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CHAPTER XII
THE THORPEDYKE SISTERS
The new and grand addition to Mrs. Cliff's house, which had been so planned that the little house to which it had been joined appeared to be an architecturally harmonious adjunct to it, caused a far greater sensation in Plainton than the erection of any of the public buildings therein.
Its journey from the corner lot was watched by hundreds of spectators, and now Mrs. Cliff, Willy, and Mr. Burke spent day and evening in exhibiting and explaining this remarkable piece of building enterprise.
Mr. Burke was very jolly. He took no credit to himself for the planning of the house, which, as he truthfully said, had been the work of an architect who had suggested what was proper and had been allowed to do it. But he did feel himself privileged to declare that if every crew building a house were commanded by a person of marine experience, things would move along a good deal more briskly than they generally did, and to this assertion he found no one to object.
Mrs. Cliff was very happy in wandering over her new rooms, and in assuring herself that no matter how grand they might be when they were all furnished and fitted up, nothing had been done which would interfere with the dear old home which she had loved so long. It is true that one of the windows of the little dining-room was blocked up, but that window was not needed.
Mr. Burke was not willing to give Mrs. Cliff more than a day or two for the contemplation of her new possessions, and urged upon her that while the chimneys were being erected and the heating apparatus was being put into the house, she ought to attend to the selection and purchase of the carpets, furniture, pictures, and everything which was needed in the new establishment.
Mrs. Cliff thought this good advice, and proposed a trip to Boston; but Burke did not think that would do at all, and declared that New York was the only place where she could get everything she needed. Willy, who was to accompany Mrs. Cliff, had been to Boston, but had never visited New York, and she strongly urged the claims of the latter city, and an immediate journey to the metropolis was agreed upon.
But when Mrs. Cliff considered the magnitude and difficulties of the work she was about to undertake, she wished for the counsel and advice of some one besides Willy. This good little woman was energetic and enthusiastic, but she had had no experience in regard to the furnishing of a really good house.
When, in her mind, she was running over the names of those who might be able and willing to go with her and assist her, Mrs. Cliff suddenly thought of the Thorpedyke ladies, and there her mental category stopped as she announced to Willy that she was going to ask these ladies to go with them to New York.
Willy thought well of this plan, but she had her doubts about Miss Barbara, who was so quiet, domestic, and unused to travel that she might be unwilling to cast herself into the din and whirl of the metropolis. But when she and Mrs. Cliff went to make a call upon the Thorpedykes and put the question before them, she was very much surprised to find that, although the elder sister, after carefully considering the subject, announced her willingness to oblige Mrs. Cliff, Miss Barbara agreed to the plan with an alacrity which her visitors had never known her to exhibit before.
As soon as the necessary preparations could be made, a party of five left Plainton for New York, and a very well-assorted party it was! Mr. Burke, who guided and commanded the expedition, supplied the impelling energy; Mrs. Cliff had her check book with her; Willy was ready with any amount of enthusiasm; and the past life of Miss Eleanor Thorpedyke and her sister Barbara had made them most excellent judges of what was appropriate for the worthy furnishing of a stately mansion.
Their youth and middle life had been spent near Boston, in a fine old house which had been the home of their ancestors, and where they had been familiar with wealth, distinguished society, and noble hospitality. But when they had been left the sole representatives of their family, and when misfortune after misfortune had come down upon them and swept away their estates and nearly all of their income, they had retired to the little town of Plainton where they happened to own a house.
There, with nothing saved from the wreck of their prosperity but their family traditions, and some of the old furniture and pictures, they had settled down to spend in quiet the rest of their lives.
For two weeks our party remained in New York, living at one of the best hotels, but spending nearly all their time in shops and streets.
Mrs. Cliff was rapidly becoming a different woman from the old Mrs. Cliff of Plainton. At the time she stepped inside of the addition to her house the change had begun, and now it showed itself more and more each day. She had seen more beautiful things in Paris, but there she looked upon them with but little thought of purchasing. In New York whatever she saw and desired she made her own.
