Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 10

"Are there many?"

"Not more than a dozen. You will have to negotiate with Thomas to get your gifts carted home. Their baskets will hold only a t.i.the of what you have to donate."

"May I tell him to get the horses?"

I looked up at him, I dare say, appealingly; for I felt quite overwhelmed with care. He smiled grimly.

"You may order all the servants to go to work--anything to get that crowd away."

"Don't you feel sorry for them, Mr. Winthrop?" I pleaded. "Just think how hard it is to be poor, and to come to you with a basket for vegetables."

"Yes, that last must be the bitterest drop in their misery," he said, sarcastically. We were walking slowly around to the garden, but our progress was much too swift for my courage. I would gladly have walked the entire length of Cavendish to have escaped what had now become a very difficult task. I resolved on one thing, however; not to be drawn into any further conversation with Mr. Winthrop, nor allow him to entrap me in his merciless way again.

A bend in the garden walk brought me face to face with the Mill Road people; the crowd consisted princ.i.p.ally of women and boys; only a man or two condescending to come with their baskets; or it may be they thought the loss of a half day in the Mill would be poorly compensated by the garden stuff they would get. Mrs. Blake was there,--a c.r.a.pe veil hanging sideways from her bonnet, which I took as a mark of respect for Daniel's wife. She carried no basket; and, from the compa.s.sionate look on her face, I concluded she came with the hope to lighten my task, if possible.

I went directly to her, and shook her hand as cordially as if she had been one of our bluest blooded Cavendish aristocracy. I saw her cast a half frightened glance at Mr. Winthrop, but my fearless manner seemed to rea.s.sure her, as she soon regained her customary coolness of demeanor. I nodded cordially to the rest of the group who all seemed just then to be gazing at me in a very helpless manner. I endeavored to comport myself as the easy hostess dispensing the hospitalities of my home to a party of welcome visitors; but with Mr. Winthrop watching my every movement I found the task to do so herculean. The gardener stood watching the crowd in a helpless way, apparently as uncertain what to do first as any of them. I looked towards Mr. Winthrop; but he seemed deeply interested, judging from his att.i.tude and expression, in tying up a branch of an overburdened pear tree; but he kept his face turned steadily towards me all the time, I could not help observing.

"What shall I do?" I whispered to Mrs. Blake.

"Tell them to come forred and fill their baskets."

I cleared my throat, and stepping up to the gardener said: "If you will please come now, we will fill your baskets."

At first no one moved; then a delicate, pretty looking woman, with red-rimmed eyes and a baby in her arms came timidly forward.

"What would you like best?" I asked.

"Oh, I can't tell; they all look so good."

"We are going to send all of this that is left around to your homes in a wagon."

"I might take some of these," she said, pointing longingly to the apples and pears. The baby was stretching its pinched little arms out to them, and cooing in a pitiful, suppressed way, as if it realized it and must be on its good behavior. I took the little creature in my arms; its clothes were clean, but so thin and poor, my heart ached, while I looked at them.

I gave it my watch, which it carried with all speed to its mouth; but a soft, delicious pear which I picked from the very limb Mr. Winthrop had been supporting, caused it to drop the watch indifferently.

"Don't you feel sorry for this little crumb of humanity?" I impulsively asked, forgetting too speedily my determination not to converse with him more than was really necessary.

"Did Madame Buhlman give you lessons in philanthropy along with drawing and music?"

"Oh no, indeed; but I hope G.o.d has. I don't want my heart to be a rock like"--and then I shut my mouth and with moist eyes and flushed face turned abruptly from him.

I swallowed down my tears, but my heart was too sore to play any longer with the baby, so I slipped it back into its mother's arms, who had got her basket filled and was ready to start for home; a neighbor's lad had come to carry it for her, and with quite a cheerful face she bade me good-bye. The rest of my crowd had got their baskets filled, and paused with longing eyes regarding the heaps that still remained. I made their faces grow suddenly much brighter as, with a slight elevation of voice, I said: "Thomas will carry the rest of these vegetables around for you with the horses. You will please stand at your doors, and, as he drives along, come out for it." There was a subdued murmur of thanks, and then they started homewards. