Lottie met De Forrest on the stairs, and he was about to apologize for his long sleep, but she rushed by him like a summer gust. A moment later she burst into her room and startled indolent Bel out of her last luxurious doze by dropping into a chair by the fire and indulging in what girls call a "good cry."
"What is the matter?" asked Bel, anxiously.
Lottie's tears were the only answer.
"What has happened?" cried Bel, rising hastily. "Let me call auntie or Julian."
"If you call either you are no friend of mine," said Lottie, springing to the door, locking it, and taking the key.
"Why, Lottie, I don't understand—"
"There is no need that you should. Nothing is the matter—only I'm blue—I've been thinking of awful things. I was in one of my moods this afternoon, now I'm in one of my tenses."
"Unusually intense, I should think. I have not seen you so moved since Tom Wellesly threatened to blow out his brains for you."
"He hadn't any to blow out," snapped Lottie, "or he wouldn't have thought of doing it for such a girl as I am."
"Well," sighed Bel, who at times was one of Job's comforters,"I've heard he has never been the same since."
"I hope he has been wiser, then. How can men be such stupid owls as to fall in love with me! Can't they see I'm a wicked little heathen?"
"That is just the kind men like," sneered Bel, misanthropically. "You expect to captivate (and of course you will) this sincere and saintly young minister. He already thinks that you are by far the best of our party, and has some of the first symptoms that your victims usually manifest."
Lottie sprang up, dashed away her tears, and commenced restlessly pacing the room.
"Bother on the men," she exclaimed. "Why will they be so silly! The world's a perfect jumble, and we are all lunatics and fools, crying for what is not good for us, and turning our backs upon what is. I'm disgusted with everybody, and myself in particular. Now if this overgrown student makes a fool of himself, like the others, I shall lose faith in mankind, and I know there is nothing to hope from woman-kind."
"I should think you were having a mood and a tense at the same time this evening," said Bel, looking with some surprise at her friend. "What has stirred you up so? Have you and Julian had a quarrel?"
"We shall have plenty more, I foresee," said Lottie, seizing on the suggestion to hide the truth. Bel smiled satirically. All these harsh words were but the harmless lightnings of a summer gust that was passing away.
"It's only a lovers' tiff," she thought, "and now the billing and cooing are to come."
"O, well," said Bel, soothingly, "you and Julian will soon make up, and then you and all the world will change for the better."
"We have made up," said Lottie faintly, finding, like many another sinner in this line, that the first fib requires the second to cover it up.
"Well, well; get over your mood quickly, for the supper-bell will ring in a moment, and you are not ready to come down."
What emergency of life can obliterate from the mind of a pretty woman the necessity of a toilet? To Bel, Lottie seemed to come to her senses at once as she sped to her bureau and commenced brushing her rumpled hair. But the languid maiden was quite startled as Lottie wheeled suddenly upon her, declaring, while she brandished the hair-brush in the most tragic and impressive manner, "If that Hemstead makes a fool of himself he may, but he shall do it with his eyes open; I will not deceive him any more."
Thus conscience, that had been skirmishing all day, appeared to gain one point of advantage, and Lottie, having made this virtuous resolve, gained in mental serenity, while the mirror that reflected her fair face helped to bring back her complacency.
"Bel," said Lottie, as they were leaving their room, "not a whisper of all this to any one, as you value my friendship."
But before they reached the supper-room her resolution failed, as is often the case when one acts from impulse rather than principle. She found that she could not so lightly throw away Hemstead's good opinion. She had been admired, loved, and flattered to her heart's content, but the respect, esteem, and trust of a sincere, true man formed a new offering, and it was so attractive that she could not bring herself to turn from it at once. Then her strong pride cast its weight into the scale, and she thought: "He talks to me and treats me as if I were a woman of heart and mind, and I'm going down to show him I'm a wicked fool. I shall not do it, at least not now. Little fear but that the disagreeable truth will come out soon enough."
"But it is wrong to deceive him," whispered conscience.
"Suppose it is," answered the wayward will, "I am all wrong myself and always have been."
"You promised to show him your real self," still urged conscience.
"Well, I will, some other time."
With conscience thwarted and unsatisfied, serenity vanished again, and instead of being reckless and trivial at the table, as she intended, she was rather silent, and a trifle sullen, as one often is even when vexed with one's self.
Hemstead was expecting a subdued and thoughtful young lady to appear, whose pensive manner would indicate a nature softened and receptive. While her bearing was not what he anticipated, it was somewhat akin, and showed, he thought, that the truth was not without effect.
De Forrest was still more puzzled; but soon concluded that Lottie was provoked that he had slept so long instead of devoting himself to her. True, she had just come from the parlor, where he found Hemstead standing by the window, looking out into the gloom, but she had found him, no doubt, so heavy and stupid that she had rushed to her room in a fit of vexation. This theory was entirely reconcilable with his vanity, and therefore conclusive; and he tried to make amends by excessive gallantry, which only annoyed Lottie. This he ascribed to her resentment for his neglect, and only redoubled his unwelcome attentions.
While Hemstead's heart was in a tumult of joy and thankfulness that so early in his acquaintance, and so unexpectedly, he had been able to speak to her as he wished and with such seeming effectiveness, he had the good taste and tact to indicate by no words or sign that anything unusual had occurred between them. He sought to draw the others, and even De Forrest, into general conversation, so that Lottie might be left more to herself.
With a mingled smile and frown, she recognized his purpose, and with a reckless laugh in her own soul, thought; "He imagines I am near conversion, when I never felt so wicked before in my life."