The difference between a mere possessor of wealth and one who uses it became very apparent to her. Not until now had she really known what it was to be a rich woman. Not only did this consciousness of power swell her veins with a proud delight, but it warmed and invigorated all her better impulses. She had always been of a generous disposition, but now she felt an intense good-will toward her fellow-beings, and wished that other people could be as happy as she was.
She thought of Mrs. Ferguson and remembered what she had said about her daughters. To be sure, Mrs. Ferguson was always trying to get people to do things for her, and Mrs. Cliff did not fancy that class of women, but now her wealth-warmed soul inclined her to overlook this prejudice, and she said to herself that when she got home she would make arrangements for those two girls to go to a good school; and, more than that, she would see to it that Mr. Ferguson was moved. It seemed to her just then that it would be a very cheerful thing to make other people happy.
The taste and artistic judgment of the elder Miss Thorpedyke, which had been dormant for years, simply because there was nothing upon which they could exercise themselves, now awoke in their old vigor, and with Mrs. Cliff's good sense, reinforced by her experience gained in wandering among the treasures of Paris, the results of the shopping expedition were eminently satisfactory. And, with the plan of the new building, which Mr. Burke carried always with him, everything which was likely to be needed in each room, hall, or stairway, was selected and purchased, and as fast as this was done, the things were shipped to Plainton, where people were ready to put them where they belonged.
Willy Croup was not always of service in the purchasing expeditions, for she liked everything that she saw, and no sooner was an article produced than she went into ecstasies over it; but as she had an intense desire to see everything which New York contained, she did not at all confine herself to the shops and bazaars. She went wherever she could and saw all that it was possible for her to see; but in the midst of the sights and attractions of the metropolis she was still Willy Croup.
One afternoon as she and Miss Barbara were passing along one of the side streets on their return from an attempt to see how the poorer people lived, Willy stopped in front of a blacksmith's shop where a man was shoeing a horse.
"There!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight, "that's the first thing I've seen that reminds me of home!"
"It is nice, isn't it!" said gentle Miss Barbara.
CHAPTER XIII
MONEY HUNGER
During the latter part of their sojourn in the city, Willy went about a good deal with Miss Barbara because she thought this quiet, soft-spoken lady was not happy and did not take the interest in handsome and costly articles which was shown by her sister. She had been afraid that this noisy bustling place would be too much for Miss Barbara, and now she was sure she had been right.
The younger Miss Thorpedyke was unhappy, and with reason. For some months a little house in Boston which had been their principal source of income had not been rented. It needed repairs, and there was no money with which to repair it. The agent had written that some one might appear who would be willing to take it as it stood, but that this was doubtful, and the heart of Miss Barbara sank very low. She was the business woman of the family. She it was who had always balanced the income and the expenditures. This adjustment had now become very difficult indeed, and was only accomplished by adding a little debt to the weight on the income scale.
She had said nothing to her sister about this sad change in their affairs because she hoped against hope that soon they might have a tenant, and she knew that her sister Eleanor was a woman of such strict and punctilious honor that she would insist upon living upon plain bread, if their supply of ready money was insufficient to buy anything else. To see this sister insufficiently nourished was something which Miss Barbara could not endure, and so, sorely against her disposition and her conscience, she made some little debts; and these grew and grew until at last they weighed her down until she felt as if she must always look upon the earth and could never raise her head to the sky. And she was so plump, and so white, and gentle, and quiet, and peaceful looking that no one thought she had a care in the world until Willy Croup began to suspect in New York that something was the matter with her, but did not in the least attribute her friend's low spirits to the proper cause.
When Miss Barbara had favored so willingly and promptly the invitation of Mrs. Cliff, she had done so because she saw in the New York visit a temporary abolition of expense, and a consequent opportunity to lay up a little money by which she might be able to satisfy for a time one of her creditors who was beginning to suspect that she was not able to pay his bill, and was therefore pressing her very hard. Even while she had been in New York, this many-times rendered bill had been forwarded to her with an urgent request that it be settled.
