music that stirred one’s very being and made you wish unutterable things? And would Dr. Richards go to comfort some poor patient tomorrow?
Then she went to her new home. Miss Florence sat alone on the porch. The babies were soundly asleep.
“Did you have a nice dinner?” she asked. “And I suppose you are very tired. Will you sit here awhile or would you rather go to bed?”
“Yes, I would like to go to bed,” she answered, wearily.
They went through the place they were using for a sort of kitchen and up a narrow stairway. Only part of the room had a fair150ceiling, the rest slanted down to some narrow windows. There was a cot, an old fashioned wash stand and a sort of closet. Their packing trunks were up here.
“Mr. Borden had taken the other part the house first. There is more room and it is rather nicer. But the woman who had taken this wanted so to exchange and made an offer in the rent and they do charge scandalously for these summer places. And when you’re not keeping house it doesn’t matter so much. It saves lots of trouble. They just give meals over there and they are first rate. I put your clothes that we brought in that closet. It was very nice in Miss Armitage to get you some others and she wouldn’t let Mr. Borden pay for them. I want to hear all about her tomorrow. You won’t feel afraid, will you?”
“Oh no,” was the reply. It didn’t seem to matter much what happened to her now.
“Good-night, then, I hope you will sleep well.”
“Good-night,” steadying her tone.
She thought she wouldn’t sleep at all, but her poor little body was so tired out that exhausted nature demanded rest. And she was151awakened in the morning with the singing of some birds, and a beautiful poem floated through her mind. She would not count any Sundays until September came in.
Mrs. Borden called her and she replied, dressing quickly and going down stairs.
“Oh, you look quite rested,” said the lady. “I’ll give the babies their bath and dress them and then you will give them their breakfast and keep them out on the porch while we go for ours. They take only one nap now, sleeping from eleven until about two. They just have bread and milk. There’s a woman here who says I am ruining their health with that, because it makes them fat, but they were fed when they had only milk. Then they have some oatmeal, jelly and a soft boiled egg when they wake up. There’s nothing like system; you know just what to do. Now you go over to the kitchen and get a bottle of milk. The babies drink that, too. Then I’ll show you how to light up the stove. It’s the handiest little thing. I couldn’t manage without it.”
Marilla had a pleasant greeting from Katie who declared, “she looked ten per cent152better and hoped she would have a good appetite for her breakfast as she didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive last night.”
The babies were pretty good natured, as well.
“You know they always were real sweet,” said their mother, “and so easily amused. I hope you haven’t forgotten your knack of story telling; and how they used to laugh! That Ellen was the stupidest thing.”
While she was feeding the babies, the grown folks went over to their breakfast. The kitchen and the servants’ table was in much better order, and there were some delightful muffins and fresh fish and muskmelons. The babies played about; Jack’s father took him out for a walk, then there was a long quiet time at the luncheon hour, and the babies were fed again.
“I succeeded in getting a two-seat carriage, so we will all go out this afternoon,” said Mr. Borden. “They say Braun is a queer Hungarian settlement and on Sunday the people are all out in their best. We’ll take a look at it.”
“Canwe all go?”
“Why Florence said she wouldn’t mind153caring for one baby, and Marilla can take the other.”
The two nurses had the back seat, Florence made Marilla put her baby between them on the seat. “We’ll change off when I get tired of holding mine,” she said.
They went straight over to the Sound—the upper end of the great South Bay. Oh how splendid it was! Marilla almost held her breath with surprise, then they drove up the road a short distance, but she hated to leave the glorious views. Pansy dropped in her lap and went to sleep. As they turned they passed through one of the magnificent residential settlements, then to the odd Hungarian town where a foreign Sunday was in full life and vivacity.
Little tables were standing around, some filled with families, some having a couple of lovers; other parties were walking up and down; all in picturesque holiday attire. The tables were set out with small, hard brown cakes, slices of bread that each had brought to the feast. There was beer of course, merrymaking and jollity—but no one seemed to overstep the bounds. Children ran around, grotesque154copies of their elders. Rows of cottages and gardens, great corn and hayfields, stubble where cattle were browsing, enclosures of fattening pigs whose squealing had a mirthful sound.
“It is well worth looking at,” said Mr. Borden. “A bit of Europe on one of our islands and really a lesson to our own thriftless poor.”
Violet chattered in a funny fashion, but Pansy slept through it all. Marilla tried several times to shift her position, but the little form was too heavy to stir. Yet it was delightful, though she kept thinking of last Sunday and Dr. Richards.