But catching a glimpse of Bel's surprised face, and seeing that her abstraction was noted by the others, she speedily rallied, and assumed the manner that she had maintained throughout the day.
"It is so delightful to see his large gray eyes turn towards me wistfully and trustingly, that I cannot undeceive him yet"; and so conscience was dismissed, as history records has been often the case with some honest old counsellor in a foolish and reckless court.
The prospective sleigh-ride and donation party were the prominent themes, and they hastened through the meal that they might start early.
Upon this occasion De Forrest managed to get the seat by Lottie, in his eagerness to make amends, and Hemstead sat opposite with Bel. As far as he could gather in the uncertain moonlight, Hemstead thought that De Forrest's attentions were not particularly welcome, and, though he scarcely knew why, was glad. He would probably explain by saying that De Forrest was not worthy of her.
Lottie's periods of depression never lasted long, and again the frosty air and quick motion set her blood tingling with life. In order to escape De Forrest's whispered sentimentalities, she began to sing. Her naturally good voice had been somewhat injured by straining at difficult music, under superficial instruction, instead of thorough training for it, but within a moderate compass, and in simple music, was sweet and strong.
De Forrest was enthusiastic in his praise of selections that were beyond her abilities. Though most of the airs were unfamiliar to Hemstead, he was satisfied that they were incorrect, and certain that the music was not over good. Therefore he was silent. This piqued Lottie, for one of her purposes in the choice of what she sang was to impress him, from the barbarous West, with the idea of her superior culture. At last she said, "I fear you do not like operatic and classical music very much, Mr. Hemstead?"
"We do not often hear such music very perfectly rendered in our part of the West. There are airs from the opera that are very pretty"; and he suggested one that was simple.
The truth began to dawn on the quick-witted girl, but De Forrest said, patronizingly, "It requires a cultivated taste to appreciate such music as you were singing, Miss Lottie."
"It is not with the music probably, but my rendering of it, thatMr. Hemstead finds fault."
"Two of the airs were new to me, and the other I have heard but seldom," said Hemstead, evasively.
"How about that one?" asked De Forrest.
"Well, in sincerity then, I think Miss Marsden does herself injustice by attempting music that would tax the powers of a prima donna."
"The boor!" whispered De Forrest to Lottie.
After a moment she said firmly, "Mr. Hemstead has only said plainly what you thought, Julian."
"O Miss Lottie—" he began to protest.
"I'm not a fool," she continued, "so please don't waste your breath. You have heard all the star singers, and know how ridiculously far beneath them I fall, when I try to sing their music. I think you might have told me. It would have been truer kindness than your hollow applause. Why our teachers make us the laughing-stock of society, by keeping us upon these absurd attempts at music beyond us, to the exclusion of everything else, is something that I can't understand. My ear is not over nice, but I have always had a suspicion that I was executing, in the sense of murder, the difficult arias that the old weazen-faced Italian professor kept me at till brother Dan said, in truth, that I was turning into a screech-owl. But no one, save he and Mr. Hemstead, has been honest enough to tell me the truth. Thus, on many occasions, I have taxed the politeness of people to the utmost, no doubt, and been the cause of innumerable complimentary fibs, like those you have just been guilty of, Julian. Perhaps, Mr. Hemstead, you think a style of music like this more suited to my powers "; and she struck into a well-known plantation song.
"No," said he, laughing, "I think you do yourself still greater injustice."
"You probably think I cannot sing at all."
"On the contrary, I think you have an unusually good voice. I wish you would sing that air that you were humming when you came into the parlor this afternoon. I liked that, and imagine it is suited to your voice."
"What was it? O, I remember. An arr from Faust, that Marguerite sings at her spinning-wheel. I think I can give that pretty decently."
She sang it sweetly, with taste and some power. Hemstead's appreciation was hearty, and she knew it was sincere.
"Now that you have done me such good service," she said laughing, "and shown that mediocrity is my musical position, let us have some old-fashioned ballads, and all sing them together in sleigh-riding style."
"Pardon me, Miss Marsden, I assign you to mediocrity in nothing."
"O, no, not you; my own abilities place me there. But come, each one sing"; and she commenced a ballad, well known to the others, but not to him.
It sounded very well indeed, only Harcourt's bass was much too light for the other voices.
"Why don't you sing?" asked Lottie of Hemstead.
"I do not know the air or words."
"Shall we try Old Hundred?" asked De Forrest. "Ahem! The long metre doxology.
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow."
Addie and Harcourt joined in laughingly. Bel began with them, but stopped when she saw that Lottie did not sing.
"Do you believe that 'all blessings flow' from God?" asked Hemstead of De Forrest.
"I suppose so, according to Old Hundred," he said lightly.
"You don't 'suppose so' at all, Julian. You know it, as we all do, however we may act," said Lottie, with emphasis.
"With such a belief, I—would at least treat Him with respect," said Hemstead, quietly. "I should be sorry to be under deep and continued obligations to One toward whom I failed in ordinary courtesy."
"I knew it was wrong," muttered Bel, "but—"
"I have no such belief," said Harcourt, "so your sharp homily does not apply to me."
"Where do your blessings come from?" asked Hemstead.
"Well, those I don't get out of my clients, from where this snow does,—the laws and forces of nature."
"Your faith is like the snow, I think,—very cold."
"If it's cold in winter, it's warm in summer," retorted he, flippantly; and Addie giggled approvingly, for the reason that it sounded flippant and smart.
They had now reached the hamlet of Scrub Oaks, in the centre of which was a small house that seemed bursting with light and noise. Whenever the door opened it appeared to fly open from a pressure within.
De Forrest acted as escort to the ladies, while Hemstead accompanied Harcourt in his effort to find a sheltered place for the horses. This pleased the young lawyer, and he said, good-naturedly, "Don't think, Mr. Hemstead, that I do not respect your honest convictions, and I meant no slur upon them. You take things too seriously."
"I suppose we all ought to make more allowance for what is said in mere sport and repartee," said Hemstead. "But what to you is law and force is to me a personal Friend. You know that there are some names—like those of mother and wife—that are too sacred for jest."
"Thus people misjudge and misunderstand each other, simply because they see things from different points of view," replied Harcourt. "De Forrest provokes me, however. He has no doubts worthy of the name, for he reads nothing save the sporting news and fashionable literature of the day, and yet he likes to give the impression that he is in with us, who read books and think."
"If you will only read fairly, Mr. Harcourt, I have no fears but that in time you will think rightly. An honest jury must hear both sides and have no prejudices."
The young men now sought the rest of the party, who had squeezed their way into the little parsonage. It was so replete with life and bustle that it appeared like a social bombshell, with effervescing human nature as an explosive material, and might burst into fragments at any moment.
The minister and his wife were scarcely host and hostess on this occasion, as a self-appointed committee of ladies had taken upon themselves the duty; but, like all corporations, this committee had no soul and a very indefinite body. No one knew just who they were, or where to find them, and some of the members, in the bewilderment of unaccustomed official position and honors, seemed to have lost themselves, and bustled aimlessly all over the house. The more staid and practical sisters of the committee were down in the kitchen, breathlessly setting tables which were almost as speedily cleared by people whose appetites were as keen as the winter night without.
"I do declare," ejaculated Mrs. Gubling, as one devastating tableful rose lingeringly from the repast, and another flock began to gather in hungry expectancy at the door,—"I do declare, I'm near beat out. Is this a starvin' community? At this rate they'll eat up all there is in the house, and the minister and his wife and babies into the bargain."
"Well," said Mrs. Rhamm, conveying the last bit of corned beef, which had been reluctantly left upon the plate as "manners," to a rather capacious mouth, "if they would eat up some of the babies it wouldn't be so bad. I don't see why poor ministers will have so many babies."
"The Lord takes care of 'em. We don't," suggested Mrs. Gubling.
"We all do our part, I s'pose. The worst of it is that it makes it oncomfortable for a church to give a small salary."
"I wish our church was more uncomfortable then. It's a shame we give Mr. Dlimm only six hundred. But come, if we don't git another table set they'll eat us up."
"I'd like to see 'em," said Mrs. Rhamm, with a disdainful sniff.
"Well, you be a bit old and tough," chuckled Mrs. Gubling.
With the solace of this sally, which seemed true, if not true wit, these hard-featured mothers in Israel set about their tasks with the deftness that long experience gives.
At the time De Forrest conveyed the ladies into the hall, the upstairs members of the committee were buzzing around somewhere else, for there was no one to receive them. They were gradually hustled or carried into the parlor or main room, and here Hemstead and Harcourt found them in characteristic conditions. Addie's and De Forrest's elegant noses were decidedly retrousses; Bel appeared both disgusted and frightened; while Lottie's face wore an expression of intense and amused curiosity. She was seeing "the other set" to her heart's content, and all was as new and strange as if she had visited another land.
Harcourt joined Addie, and they began to whisper satirical criticisms on the remarks and manners of those around. Hemstead's interest mainly centred in watching Lottie, and in noting the effect of her contact with plain and uncultured people. He was glad he did not see the repulsion of a little mind and a narrow nature, as was the case with most of the others. Though it was evident that she had no sympathy with them, or for them, there was intelligent interest and wide-awake curiosity. While the others were incasing themselves in exclusive pride, she was eager to investigate and get en rapport with this new phase of humanity. But trammailed by her city ideas, she felt that she could not speak to any one without the formality of an introduction. But the ice was broken for her unexpectedly. Feeling her dress pulled, she turned and found a very stout old lady sitting near her, who asked in a loud whisper, "Been down to supper yet?"
"No," said Lottie, "I don't wish any."
"I do, but I'm afeard I won't get none. You see I'm big and clumsy anyway, and now I'm so lame with the rheumatiz that I kin hardly move."
"It's too bad," said Lottie, pathetically, but with a swift comical glance at the others.
"Yes, it's kinder orful to be so helpless," said the old woman, with a complacent sigh, delighted at having a sympathetic auditor. "I'm dreadfully afeard I won't git no supper. I'm like the withered man at the pool of Bethesdy. Whenever they are ready for another batch 'while I'm a-comin' another steppeth down before me.'"
"Well, you're not very much withered, that's one comfort to be thankful for," said Lottie.
"I'd like to be thankful for my supper, if I could only git a chance," persisted the old woman.
"You shall have a chance. When is the pool troubled? When shall we put you in?"
"There! now is the time," said her new acquaintance, dropping her affected and pious tone, and speaking with sharp eagerness. "See, one batch is comin' up, and 'nother is going down."
"Mr. Hemstead, will you assist me in escorting this old lady to the supper-table?"
Hemstead's face was aglow with approval, and he instantly complied, while the others, understanding Lottie better, were convulsed with laughter.
It was no easy thing for them unitedly to manage the hobbling mountain of flesh. When they came to the narrow stairway, matters were still more serious.
"You shall go first," whispered Lottie to Hemstead, "for if she should fall on me, good-by, Lottie Marsden."
Hemstead patiently, carefully, and with the utmost deference, assisted the helpless creature down the stairs.
"You're as polite to her as if she were a duchess," said Lottie, in a low tone.
"She is more than a duchess. She is a woman," he replied.
Lottie gave him a quick, pleased look, but said, "Such old-fashioned chivalry is out of date, Mr. Hemstead."
"He's right, miss," said the old woman, sharply. "I'm not Dutch."
Lottie dropped behind to hide her merriment at this speech, and Hemstead appeared, with his charge clinging to his arm, at the kitchen door, which her ample form nearly filled.
"My sakes alive! Auntie Lammer, how did you get down here?" saidMrs. Gubling. "We hain't ready for you yet."
"No matter," said Mrs. Lammer, "I thank the marcies I've got down safe, and I'm goin' to stay till I git my supper."
"Can I help you?" asked Lottie, glancing curiously around the room.
They looked with even more curiosity at her; and a strange contrast she made, in her rich and tasteful costume and rare beauty, with those plain, middle-aged, hard-working women, and the small, dingy room.
For a moment they stared at her without reply, then gave each other a few suggestive nudges; and Mrs. Rhamm was about to speak rather slightingly, when good-natured Mrs. Gubling said: "You are very kind, miss, but you don't look cut out for our work. Besides, my dear, it's an orful dangerous place down here. I'm afraid we'll git eat up ourselves before the evening is over. I'm sure you would be, if you stayed. I wouldn't mind taking a bite myself"; and the good woman and her assistants laughed heartily over this standing joke of the evening, while Auntie Lammer, seeing that Mrs. Gubling was the leading spirit of the supper-room, quivered in all her vast proportions with politic and propitious mirth.
All this was inexpressibly funny to Lottie, who had the keenest sense of the absurd, and with a sign to Hemstead she drew him away, saying, "This exceeds any play I ever saw. I didn't know people who were not acting could be so queer and comical."
"Well, Miss Lottie," he said, as they ascended the stairs, "I admit that humanity everywhere often has its ridiculous side, but I have been laughed at too much myself to enjoy laughing at others."
"And why should you be laughed at so much?"
"I suppose it is the fate of overgrown, awkward boys, who have a tendency to blurt out the truth on all occasions."
"Such a tendency as that will always make you trouble, I assure you."
"It hasn't with you, yet."
"Our acquaintance has been very brief."
"And yet I seem to know you so well! I would not have believed it possible in one short day."
"I think you are mistaken. But you have ceased to be a stranger to me. I have remarked before to-day, that I knew you better than some I have seen from childhood."
"I am happy to say that I wish to conceal nothing."
"Few can say that."
"O, I don't mean that I am better than other people, only that it's best to appear just what we are. People should be like coin, worth their face—"
"I was in search of you," interrupted De Forrest, as they stood talking a moment near the head of the stairs in the hall. "We did not know but that the sylph you escorted away had made a supper of Hemstead, with you as a relish. Have you seen enough of this bear-garden yet?"
"No, indeed," said Lottie; "I'm just beginning to enjoy myself."
From openly staring at and criticising the party from Mrs. Marchmont's, the young people began to grow aggressive, and, from class prejudices, were inclined to be hostile. There were whispered consultations, and finally one habitue of the store and tavern thought he could cover himself with glory by a trick, and at the same time secure a kiss from Lottie, the prettiest. The conspiracy was soon formed. A kissing game in one of the upper rooms was suspended for a moment, and one of the tall girls accompanied him down as if they were a delegation, and on the principle that in designs against a woman a female confederate is always helpful in disarming suspicion.
He approached Lottie with the best manners he could assume, and said, "We are having some games upstairs. Perhaps you would like to join us. We'd like to have you."
"Do come," added the tall girl; "they are real nice."
"Certainly," said Lottie, who was now ready for another adventure."Come; let us all go."
"The others needn't come unless they want to," said the young man; for he didn't relish the lawyer's presence, whom he knew by reputation, nor the searching look of the tall stranger whom he did not know.
"Mr. Hemstead, you and Julian come," said Lottie, and as they ascended the stairs she studied this new specimen of Scrub Oaks, who was a loafer of the village as De Forrest was an idler of the town. They both belonged to the same genus, though the latter would have resented such a statement as the foulest insult.
The manners and the smart finery of her new acquaintance amused Lottie very much. When they reached the room, they found it full of whispering, giggling young people.
The tall girl, as instructed, said, "Now let us form a ring with our hands on this rope."
This having been done, she said, "Now, Mr. Shabb, you must go inside first"; and then, with a nudge to Lottie, she explained, "He'll try to hit our hands with his, and if he hits your hands you will have to go inside the ring."
What else he would do, she left to be disclosed by action.
Then he of the flaming neck-tie and bulging cheek took his place with a twinkling eye that meant mischief. De Forrest and Hemstead declined to play, but the latter slipped forward and stood near Lottie. He was not sure, but dimly remembered seeing this game before, when it was not played so innocently as the tall girl had described.
The young rustic made extravagant but purposely vain efforts to strike the hands of others, and Lottie watched the scene with laughing curiosity. Suddenly he wheeled round and struck her hands sharply; and to her horrified surprise it seemed but a second later that his repulsive face was almost against her own. But something came between, and, starting back, she saw the baffled youth imprint a fervent kiss on the back of Hemstead's hand.
