Luncheon was over and Mrs. Carruth, the girls and Mammy were seated in the library; Mammy’s face being full of solicitude for her Miss Jinny. Mammy could no more have been left out of this family council than could Eleanor.
“An’ you haint got dat ’surance money and cyant git hit, Baby?” she asked, when Mrs. Carruth had finished explaining the situation to them.
“No, Mammy; it is impossible. I have hoped until the last moment, but now I must give up all hope.”
“But—but I done paid de prem’ym ter dat little Sniffin’s man, an’ he say we git de money all right an’ straight,” argued Mammy, loath to give up her hope.
“I know that, Mammy. He told you so in all good faith. It is not his fault in the least. It would have been settled at once, had we not—had we not—” Mrs. Carruth hesitated. She was reluctant to lay the blame upon Eleanor.
“Oh, it is all my fault! All. If I had not brought those hateful acids into the house we would never have had all this trouble. I shall never forgive myself, and I should think you’d all want to kill me,” wailed the cause of the family’s misfortune, springing to her feet to pace rapidly up and down the room, quite unconscious that a long feather boa which happened to have been upon the back of her chair, had caught upon her belt-pin and was trailing out behind in a manner to suggest Darwin’s theory of the origin of man.
“My child you need not reproach yourself. You were working for our mutual benefit. You knew nothing of the conditions—”
“Knew nothing! Knew nothing!” broke in Eleanor. “That’s just it. It was my business to know! And I tell you one thing, in future I mean to know, and not go blundering along in ignorance and wrecking everybody else as well as myself. I’m just no better than a fool with all my poring over books and experimenting. After this I’ll find out where my feet are, even if my head is stuck in the clouds. And now, mother, listen: Since I am responsible for this mess it is certainly up to me to help you to pull out of it, and I’m going to do it, I’ve spoken to Mr. Hillard, and asked him about coaching, and he says he can get me plenty of students who will be only too glad if I can give them the time. And I’m going to do it three afternoons a week. I shall have to do it between four and six, as those are my only free hours, and if I can’t coach better than some I’ve known to undertake it, I’ll quit altogether.”
As Eleanor talked, Mammy’s expression became more and more horrified. When she ceased speaking the old woman rose from the hassock upon which she sat, and crossing the room to Mrs. Carruth’s side laid her hand upon her shoulder as she asked in an awed voice:
“Baby you won’t let her do no sich t’ing as dat? Cou’se you won’t. Wimmin folks now-a-days has powerful strange ways, dat I kin see myse’f, but we-all don’ do sich lak. Miss Nornie wouldn’t never in de roun’ worl’ do dat, would she, honey? She jist a projectin’, ain’t she?”
Mammy’s old face was so troubled that Mrs. Carruth was much mystified.
“Why Mammy, I don’t know of anything that Eleanor is better qualified to do than coach. And Mammy, dear, we must do something—every one of us, I fear. We can not all live on the small interest I now have, and I shall never touch the principal if I can possibly avoid doing so. Eleanor can materially help by entering upon this work, and Constance has already shown that she can aid also. Even Baby has helped,” added Mrs. Carruth, laying her arm caressingly across Jean’s shoulders, for Jean had stuck to her side like a burr.
“Then you will let me go to East Riveredge with the candy?” cried Jean, quick to place her entering wedge.
“We will see,” replied Mrs. Carruth, but Jean knew from the smile that the day was won.
“I know all dat, honey,” resumed Mammy, “but dis hyer coachin’ bisness. I ain’ got dat settle in my mind. Hit just pure scandal’zation ’cordin’ ter my thinkin’. Gawd bress my soul what we-all comin’ to when a Blairsdale teken ter drive a nomnibus fer a livin’? Tck! Tck!” and Mammy collapsed upon a chair to clasp her hands and groan.
Then light dawned upon the family.
“Oh, Mammy! I don’t intend to become a stage-coach driver,” cried Eleanor, dropping upon her knees beside the perturbed old soul, and laying her own hands upon the clasped ones as she strove hard not to laugh outright. “You don’t understand at all, Mammy. A coach is someone who helps other students who can’t get on well with their studies. Who gives an hour or two each day to such work. And it is very well paid work, too, Mammy.”
Mammy looked at her incredulously as though she feared she was being made game of. Then she glanced at the others. Their faces puzzled her, as well they might, since the individuals were struggling to repress their mirth lest they wound the old woman’s feelings, but still were anxious to reassure her.
“Miss Jinny, is dat de solemn prar-book truf?”
“It surely is Mammy. We are not quite so degenerate as you think us,” answered Mrs. Carruth soberly, although her eyes twinkled in spite of her.
“Well! Well! Jes so; Jes so. I sutin’ly is behine de times. I speck I ain’ unnerstan dese yer new-fangled wo’ds no mor’n I unnerstan de new-fangled stoves. If coachin’ done tu’ned ter meanin’ school marmin’ I hatter give up. Now go on wid yo’ talkin’: I gwine tek a back seat an’ listen twell I knows sumpin’,” and, wagging her head doubtingly, Mammy went back to her hassock.
“Well two of us have settled upon our plan of action, now what are you going to do, Connie? You said you were determined to make your venture a paying one. What is your plan?” asked Eleanor, turning to Constance, who thus far had said very little.