Mr. Borden stopped at the gate and helped them out.
“Lift Pansy, she’s asleep,” said Aunt Florence.
“Oh, Marilla, why didn’t you keep her awake! I’ve been trying not to let them sleep in the afternoon so they would go to bed the earlier.”
“Just as you get a baby in good habits, someone comes along and spoils it all,” exclaimed Mrs. Borden in a vexed tone. She was a little tired, having answered at least fifty questions for Jack.155
But Pansy woke when her father stood her down, and said, rather drowsily—“Nice horsey;” and sat squarely down in the path. Aunt Florence picked her up and led her to the porch.
“Now, Marilla, get their suppers ready and feed them. And put away their things. I can’t bear to see them lying round on chairs.”
Mr. Borden drove off, taking Jack.
“Ont bedy-milk,” announced Violet.
“Yes, yes; go to Marilla.”
The child had laid the caps in the drawer and hung up the coats. Both children came out and clamored for supper and pulled on her skirt until they almost tipped her over.
Then the great bell clanged for the boarders’ supper. They had dinner at noon on Sundays. Mr. Borden returned and escorted the ladies over. This was always a rather chatty, long-drawn-out meal.
Marilla fed the babies, washed and put away her few dishes, then took the children out on the porch. Violet wanted to be “wocked,” so she sat beside her in the big porch chair. Pansy ran up and down uttering queer unmusical noises. The piano in the156other part of the house was accompanying a singer.
The mistress of that part leaned out of the window and said in a sharp tone—“Can’t you keep that child still? She’s an awful nuisance.”
“Let us go indoors,” said Marilla. “Come, and I’ll tell you a story about a bunny that got lost away from all his folks.”
But Pansy had no mind to come. She screamed when Marilla took hold of her arm and then kicked, jerking away, she rolled down the three steps, landing on the grass. Marilla, frightened, picked her up in her arms and ran through the hall with her. The suddenness had really taken the breath out of the little body for a moment, then she looked rather wildly at her rescuer.
“It didn’t hurt you much and you were a naughty baby to run away! Don’t cry any more and you shall have––” she cast about to see what solace there was—“oh, you shall have some sugar—see—” and she offered her some in a spoon.
Pansy laughed and reached out for the sugar, quite restored to good humor.157
“Now, I’ll go out and get sister and you shall have some more sugar.”
Violet came in quite willingly. She sat on the floor with them and thought of the stories she used to tell. This one was about a runaway squirrel. It grew dark and he was afraid, for he heard a queer noise that kept saying, “Who—who,” so he ran another way. Then a dog barked, and Marilla made the sound of a dog and both babies laughed delightedly. “So he ran as fast as he could but the dog ran, too, and the squirrel climbed up in a tree,” and Marilla climbed with her hands on the back of the chair in a funny fashion. “‘Come down,’ said the dog. ‘I won’t,’ said the squirrel. ‘Then I’ll climb up and eat you.’ But the squirrel laughed and said: ‘You can’t climb a tree.’”
The babies laughed, too, but Violet wanted to be “wocked” again. She really was sleepy. So Marilla put them both in the rocking chair and began another story about a bird who had three little babies in a nest and had to go out and get them something to eat. The ladies came back and Violet began to nod and let her eyes droop.158
“They must go to bed,” said their mother.
It was supposed that Pansy would make a protest. She slipped down out of the chair and held out her fat little hand, murmuring—“Illa, Illa.”
“Well, Illa shall put you to bed, come Violet.”
Mrs Borden found their nighties. “Me too,” and Violet took hers over to Marilla.
“Now, isn’t that cunning? Marilla they are getting back all their old love for you! But it is time I had a little rest.”
The babies were safely deposited in their crib, each with a thumb in her mouth, a rather recent habit. Then they went out on the porch again. Jack was there with his chum, Stevie. The ladies joined the procession up and down the board walk. Stevie was recounting some wonderful experience, so Marilla dropped into a chair and her mind went back to last Sunday night. How long ago it seemed!
Stevie was summoned home by his nurse. Quite a party went to the kind of sacred concert. Jack crawled up beside Marilla, for he was getting sleepy. When she proposed159he should go to bed he turned obstinate and held on tight to the arm of the chair.
“I won’t go to bed. I’m going to stay here until mama comes.”
“Oh, you must. The clocks have struck eight.”