There was a loud laugh at him from those who had expected to laugh with him. He swaggered up to Hemstead, and said threateningly, "What do you mean?"
"What do YOU mean?" asked Lottie, confronting him with blazing eyes. "It is well this gentleman interposed. If you had succeeded in your insult I should have had you punished in a way that you would not soon forget."
"It's only part of the game," muttered he, abashed by her manner.
"Part of the game?"
"Yes," giggled the tall girl, faintly; "it's a kissing game."
"Did you know it was such?" asked Lottie, indignantly, of De Forrest and Hemstead.
"Indeed I did not," said De Forrest; "and if you say so I'll give this fellow the flogging, anyway."
"Come right out, and do it now," was the pert response.
"All I can say is, Miss Marsden," explained Hemstead, "that I suspected something wrong, and took means to prevent it. How these nice-looking girls can allow this fellow to kiss them is more than I can understand."
"No lady would," said Lottie, as she swept disdainfully out; and under the withering influence of these remarks kissing games languished the rest of the evening; only young children, and a few of the coarser-natured ones, participating. But soon the absurdity of the whole scene overcame Lottie, and she laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.
As they were slowly descending the stairs a faded little woman said, "I'm glad to see you enjoying yourself, Miss Marchmont. It was very kind of you and your party to come so far."
"I am not Miss Marchmont," said Lottie, "though I came with her."
"Well, as the minister's wife, I would like her and all her party to know of our grateful appreciation."
"You thank us beyond our deserts. But are you the minister's wife? I am glad to make your acquaintance"; and she held out her hand, which Mrs. Dlimm seemed glad to take.
At this moment there came the cry of an infant from one of the upper rooms.
"O, there goes my baby," said Mrs. Dlimm; "I thought I heard it before"; and she was about to hasten on.
"May I not go with you and see the baby?" asked Lottie.
What mother ever refused such a request? In a moment Lottie was in the one small room in which, on this portentous occasion, the three younger children were huddled, the others being old enough to take part in what, to them, was the greatest excitement of their lives, thus far.
Lottie looked curiously around, with the quick, appreciative eye by which ladies seem to gather accurately at a glance the effect of a costume and the style and character of an apartment and its occupants. But she politely, and from a certain innate interest, gave such attention to the baby as to win the mother's heart. It was but an ordinary baby, although the fattest and sturdiest member of a rather pinched household; but Lottie wonderingly saw that to the faded mother it was a cherub just from heaven.
Lottie could not understand it. A perfumed baby, in lace and muslin, might be a nice pet if the nurse were always within call; but the sole care of this chubby-cheeked Moloch, that would sacrifice its mother as unconsciously and complacently as the plant absorbs moisture, seemed almost as prosaic and dreadful as being devoured alive.
"Does no one help you take care of that child?" asked she.
"Well, my husband and the elder children help some."
"Haven't you a nurse for all these children?"
"No, indeed. It's as much as we can do to clothe and feed them."
"Don't you keep any servants at all?"
"Yes, we have a girl in the kitchen, but she's almost as much bother as she is worth."
"How do you get along?"
"I hardly know—somewhat as the birds do out of doors."
"Are you happy?"
"I've hardly time to think. I think I am, though,—happy as most people. Some days bright, some days cloudy, and now and then a storm. That's the way it is with all, I imagine. We all have our crosses, you know, but by and by all will come right."
"I should be cross enough with all your crosses."
"They might make you patient. The crossest people I know are those who shun all crosses."
"Now I think of it, I'm inclined to believe that's true," said Lottie, reflectively. Then she whispered, as she walked softly to the mother's side, "Baby is going to sleep, isn't it?"
With different expressions they both peered into the full-moon face, two features of which, the eyes, were becoming obliterated by the white, drooping lids. Lottie looked as if she were examining a zoological specimen. Mrs. Dlimm gazed with a smile of deep content and tenderness.
The undisturbed rest of the child upon her bosom was a type of her own mind at that moment. She was nature's child, God's child, and the babe was hers.
To the true and simple children of nature, who, without thought of self or the public eye, are quietly doing their duty in their own little niches, these moments of peace with strange thrills of joy are constantly coming. If this worn mother could look down upon the child, and her plain, pale face grow beautiful with spiritual light, how must the God who inspires all love—who is the source of tenderness—have regarded her?
The expression of this woman's face puzzled Lottie beyond measure. It was so incongruous, irreconcilable with the burdens, the weary cares, and ceaseless toil and anxiety of her lot. It was so out of keeping with the noisy throng and confused bustle that filled the house, and it dimly suggested to the proud belle a condition of mind before undreamt of in her philosophy.
Some new and curious thoughts stole into her heart as she watched the mother slowly rocking backward and forward, uttering a low, crooning lullaby,—the gentlest sound that ever falls on mortal ears. For some reason there came into her soul a sudden loathing of her own selfishness and callousness.
After the child had been laid in the cradle, she asked, "What did you mean when you said, 'It will all come right some day'?"
"Well, I suppose I meant that God's little children often get sorely perplexed with their cares and troubles in this world, but when we get home and sit down to rest and think it all over, it will then seem right."
"Home?"
"Yes, home in our Heavenly Father's house. That's the only real home we have. We only 'stop,' as the Irish say, here and there for a little while in this world."
"And do you think of heaven as a pleasant home and rest after what seems to me your very hard life?"
"Certainly. How do you think of it?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I have not thought much about it."
Before Mrs. Dlimm could reply, there came anything but a heavenly interruption. It was as if Moses and Aaron were within the cool and shadowy tabernacle, feasting on spiritual manna, and there came a delegation from the Hebrew camp, clamoring for the "leeks and onions of Egypt."
Though the congregation often said, "It's a pity Mrs. Dlimm is such a meek and quiet little woman," and though the self-appointed committee of ladies was so large, and the minister himself was downstairs, yet when the first real emergency of the evening arose, the upstairs members of the committee were helpless, and the best thing Mrs. Gubling, the leading spirit downstairs, could do, was to "slick up," as she said, and "go tell the parson's wife." But seeing Mr. Dlimm on the way, she beckoned him aside with a portentous nod. He, poor man, heard her tidings with dismay. He had fallen into the habit of taking all his difficulties either to the Lord or to his wife, and in this case he felt that both must come to his aid.
With Mrs. Gubling he at once hastened to the nursery, and entered rather abruptly.
Mrs. Dlimm raised her finger impressively, then pointed to the cradle.
"But, my dear—" began her husband, rather impatiently.
"Hush," said the wife, in a low tone; "whatever's the matter don't wake the baby, for then I can't do anything."
"Mrs. Dlimm," said Mrs. Gubling, "they've eat up about everything there is downstairs, 'cept me, and there's three tables yet It's such a fine night, and the sleighing's so good, that lots more have come than we expected. I don't know how much money they brought, but they hain't brought provisions enough."
"What shall we do?" asked Mr. Dlimm, nervously.
"If it takes the last penny we have in the world," said his wife, with grave dignity, "no one shall leave our house hungry. You must step over to the store, Mr. Dlimm, and buy enough to satisfy every one."
"I feel just as you do, my dear," he said, with the air of one who sees duty clearly, though it is far from being agree-able. "Just give me our poor little hoard from your bureau drawer, and I'll go at once."
Lottie witnessed the scene with mingled amusement and indignation, and then, her face aglow with a sudden put pose, sped away also.
The dismal tidings from the lower regions, that the larder had been stripped and that scarcely even a pie remained, soon became an open secret, about which every one was whispering and commenting. The supperless wore a defrauded and injured air. The eyes of many who had not left so important a duty to the uncertainties of the future, but, like Auntie Lammer, had availed themselves of the first opportunity, now twinkled shrewdly and complacently. They had the comfortable consciousness of taking care of themselves. But the greater number were honestly indignant and ashamed that such a thing should have happened. This feeling of mortification was increased when the committee reported but a small sum of money handed in as yet. The majority were provoked at others, and a few at themselves, for having brought so little. As the situation became clearer, all began to act characteristically, some preparing to slink away and escape a disagreeable state of things, and others putting their heads together in the wish to remedy matters. Some giggled, and others looked solemn. Some tried to appear resigned, as if it were a dispensation of Providence, and others snarled about "them mean Joneses and Rhamms."
Lottie hastily summoned her party together, and told them of the dire emergency, as Mrs. Gubling had stated it.
"Now," said she, "if you gentlemen have got any wit worth the name, you must hit on some way of helping the parson out of his scrape, for I have taken a great interest in him, or rather his wife. She is the queerest little woman I ever saw. I shouldn't wonder if she were an angel in disguise."
"As you are undisguised," whispered De Forrest
"O, be still, Julian. That compliment is as delicate as Auntie Lammer's appetite. But see, some of these mean 'locusts of Egypt,' after eating their minister out of house and home, are preparing to go. We must get a collection before a soul leaves the house. Julian, you lock the back door, and, Mr. Hemstead, you stand by the front door; and now, Mr. Harcourt, you are a lawyer, and know how to talk sharply to people: you give these cormorants to understand what we expect them to do before they leave."
Hemstead obeyed with alacrity; for the effort to help the overburdened pastor of Scrub Oaks meet the rigors of winter seemed about to end in disastrous failure. He had noticed, with satisfaction, that many of the people shared his regret, and wished to do something, but through lack of leadership the gathering was about to break up, each one blaming some one else, and all secretly mortified at the result.
Harcourt thought a moment, and then, stepping to a position where he could be seen through open doors and heard from the upper story, clapped his hands loudly to secure silence and draw attention to himself.
"Do you know where your pastor has gone?" he asked. "He is out now buying provisions with his own money to feed a crowd who came here under the false pretence of giving a donation, but, in truth, seemingly to eat him out of house and home."
Flushes of shame and anger flashed into nearly every face at these stinging words, but Harcourt continued remorselessly: "You know who I am, and I thought I knew something about you. I had heard that the people back in the country were large-handed, large-hearted, and liberal, but we must be mistaken. I think this the quintessence of meanness, and if you break up to-night without a big collection I will publish you throughout the land. I want you to understand that your minister has nothing to do with what I say. I speak on my own responsibility."
"Capital!" whispered Lottie. "That was red-hot shot, and they deserved it. If that don't drain their pockets, nothing will."
But she was not a little surprised and disgusted, when a Stalwart young farmer stepped out, and with a face aflamed with anger, said in harsh emphasis: "I was sorry and ashamed to have this affair end as it promised to, and was going to come down handsomely myself, and try to get some others to, but since that sprig of the law has tried to bully and whip us into doing something, I won't give one cent I want you to understand, Tom Harcourt, that whatever may be true of the people back in the country, you, nor no other man, can drive us with a horsewhip."