“I can’t tell you right now. I’ve had so many plans simmering since I began to make my candy, but Mammy has always set the kettle on the back part of the stove just as it began to boil nicely, haven’t you Mammy?” asked Constance, smiling into Mammy’s face.
“’Specs I’s ’sponsuble fer a heap o’ unbiled kittles, dough hits kase I hates p’intedly ter see de Blairsdales fixin’ ter bu’n dey han’s,” was the good soul’s answer.
“Our hands can stand a few burns in a good cause, Mammy, so don’t worry about it. We’re healthy and they’ll heal quickly,” was Constance’s cheerful reply.
“Mebbe so,” said Mammy skeptically.
“Seriously, Constance, what have you thought of doing, dear?” asked Mrs. Carruth, a tender note coming into her voice for this daughter who had been the first to put her shoulder to the wheel for them all.
“Well, you let me answer that question day after to-morrow, Mumsey? Or, perhaps, it may take even a little longer. But I’ll tell you all about my simmering ideas when I have had time to make a few inquiries. Don’t grow alarmed, Mammy; I’m not going to apply for a position as motor-girl on a trolley car,” said Constance, as she laughingly nodded at Mammy.
“Aint nothin’ ever gwine ‘larm me no mo’, I reckons. Speck some day I fin’ dat chile stanin’ down yonder on de cawner sellin’ candy an’ stuff. Mought mos’ anyt’ing happen,” answered Mammy, as she rose from her hassock. “Well, if yo’-all gwine go inter bisness, I specs I gotter too, so don’ be ’sprised ef yo’ see me. Now I’se gwine ter get a supper dat’s fitten fer ter eat; dat lunch weren’t nothin’ but a disgrace ter de hull fambly,” and off she hurried to the kitchen to prepare a supper that many would have journeyed far to eat.
“Children,” said Mrs. Carruth, as Mammy disappeared, “whatever comes we must try to keep together. We can meet almost any difficulty if we are not separated, but that would nearly break my heart, I believe; father so loved our home and the companionship of his family, that I shall do my utmost to keep it as he wished. We may be deprived of the major portion of our income, and find the path rather a stony one for a while, but we have each other, and the affection which began more than twenty years ago, when I came North to make my home has grown deeper as the years have passed. Each new little form in my arms made it stronger, and the fact that father is no longer here to share the joys or sorrows with us can never alter it. In one sense he is always with us. His love for us is manifested on every hand. We will face the situation bravely and try to remember that never mind what comes, we have each other, and his ‘three little women,’ as he used to love to call you, are worthy of that beautiful name. He was very proud of his girls and used to build beautiful ‘castles in Spain’ for them. If he could only have been spared to realize them.” Mrs. Carruth could say no more. The day had been a trying one for her, and strength and voice failed together as she dropped upon a settee and the girls gathered about her. Jean with her head in her lap as she clasped her arms around her; Eleanor holding her hands, and Constance, who had slipped behind the settee, with the tired head clasped against her breast and her lips pressed upon the pretty hair with its streaks of gray.
For a few moments there was no sound in the room save Mrs. Carruth’s rapidly drawn breaths as she strove to control her feelings. She rarely gave way in the presence of her children, but they knew how hard it was for her to maintain such self-control. It was very sweet to feel the strength of the young arms about her, and the presence of the vigorous young lives so ready to be up and doing for her sake.
“Come up-stairs and rest a while before supper,” said Constance, softly. “Will you? Do, please. We’ll be your handmaidens.”
“Yes do, Mumsey, dear. I’ll tuck you all up ‘snug as a bug in a rug,’” urged Jean.
“And I’ll go make you a cup of tea just as you love it,” added Eleanor hurrying from the room. As Mrs. Carruth rose from the settee Constance slipped her strong arm about her to lead her up to her own room, Jean running on ahead to arrange the couch pillows comfortably. Presently Mrs. Carruth was settled in her nest with Jean upon a low hassock, at her feet, patting them to make her “go byelow,” she said. In a few moments Eleanor came back with a dainty little tray and tea service, which she set upon the taborette Constance had placed for it, and proceeded to feed her mother as she would have fed an invalid.
“Do you want to quite spoil me?” asked Mrs. Carruth, from her nest of pillows.
“Not a bit of it! We only want to make you realize how precious you are, don’t you understand?” said Eleanor, kissing her mother’s forehead. “There! That is the last bite of cracker and the last drop of tea. Now take ‘forty winks’ and be as fresh as a daisy for supper. Come on, Jean, let Mumsey go to sleep.”
“Oh, please let me stay here cuddling her feet. I’ll be just as quiet as a mouse,” begged Jean.
“Please all stay; and Connie, darling, whistle me to the land o’ nod,” said Mrs. Carruth, slipping one hand into Constance’s and holding the other to Eleanor, who dropped down upon the floor and rested her cheek against it as she nestled close to the couch.
Only the flickering flames of the logs blazing upon the andirons, lighted the room as the birdlike notes began to issue from the girl’s lips. She whistled an air from the Burgomeister, its pretty melody rippling through the room like a thrush’s notes.
Presently Mrs. Carruth’s eyelids drooped and, utterly wearied by the day’s exciting events, she slipped into dreamland upon the sweet melody.
