Kitabı oku: «Helen Grant's Schooldays», sayfa 6
CHAPTER VI
HOW THEY ALL PLANNED
"Helen," began Mrs. Dayton, "I was thinking if you would like to go home on Saturday and make your visit it might be a good thing. We have made no real plans about the winter as yet, but we might like to presently."
There was a half mirthful, half meaning light in her eyes.
"Oh!" Helen said. She was not longing for the visit. Her cool reception by her aunt had really hurt her.
"Time is going so fast. Why, here it is only two weeks and a half to September."
"If you think I had better," very soberly.
"Yes, I do. It would look rather underhand if you went home and said nothing when we had settled upon certain intentions."
"Yes, I understand."
Mrs. Van Dorn objected, but when she found it was a matter of duty, rather than delight, she gave in with a few little grumbles. Uncle Jason was so full of satisfaction he hugged Helen to his heart and kissed her.
So she said good-by and had a pleasant drive over, heard all the small on dits of the farm; that two hens had stolen nests and brought off twenty-three chickens between them; and old Bose, the dog, had died suddenly, and they had a mastiff pup eight months old; that they were building a new fence on the back of the barn lot, and that there would be no end of apples this fall. He really didn't know what they would do when Jenny went away, and he wished girls didn't want to get married. But she, Helen, would come home and that would liven up things a bit.
They turned into the lane and when they were by the kitchen she sprang out. One child carried the news to another, and they huddled about her so that she could hardly walk.
"Here's Helen, mother!"
"Well, I declare! How do you do, child! You never could come in a better time! I had a good mind to tell Uncle Jason to bring you home, and I guess he just scented it. Children, don't eat Helen up, this hot night," exclaimed their mother.
"She isn't cooked," said Tom.
"But she'll be stewed or steamed, and there's plenty for supper. We're going to have a houseful to-morrow. Aunt Sarah and Uncle John and the girls, and Martha's beau. She's been long enough about it, twenty-five, if she's a day, and I'd been married six years before I was as old as that. But she's going to do real well, though he's a widower with two children. And Joe as usual. Though we all went down there to supper last Sunday. Jenny's going to have things nice, I tell you! Did you bring another frock, Helen? I've been making 'Reely wear out your old clothes. And gracious me! how you have grown! You won't have a thing to wear in the fall."
"I left my bundle in the wagon," as Aunt Jane made a little halt in her talk.
"Nat, you run and get it. 'Reely, do begin settin' that table. 'Reely isn't worth a rye straw about housework. She's Mulford all over, and you've got to keep pushing the Mulfords along or they'd fall asleep in their tracks. Here she's past eleven. My, the work I did when I was eleven! Now Helen, you just put on something commoner and help round a bit and we'll have supper."
Helen ran upstairs and changed her dress. She was glad of the cordial welcome. But as she looked around she wondered if she had been really content here. Did children suddenly come to some mental growth and understanding? Whom did she take after? It was queer, but when Aunt Jane said of one child "she was all Cummings, or all Mulford," it was the same heredity that they discussed at Mrs. Dayton's.
Where did she get her finer instincts from? For she had them long ago, only she was afraid to bring them out and have them laughed at. Her little white covered cot at Mrs. Dayton's looked so sweet and wholesome, everything was put in a closet, the table held a few books, a work-basket, often a bowl of flowers. This was all littered up, the candlestick decorated with piles of grease, the faded and worn bed quilt put on awry, shoes here and there, garments hung anywhere, and Fan's dolls and stuff of all kinds in the corner. Of course Jenny's room was more orderly, but it lacked something, the suggestion of refinement.
Uncle Jason and Sam had come in, and it seemed as if the kitchen was full. They scrambled round the table, pushing and crowding.
"Do keep still, children!" begged their father.
"'Reely, you haven't put on a bit of salt. I think every time you forget it I ought to make you eat a spoonful," said her mother.
"I haven't any fork!" declared Nathan.
"And if we made her eat a fork, it might disagree with her, and we'd have one fork less," commented Sam.
"Can't I have a piece of bread and butter? Why can't we have some butter down here?" cried Tom.
"I'll spread it for you. Sam, will you please pass me the butter?" said Helen in a quiet tone.
"Me too, Helen," entreated Fanny, holding up her piece of bread.
"It's so nice to have you again," and 'Reely squeezed Helen's arm.
Uncle Jason helped to the meat and potatoes. There was a great clatter of passing plates, and the confusion of several voices at a time. Aunt Jane scolded, then she gave Tom a slap.
"There comes Joe and Jen," announced Sam.