The young man's words seemed to meet with general approval, and there were many confirmatory nods and responses. They were eager to find some one to blame, and upon whom they could vent their vexation; and this aristocratic young lawyer, whose words had cut like knives, was like a spark in powder. Many could go away and half persuade themselves that if it had not been for him they might have done something handsome, and even the best-disposed present were indignant. It seemed that the party would break up, before the minister returned, in a general tumult.
The young farmer stalked to the front door, and said threateningly to Hemstead, "Open that door."
"No, don't you do it," whispered Lottie.
He threw the door open wide.
"O, for shame!" she said aloud; "I did not think that of you, Mr.Hemstead."
Without heeding her he confronted the young farmer and asked, "Do you believe in fair play?"
"Yes, and fair words, too."
"All right, sir. I listened quietly and politely to you. Will you now listen to me? I have not spoken yet."
"O, certainly," said the young farmer, squaring himself and folding his arms on his ample chest. "Let every dog have his day."
Hemstead then raised his powerful voice, so that it could be heard all through the house, and yet he spoke quietly and calmly.
"The gentleman who last addressed you now in the spirit of fair play offers to listen to me. I ask all present, with the same spirit of candor and politeness, to hear me for a few moments. But the door is open wide, and if there are any who don't believe in fair play and a fair hearing all around, they are at liberty to depart at once."
No one moved. And the young farmer said, with the sternness of his square face greatly relaxing, "You may shut the door, sir. We will all listen when spoken to in that style. But we don't want to be driven like cattle." Then, yielding farther to the influence of Hemstead's courtesy, he stepped forward and shut the door himself.
"Thank you, sir," said Hemstead, heartily, and then continued: "I am a stranger among you, and am here to-night very unexpectedly. My home is in the West, and, like yourselves, I belong to that class who, when they give, give not from their abundance, but out of their poverty. There has been a mistake here to-night. I think I understand you better than my friend Mr. Harcourt. From the pleasantness of the evening mote are present than you looked for. There are many young people here who I suspect have come from a distance, unexpectedly, for the sake of a ride and frolic, and were not as well prepared as if their households had known of it before. Long drives and the cold night have caused keen appetites. When the result became known a few moments ago, I saw that many felt that it was too bad, and that something ought to be done, and no one was more decided in the expression of this feeling than the gentleman who last spoke. All that was needed then, and all that is needed now, is to consider the matter a moment and then act unitedly. I ask you as Christian men and women, as humane, kind-hearted people, to dismiss from your minds all considerations save one,—your pastor's need. I understand that he has six little children. A long, cold winter is before him and his. He is dependent upon you for the comforts of life. In return, he is serving the deepest and most sacred needs of your natures, and in his poverty is leading you to a faith that will enrich you forever. It is not charity that is asked. A church is a family, and you are only providing for your own. How could any of you be comfortable this winter if you knew your minister was pinched and lacking? The Bible says that the laborer is worthy of his hire. You have only to follow the impulse of your consciences, your own better natures, and I have no fears. A few moments ago your pastor had a painful surprise. You can have a very agreeable one awaiting him by the time he returns. You can make his heart glad for months to come, and so make your own glad. Though I am a stranger, as I said, and a poor man, yet I am willing to give double what I proposed at first, and if some one will take up a collection will hand in ten dollars."
"Give me your hand on that," said the young farmer, heartily; "and there's ten dollars more to keep it company. When a man talks like that, I am with him, shoulder to shoulder. Will some one bring me the dominie's hat?"
One was soon forthcoming.
"And now," said the young man, stepping up to Lottie, "you seem to take a sight of interest in this matter, miss. I think you can look five dollars out of most of the young chaps here. I'll go around with you, and see that each one comes down as he or she ought. If anybody ain't got what they'd like to give, I'll lend it to 'em, and collect it, too," he added, raising his strong, hearty voice.
Thus through Hemstead's words and action the aspect of the skies changed, and where a desolating storm had threatened there came a refreshing shower. What he had said commended itself to so many that the mean and crotchety found it politic to fall in with the prevailing spirit.
Amid approving nods, whispered consultations, and the hauling out of all sorts of queer receptacles for money, the graceful city belle and the blunt, broad-shouldered farmer started on an expedition that, to the six little Dlimms, would be more important than one for the discovery of the North Pole.
"No coppers now!" shouted the young man.
Lottie, fairly bubbling over with fun and enjoyment, was all graciousness, and with smiles long remembered by some of the rustic youth, certainly did beguile them into generosity at which they wondered ever after.
The result was marvellous, and the crown of the old hat was becoming a crown of joy indeed to the impoverished owner, who now had the promise of some royal good times.
That fast-filling hat meant nourishing beef occasionally, a few books for the minister's famishing mind, a new dress or two for the wife, and a warm suit for the children all round.
No one was permitted to escape, and in justice it could now be said that few wished to, for all began to enjoy the luxury of doing a good and generous deed.
When they had been to nearly all, Lottie said to her now beaming companion, "Go and get Mrs. Dlimm, and seat her in the large rocking-chair in the parlor."
The poor little woman, having witnessed all the earlier scenes from the stairs with strong and varying feelings, had, during the last few moments, seen Lottie pass with such a profusion of greenbacks in her husband's hat that in a bewildering sense of joy and gratitude she had fled to the little nursery sanctuary, and when found by some of the ladies was crying over the baby in the odd contradictoriness of feminine action. She was hardly given time to wipe her eyes before she was escorted on the arm of the now gallant farmer, to the chair of state in the parlor.
