_ CHAPTER IX. THE LITTLE THORNS
They were all very glad to be home again. The house was so clean and orderly and there were so many closets and drawers in which to pack away things. Bridget had scoured and scrubbed and polished windows largely to pass away time, for the people next door had been away as well and the maids on a vacation earning money at seasides.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you again!"
Marilla was hugging Bridget and her tone was full of delight.
"Ah, dear, an' it's glad enough I am to get ye back, but you've not grown very fat an' rugged looking, but them babies do beat all! They're quite ginteel one may say, an how they do run and talk! You'll have your hands full, I'm thinkin', if they're goin' to copy Jack!"
"Oh, Bridget, they're real sweet, only they're noisy when your head's tired. It sounds worse indoors. There was a big out of doors and grass, and people passing and some children came in to play. But now you have to look after them all the time."
"Marilla! Marilla!"
No, she could not waste her time in the chimney corner.
"Put on the babies' things and take them out walking, they'll drive me crazy."
She walked them round to Loraine place. Would she dare call? Oh, how her heart yearned to see them all again! but the blinds were drawn; perhaps no one was at home.
Then as they were going down the street, just at the corner, a lady and two girls about her size crossed. The lady and one of them lived about a block further down Arch street. The other she had known at the seaside. She smiled with a sudden pleasant surprise. The girl simply stared. Marilla's face was scarlet. Was it possible she was not to know any of these girls if she should meet them? This one did not live here, she knew that.
Then Aunt Hetty came home looking thinner and more dried up than ever, but glad to get back to her room. She would not come down to dinner but M'rilla could bring her up some toast and tea.
So instead of having a cozy time with Bridget she carried the small waiter up stairs. The tea was in the pot; Aunt Hetty had the kettle boiling on the gas stove. The toast was on a hot plate.
"Sit down a minute, I've hardly seen you. Did you have a nice time? I suppose the twins will be on the everlasting trot, now they can walk so well, and as for talking--well I'm glad I don't have to live with them; that I'm clear this end of the house. You see that they don't come up stairs. It's nice to be in your own place, though the folks where I staid were very good and pleasant, I s'pose they thought I might remember them in my will," and she gave a shrill sort of cackle. "Now I tell you there isn't much fun in living to be old, and I seem to have lost my spunk. It's just a kind of drowsing life away. Now tell me what you did! My, but this toast tastes good! Better than all their flummery."
"Oh, there were a good many nice things and pretty houses and gay people, and a big place where they all went to meals. And Jack is better than he used to be, he had the nicest little playmate and was out of the house most of the time. But I must run down, for Bridget said my dinner was ready. I'll come up again when the babies are in bed; can I bring you anything?"
"Well, yes, a glass of hot milk. No, bring it in a cup with a handle--it is so much nicer to hold. You're a good willing girl, Marilla."
"I thought you never would get down," Bridget said, almost crossly. "If you have to wait on that old woman and all the rest of us you'll wish you were in the grave. My! You look all tired out. Now, here's a nice bit of chicken that I laid aside for you. I'm not goin' to have you fed on leavings. And it wasn't nice down there?" nodding her head.
"Oh, Bridget, such a kitchen and such a table, and no white cloth on it! They, the servants didn't seem to care, and they were nice and clean at the Home, and you're--well, you have things as nice as in the dining room, and to have things shoveled out of the kettle on your plate or cold on a dish! Sometimes puddings were good, and the creams and frozen things were clean and nice. But I'm so glad to get back to you. And the lovely bath room! We didn't have any in the cottage. Why it saves half the work taking care of babies."
"You bet it does, I couldn't and wouldn't live in such a muxy kitchen. If I couldn't have things to suit I'd take French leave, though I guess I'd call it Irish leave. And people, women, think it a fine thing to go off and live that way. But the boss got very tired of it."
Marilla laughed faintly. She was almost too tired to eat, but the chicken was so tasty, and the fresh home-made bread delightful. And the cheery voice put heart in the girl. Then the dessert was delicious.
"I promised to take Aunt Hetty a cup of milk. I'll see first if Mrs. Borden wants me. But I'll dry the dishes for you."
"No, dear, I did the most of them while you were up stairs."