“But I’m not going to.” He caught the arm of the chair. “You try now and I’ll kick you with my hind leg.”
She knew well enough that he would kick. Somehow she did not feel equal to the struggle.
“Tell me a story,” was his next demand. “About somebody being put in the pit. Sunday school teacher told it. Why, I’d climb out.”
So she told him the story and then another, rocking slowly, and as the demand ceased she knew he was asleep. But she did not dare try to get him to bed. So she went to her own thoughts, the last week passed with the fairy godmother and Dr. Richards.
It was ten when the family returned.
“Oh, Marilla, howcouldyou let him go to sleep! He’s so cross when you wake him up.”
“I couldn’t get him to go––”160
“Jack!” His father picked him up and carried him to the sleeping room.
“Now you run to bed,” said the mistress, still sharply.
It was very well, Marilla thought, that Jack had a companion who was not fond of “kids.” Stevie lived quite a distance below and had brought no end of playthings, had an auto wagon that two could sit in, though only one could be chauffeur. So Marilla had the babies out on the side lawn all the morning in the shade, and after their nap took them out in the carriage. They were quite fond of walking, too. They really were rather amiable again.
“Miss Florence, could I have some paper and a pencil?” she asked during their noontide nap. “I promised to write to Dr. Richards and tell him if I kept well.”
“Why not to Miss Armitage?” was the inquiry.
“She was going to Canada, and—I’m quite well again, and the babies are so much better. He will be glad to hear, for he felt very sorry about them, and he said I must write.”161
“I suppose Miss Armitage’s house is very grand, much finer than ours?”
“It’s beautiful and she has such a lovely organ. Well, it’s different and there are two big parlors and some curious things that I never saw before and chairs in beautiful light blue, all flowered, and some tall vases and marble statues. And there’s Jane and Norah—and the wash goes out. Yes, I suppose she’s rich.”
“And you’d like to live there?”
“Perhaps she wouldn’t want me,” the child said simply.
Evidently there had been no talk about it.
Miss Borden gave her pencil and paper.
Marilla went to the kitchen nursery, sat down on a stool and put her paper on the bottom of the wooden chair. She began—“Dear Dr. Richards.” Oh, there was so much to say! She was well and the babies were improved and could talk a good deal and looked better for not being so fat. She really liked home better and Bridget’s kitchen was so clean, and there was always a nice white cloth on the table. It seemed a funny way to live but many of the people did not have162meals in their own houses, but went over to the eating place. “I can’t spell the other word,” she admitted naively. There were so many pretty girls in lovely frocks who walked up and down and didn’t have to take care of babies. “I don’t believe I am as fond of babies as I used to be. I get tired of having them every day,” she explained frankly. “And soon I shall begin to count on the five years.”
She filled up the whole sheet, folded, slipped it in the envelope and fastened it. Oh, she must ask for a stamp. She could run down to the postoffice.
Miss Borden was curious to know what was in the letter, whether Marilla had found any fault with her surroundings, but the eager, honest face disarmed curiosity that could not be easily gratified. So the letter went its way.
There were many things to entertain a child whose former life had been narrow. Some of the girls spoke to her. “Were the babies her sisters?”
“Oh, no. She was—well their nurse.”
“How odd they looked! Is that little Jack their brother?”163
“Yes.” Oh how ardently she wished they were pretty.
“He looks more like you than like them. You’ve both got such pretty curly hair, though his is darker. I think curly hair’s just lovely. I wish mine curled, and you’ve such a pretty dimple in your chin.”
Marilla blushed at the praise.
“What are the babies called?”
Marilla repeated their names.
“That’s funny—they’re so much alike.”
“Well—they’re twins,” said another.
Then the babies thought it was time they joined in the conversation, and a funny mess they made of it. Pansy said—
“Ont to dit down.”
“No, you can’t,” answered Marilla. “Their mother said I must never take them out.”
They happened to be strapped in very securely. But Pansy made a great fuss and gesticulated furiously with her little fists.
“I had better go on,” said Marilla.
“It’s awfully funny. Does she often get in such a tantrum?”
“Not very often,” returned Marilla half ashamed and almost afraid the baby would break the strap.164
After a few days she began to get quite acquainted with some of the girls. They came from various places and were quite ready to talk about themselves. There was to be a lawn party next week at the Sheldon’s, just for the girls, and they were going to dance.
“Oh, did you ever go to a ball?” asked Marilla.