“Miss Jinny! Miss Jinny! Wait a minit. Dar’s a man yander at de back do’ dat wants fer ter ax yo’ sumpin’ he say,” called Mammy, as she hurried through the hall just as Mrs. Carruth was leaving the house upon the following Monday morning.
“What is it, Mammy?” asked Mrs. Carruth, pausing.
“He say he want ter see yo’ pintedly.”
Mrs. Carruth retraced her steps and upon reaching the back porch found Mr. Pringle waiting to see her.
“Hope I haven’t delayed you, Mrs. Carruth, but I wanted to see you on a matter of business which might help both of us, you see. Ah, I thought—I thought mebbe you’d like to hear of it.”
“I certainly should like to if it is to my advantage, Mr. Pringle,” replied Mrs. Carruth, with a pleasant smile for the livery stable keeper, who stood self-consciously twirling his cap.
“Yes, ma’am. I thought so, ma’am. Well it’s this: Your stable, ma’am, up at the old place, are you usin’ it at all?”
“Not as a stable. It is more like a storehouse just now, for many things saved from the fire are stored there.”
“Could you put them somewhere else and rent the stable to me, ma’am? I’m much put to it to find room for my boarding horses, and the carriages; my place is not big, and I thought could I rent your stable I’d keep most of my boarding horses up there; it’s nearer to their owners you see, ma’am.”
Mrs. Carruth thought a moment before replying.
“I shall have to think over your proposal, Mr. Pringle. There is a great deal of stuff stored in the stable and I am at a loss to know what we could do with it. However, I will let you know in a day or two if that will answer.”
“Take your own time, ma’am. Take your own time. There’s no hurry at all. I’ll call round about Thursday and you can let me know. I’d be willing to pay twenty-five dollars a month for it, ma’am.”
Pringle did not add that the step had been suggested to him by Hadyn Stuyvesant, or that he had also set the figure.
When they were all gathered in the pleasant living-room that evening, she spoke of the matter, ending with the question:
“But where can we put all that furniture? This house will not hold another stick I’m afraid; we are crowded enough as it is.”
For a few moments no one had a suggestion to offer, then Constance cried:
“Mother couldn’t we sell a good many of the things? People do that you know. The Boyntons did when they left Riveredge.”
“Yes, they had a private sale and disposed of many things. They advertised for weeks. I am afraid that would delay things too much.”
“Why not have an auction then? That moves quickly enough. The things go or they don’t go, and that is the end of it.”
“Oh, I should dislike to do that. So many of those things hold very tender associations for me,” hesitated Mrs. Carruth.
“Yet I am sure there are many things there which can’t possibly have, mother. That patent washing machine, for example, that is as big as a dining-room table, and Mammy ‘pintedly scorns,’” laughed Eleanor.
“And Jean’s baby carriage. And the old cider-press, and that Noah’s ark of a sideboard that we never can use,” added Constance.
“And my express-wagon. I’ll never play with that again you know; I’m far too old,” concluded Jean with much self-importance.
“I dare say there are a hundred things there we will never use again, and which would better be sold than kept. Come down to the place with us to-morrow afternoon, Mumsey, and we will have a grand rummage,” said Eleanor. And so the confab ended.
The following afternoon was given over to the undertaking, and as is invariably the case, they wondered more than once why so many perfectly useless articles had been so long and so carefully cherished.
Among them, however, were many which held very dear memories for Mrs. Carruth, and with which she was reluctant to part. Among these was a small box of garden-tools, which had belonged to her husband, and with which he had spent many happy hours at work among his beloved flower beds. Also a reading lamp which they had bought when they were first married, and beneath whose rays many tender dreams had taken form and in many instances become realities. To be sure the lamp had not been used for more than ten years, as it had long since ceased to be regarded as either useful or ornamental, and neither it nor the garden tools were worth a dollar.
But wives and mothers are strange creatures and recognize values which no one else can see. The girls appreciated their mother’s love for every object which their father’s hands had sanctified, and urged her to put aside the things she so valued, arguing that the proceeds could not possibly materially increase the sum they might receive for the general collection. But Mrs. Carruth insisted that if one thing was sold all should be, and that her personal feelings must not influence or enter into the matter. So in time all was definitely arranged; the auctioneer was engaged and the sale duly advertised for a certain Saturday morning. No sooner were the posters in evidence than Miss Jerusha Pike, likewise, became so. She swept in upon Mrs. Carruth one morning when the latter was endeavoring to complete a much-needed frock for Jean, as that young lady’s elbows were as self-assertive as herself, and had a trick of appearing in public when it was most inconvenient to have them do so. Between letting down skirts and putting in new sleeves Mrs. Carruth’s hands were usually kept well occupied.
“Morning, Mammy,” piped Miss Pike’s high-pitched voice, as Mammy answered her ring at the front door. “What’s the meaning of these signs I see about town. You don’t mean to tell me you are going to sell out? I couldn’t believe my own eyes, so I came right straight here to find out. Where is that dear, dear woman?”
“She up in her room busy wid some sewin’,” stated Mammy, with considerable emphasis upon the last word as a hint to the visitor.
“Well, tell her not to mind me; I’m an old friend, you know. I’ll go right up to her room; I wouldn’t have her come down for the world.”
“Hum! Yas’m,” replied Mammy, moving slowly toward the stairs. Too slowly thought Miss Pike, for, bouncing up from the reception-room chair, upon which she had promptly seated herself, she hurried after the retreating figure saying:
“Now don’t you bother to go way up-stairs. I don’t doubt you have a hundred things to do this morning, and I’ve never been up-stairs in this house, anyway. Go along out to your kitchen, Mammy, and I’ll just announce myself.” And brushing by the astonished old woman she rushed half way up the stairs before Mammy could recover herself. It was a master coup de main, for well Miss Pike knew that she would never be invited to ascend those stairs to the privacy of Mrs. Carruth’s own room. Mammy knew this also, and the good soul’s face was a study as she stared after her. Miss Pike disappeared around the curve of the stairs calling as she ascended:
“It’s only me, dear. Don’t mind me in the least. Go right on with your work. I’ll be charmed to lend you a hand; I’m a master helper at sewing.” Mammy muttered:
“Well ef yo’ aint de banginest han’ at pokin’ dat snipe nose o’ yours inter places whar ’taint no call ter be I’d lak ter know who is. I’se jist a good min’ ter go slap bang atter yo’ an’ hustle yo’ froo’ dat front door; I is fer a fac’.”
Meanwhile, aroused from her occupation by the high-pitched voice, Mrs. Carruth dropped her work and hurried into the hall. She could hardly believe that this busy-body of the town had actually forced herself upon her in this manner. She had often tried to do so, but as often been thwarted in her attempts.
“Oh, why did you get up to meet me? You shouldn’t have done it, you dear thing. I know how valuable every moment of your time is now-a-days. Dear, dear, how times have changed, haven’t they? Now go right back to your room and resume your sewing and let me help while I talk. I felt I must come. Those awful signs have haunted me ever since I first set my eyes upon them. Don’t tell me you are going to sell anything! Surely you won’t leave Riveredge? Why I said to Miss Doolittle on my way here, well, if the Carruths have met with more reverses and have got to sell out, I’ll clear give up. You haven’t, have you? But this house must be an awful expense, ain’t it? How much does Hadyn Stuyvesant ask you for it anyway? I’ll bet he isn’t giving it away. His mother was rather near, you know, and I dare say he takes after her. Do you pay as much as fifty a month for it? I said to Miss Doolittle I bet anything you didn’t get it a cent less. Now do you? It’s all between ourselves; you know I wouldn’t breathe it to a soul for worlds.”
If you have ever suddenly had a great wave lift you from your feet, toss you thither and yonder for a moment, and then land you high and dry upon the beach when you have believed yourself to be enjoying a delightful little dip in an apparently calm ocean, you will have some idea of how Mrs. Carruth felt as this tornado of a woman caught her by her arm, hurried her back into her quiet, peaceful bedroom, forced her into her chair, and picking up her work laid it upon her lap, at the same time making a dive for an unfinished sleeve, as she continued the volley.
“Oh, I see just exactly what you’re doing. I can be the greatest help to you. Go right on and don’t give this a thought. I’ve been obliged to do so much piecing and patching for the family that I’m almost able to patch shoes. Now what did you say Haydn Stuyvesant charged you for this house?”
The sharp eyes were bent upon the sleeve.
“I don’t think I said, Miss Pike. And, thank you, it is not necessary to put a patch upon the elbow of that sleeve as you are preparing to do; I have already made an entire new one. As to our leaving Riveredge I am sorry you have given yourself so much concern about it. When we decide to do so I dare say you will be the first to learn of our intention. Yes, the auction is to take place at our stable as the announcement states. You learned all the particulars regarding it from the bills, I am sure. If you are interested you may find time to be present that morning. And now, since I am strongly averse to receiving even my most intimate friends in a littered-up room I will ask you to return to the reception room with me,” and rising from her chair this quiet, unruffled being moved toward the door.
“But your work, my dear. Your work! You can’t afford to let me interrupt it, I’m afraid. Your time must be so precious.”
“It seems to have been interrupted already, does it not? Sometimes we would rather sacrifice our time than our temper, don’t you think so?” and a quizzical smile crept over Mrs. Carruth’s face.
“Well, now, I hate to have you make company of me. I really do. I thought I’d just run in for a little neighborly chat and I seem to have put a stop to everything. Dear me, I didn’t think you’d mind me a mite. Are you going to sell this set of furniture? ’Taint so very much worn, is it? Only the edges are a little mite frayed. Some people mightn’t notice it, but my eyesight’s exceptional. Well, do tell me what’s goin’.”
As though fate had taken upon herself the responsibility of answering that question, the door-bell rang at the instant and when it was answered by Mammy, Mrs. Eleanor Carruth stalked into the hall. Mrs. Carruth rose to greet her. Miss Pike rose to go. If there was one person in this world of whom Jerusha Pike stood in wholesome awe it was Mrs. Eleanor Carruth, for the latter lady had absolutely no use for the former, and let her understand it. Madam Carruth, as she was often called, shook her niece’s hand, looked at her keenly for a moment and then said:
“My stars, Jenny, what ails you? You look as though you’d been blown about by a whirlwind. Oh, how do you do, Miss Pike. Just going? You’re under too high pressure, Jenny. We must ease it up a little, I guess. Good-bye, Miss Pike. My niece has always been considered a most amiable woman, hasn’t she? I think she hasn’t backbone enough at times. That is the reason I happen along unexpectedly to lend her some. Fine day, isn’t it?”