Jenny left work at four on Saturday and went to the house. Joe was keeping himself, and they had a cup of tea, some bread and butter, cold meat and blackberries together.
"How do, Helen. You're a big stranger. Let's sit out on the porch, Joe. I'll bring some sewing."
"That's the most industrious girl in the country," said Joe with a laugh. "I shall have to buy goods by the bale to keep her in work."
Some way they did get through with the meal, Uncle Jason and Sam first, then one by one straggling out. Helen helped put away the food and said she would wash the dishes, and Aurelia and Fan might dry them. Why couldn't Aunt Jane go out on the porch and take a rest?
"I'm tired as a dog. I've gone since half past four this morning. There was so much to do. I declare, Helen, your coming over was just a special providence. When I get hold of you again, I'll see that no one coaxes you away. I was a fool to consent to it. But you'll soon be home now."
"Yes, go out and get cooled off and rested."
Aunt Jane was really glad to. Helen kept the two girls busy until the things were put away and the kitchen tidied up. The fire was out and the room getting cooler. The girls clung so to Helen, that she felt as if she would be torn in two. And sitting on the steps they wanted to know about the queer old woman, and didn't Mrs. Dayton make a pile of money? 'Reely thought when she was grown up she would keep boarders and have a servant. Did Joanna do everything?
"Oh, no. Mrs. Dayton helps, and I do a good many things when Mrs. Van Dorn does not want me."
"Is she very cross?"
"Oh, no," with a laugh of amusement.
"Not as cross as mother?" with childish frankness.
"You all annoy Aunt Jane so," returned Helen. "If you would go at once and do as she tells you, and try to remember."
"But I forget so easily," moaned Aurelia. "And I just hate to work."
"What would you like to do?"
"Play, and go out in the woods, and nutting. Oh, when will it be nut time? And then there's school."
"One can't play forever unless one wants to be a dunce."
"I like dolls," interposed Fanny. "And I'm making clothes for them. Oh, have you any pretty pieces?"
"It's time you youngsters went to bed," declared their mother.
"Where's Helen going to sleep?"
"Don't you worry about Helen."
The girls came and kissed her. Then she sat in the fragrant dusk and heard a whippoor-will; and Uncle Jason and Joe Northrup comparing crops, and telling yields of certain years. Aunt Jane fell asleep in the quiet. Jenny came down to her step and asked about styles, and what was in the stores, and if prices had gone down. Joe went home presently, and Jenny said, "Now come. You're going to sleep with me. This'll be your room when I'm gone. Oh, dear! I suppose some day you'll be married, too. Don't you take a fellow unless he has a house to put you in."
Helen felt in a strange whirl, but after awhile she slept. And Sunday morning was all confusion again. Joe and Jenny and Sam went to church; the company came, and Helen helped with the dinner, making the table look so pretty and tidy, that the dining-room was very pleasant. The four younger children were out in the kitchen, and once Aunt Jane had to go out and administer slaps all round to quell a riot.
Martha and her lover were very staid and sedate. Jane, the younger sister, was rather flighty, and plied Helen with innumerable questions about North Hope. She had heard the young girls went out every day to see the stores and catch the beaus as they came home from work. And did the people in her house have dancing parties every Saturday night? She had read in some magazine that it was the fashion to do so.
The two mothers were much engrossed with the coming marriages. The young people walked down to see Jenny's house; there was a light supper, and then they said good-by to each other.
It seemed to Helen she had never been so happy in her life as when she was once more settled in her round at Mrs. Dayton's. The order and quietness, the nice adjustment that she was beginning to understand and appreciate; the bright talk that went to outside subjects and did not revolve in one small personal round, was so much more interesting. True, Mrs. Lessing and her daughter discussed clothes, and the other ladies joined in, but it was on the æsthetic and artistic side. They talked of so many other things – daily events outside of North Hope. That was not all their world. It was the larger world that so interested Helen.
She and Mrs. Dayton discussed some possibilities. When Mrs. Dayton went away, Mr. Conway slept in the house, and took his meals elsewhere, but even if Helen could attend to the house it would not be possible to leave her alone in it. Then there would be clothes and various expenses. It was not as easy a matter to settle as it looked. Of course there was a sort of adoption of Helen, but Mrs. Dayton was not quite sure she wanted the responsibility. She had worked through a good deal of pressure herself, and was now where she could enjoy some of the pleasures of life as a compensation. There might be found a neighbor who would be glad of Helen's assistance – she would offer to provide her clothes.
Helen had settled herself at her reading one morning, when Mrs. Disbrowe just paused at the door with her baby in her arms, and nodded to Mrs. Van Dorn.
"Excuse me for interrupting, but there is a young man down on the porch who wishes to see Helen. He would not come in."
Helen glanced up in amaze, then smiled, as she raised her eyes to Mrs. Van Dorn.
"I think it is the young man from the library. Perhaps he found the book you wanted."
"Ah – that is quite likely. Run down and see."
Helen put her marker in, and laid down her book. But when she reached the porch and the caller rose from the wicker rocker, she stretched out both her hands with a glad cry of surprise:
"Oh, Mr. Warfield!"
He glanced at her, held her off and studied her again.
"Why, you have grown or changed or something," he exclaimed in surprise. "And it has only been such a little while! You look as if you were really glad to see me," and the smile gave him such a cordial expression.
"Oh, I am. You can't think how glad. And it is so unexpected – "
Her voice was fairly alive with delight.
"I crossed ten days sooner than I had planned. A friend wanted some papers which were in my possession, and I had to come out here for them. So I reached the Center just in time for supper, and went over to your uncle's in the evening."
There was an odd expression in his face – amusement and annoyance it seemed, and as if he was quite at sea. Then he said almost abruptly, "Let us sit down. There is a good deal of talking to do – or very little, as the case may turn," in a rather dry tone.
"Excuse me, while I go up and explain to Mrs. Van Dorn. Oh, I have so much to say, too. So many things have happened to me."
She was off like a flash, but he noted the grace of her movement; the air that showed she had capabilities beyond the usual untrained country girl. Would she have to be wasted on a second or third rate life?
"I suppose you have done nothing with the papers I gave you," he began, when she returned. "I have heard of your driving around, and your dissipation."
"Oh, but I have," she replied eagerly. Then she gave a bright infectious laugh. "You can't think – why it seems now as if I had been at school all summer. I have learned so many new things about the world and the people in it. I have read books and papers, and found out about the places where you have been. Mrs. Van Dorn has been – well, nearly all over the world, I believe, and she has met musicians and artists, and people who write books and poems, and has seen kings and queens – "
"Then you haven't spent all the time reading novels? I was afraid you had. But your aunt – have you any idea of keeping on at school?"
"They do not want me to," she answered gravely. "But Mrs. Dayton thinks they have no real right to decide for me, if I can do anything for myself. And why isn't it just as good and honorable for a girl to work for her education when she is hungry for the knowledges in the world, as for a boy! And if I can do anything, don't you think they ought to consent?"
"Well! well! well!" his exclamation points were in full evidence. He studied her brave eager face, it had in it certain strong earnest lines, certain lines of prettiness, too. All before her was an unknown country. No one could truly map out another's life, and be sure of the making, but he knew he should not mar it as the Mulfords might in their ignorance of her desires and capabilities. He resolved to take a decisive hand in it.
"You don't want to go back to the Center?" He knew what her answer would be, but he desired to see the varying expressions of her face.
"No, I don't. Oh, I can't! I should be fighting with something within me all the time, and planning how to get out of it all. I want to learn. I want to teach, too. I want to see some of the great things in the world, some of the great people, and just live all through, every part of me, if you can understand."
How her face changed with every new thought.
"Really you have been making strides. Helen, you are not going to be satisfied with a holiday to see Belle Aurore. You are going to ask greater things."
"And Hervé Riel ought to have been given greater things when he had saved the ships for his country. Am I foolish to aim at the greater things?"
Her eyes were sparkling, and a brilliant color suffused her face, while the scarlet lips were quivering with emotion and resolve.
"I should like you to reach them. Have you any plans?" His interest was thoroughly awakened.
"Mrs. Dayton has been so kind, a real friend. I don't mean that Aunt Jane and Uncle Jason are not real friends. They have been very good to care for me since father died. Isn't it in not understanding just what satisfies you down in your soul. Jenny is very happy working in the factory. I should just hate it. And, oh, I think it would be dreadful for her to sit and read to Mrs. Van Dorn," laughing with a gay ripple. "We have talked, but not settled upon anything definite. Mrs. Dayton thinks she might find someone who would give me my board for what I could do nights and mornings and Saturdays, and she would help me out with clothes, for I know Aunt Jane would be very angry if I went against her wishes. And Mrs. Dayton wouldn't need me. She has Joanna, you know. Then, too, she goes away in the autumn – "
"Well, I must say you have gone pretty far along in plans. I felt quite discouraged last night, though I imagine I might have talked Uncle Jason into doing something for you. But your aunt thinks three years spent in learning to teach, and not being able to earn a dollar for yourself, is an awful waste of time. As if that was all there was to it!" disdainfully. "Helen, I could find it in my heart to wish you were my sister, then I could come to the rescue."