“Why, girls don’t go to balls! They are for the big folks. My grown up sister does and they’re just splendid.”
She had half a mind to tell them about the beautiful dream and how she had danced with the Prince. But Pansy was going on at such a rate that she pushed the carriage along and by the time they reached home she had forgotten her trouble.
And there was a letter from Dr. Richards.
She wanted to kiss it, she was so glad, but Mrs. Borden stood there, so she simply said—“Thank you,” and opened it.
It was quite to a child’s capacity. Marilla smiled in some places, looked sad in others. The little boy who had been so dreadfully injured by an automobile had died, but he would have been a terrible cripple if he had165lived. There had been two very hot weeks and the poor babies had suffered. He was very glad to hear that the twins were doing so nicely, and had all their teeth safe and sound. And was she growing stronger, and did she have a chance to take the baths he advised? Miss Armitage was having a fine time. And a friend was to take them in his yacht around the islands in the Gulf of St. Lawrence and come down to Nova Scotia, so she wouldn’t be home as soon as they expected. And he was so busy he couldn’t have any vacation at all; but then he had taken years before and must be satisfied.
There were bits of fun and queer sayings interspersed that made a sort of jolliness in her face.
“Don’t you want to read it?” she asked, rather timidly.
Mrs. Borden just did. She and Florence had wondered whether Marilla had made any invidious comparisons about the change to actual service instead of being treated as a guest in a fine house.
“If—you’d like me to,” with the proper hesitation.166
“Oh, yes. And I used to tell him about the babies, that they were so good and hardly ever cried, and how I told them stories and they laughed just as if they understood—didn’t they?”
“Youmadethem understand. You’re an odd little girl, Marilla, and I don’t know what we would do without you, but then you do really belong to us. I do suppose the baths would be a good thing if you were not afraid. Now, we can’t coax Jack to go in the water, though he delights to run along the edge barefooted. That’s fun for the children. But you see if we all went some one must look after the children. Then there’s the time for their nap and there’d be no one to go with you. There seems so many things to do in the afternoon now that we have joined the Clubs. And there’s teas and things––”
“Yes,” Marilla returned, meekly.
“Why wouldn’t you go in the water?” she asked Jack a few days afterward.
“’Cause there’s sharks. Stevie said so. An’ they eat up people.”
“Why don’t they eat up—well, they haven’t eaten up any one yet. We should have heard of it.”167
“They only eat up children. The big folks kick ’em out of the way. But you’ve got to be real strong an’ have a big foot. You just give it to ’em by the side of the jaw and they flop down in the water. That big Jimmy Lane has seen them lots of times.”
There was a great sand heap where the smaller children went to play and tumble about and build forts and ovens and sometimes sand each other. Marilla took the babies out in the carriage after they had their dinner and were dressed afresh. Sometimes she met the girls sauntering about, sometimes with the nurse maids. The two ladies went to a Whist Club, and one afternoon played Bridge, and between times they met on each others’ porches.
The afternoon of the children’s lawn party the street was fairly thronged. There were grown people within the enclosure by special invitation. And how pretty the young people were in their beautiful summer attire with laces and ribbons and bead chains and white ties with a great bow almost as big as the foot.
There were four pieces of music. Oh, the dancing was just bewitching? Marilla drew168long breaths and wished she was among them; every pulse in her body kept time. The trees waved and nodded, some birds sang and there were sounds of happy laughter.
“Get away from here with this big caboose of yourn!” said a rough voice, “you take up too much room,” and he wheeled the carriage around so suddenly the babies almost toppled over. “Other people want a chance. Get along, I say!”
She had no choice but to go on.
“I’m glad he sent off that nurse girl,” exclaimed a woman with two children clinging to her skirts. “Those great wagons are such a nuisance!”
Marilla crossed the street and went slowly up and down. When the throng moved about a little she could see the white fairy figures floating over the greensward, and hear the music that set one’s nerves a-tingle. The outside crowd began to disperse, but the man loitered about, so she did not dare go back.
Then they brought out some tables on the lawn and began to arrange them. Oh, how daintily pretty it was! She recognized some169of the girls, and in spite of her courage, sighed as she turned away.
Those were the sisters for whom the coach and four waited, with the footman and outriders, and who would be made welcome at all the grand functions of life, while the Cinderellas were relegated to the chimney corner. And the godmother must come out of fairy land, if she came at all, and transformed one with a wand. That was why the glories were so unsubstantial, and why the dream must end at midnight.