Two minutes later Miss Pike was in close confab with her friend Miss Doolittle.
Aunt Eleanor was up in her niece’s room putting in the neglected sleeve and saying:
“If I’d been in that front hall I’ll guarantee she would never have clomb those stairs. Now tell me all about this auction.”
“My! Just look at them perfec’ly good, new window screens. It does seem a shame to sell ’em, don’t it now? They might come in real handy sometime,” cried one eager inspector of the collection of articles displayed for sale in the Carruths’ barn the following Saturday morning. That the house for which those screens had been made lay almost in ashes not a hundred feet from her, and that the chances of their ever fitting any other house, unless it should be expressly built for them, did not enter that lady’s calculations.
“Yes, and just look at his elergant sideboard. My! it must have cost a heap o’ money. Say, don’t you think them Carruths were just a little mite extravagant? Seems ter me they wouldn’t a been so put to it after Carruth’s death if they hadn’t a spent money fer such things as them. But I wonder what it’ll bring? ’Tis elergant, aint it? I’m just goin’ ter keep my eyes peeled, and maybe I c’n git it.”
“Why what in this world would you do with it if you did? You haven’t a room it would stand in,” cried the friend, looking first at the huge, old-fashioned, walnut sideboard, that Constance had called a Noah’s Ark, and then at its prospective purchaser as though she questioned her sanity.
“Yes, it is big, that’s so,” agreed that lady, “but it’s so elergant. Why it would give a real air to my dining-room, and I guess I could sell our table if both wouldn’t stand in the room. We could eat in the kitchen fer a spell, you know, till maybe Jim’s wagers were raised an’ we could go into a bigger house. Anyway I’m goin’ ter bid on it. It’s too big a chanst ter let slip.”
“Yes, it is pretty big,” replied her friend, turning away to hide a slight sneer, for she was a woman of discretion.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” called the auctioneer at that moment, “may I claim your attention for this most unusual sale; a sale of articles upon which you would never have had an opportunity to bid but for the ‘calamity at your heels’—to quote the immortal William.”
The people massed in front of him, for Riveredge had turned out en masse, started and glanced quickly over their shoulders. “But for the tragedy of them ashes these elegant articles of furniture would never have been placed on sale; your opportunity would never have been. Alas! ‘one man’s meat is ever another man’s poison.’ Now what am I offered for this roll of fine Japanese matting? Yards and yards of it as you see; all perfectly new; a rare opportunity to secure a most superior floor covering for a low figure. What am I bid, ladies and gentlemen?”
“One dollar,” ventured a voice.
“One dollar! Did I hear right? Surely not. One dollar for at least fifteen yards of perfectly new Japanese matting? Never. Who will do better ’n that? Two? Two—two—”
“Two-fifty!”
“Good, that’s better, but it’s a wicked sacrifice Come now—two-fifty—two-fifty—”
“Three. Three-fifty. Four,” ran up the bids in rapid competition until seven dollars were bid for the roll. It was bought by the discreet lady. At that moment Jean, who had been everywhere, appeared upon the scene.
“Oh, did you buy those pieces of matting?” she observed. “Mother told me to tell the auctioneer not to bother with them ’cause she didn’t think there were two yards of any single pattern. I didn’t get here in time though, I’m sorry, but I had to stop on my way.”
“Not two yards of any one pattern? Why there’s yards and yards in this roll. Do you mean to tell me ’taint all alike?”
“I guess not. It’s pieces that were left from our house and all the rest was burned up.”
Just then Jean spied Constance and flew toward her leaving the discreet lady to discover just what she had paid seven dollars for. On her way she ran into Jerusha Pike, who laid upon her a detaining hand. “Jean, you’re exactly the child I want. Where is your sister Constance? I want to see her. Is your mother here?”
“No, Miss Pike, mother didn’t come. Connie is right yonder. See her?”
Off hurried Miss Pike to the tree beneath which Constance stood watching the progress of the sale, which was now in full swing; the auctioneer feeling much elated at the returns of his initial venture, was warming up to his work. Eleanor, with her Aunt Eleanor, who was much in evidence this day, was seated behind the auctioneer’s raised stand, and thus quite sheltered from observation.
“Constance Carruth, you are the very girl I must see. You can and will tell me what I wish to know, I am sure,” cried Miss Pike, in a stage whisper.
“If I can I will, Miss Pike,” answered Constance with a mental reservation for the “can.”
“I want you to tell me what your poor dear mother most values among the things she has here. There must be some treasures among them which she cherishes for sweet associations’ sake. Name them, I implore you. I have never forgiven myself for the accident which befell that priceless mirror. If I can bid in something here for her let me do it, I beg of you. There is no one else to do it, and you are far too young to be exposed to the idle gaze of these people.”
“But Miss Pike, Eleanor and——”
“No! No! I cannot permit either of you to do this thing. Your dear mother would be shocked. I’ll attend to it for you, if you will only tell me.”
“But,” began Constance, and was interrupted by the auctioneer’s voice calling:
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, here is a fine set of garden tools in perfect order.”
“Oh, they were daddy’s. That is the set mother felt so bad about selling, isn’t it, Connie?” broke in Jean, who had not been paying much attention to the conversation between her sister and Miss Pike.
“There! What did I say! I was confident of it! Now is my opportunity to make reparation. Nothing shall balk me.”
“But Miss Pike; Miss Pike; you must not. Aunt Eleanor——”
But Miss Pike had rushed toward the auction stand.
Meanwhile Eleanor had been saying: “I wish we had not offered that garden set at all. It was father’s and mother really felt dreadful about selling it. I fully intended to have it put aside without saying anything to mother, but there was so much to attend to that I forgot it, and now it is too late.”
“Not in the least, I’ll bid it in,” and rising from her chair, Madam Carruth prepared to do her duty by her niece. Just then Miss Pike appeared from the opposite direction.
“How much am I bid for this garden set? All in perfect condition.”
“Ten cents,” replied a strident voice.
“Scandalous!” cried Miss Pike. “I’ll bid one dollar. It is sanctified by the touch of a vanished hand.”
“Indeed,” murmured Madam Carruth, who could see Miss Pike, although that lady could not be seen by her. “Well, I guess not. One-fifty.”
Miss Pike was too intent upon securing the object to give heed to the speaker’s voice or recognize it.
“One-seventy-five! One-seventy-five! One-seventy-five! Going, going at one-seventy-five.”
“Two-seventy-five!”
“Ah! That’s better. It would be a shame to sacrifice this set for a song. It is no ordinary set of garden implements, but a most superior quality of steel. Two-seventy-five; two-seventy-five—”
“Three! I must have them.” The last words were spoken to a bystander, but Madam Carruth’s ears were sharp.
“Must you? Indeed! We’ll see.”
One or two others, who began to believe that a rare article was about to slip from their possible grasp, now started in to bid, and in a few moments the price had bounded up to five dollars. The original cost of the set had been three. Then it went gayly skyward by leaps and bounds until in a reckless instant Miss Pike capped the climax with ten.
“Well if she wants to be such a fool she may,” exclaimed Madam Carruth. “I could buy four sets for that money and sometimes even sentiment comes too high. I’d save ’em for your mother if I could, but sound sense tells me she can make better use of a ten-dollar bill than of a half-dozen pieces of old ironmongery. That Pike woman always was a fool.”
“Gone for ten dollars!” cried the auctioneer at that instant. Miss Pike’s face was radiant. She was about to turn away when Jean made her way through the crowd to her side crying:
“Did you really get them, Miss Pike? mother’ll be so glad. When we were talking about selling these things she almost cried when she spoke about the garden tools and the lamp——”
“What lamp, child? Oh these heartrending changes! Tell me what the lamp is like. If it can be saved I’ll save it for her. I can’t understand why your sisters permitted the objects, around which the tendrils of your mother’s heart were so entwined, to be put up for sale. To me it seems a positive sacrilege.”
“But mother made them do it. She wouldn’t let——and, oh, there’s the lamp now. That one with the bronze bird on it, see?”
“Oh, the tender memories that must cluster about it. I will hold them sacred for her. They shall not be desecrated. Stand beside me, child. I shall bid that in for your dear mother.”
Again the lively contest for possession was on, although the sums named did not mount by such startling bounds as in the case of the garden tools. Still, more than four dollars had been offered before Miss Pike, in flattering imitation of a large New York department store, offered $4.99, and became the triumphant owner of it. Miss Pike had a small income, but was by no means given to flinging her dollars to the winds. So it was not surprising that many who knew her marveled at the sums she was spending for her two purchases. Having paid her bill she promptly took possession of her lamp and her case of garden tools and stalked off through the throng of people in quest of Constance whom she found talking to a group of schoolmates near the ruins of the old home.
“Congratulate me! Congratulate me! I’ve saved the treasures from the vandals! I’ve rescued them from sacrilegious hands. Behold! Take them to your mother with my dearest love. I had a struggle to get them, for some woman was determined to secure that garden set But I came off victorious. I had to do battle royal, but I conquered. Now, my dear, when you go home take them with you. They did come rather high; I had to pay ten dollars for the garden set, but I got the lamp for less than five!—four ninety-nine. But you need not pay me until it is perfectly convenient. Don’t let it worry you for a moment. I am repaid for the time being in the thought that I secured them for your mother. I knew she would rather pay twice the sum than see them fall into the hands of utter strangers. Good-bye, my dear, I must hurry home, for I have been absent too long already.”
As Miss Pike departed, Constance dropped upon the carriage step, which, being of stone, had survived flame and flood. Upon the ground before her lay their own garden set, and stood their own lamp for which her mother would have to return to Jerusha Pike, fourteen dollars and ninety-nine cents owing to that lady’s unbridled zeal. She looked at them a moment, then glancing up at her friends whose faces were studies, the absurdity of the situation overcame her and them also, and peals of laughter echoed upon the wintry air.
“Who was it that said ‘Save me from my friends!’ Connie?” asked a girl friend.
Constance looked unspeakable things. Then bounding to her feet she cried:
“Well, it’s lucky we can return her own money to her, but that settles it. It might have been worse anyway. I’ve been on the fence for several days without knowing which way to jump. Now I do know, and Miss Pike has given the push. It’s been a case of:
‘Our doubts are traitors
And make us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt.’