"Oh!" There was a world of exquisite delight in the tone that touched him to the very soul. "If I were! Why can't some people be in the places they would like? Some people are!" with an odd humorous laugh. "And it is the dissatisfaction that stirs you up; makes you ambitious. What is it that keeps up the dissatisfaction?" glancing at him with the smile still on her parted lips, yet full of perplexity.
"The knowledge that you are capable of doing something better, finer. If you were deficient in that, you could go to work cheerfully in the factory. You would enjoy associating with the girls."
"And then having a beau and marrying," she laughed. "Oh, I like books so much better, and knowing about the world."
"What of the examination papers. Have you found any time for them?"
"Oh, yes. There were some books in the library that helped. And such a splendid encyclopædia! I wrote them out once, and then I read a great deal more, and wrote them over again. I'll give them to you, and you must consider how good a chance I have of passing. Oh, if I should fail!"
"You could go in later on. I do not think you will. I have wondered about you so many times this summer, and I have always seen you under the disadvantages of the Center, and the few helps you would have. You might have written me a letter."
"Oh, did you mean that I should?"
She asked it in sweet, eager unconsciousness, which showed that it would have been a pleasure. He had not suggested it from a wonder as to whether Aunt Jane would approve.
"I should have enjoyed an answer about your new life," he replied with interest. "I am very glad this happened to you instead of an uneventful summer on the farm and retrograding, I am afraid. And you like this" – old lady, he was about to say, but checked himself – "this Mrs. Van Dorn."
"It's something more than like. I cannot describe it in any word, that I know, unless it is like something I was reading a few days ago, fascination. When she talks about the places and people she has seen it seems as if I could listen forever. And then, you may think this queer," and she colored vividly, "sometimes I like Mrs. Dayton the best. I wish I didn't change about so. It is the same with books. Am I very inconstant, fickle?"
"If we couldn't change our minds, think what fossils we should soon be," and he laughed good-humoredly. "Yes, I should like to see her."
She started, then she came back a step. "I have not really talked over the plan of – of earning my way with her," and her voice fell a little. "Mrs. Dayton thought it best not to say anything until we had some certainty. She is going away soon. Her real companion comes next week."
He nodded that he understood the delicate charge. "And where is Mrs. Dayton?"
"She went to market, and to do various errands. I should like you to talk to her about it."
"Yes, I want to," he replied decisively.
Helen went upstairs and was gone quite a while. He was thinking of the bright, earnest, energetic girl, willing to work her way. He must plan it out with Mrs. Dayton. She was the one girl out of fifty who could rise above circumstances. Yet her aunt would be more than vexed, positively angry.
Mrs. Van Dorn experienced a curious pang, when the girl's face brilliant with a definite emotion, flashed upon her with ardor in every line. What had moved her so? The eyes were luminous, the voice freighted with a new depth.
"Yes," she answered stiffly. "I must see this young man – he is young, isn't he? It seems to me he has been making a long call."
"Oh, we had so much to talk about, my summer here and all its pleasures, and the knowledge. Why, I told him I felt as if I had been at school all the time, I had learned so many things from you, and that you – "
She paused and flushed, wondering if the talk had been just right in the more delicate sense.
"That I was cross and queer, and full of whims – "
"Oh, I couldn't say that. It was about your journeys, and the people you had met. And he was so interested."
Mrs. Van Dorn was mollified, and added a few touches to her toilet, picked up a fleecy scarf, came downstairs with her hand on Helen's shoulder, and was duly presented. The man was young.
But the lady was an agreeable surprise. He had been a little biased by Aunt Jane, he admitted to himself. She was like some of the fine old ladies he had met abroad, who carried their age with a serene unconsciousness.
Mrs. Dayton was coming up the path, and gave them a little nod.
"Perhaps she would like your service a while, Helen," exclaimed Mrs. Van Dorn. "I should enjoy having a little talk with your friend."
Helen rose reluctantly. She would much rather have stayed. But in five minutes she was in full flow of an interested confidence with Mrs. Dayton, and then they sat down on the north corner of the kitchen porch, and peeled peaches for the luncheon, as it was getting late.
Mr. Warfield meant to suggest several things to Mrs. Van Dorn that could tend to Helen's benefit presently. She resolved to learn what he thought of the child's capabilities for advancement. In a certain way, though, they both parried skillfully, each gained a point, yet it was not the point Mr. Warfield set out to make.