Then Lottie advanced to make a little speech, but could think of nothing but the old school-day formula; and so the stately introduction ended abruptly but most effectively, as follows:
"As a token of our esteem and kindly feeling, and as an expression of—of—I—we hereby present you with—with the reward of merit"; and she emptied the hat in the lady's lap.
Instead of graceful acknowledgment, and a neatly worded speech in reply, Mrs. Dlimm burst into tears, and springing up threw her arms around Lottie's neck and kissed her, while the greenbacks were scattered round their feet like an emerald shower. Indeed the grateful little woman, in her impulse, had stepped forward and upon the money.
The city belle, to her great surprise and vexation, found that some spring of her own nature had been touched, and that her eyes also were overflowing. As she looked around deprecatingly, and half-ashamed, she saw that there was a prospect of a general shower, and that many of the women were sniffling audibly, and the brusque young farmer stood near, looking as if he could more easily hold a span of run-away horses than he could hold in himself.
At this moment Hemstead stepped forward, and said: "My friends, we can learn a lesson from this scene, for it is true to our best nature, and very suggestive. Your pastor's wife standing there upon your gift that she may kiss the giver (for in this instance Miss Marsden but represents you and your feeling and action) is a beautiful proof that we value more and are more blessed by the spirit of kindness which prompts the gift than by the gift itself. See, she puts her foot on the gift, but takes the giver to her heart. The needs of the heart—the soul—are ever greater than those of the body, therefore she acknowledges your kindness first, because with that you have supplied her chief need. She does not undervalue your gift, but values your kindness more. Hereafter, as you supply the temporal need of your pastor, as I believe you ever will, let all be provided with the same honest kindness and sympathy. Let us also all learn, from this lady's action, to think of the Divine Giver of all good before his best earthly gifts."
Mrs. Dlimm had recovered herself sufficiently by this time to turn to the people around her and say, with a gentle dignity that would scarcely have been expected from her: "The gentleman has truly interpreted to you my very heart. I do value the kindness more even than the money which we needed so sorely. Our Christian work among you will be more full of hope and faith because of this scene, and therefore more successful."
Then, as from a sudden impulse, she turned and spoke to Hemstead with quaint earnestness: "You are a stranger, sir, but I perceive from your noble courtesy and bearing—your power to appreciate and bring out the best there is in us—that you belong to the royal family of the Great King. Your Master will reward you."
Poor Hemstead, who thus far had forgotten himself in his thought for others, was now suddenly and painfully made conscious of his own existence, and at once became the most helpless and awkward of mortals, as he found all eyes turned toward him. He was trying to escape from the room without stepping on two or three people—to Lottie's infinite amusement, though the tears stood in her eyes as she laughed—when Mrs. Gubling, ignorant of all that had happened, appeared from the kitchen, and created a diversion in his favor.
The good woman looked as if pickles had been the only part of the donation supper in which she had indulged, and in a tone of ancient vinegar, said, "Them as hasn't eaten had better come and take what they can git now."
A roar of laughter greeted this rather forbidding invitation. But, before any one could reply, Mr. Dlimm, red and breathless from his exertions, also entered, and with a faint smile and with the best courtesy he could master under the trying circumstances, added: "I am sorry any of our friends should have been kept waiting for supper. If they will now be so kind as to step down, we will do the best we can for them."
The good man was as puzzled by a louder explosion of mirth as Mrs.Gubling had been. The stout farmer whispered something to Lottie,and then, with an extravagant flourish, offered his arm to Mrs.Gubling.
"Go 'long with you," she said, giving him a push; but he took her along with him, while Lottie brought the parson to where his wife stood surrounded by greenbacks like fallen leaves, which in the hurry of events had not been picked up. The good man stared at his wife with her tearful eyes, and Mrs. Gubling stared at the money, and the people laughed and clapped their hands as only hearty country people can. Lottie caught the contagion, and laughed with them till she was ashamed of herself, while the rest of her party, except Hemstead, laughed at them and the "whole absurd thing," as they styled it, though Harcourt had a few better thoughts of his own.
Mrs. Rhamm's lank figure and curious face now appeared from the kitchen in the desire to solve the mystery of the strange sounds she heard, and the unheard-of delay in coming to supper. Lottie's coadjutor at once pounced upon her, and escorted, or rather dragged her to where she could see the money. She stared a moment, and then, being near-sighted, got down on her knees, that she might look more closely.
"She is going to pray to it," cried the farmer; and the simple people, aware of Mrs. Rhamm's devotion to this ancient god, laughed as if Sydney Smith had launched his wittiest sally.
"Mrs. Gubling," continued the young man, "if you are not chairman of the committee, you ought to be, for you are the best man of the lot."
"I'd have you know I'm no man at all. It's no compliment to tell a woman she's like a man," interrupted Mrs. Gubling, sharply.
"Well, you've been a ministering angel to us all, this evening; you can't deny that; and I now move that you and the dominie be appointed a committee to count this money and report."
It was carried by acclamation.
"Now, while the iron is hot, I'm going to strike again. I move that we raise the dominie's salary to a thousand a year. We all know, who know anything, that he can't support his family decently on six hundred."
In the enthusiasm of the hour this was carried also by those who at the same time were wondering at themselves and how it all came about. Strong popular movements are generally surprises, but the springs of united and generous action are ever within reach, if one by skill or accident can touch them. Even perverted human nature is capable of sweet and noble harmonies, if rightly played upon.