The babies were clamoring for supper. The house was all alone. She lifted them out and helped them up the steps, then gave them each a biscuit while she prepared their bread and milk. The ladies came home from their Whist. Mrs. Borden had won the first prize and they were talking as eagerly as boys over a baseball score. There was Jack, dirty and tousled as any tramp.
“Wash him up Marilla and put him in some clean clothes or we’ll be late for dinner. Come, be quick, child.”
That was the portion of the Cinderellas.
CHAPTER IXTHE LITTLE THORNS
They were all very glad to be home again. The house was so clean and orderly and there were so many closets and drawers in which to pack away things. Bridget had scoured and scrubbed and polished windows largely to pass away time, for the people next door had been away as well and the maids on a vacation earning money at seasides.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you again!”
Marilla was hugging Bridget and her tone was full of delight.
“Ah, dear, an’ it’s glad enough I am to get ye back, but you’ve not grown very fat an’ rugged looking, but them babies do beat all! They’re quite ginteel one may say, an how they do run and talk! You’ll have your hands full, I’m thinkin’, if they’re goin’ to copy Jack!”
“Oh, Bridget, they’re real sweet, only they’re noisy when your head’s tired. It sounds worse indoors. There was a big out of doors and grass, and people passing and171some children came in to play. But now you have to look after them all the time.”
“Marilla! Marilla!”
No, she could not waste her time in the chimney corner.
“Put on the babies’ things and take them out walking, they’ll drive me crazy.”
She walked them round to Loraine place. Would she dare call? Oh, how her heart yearned to see them all again! but the blinds were drawn; perhaps no one was at home.
Then as they were going down the street, just at the corner, a lady and two girls about her size crossed. The lady and one of them lived about a block further down Arch street. The other she had known at the seaside. She smiled with a sudden pleasant surprise. The girl simply stared. Marilla’s face was scarlet. Was it possible she was not to know any of these girls if she should meet them? This one did not live here, she knew that.
Then Aunt Hetty came home looking thinner and more dried up than ever, but glad to get back to her room. She would not come down to dinner but M’rilla could bring her up some toast and tea.172
So instead of having a cozy time with Bridget she carried the small waiter up stairs. The tea was in the pot; Aunt Hetty had the kettle boiling on the gas stove. The toast was on a hot plate.
“Sit down a minute, I’ve hardly seen you. Did you have a nice time? I suppose the twins will be on the everlasting trot, now they can walk so well, and as for talking—well I’m glad I don’t have to live with them; that I’m clear this end of the house. You see that they don’t come up stairs. It’s nice to be in your own place, though the folks where I staid were very good and pleasant, I s’pose they thought I might remember them in my will,” and she gave a shrill sort of cackle. “Now I tell you there isn’t much fun in living to be old, and I seem to have lost my spunk. It’s just a kind of drowsing life away. Now tell me what you did! My, but this toast tastes good! Better than all their flummery.”
“Oh, there were a good many nice things and pretty houses and gay people, and a big place where they all went to meals. And Jack is better than he used to be, he had the nicest little playmate and was out of the house most173of the time. But I must run down, for Bridget said my dinner was ready. I’ll come up again when the babies are in bed; can I bring you anything?”
“Well, yes, a glass of hot milk. No, bring it in a cup with a handle—it is so much nicer to hold. You’re a good willing girl, Marilla.”
“I thought you never would get down,” Bridget said, almost crossly. “If you have to wait on that old woman and all the rest of us you’ll wish you were in the grave. My! You look all tired out. Now, here’s a nice bit of chicken that I laid aside for you. I’m not goin’ to have you fed on leavings. And it wasn’t nice down there?” nodding her head.
“Oh, Bridget, such a kitchen and such a table, and no white cloth on it! They, the servants didn’t seem to care, and they were nice and clean at the Home, and you’re—well, you have things as nice as in the dining room, and to have things shoveled out of the kettle on your plate or cold on a dish! Sometimes puddings were good, and the creams and frozen things were clean and nice. But I’m so glad to get back to you. And the lovely bath room! We didn’t have any in the cottage.174Why it saves half the work taking care of babies.”
“You bet it does, I couldn’t and wouldn’t live in such a muxy kitchen. If I couldn’t have things to suit I’d take French leave, though I guess I’d call it Irish leave. And people, women, think it a fine thing to go off and live that way. But the boss got very tired of it.”