“There, Belle, is a quotation to match yours, and bear in mind what I say: I’m going to live up to it. Now I’m going home. Come on, you people, and help me lug these treasures there,” and off the laughing procession set, each girl or lad burdened with some article of the purchases, Constance leading the way with the lamp, and all singing:
‘Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar,
Doubt not Jerusha’s love.’
“I don’t think I ever shall, but perhaps she has helped in one way, since she has settled my doubts, and the next thing you people hear of me may make you open your eyes. No, I won’t tell you a single thing. Just wait until next week, then you’ll see.”
Owing to the stirring events at home, Jean had not set forth that morning, but the first excitement, incident to the sale of their belongings over, she prepared to drive out to East Riveredge, with her box of candies. Mrs. Carruth entertained some misgivings regarding the wisdom of letting her again pass through McKim’s Hollow, but a compromise was effected by Jean agreeing to take a different road. It made the trip a trifle longer, but was free from dangers, and Jean set forth in high feather and bursting with importance.
Having seen her off, Constance flew to her room, and within half an hour emerged therefrom dressed all in soft brown. Little brown toque, with a modest brown quill stuck through the folds of the cloth. Brown kilted skirt and box coat, brown furs and brown gloves. She looked almost as sedate as a little Quakeress, although her cheeks were rosy from excitement and her eyes shone.
“Mother, I have a little matter to attend to in South Riveredge. You won’t feel anxious if I am not back before dark will you?” she asked as she paused at her mother’s door, on her way down-stairs.
Mrs. Carruth looked at her a moment before replying and wondered if the girl had any idea how attractive she was. Then she asked:
“Am I to refrain from making inquiries?”
“Please don’t ask a single question, for even if I wanted to answer them I couldn’t,” said Constance, as she kissed her mother good-bye.
Half an hour later she was at the Arcade in South Riveredge, asking the elevator man to direct her to the office of the superintendent of the building.
“Room 16, fourth floor,” directed the man. So to the fourth floor went Constance. Opening the door of No. 16, she entered, but stood for a second upon the threshold rather at a loss how to proceed. Seated at a large rolltop desk was a man wearing a brisk, wide-awake air which instantly reminded her of her father. Gaining confidence from that fact, so often are we swayed by trifles, she advanced into the room, saying: “Good afternoon. Are you the superintendent of the building?”
“I am,” answered the gentleman, smiling pleasantly, and rising from his chair. “What can I do for you, young lady?”
Now that she had actually come to the point of stating her errand, Constance hardly knew where to begin. The superintendent noticing her hesitancy said kindly: “Won’t you be seated? It is always easier to talk business when seated, don’t you think so?” and placing a chair near his desk, he motioned her toward it.
Mr. Porter did not often have calls from such youthful business women, and was somewhat at a loss to understand the meaning of this one. Constance was not aware that in placing the chair for her he had put it where the light from the window just back of him would fall full upon her face.
Taking the chair she looked at him smiling half-doubtfully, and half-confidently as she said:
“Maybe you will think I am very silly and inexperienced, and I know I am, but I’d like to know whether you have any offices to rent in this building, and how much you charge for them?”
The big eyes looked very childish as they were turned upon him, and Mr. Porter could not help showing some surprise at the question. He had a daughter about this girl’s age, and wondered how he would feel if she were in her place.
“Yes, we have one unoccupied office on the eighth floor, in the rear of the building. It is divided into two fair-sized rooms and the rental is four hundred dollars a year.”
Constance jumped. “Four hundred a year! Why that is almost as much as we pay for our whole house! My goodness, isn’t that a lot? I had no idea they cost so much. Dear me, I’m afraid I can never, never do it,” and her words ended with a doubtful shake of her head.
“Do you object to telling me just what you wish to do and why you need an office?” asked Mr. Porter kindly. “Perhaps I could offer some suggestions. Sometimes our tenants like to rent desk room, and if you needed no more than a desk——why——.”
“But I couldn’t use a desk for a counter, could I?” hesitated Constance.
“That depends upon what the counter had to hold. Suppose you tell me. Then we will see.” The deep blue eyes behind the glasses regarded her very encouragingly.
Constance’s eyebrows were raised doubtfully as she replied:
“I’m afraid you will think me very foolish and unsophisticated, and of course I am, but I just know I can succeed if I once get started right. Besides I won’t give up unless I have to. Other girls do things and there is no reason I shouldn’t. I know my candy is good, ’cause if it wasn’t Mammy could not sell it so easily, and—”
“Candy? Are you planning to sell candy? If it’s half as good as the candy an old colored woman sells around here you’ll sell all you can make. I buy some of her every time she comes here, and my girls ask every day if she has been around with it. It’s great candy.”
As Mr. Porter talked Constance’s cheeks grew rosier and rosier, and her eyes danced with fun. Of this he speedily became aware, and looking at her keenly he asked:
“Have you ever eaten any of the old Auntie’s candy? Does she make it herself? I’ve asked her a dozen times, but I can’t get her to commit herself! She always gets off a queer rigmarole about her ‘pa’tner,’” ended Mr. Porter, smiling as he recalled Mammy’s clever fencing with words.