It was not strange, therefore, that a tear should sometimes come to the eye of Miss Barbara when she stood by the side of her sister and Mrs. Cliff and listened to them discussing the merits of some rich rugs or pieces of furniture, and when she reflected that the difference in price between two articles, one apparently as desirable as the other, which was discussed so lightly by Mrs. Cliff and Eleanor, would pay that bill which was eating into her soul, and settle, moreover, every other claim against herself and her sister. But the tears were always wiped away very quickly, and neither Mrs. Cliff nor the elder Miss Thorpedyke ever noticed them.
But although Willy Croup was not at all a woman of acute perceptions, she began to think that perhaps it was something more than the bustle and noise of New York which was troubling Miss Barbara. And once, when she saw her gazing with an earnest eager glare – and whoever would have thought of any sort of a glare in Miss Barbara's eyes – upon some bank-notes which Mrs. Cliff was paying out for a carved cabinet for which it was a little doubtful if a suitable place could be found, but which was bought because Miss Eleanor thought it would give an air of distinction in whatever room it might be placed, Willy began to suspect the meaning of that unusual exhibition of emotion.
"She's money hungry," she said to herself, "that's what's the matter with her!" Willy had seen the signs of such hunger before, and she understood what they meant.
That night Willy lay in her bed, having the very unusual experience of thinking so much that she could not sleep. Her room adjoined Miss Barbara's, and the door between them was partly open, for the latter lady was timid. Perhaps it was because this door was not closed that Willy was so wakeful and thoughtful, for there was a bright light in the other room, and she could not imagine why Miss Barbara should be sitting up so late. It was a proceeding entirely at variance with her usual habits. She was in some sort of trouble, it was easy to see that, but it would be a great deal better to go to sleep and try to forget it.
So after a time Willy rose, and, softly stepping over the thick carpet, looked into the other room. There was Miss Barbara in her day dress, sitting at a table, her arms upon the table, her head upon her arms, fast asleep. Upon her pale face there were a great many tear marks, and Willy knew that she must have cried herself to sleep. A paper was spread out near her.
Willy was sure that it would be a very mean and contemptible thing for her to go and look at that paper, and so, perhaps, find out what was troubling Miss Barbara, but, without the slightest hesitation, she did it. Her bare feet made no sound upon the carpet, and as she had very good eyes, it was not necessary for her to approach close to the sleeper.
It was a bill from William Bullock, a grocer and provision dealer of Plainton. It contained but one item, – 'To bill rendered,' and at the bottom was a statement in Mr. Bullock's own handwriting to the effect that if the bill was not immediately paid he would be obliged to put it into the hands of a collector.
Willy turned and slipped back into her room. Then, after sitting down upon her bed and getting up again, she stepped boldly to the door and knocked upon it. Instantly she heard Miss Barbara start and push back her chair.
"What are you doing up so late?" cried Willy, cheerfully. "Don't you feel well?"
"Oh, yes," replied the other, "I accidentally fell asleep while reading, but I will go to bed instantly."
The mind of Willy Croup was a very small one and had room in it for but one idea at a time. For a good while she lay putting ideas into this mind, and then taking them out again. Having given place to the conviction that the Thorpedykes were in a very bad way indeed, – for if that bill should be collected, they would not have much left but themselves, and Mr. Bullock was a man who did collect when he said he would, – she was obliged to remove this conviction, which made her cry, in order to consider plans of relief; and while she was considering these plans, one at a time, she dropped asleep.
The first thing she thought of when she opened her eyes in the morning was poor Miss Barbara in the next room, and that dreadful bill; and then, like a flash of lightning, she thought of a good thing to do for the Thorpedykes. The project which now laid itself out, detail after detail, before her seemed so simple, so sensible, so absolutely wise and desirable in every way, that she got up, dressed herself with great rapidity, and went in to see Mrs. Cliff.
