Nobody's Rose

“Or course, Mr. Jarvis, you will stay with us to dinner, and as much longer as you can,” said Miss Silence as he drew out a big gold watch and snapped the case open.

“Thank you, madam, thank you. I shall be glad to accept your hospitality for the dinner. In the meantime I think I will take a walk about your pleasant little village. By the way, there are two questions I always ask concerning a place: what is its latitude, and population?” and he looked from one to another.

Miss Silence laughed. “I am afraid we can answer neither question.”

“It doesn’t matter, I can judge of the latter myself.” And having enveloped himself again in his muffler, overcoat, cap, and gloves, he went briskly down the walk, his cane seeming more for ornament than need.

Rose hurried out into the kitchen and putting on her gingham apron began to set the table. “I suppose now,” and Silence counted out the eggs to fry with the ham, “that I sha’n’t have you to help me much longer.”

“Oh, Miss Silence,” and dropping the bread tray, Rose caught her around the waist and gave her a squeeze, “you know, you know, I never will go away from here as long as I may stay.”

For Rose had been tossed to and fro like a shuttlecock at the mercy of adverse currents so long, that she felt not only some wonder but a little uneasiness as to what disposal would next be made of her.

“It’s very nice, of course,” as she sliced the bread, “when I didn’t know that I had a relative to have Great-Uncle Samuel walk in, and I suppose he has the right to say where I shall go, and what I shall do. Only I’m so tired of changes and uncertainties that I wish I might never have to make another change; and I wish that I might know right now, right away, what I am going to do.”

As for Mr. Samuel Jarvis, the surprising news of Rose’s existence, followed so quickly by her appearance before him in the flesh, was of itself bewildering, to say nothing of the responsibility so suddenly thrust upon him of making provision for her future.

This was shown by a certain preoccupation of manner on his return. Not so much so but that his eyes, still keen and bright, noted everything around him; the well-appointed table, the delicately served food, the low tones and gentle manners of the group surrounding it, the air of order and comfort pervading the modest home. But it was not till he pushed back from the table after the meal that he mentioned the question of vital interest to Rose.

“I’ve been thinking,” he spoke to Mrs. Blossom, tapping his cane on the floor as he talked, “what I ought to do for Kate’s baby now I’ve found her, and I don’t know when I’ve come across a harder proposition. I don’t wonder that women look worn out who have half a dozen girls to provide for. I’m sure that one would be too much for me.

“Of course Sarah Hartly is the one who ought to take Violet—oh, Rose, so it is, and if she wasn’t so supremely selfish she would. I stopped off at Fredonia, on my way from Buffalo here, and put it up to her. There she is, her grandmother’s sister, and Kate her only niece, a widow without chick or child, and a house she doesn’t begin to use, and she said her health wasn’t good enough, and her nerves were too weak to take a bouncing girl—those were her very words, ‘bouncing girl,’ into her family. I should think her nerves would be weak,” he sniffed, “with that miserable whiffet dog she keeps, barking and snapping at every one. Snapped at me he did, and I told Sarah plainly that if a dog ever bit me some one would pay well for it. She shut him up then, and he was howling and scratching when I came away.

“Now, I can’t take her. I never was married and I don’t know any more what a girl needs than the man in the moon. Besides, I live at a club and that would be no place for a young girl. But as I was saying about—what did you say her name was? Oh, yes, Rose, she looks strong and healthy, and I’d like to have her stay where she could have pure air, and new milk and fresh eggs. There is no place like the country to live, at least when one is young.

“I’m quite pleased with your little village; it’s situated nicely, and your town-folk tell me you have no malaria. I have made inquiry about the school and am told it is unusually good for a place of this size. And, Mrs. Blossom, I had just as soon tell you that I have made inquiries about your family, with the most flattering answers. You have all shown the kindest interest in the poor child, and from what I have heard, and still more from what I have seen, I feel that if she can remain in your care it will be the best arrangement I could make for her. Would that suit you?” turning to Rose.

“Indeed it would,” her face bright with pleasure that what she had wished seemed so near fulfilment. “Nothing could suit me better.”