“Yes, I’ve eaten it. No, she doesn’t make it; she only sells it. I make it,” confessed Constance, nervously toying with the ends of her fur collar.
“You don’t say so! Why it’s the best candy I’ve ever tasted. Well, really! And you think of opening a stand?” concluded Mr. Porter, a little incredulously, for the girl before him did not seem to be one who would venture upon such an enterprise.
“Well yes, and no. I want to have a place to sell it here in South Riveredge, but I can’t exactly have a counter you see, because I am still in school the greater part of the day. So I thought up a plan and—and I want to try it. Would you mind if I told you about it?”
The sweet voice and questioning look with which the words were spoken would have won the ear of a less interested man than Robert Porter. More than an hour passed before this plan which had been simmering in the girl’s active brain, was laid before the practical business man, and he was amazed at what he afterwards pronounced its “level-headedness.”
When the conversation ended, Constance was wiser by many very sane suggestions made by her listener, and more than ever determined to carry her plan through.
“Now, young lady, by-the-way, do you mind letting me know your name? We can talk better business if I do. Mine’s Porter.”
“I am Constance Carruth,” said Constance.
“Carruth? Not Bernard Carruth’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t say so! Why I knew your father well, little girl, and respected him more than any man I’ve ever known. He was a fine man. Bernard Carruth’s daughter? Well I declare.”
Constance’s cheeks glowed more than ever. Praise of her father was sweet to her ears.
“Well, well, Bernard Carruth’s daughter,” repeated Mr. Porter, as though he could not quite make it true. “Well, come with me. I’ve an idea for this candy selling scheme and we’ll see what we can do.”
Rising from his chair he led the way to the elevator. Upon reaching the main floor he walked to the rear of the building where the stairway was situated.
In the alcove made by the box-stairs stood the public telephone switch board and two booths. At the right, close under the stairs, was an empty space too low for the booths, and yet of no use to the operator, since while she might be able to occupy it when sitting at a desk, she was very likely to encounter a cracked crown if she rose too quickly from her chair. All was enclosed with a little wooden railing and well lighted by the electric lights.
“Now I am wondering if we couldn’t rig up a tempting little booth in this unoccupied space. Good afternoon, Miss Willing. How would you like to share your quarters with this enterprising young lady? She has a mighty clever idea in that logical head of hers and I’m going to do my best to help her make it a success. How about you?” he ended, making a mental contrast between the strikingly handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl at the telephone booth, whose glances flashed back at him so boldly, and whose toilet would have been better suited to an afternoon function than a telephone booth, and the modest, well-gowned, young girl beside him.
“I guess I won’t bother her, and I’m sure she won’t bother me,” was the reply which proved the speaker’s fiber, and caused Constance to look at her and wonder that any one could be so lacking in refinement. Little Connie had many things to learn in the business world into which she was venturing. But the knowledge would do her no harm. She was well equipped to stand the test.
The girl saw the look of surprise and no rebuke could have been keener. With a little resentful toss of her head, for this girl who had so innocently made her aware of her shortcomings, she turned to answer a call upon the ’phone, and Constance to listen to Mr. Porter’s words.
“Now, Miss Carruth, my idea is this: Suppose we have this little space fitted up with attractive cases, and the necessary shelves. It is not very large, but neither is the venture—yet. When it grows bigger we will find a bigger cubby for it. The thing to do now is to find the right one; one where you can make a good show, and be sure of catching your customers, and where the customers are likely to come to be caught. I don’t know of any place where, in the long run, more are likely to come than to a ’phone booth. What do you think of it?”
“It’s just splendid!” cried Constance. “I couldn’t have found a better place no matter how long I tried. I’m so much obliged to you, Mr. Porter.”
“Better wait until you see how it pans out—the booth, not the candy. I can speak for the panning of that,” laughed Mr. Porter, then added: “Well, that is step No. 1 taken. Now for No. 2, and that is stocking up. Have you thought about that?”
“Yes, I’ve thought. My goodness! I’ve thought until my wits are fairly muddled with thinking, but that is the part that bothers me most. I can make the candy easily enough after school hours, and I can manage to send it here, but I’m dreadfully afraid I haven’t as much capital on hand as I ought to have to get all the boxes I need. They are very expensive I find. I wrote to two firms who make them, but it seems to me they charged me dreadful prices. Perhaps they suspected from my letter that I wasn’t much of a business woman,” confessed Constance, looking frankly into the friendly eyes.
Mr. Porter laughed in spite of himself, then sobering down again asked:
“Have you time to come back to my office? I would like to make a proposition to you.”
“Why yes, Mr. Porter, I have time enough,” hesitated Constance. “But I am afraid I am taking a good deal more of yours than I ought to.”
“Am I not working in the interests of the owner of this building? I’m trying to secure a new tenant for him. What more could I do?”
“I don’t believe their income will be materially increased by this tenant,” answered Constance much amused at the thought.
“Every one counts, you know. But now to business.”
Entering his office with a brisk air, he again motioned Constance to the chair by his desk, and asked:
“Are you willing to discuss all the details with me? You know I do not ask from idle curiosity, I am sure. I am interested; very deeply interested. I want to see this thing succeed. You have outlined your plan and it is all right. All it needs now is a little capital to carry it through successfully. Now let us see if we can’t secure that.”