The babies had been put to bed. They did have an unlimited capacity for sleep, now that they were well. Jack was perched on his father's knee detailing some wonderful adventures. No, they did not need her.
"I'm going in next door awhile," said Bridget on her return. "Mrs. Dawson's girl left in a huff, and she asked me if I knew anyone. And there was my friend, Maggie Brady, just out of a place and a nice tidy girl; a good cook, too. So they both suited. Maggie's mother and mine lived in the same town. It's nice to have a friend at hand. And when ye's through with the old lady I'd run to bed. You look tired as a wagon wheel that's run round and round."
Marilla laughed and took a bottle of milk with her. Aunt Hetty drank a good cupful, hot, and the remainder was set out on the window sill. Then she settled herself in bed with two pillows under her head; she could hear better she thought.
"Now, you open that book at the mark and read to me. 'Twon't be very interesting, for you can't know what's gone before. And no doubt I'll fall asleep--I always snore a little at first, and when you hear that you may light the burner in the other room and turn it very low and put the window down from the top and skip off to yourself."
She was very tired but she read quite awhile before the gentle snoring began, and she was glad enough to go to bed.
They had been home just a week when school opened. It was a comfort to get rid of Jack. They began to settle into quite regular living.
"I've just had a fright," said Mrs. Borden, coming up to her sister's room. "A man has been here inquiring about school children and I
did stretch the truth a little. You see, now children have to go to school until they are fourteen. I simply can't let Marilla go. I didn't adopt her nor consider her in any sense my own. A child like that isn't worth more than her board and clothes. What good would she be to us if we had to get her off at nine in the morning, and then have only an hour in the afternoon. The twins
must be taken out, and there's so much running up and down. She's a nice honest, truthful child and a born nurse girl. But if I had to send her to school, I'd trot her off to the Home."
"There is so much to do this winter. When you come to that, she knows enough for ordinary, and later on she could go to evening school. There's so much shopping and planning, and we must be out a good deal. The twins mightn't take to a new girl. Let us keep her if we possibly can."
Miss Borden's lover was to return before Christmas and wanted every thing ready for a speedy marriage. It would be in church with a very small reception afterward. And that was hardly three months' distance.
Marilla was coming home with the babies one afternoon when two lady callers and a girl were saying adieu and coming down the steps. Yes, that was Ada Brant who had been at Bayside in the summer and at first had been quite friendly with her. Now she looked as if she had never known her.
Maybe that was the way all the girls would feel to one who had been bound-out from an institution. There they had all been on an equality. And somehow the Bordens had not really put her down. Then that lovely Miss Armitage. Why, there had been a place for her at the table, and Jane had waited on her as if she had been a guest!
Perhaps it would be different now. Then came a very bitter knowledge to Marilla Bond. Five years more of this, and wouldn't people remember she had been Mrs. Borden's nursemaid? Why, even now she would be glad to be Miss Armitage's maid. What made the difference?
She was to hear more of it that evening. After the babies came in from their outing they were washed, undressed, and a nice warm wrapper put over their nightgown, and then fed. Afterward laid in their crib. They didn't go to sleep at once but kicked and laughed and chatted in a regular frolic. Phlegmatic babies can be easily trained. Then Marilla came down and waited on the table as Bridget sent various things up on the lift. She was a really charming little waitress.
"Such an odd thing occurred today," began Mrs. Borden. "John do you know a firm, Davis & Calthorpe, who manufacture something--"
"Yes, Calthorpe is selling out, I drew up some papers for him. He's been up in the Adirondacks all summer and is going to Bermuda; but he will never come back alive."
"How queer it all is! We met Mrs. Brant a few times at Bayside. They have come to Newton to look into the business and are staying with Mrs. Wheeler. They came to call and Mrs. Brant has a pretty, stylish young daughter. Of course they'll have to move here. She is quite taken with Newton. I told them about that Jamreth house down the street and they decided to look at it. Of course I didn't get much acquainted with her, but she seems a very nice body. And that's a promising business, but Calthorpe had to give it up and I'm sorry for the poor fellow; glad, too, that he met with this chance of disposing of his share. Brant appears to be a nice, brisk fellow and it is lucky for Davis as well."
The Jamreth house had stood empty all summer. Marilla passed it on her way to the park, for Arch street led direct. Suppose Ada was there sitting on the stoop or at the window and giving her that indifferent stare when they had been quite acquaintances!
For the first time fairy land and her dancing with the Prince failed to comfort. The whole world seemed changed, and how would Miss Armitage be, now that she was well?
But she was very, very busy; Jack went to school a week and was delighted with the boys.
"Sam Gordon has a little brother just big enough to begin school. I wish one of the twins was a boy. What's the use of so many girls?"
His father laughed a little at that. The second week the charm began to fail. His head ached and he wanted to stay at home and have Marilla read to him.
"Boys don't have headaches," said his mother. But he was cross and his face flushed up so that in the afternoon his teacher sent him home. "And I don't want this scratchy flannel on! I like the other better; can't I pull it off?"
"The others are worn out, and it is coming cooler weather. Oh, you'll get used to it," said his mother, teasingly.
Then he kicked the babies' playthings about and pinched Marilla's arm and wouldn't eat any dinner, and said his pudding was bitter. His father sent him to bed, but he tossed and tumbled and cried out for a drink ever so many times, and in the morning was red with a fever and some sort of eruption. So they sent for Dr. Baker, who pronounced it a fine case of measles.
"I don't see where he caught it, unless it is in the school, and I suppose the twins will have it," said Mrs. Borden in despair.
There were three pretty bad days and Jack tried the patience of the whole household sorely. Then the babies showed symptoms and seemed vexed that such a thing should happen to them, and now school was not to be thought of in some time.
"Run out and take a little airing, Marilla," said Mrs. Borden, late one afternoon. "You haven't been out of the house for days."
She was very glad to go. Jack was still a recluse though he seemed well.
Which way should she go? Her heart cried softly for Loraine place and almost unconsciously her feet turned thitherward. Miss Armitage sat by the window but she sprang up and opened the hall door with, "My dear, dear child!"
Marilla had her face in a transport of happy crying, from an overweighted heart.
"Oh, my dear!" leading her in.
"Oh, Miss Armitage, we have the measles round at our house. Perhaps I oughtn't come in."
"Oh, I had the measles long ago, and I've seen three cases this afternoon. I've only been home four days and had the most splendid time. But I want to hear about you--have you been well, and was it nice at the seaside? Why it seems like a year since we parted."
"Yes, I was well and the babies walk and talk and are real cunning and they do grow prettier. They're getting some real nice hair but I can't make it curl. I didn't like the house so well and there was no bath only a cold water faucet and a gas stove, and I missed Bridget so much. We staid out of doors most of the time. I didn't go in bathing--I was a little afraid, I think, and I would have had to go with some of the servants. There were a good many of them--we took our meals outside. I was glad to get home, and oh, so glad to see you!"
She caught the hand and kissed it rapturously. Miss Armitage held up the face with her hand under the chin.
"No, you haven't gained any."
"I think I did at first, but Jack was so troublesome, and the old lady, Aunt Hetty, wants one to read her to sleep and sometimes it takes so long."
"You surely are not helping with her?"
"Oh, only reading and answering her bell. She's somehow so nice when you wait on her. I think, like the rest of us, she's so glad to be back. One day she gave me a dollar and said I must spend it for candy, but I haven't yet. Do you think I ought to have told Mrs. Borden?"
"Why, not necessarily."
"I'm not so very fond of candy. There's a beautiful book of fairy stories in a store down town that I'd like. Only Jack takes every thing, and he keeps asking if I haven't a penny when we go out. His mother doesn't give him pennies to spend, and a very good thing, too."
"What kind of books do you read to the old lady?"
"Well, you see it's this way, she reads on pages and pages and puts in a mark, then I go on where she left off and so I don't get the real sense of the story. They seem to have a good deal of trouble. I'd rather read about little girls who went to their grandmother's and had nice times, and beautiful verses full of music such as you used to read."
Miss Armitage laughed pleasantly. "We'll have some nice reading again. And you ought to go to school."
"But you see I can't. I look over Jack's books and I write on pieces of paper. I don't know how to spell all the words. Oh, I wrote a letter to Dr. Richards. He asked me to, and he sent such a nice answer. I did want to write again, but I hadn't any paper nor postage stamp, and I didn't like to ask the second time. Oh, I might buy some with my dollar, mightn't I?"