Marilla laughed faintly. She was almost too tired to eat, but the chicken was so tasty, and the fresh home-made bread delightful. And the cheery voice put heart in the girl. Then the dessert was delicious.
“I promised to take Aunt Hetty a cup of milk. I’ll see first if Mrs. Borden wants me. But I’ll dry the dishes for you.”
“No, dear, I did the most of them while you were up stairs.”
The babies had been put to bed. They did have an unlimited capacity for sleep, now that they were well. Jack was perched on his father’s knee detailing some wonderful adventures. No, they did not need her.
“I’m going in next door awhile,” said Bridget on her return. “Mrs. Dawson’s girl175left in a huff, and she asked me if I knew anyone. And there was my friend, Maggie Brady, just out of a place and a nice tidy girl; a good cook, too. So they both suited. Maggie’s mother and mine lived in the same town. It’s nice to have a friend at hand. And when ye’s through with the old lady I’d run to bed. You look tired as a wagon wheel that’s run round and round.”
Marilla laughed and took a bottle of milk with her. Aunt Hetty drank a good cupful, hot, and the remainder was set out on the window sill. Then she settled herself in bed with two pillows under her head; she could hear better she thought.
“Now, you open that book at the mark and read to me. ’Twon’t be very interesting, for you can’t know what’s gone before. And no doubt I’ll fall asleep—I always snore a little at first, and when you hear that you may light the burner in the other room and turn it very low and put the window down from the top and skip off to yourself.”
She was very tired but she read quite awhile before the gentle snoring began, and she was glad enough to go to bed.176
They had been home just a week when school opened. It was a comfort to get rid of Jack. They began to settle into quite regular living.
“I’ve just had a fright,” said Mrs. Borden, coming up to her sister’s room. “A man has been here inquiring about school children and Ididstretch the truth a little. You see, now children have to go to school until they are fourteen. I simply can’t let Marilla go. I didn’t adopt her nor consider her in any sense my own. A child like that isn’t worth more than her board and clothes. What good would she be to us if we had to get her off at nine in the morning, and then have only an hour in the afternoon. The twinsmustbe taken out, and there’s so much running up and down. She’s a nice honest, truthful child and a born nurse girl. But if I had to send her to school, I’d trot her off to the Home.”
“There is so much to do this winter. When you come to that, she knows enough for ordinary, and later on she could go to evening school. There’s so much shopping and planning, and we must be out a good deal. The twins mightn’t take to a new girl. Let us keep her if we possibly can.”177
Miss Borden’s lover was to return before Christmas and wanted every thing ready for a speedy marriage. It would be in church with a very small reception afterward. And that was hardly three months’ distance.
Marilla was coming home with the babies one afternoon when two lady callers and a girl were saying adieu and coming down the steps. Yes, that was Ada Brant who had been at Bayside in the summer and at first had been quite friendly with her. Now she looked as if she had never known her.
Maybe that was the way all the girls would feel to one who had been bound-out from an institution. There they had all been on an equality. And somehow the Bordens had not really put her down. Then that lovely Miss Armitage. Why, there had been a place for her at the table, and Jane had waited on her as if she had been a guest!
Perhaps it would be different now. Then came a very bitter knowledge to Marilla Bond. Five years more of this, and wouldn’t people remember she had been Mrs. Borden’s nursemaid? Why, even now she would be glad to be Miss Armitage’s maid. What made the difference?178
She was to hear more of it that evening. After the babies came in from their outing they were washed, undressed, and a nice warm wrapper put over their nightgown, and then fed. Afterward laid in their crib. They didn’t go to sleep at once but kicked and laughed and chatted in a regular frolic. Phlegmatic babies can be easily trained. Then Marilla came down and waited on the table as Bridget sent various things up on the lift. She was a really charming little waitress.
“Such an odd thing occurred today,” began Mrs. Borden. “John do you know a firm, Davis & Calthorpe, who manufacture something—”
“Yes, Calthorpe is selling out, I drew up some papers for him. He’s been up in the Adirondacks all summer and is going to Bermuda; but he will never come back alive.”
“How queer it all is! We met Mrs. Brant a few times at Bayside. They have come to Newton to look into the business and are staying with Mrs. Wheeler. They came to call and Mrs. Brant has a pretty, stylish young daughter. Of course they’ll have to move here. She is quite taken with Newton. I told them179about that Jamreth house down the street and they decided to look at it. Of course I didn’t get much acquainted with her, but she seems a very nice body. And that’s a promising business, but Calthorpe had to give it up and I’m sorry for the poor fellow; glad, too, that he met with this chance of disposing of his share. Brant appears to be a nice, brisk fellow and it is lucky for Davis as well.”