“Wait a moment,” waving his hand to Mrs. Blossom not to speak; “I want to make myself fully understood. If Kate’s baby remains here you will, of course, be paid for her board, but I should want you to regard her as more than a mere boarder—in short, to receive her as one of your family, and give her the same care and interest, and as long as the arrangement continues that this shall be her home, and all that implies.”

As Rose glanced from one to another she recalled the day when homeless and friendless she had sat in that same room and waited, with a hungry hope in her heart, for the decision that meant so much to her; the misery and uncertainty of further wandering, or the happiness and security of a shelter and abiding-place. There had been a great change since then. Now she had Great-Uncle Samuel to vouch for her; she was no longer an unknown and half-suspected applicant for charity, but ready and able to pay for what she had. But so dear had that home, and those within it grown to Rose, with such a dread did she shrink from the thought of being thrust out again among strangers that not even on that first time, it seemed to her, did she wait the answer more eagerly.

As often happened, impulsive Silence was the first to speak. “For my part, I should be only too glad to have Rose stay with us, and I will do all I can to make her happy here.”

“I’m sure,” it was Mrs. Patience’s gentle voice, “Rose has won for herself a place in our home, that would be vacant without her.”

It was a moment longer before Mrs. Blossom spoke, and when she did there was a quiver in her usually firm, self-controlled tone, “Yes, I will keep Rose, and I will do for her just as I would have done for my own little Rachel if she had lived.”

Grandmother Sweet, sitting in her rocker with the sunshine falling across her snowy hair and serene face, laid down her knitting, whose subdued click, click, seemed like her own quiet personality to pervade the room, “I feel it borne on my mind, Elizabeth, that thee will never regret the word thee has just given.” And then to Mr. Jarvis, “Thee need feel no concern for the child, for while Silence and Patience in the tenderness of their hearts would, I fear, wholly spoil her, their mother will be heedful of her duty to guide and train. And truly it will be a pleasure to us all to have this little one of the dear Lord set in our midst.”

“Thank you, madam,” and Great-Uncle Samuel made a deferential bow to her; “I shall go away with my mind at ease.

“And now,” to Rose, “if I leave you with these kind ladies I shall expect you to be good and obedient in return for all they do for you.”

“I’ll try to be,” was Rose’s dutiful answer.

“That’s right, that’s right. I hope you always will remember to. Young people are very apt to think they know it all when they haven’t the first idea what’s for their good. I’m glad you look like your mother, and hope you will have all her good qualities, but I want you to remember the trouble she brought on herself and all who cared for her just by wilfulness. I believe that settles everything. Four dollars, I was told, is the average price for board here; if that is satisfactory a check will be sent you every three months, for that and Rose’s expenses. But mind,” turning to Rose, “you must be very prudent to make the money last.”

She hesitated a little. “I—I could go back to the Fifields’. They would pay me fifty cents a week and that would save a good deal.”

He threw up both hands. “What! Robert Jarvis’s granddaughter, Kate’s child, a servant? Bless me! Never let me hear of that again!”

“Rose is very helpful about the house,” added Mrs. Blossom. “I will not ask that price.”

“Little enough, madam, little enough. Besides, I want you to teach her useful things; to cook, to take care of a house. More men are killed by bad bread than bullets, and I don’t want Kate’s baby ever to murder any one that way.” As he spoke he began to draw on his overcoat.

“Why, you are not going?” exclaimed Mrs. Blossom.

“Yes, madam, yes. There seems no need for me to stay longer. The team that brought me from the station is waiting to take me back for the evening train, and I can be in Buffalo again in the morning.”

“But when are you coming again, Uncle Samuel?” asked Rose.

“Can’t say, Rose—yes, I am right, it is Rose. What with dyspepsia and rheumatism, and the weight of years, I am not a great traveler. Besides, everything is, I believe, satisfactorily settled. My brief stay has been very pleasant,” as he shook hands around, ending with Rose and the admonition, “Be a credit to these good ladies.”

The team was already waiting at the gate. “He doesn’t intend to come again,” said Rose with a wistful accent as she stood at the window and watched Great-Uncle Samuel tuck the fur robes about him and drive away.