"I'll do you up a little package. He wants to see you, so I'll ask him to come here and let you know. And sometimes when you are out with the babies you must stop here and let me see them, and I'll call and see you all."
"Oh, how nice that will be. I'm so glad you love me. For I never shall be like the girls who have pretty homes and parents to love them. But you'll be the fairy godmother always, won't you?"
"Yes, dear," in a soft tone.
"And now I must go. It's so sweet to know that some one really loves you even if you are a bound-out girl. And now I'm beginning to count the years."
Miss Armitage kissed her and watched her tripping down the steps. She was worthy of a better fate. Would she love the hand that set her in pleasanter places and not come to think wholly of self? For she, woman past thirty, as she was, longed for a little daughter's love, a daughter to grow up along side of her, to share her very life.
The babies went out walking up and down the block one day and took no harm. Violet was wild to run away, as Jack had been, and so was quite a care. Then the men came to fumigate the house and they all went to a friend's and took lunch.
"Dear me, what a nice little maid you have," said the friend. "She seems to know just what to do, and she's so pleasant tempered. Where did you find her?"
"She came from Bethany Home and she's bound to me until she's eighteen. She'll be of good service."
The Autumn was glorious with a good deal of sunshine; Jack went back to school and was getting to be a regular boy, full of pranks; they were sometimes rather rough. He did stand in awe of his father, but he occasionally said things to Marilla that were not a bit nice, then he would coax her not to tell of them.
One afternoon Miss Armitage came. Bridget said she was sorry the ladies were out but the visitor said she wanted to see Marilla and the babies and went up stairs to the nursery. Playthings were all about; Marilla had been building houses for the twins to knock down. They glanced at Miss Armitage with wondering eyes, but they said "down, down" when Marilla took to a chair. Then they tumbled over her and buried their hands in her curly hair, even if it pulled. They showed they owned her, and it really was not an easy lot for the little girl. She did look pale and tired but she was so glad to see her friend.
Then the lady began to plan if there was any way to get her free. She went to see Mrs. Johnson.
"Why the child seems very well off," was the rather tart reply. "She is well fed and clothed and has nothing to do but amuse two little ones. Many a girl would jump at the place. It wouldn't do for us to be changing them about, you see. We do sometimes take away a child who is ill treated. I've visited this Mrs. Borden several times and found things very satisfactory."
"But she could be educated--"
"My dear lady, there are hundreds of these poor children who need a good home and to be fitted for their station in life which cannot be a very high one. Their heads must not be filled with dreams of wonderful fortunes. Real work is and must be the lot of those who are homeless and dependent. Now, if
you wanted to adopt some child I have two lovely little girls here, one of them born to luxury it would seem, but misfortune and death made a waif of her. I do hope some well-to-do people will take a fancy to her."
No, she didn't want any stranger. She would wait and see. Why should she care so much for Marilla? The faint little voice haunted her--"Are you a fairy godmother?"
The Bordens were really disappointed when they found they had missed Miss Armitage. Then a dressmaker was to come, and friends were dropping in. Unless they shut the nursery door the little girls were in everything, and then they fairly howled for mama.
"Oh, Marilla, can't you keep those children entertained? It sounds as if they were getting murdered. Put on their things and take them out."
Then one night Pansy had the croup and there was a great scare.
"You've let her get cold some way, Marilla; you mustn't let the wagon stand while you keep looking at books and pictures in store windows. You better go straight over to the park, and don't talk to other girls. You're old enough now to have a little judgment."
Marilla made the babies ready. They were very fond of walking up and down stairs. Now she lifted them in the carriage, tucked them in with the pretty robe and they did look picturesque in their fluffy white hoods and fur cloaks. They uttered shrieks of delight as they went along. The Brant's were moving in the Jamreth house; she would remember hereafter to turn off at State street and not pass it. Somehow she felt very tired. At times there was such a fluttering somewhere inside of her that for a moment things went round and she had to gasp for breath. She would like to tell Dr. Richards about it. She had seen him twice, both times in the street and it had kept her happy for days. _