The Jamreth house had stood empty all summer. Marilla passed it on her way to the park, for Arch street led direct. Suppose Ada was there sitting on the stoop or at the window and giving her that indifferent stare when they had been quite acquaintances!
For the first time fairy land and her dancing with the Prince failed to comfort. The whole world seemed changed, and how would Miss Armitage be, now that she was well?
But she was very, very busy; Jack went to school a week and was delighted with the boys.
“Sam Gordon has a little brother just big enough to begin school. I wish one of the twins was a boy. What’s the use of so many girls?”180
His father laughed a little at that. The second week the charm began to fail. His head ached and he wanted to stay at home and have Marilla read to him.
“Boys don’t have headaches,” said his mother. But he was cross and his face flushed up so that in the afternoon his teacher sent him home. “And I don’t want this scratchy flannel on! I like the other better; can’t I pull it off?”
“The others are worn out, and it is coming cooler weather. Oh, you’ll get used to it,” said his mother, teasingly.
Then he kicked the babies’ playthings about and pinched Marilla’s arm and wouldn’t eat any dinner, and said his pudding was bitter. His father sent him to bed, but he tossed and tumbled and cried out for a drink ever so many times, and in the morning was red with a fever and some sort of eruption. So they sent for Dr. Baker, who pronounced it a fine case of measles.
“I don’t see where he caught it, unless it is in the school, and I suppose the twins will have it,” said Mrs. Borden in despair.
There were three pretty bad days and Jack181tried the patience of the whole household sorely. Then the babies showed symptoms and seemed vexed that such a thing should happen to them, and now school was not to be thought of in some time.
“Run out and take a little airing, Marilla,” said Mrs. Borden, late one afternoon. “You haven’t been out of the house for days.”
She was very glad to go. Jack was still a recluse though he seemed well.
Which way should she go? Her heart cried softly for Loraine place and almost unconsciously her feet turned thitherward. Miss Armitage sat by the window but she sprang up and opened the hall door with, “My dear, dear child!”
Marilla had her face in a transport of happy crying, from an overweighted heart.
“Oh, my dear!” leading her in.
“Oh, Miss Armitage, we have the measles round at our house. Perhaps I oughtn’t come in.”
“Oh, I had the measles long ago, and I’ve seen three cases this afternoon. I’ve only been home four days and had the most splendid time. But I want to hear about you—have182you been well, and was it nice at the seaside? Why it seems like a year since we parted.”
“Yes, I was well and the babies walk and talk and are real cunning and they do grow prettier. They’re getting some real nice hair but I can’t make it curl. I didn’t like the house so well and there was no bath only a cold water faucet and a gas stove, and I missed Bridget so much. We staid out of doors most of the time. I didn’t go in bathing—I was a little afraid, I think, and I would have had to go with some of the servants. There were a good many of them—we took our meals outside. I was glad to get home, and oh, so glad to see you!”
She caught the hand and kissed it rapturously. Miss Armitage held up the face with her hand under the chin.
“No, you haven’t gained any.”
“I think I did at first, but Jack was so troublesome, and the old lady, Aunt Hetty, wants one to read her to sleep and sometimes it takes so long.”
“You surely are not helping with her?”
“Oh, only reading and answering her bell. She’s somehow so nice when you wait on her.183I think, like the rest of us, she’s so glad to be back. One day she gave me a dollar and said I must spend it for candy, but I haven’t yet. Do you think I ought to have told Mrs. Borden?”
“Why, not necessarily.”
“I’m not so very fond of candy. There’s a beautiful book of fairy stories in a store down town that I’d like. Only Jack takes every thing, and he keeps asking if I haven’t a penny when we go out. His mother doesn’t give him pennies to spend, and a very good thing, too.”
“What kind of books do you read to the old lady?”
“Well, you see it’s this way, she reads on pages and pages and puts in a mark, then I go on where she left off and so I don’t get the real sense of the story. They seem to have a good deal of trouble. I’d rather read about little girls who went to their grandmother’s and had nice times, and beautiful verses full of music such as you used to read.”
Miss Armitage laughed pleasantly. “We’ll have some nice reading again. And you ought to go to school.”184
“But you see I can’t. I look over Jack’s books and I write on pieces of paper. I don’t know how to spell all the words. Oh, I wrote a letter to Dr. Richards. He asked me to, and he sent such a nice answer. I did want to write again, but I hadn’t any paper nor postage stamp, and I didn’t like to ask the second time. Oh, I might buy some with my dollar, mightn’t I?”
“I’ll do you up a little package. He wants to see you, so I’ll ask him to come here and let you know. And sometimes when you are out with the babies you must stop here and let me see them, and I’ll call and see you all.”
“Oh, how nice that will be. I’m so glad you love me. For I never shall be like the girls who have pretty homes and parents to love them. But you’ll be the fairy godmother always, won’t you?”
“Yes, dear,” in a soft tone.
“And now I must go. It’s so sweet to know that some one really loves you even if you are a bound-out girl. And now I’m beginning to count the years.”
Miss Armitage kissed her and watched her tripping down the steps. She was worthy of a185better fate. Would she love the hand that set her in pleasanter places and not come to think wholly of self? For she, woman past thirty, as she was, longed for a little daughter’s love, a daughter to grow up along side of her, to share her very life.
The babies went out walking up and down the block one day and took no harm. Violet was wild to run away, as Jack had been, and so was quite a care. Then the men came to fumigate the house and they all went to a friend’s and took lunch.
“Dear me, what a nice little maid you have,” said the friend. “She seems to know just what to do, and she’s so pleasant tempered. Where did you find her?”
“She came from Bethany Home and she’s bound to me until she’s eighteen. She’ll be of good service.”
The Autumn was glorious with a good deal of sunshine; Jack went back to school and was getting to be a regular boy, full of pranks; they were sometimes rather rough. He did stand in awe of his father, but he occasionally said things to Marilla that were not a bit nice, then he would coax her not to tell of them.186
One afternoon Miss Armitage came. Bridget said she was sorry the ladies were out but the visitor said she wanted to see Marilla and the babies and went up stairs to the nursery. Playthings were all about; Marilla had been building houses for the twins to knock down. They glanced at Miss Armitage with wondering eyes, but they said “down, down” when Marilla took to a chair. Then they tumbled over her and buried their hands in her curly hair, even if it pulled. They showed they owned her, and it really was not an easy lot for the little girl. She did look pale and tired but she was so glad to see her friend.
Then the lady began to plan if there was any way to get her free. She went to see Mrs. Johnson.
“Why the child seems very well off,” was the rather tart reply. “She is well fed and clothed and has nothing to do but amuse two little ones. Many a girl would jump at the place. It wouldn’t do for us to be changing them about, you see. We do sometimes take away a child who is ill treated. I’ve visited this Mrs. Borden several times and found things very satisfactory.”187
“But she could be educated—”
“My dear lady, there are hundreds of these poor children who need a good home and to be fitted for their station in life which cannot be a very high one. Their heads must not be filled with dreams of wonderful fortunes. Real work is and must be the lot of those who are homeless and dependent. Now, ifyouwanted to adopt some child I have two lovely little girls here, one of them born to luxury it would seem, but misfortune and death made a waif of her. I do hope some well-to-do people will take a fancy to her.”
No, she didn’t want any stranger. She would wait and see. Why should she care so much for Marilla? The faint little voice haunted her—“Are you a fairy godmother?”
The Bordens were really disappointed when they found they had missed Miss Armitage. Then a dressmaker was to come, and friends were dropping in. Unless they shut the nursery door the little girls were in everything, and then they fairly howled for mama.
“Oh, Marilla, can’t you keep those children entertained? It sounds as if they were getting murdered. Put on their things and take them out.”188
Then one night Pansy had the croup and there was a great scare.
“You’ve let her get cold some way, Marilla; you mustn’t let the wagon stand while you keep looking at books and pictures in store windows. You better go straight over to the park, and don’t talk to other girls. You’re old enough now to have a little judgment.”
Marilla made the babies ready. They were very fond of walking up and down stairs. Now she lifted them in the carriage, tucked them in with the pretty robe and they did look picturesque in their fluffy white hoods and fur cloaks. They uttered shrieks of delight as they went along. The Brant’s were moving in the Jamreth house; she would remember hereafter to turn off at State street and not pass it. Somehow she felt very tired. At times there was such a fluttering somewhere inside of her that for a moment things went round and she had to gasp for breath. She would like to tell Dr. Richards about it. She had seen him twice, both times in the street and it had kept her happy for days.