That lady was still asleep, but Willy awakened her, and sat on the side of the bed. "Do you know what I think?" said Willy.
"How in the world should I!" said Mrs. Cliff. "Is it after breakfast-time?"
"No," said Willy; "but it's this! What are you going to do in that big house, with all the bedrooms, parlor, library, and so forth? You say that you are going to have one room, and that I'm to have another, and that we'll go into the old house to feel at home whenever we want to; but I believe we'll be like a couple of flies in a barrel! You're going to furnish your new house with everything but people! You ought to have more people! You ought to have a family! That house will look funny without people! You can't ask Mr. Burke, because it would be too queer to have him come and live with us, and besides, he'll want a house of his own. Why don't you ask the Thorpedykes to come and live with us? Their roof is dreadfully out of repairs. I know to my certain knowledge that they have to put tin wash-basins on every bed in the second story when it rains, on account of the holes in the shingles! If they had money to mend those holes, they'd mend them, but as they don't mend them, of course they haven't the money. And it strikes me that they aren't as well off as they used to be, and they'll have a hard time gettin' through this winter. Now, there isn't any piece of furniture that you can put in your house that will give it 'such an air of distinction,' as Miss Eleanor calls it, as she herself will give it if you put her there! If you could persuade Miss Eleanor to come and sit in your parlor when you are having company to see you, it would set you up in Plainton a good deal higher than any money can set you up."
"They would never agree to anything of the kind," said Mrs. Cliff, "and you know it, Willy!"
"I don't believe it," said Willy. "I believe they'd come! Just see how willing they were to come here with you! I tell you, Sarah, that the older and older those Thorpedyke ladies get, the more timid they get, and the more unwilling to live by themselves!
"If you make Miss Eleanor understand that it would be the greatest comfort and happiness to both of us if she would come and spend the winter with you, and so help you to get used to your great big new house; and more than that, if they'd bring with them some of their candle-sticks and pictures on ivory and that sort of thing, which everybody knows can't be bought for money, it would be the great accommodation to you and make your house look something like what you would like to have it. I believe that old-family lady would come and stay with you this winter, and think all the time that she was giving you something that you ought to have and which nobody in Plainton could give you but herself. And as to Miss Barbara, she'd come along as quick as lightning!"
"Willy," said Mrs. Cliff, very earnestly, "have you any good reason to believe that the Thorpedykes are in money trouble?"
"Yes, I have," said Willy, "I'm positive of it, and what's more, it's only Miss Barbara who knows it!"
Mrs. Cliff sat for some minutes without answering, and then she said, "Willy, you do sometimes get into your head an idea that absolutely sparkles!"
CHAPTER XIV
WILLY CROUP AS A PHILANTHROPIC DIPLOMATIST
Mrs. Cliff was late to breakfast that day, and the reason was that thinking so much about what Willy had said to her she had been very slow in dressing. As soon as she had a chance, Mrs. Cliff took Willy aside and told her that she had determined to adopt her advice about the Thorpedykes.
"The more I think of the plan," she said, "the better I like it! But we must be very, very careful about what we do. If Miss Eleanor suspects that I invite them to come to my house because I think they are poor, she will turn into solid stone, and we will find we cannot move her an inch, – but I think I can manage it! When we go home, I will tell them how pleasant we found it for us all to be together, and speak of the loneliness of my new big house. If I can get Miss Eleanor to believe that she is doing me a favor, she may be willing to come; but on no account, Willy, do you say a word to either of them about this plan. If you do, you will spoil everything, for that's your way, Willy, and you know it!"
Willy promised faithfully that she would not interfere in the least; but although she was perfectly satisfied with this arrangement, she was not happy. How could she be happy knowing what she did about Miss Barbara? That poor lady was looking sadder than ever, and Willy was very much afraid that she had had another letter from that horrid Mr. Bullock, with whom, she was delighted to think, Mrs. Cliff had never dealt.
It would be some days yet before they would go home and make the new arrangement, and then there would be the bill and the collector, and all that horrid business, and if Miss Eleanor found out the condition of affairs, – and if the bill was not paid, she must find out, – she would never come to them. She would probably stay at home and live on bread!
Now, it so happened that Willy had in her own possession more than enough money to pay that wretched Bullock bill. Mrs. Cliff made her no regular allowance, but she had given her all the money that she might reasonably expect to spend in New York, and Willy had spent but very little of it, for she found it the most difficult thing in the world to select what it was she wanted out of all the desirable things she saw.
It would rejoice her heart to transfer this money to Miss Barbara; but how in the world could she do it? She first thought that she might offer to buy something that was in the Thorpedyke house, but she knew this idea was absurd. Then she thought of mentioning, in an off-hand way, that she would like to put some money out at interest, and thus, perhaps, induce Miss Barbara to propose a business transaction. But this would not do. Even Miss Barbara would suspect some concealed motive. Idea after idea came to her, but she could think of no satisfactory plan of getting that money into Miss Barbara's possession.
She did not go out with the party that morning, but sat in her room trying in vain to solve this problem. At last she gave it up and determined to do what she wanted to do without any plan whatever.
She went into Miss Barbara's room and placed upon the table, in the very spot where the bill had been lying, some bank-notes, considerably more than sufficient to pay the amount of the bill, which amount she well remembered. It would not do to leave just money enough, for that would excite suspicion. And so placing Miss Barbara's hair-brush upon the bank-notes, so that she would be sure not to overlook them, for she would not think of going down to luncheon without brushing her hair, Willy retired to her own room, nearly closing the door, leaving only a little crack through which she might see if any servant entered the room before Miss Barbara came back.
Then Willy set herself industriously to work hemming a pocket handkerchief. She could not do this very well, because she was not at all proficient in fine sewing, but she worked with great energy, waiting and listening for Miss Barbara's entrance.
At last, after a long time, Willy heard the outer door of the other room open, and glancing through the crack, she saw Miss Barbara enter. Then she twisted herself around towards the window and began to sew savagely, with a skill much better adapted to the binding of carpets than to any sort of work upon cambric handkerchiefs.
In a few minutes she heard a little exclamation in the next room, and then her door was opened suddenly, without the customary knock, and Miss Barbara marched in. Her face was flushed.
"Willy Croup," said she, "what is the meaning of that money on my table?"
"Money?" said Willy, turning towards her with as innocent an expression as her burning cheeks and rapidly winking eyes would permit; "what do you mean by – money?"
Miss Barbara stood silent for some moments while Willy vainly endeavored to thread the point of her needle.
"Willy," said Miss Barbara, "did you come into my room last night, and look at the bill which was on my table?"
Now Willy dropped her needle, thread, and handkerchief, and stood up.
"Yes, I did!" said she. Miss Barbara was now quite pale.
"And you read the note which Mr. Bullock had put at the bottom of it?"
"Yes, I read it!" said Willy.
"And don't you know," said the other, "that to do such a thing was most – "
"Yes, I do!" interrupted Willy. "I knew it then and I know it now, but I don't care any more now than I did then! I put it there because I wanted to! And if you'll take it, Miss Barbara, and pay it back to me any time when you feel like it, – and you can pay me interest at ten per cent if you want to, and that will make it all right, you know; and oh, Miss Barbara! I know all about that sort of bill, because they used to come when my father was alive. And if you'd only take it, you don't know how happy I would be!"
At this she began to cry, and then Miss Barbara burst into tears, and the two sat down beside each other on a lounge and cried earnestly, hand in hand, for nearly ten minutes.
"I'm so glad you'll take it!" said Willy, when Miss Barbara went into her room, "and you may be just as sure as you're sure of anything that nobody but our two selves will ever know anything about it!"
Immediately after luncheon Miss Barbara went by herself to the post-office, and when she came back her sister said to her that New York must just be beginning to agree with her.
"It is astonishing," said Miss Eleanor, "how long it takes some people to get used to a change, but it often happens that if one stays long enough in the new place, great benefit will be experienced, whereas, if the stay is short, there may be no good result whatever!"
That afternoon Mrs. Cliff actually laughed at Miss Barbara – a thing she had never done before. They were in a large jewelry store where they were looking at clocks, and Miss Barbara, who had evinced a sudden interest in the beautiful things about her, called Mrs. Cliff's attention to a lovely necklace of pearls.
"If I were you," said Miss Barbara, "I would buy something like that! I should not want to wear it, perhaps, but it would be so delightful to sit and look at it!"
The idea of Miss Barbara thinking of buying necklaces of pearls! No wonder Mrs. Cliff laughed.
When the party returned to Plainton, Mrs. Cliff was amazed to find her new house almost completely furnished; and no time was lost in proposing the Thorpedyke project, for Mrs. Cliff felt that it would be wise to make the proposition while the sense of companionship was still fresh upon them all.
Miss Thorpedyke was very much surprised when the plan was proposed to her, but it produced a pleasant effect upon her. She had much enjoyed the company she had been in; she had always liked society, and lately had had very little of it, for no matter how good and lovable sisters may be, they are sometimes a little tiresome when they are sole companions.
As to Barbara, she trembled as she thought of Mrs. Cliff's offer: trembled with joy, which she could not repress; and trembled with fear that her sister might not accept it. But it was of no use for her to say anything, – and she said nothing. Eleanor always decided such questions as these.
After a day's consideration Miss Thorpedyke came to a conclusion, and she sent Miss Barbara with a message to Mrs. Cliff to the effect that as the winters were always lonely, and as it would be very pleasant for them all to be together, she would, if Mrs. Cliff thought it would be an advantage to her, come with her sister and live in some portion of the new building which Mrs. Cliff did not intend to be otherwise occupied, and that they would pay whatever board Mrs. Cliff thought reasonable and proper; but in order to do this, it would be necessary for them to rent their present home. They would offer this house fully furnished, – reserving the privilege of removing the most valuable heirlooms which it now contained, and, as soon as such an arrangement could be made, they would be willing to come to Mrs. Cliff and remain with her during the winter.
When Miss Barbara had heard this decision her heart had fallen! She knew that it would be almost impossible to find a tenant who would take that house, especially for winter occupancy, and that even if a tenant could be found, the rent would be very little. And she knew, moreover, that having come to a decision Eleanor could not be moved from it.
She found Mr. Burke and Willy with Mrs. Cliff, but as he knew all about the project and had taken great interest in it, she did not hesitate to tell her message before him. Mrs. Cliff was very much disappointed.
"That ends the matter!" said she. "Your house cannot be rented for the winter!"
"I don't know about that!" exclaimed Mr. Burke. "By George! I'll take the house myself! I want a house, – I want just such a house; I want it furnished, – except I don't want to be responsible for old heirlooms, and I'm willing to pay a fair and reasonable rent for it; and I'm sure, although I never had the pleasure of being in it, it ought to bring rent enough to pay the board of any two ladies any winter, wherever they might be!"
"But, Mr. Burke," Miss Barbara said, her voice shaking as she spoke, "I must tell you, that the roof is very much out of repair, and – "
"Oh, that doesn't matter at all!" said Burke. "A tenant, if he's the right sort of tenant, is bound to put a house into repair to suit himself. I'll attend to the roof if it needs it, you may be sure of that! And if it doesn't need it, I'll leave it just as it is! That'll be all right, and you can tell your sister that you've found a tenant. I'm getting dreadfully tired of living at that hotel, and a house of my own is somethin' that I've never had before! But one thing I must ask of you, Miss Thorpedyke: don't say anything to your sister about tobacco smoke, and perhaps she will never think of it!"
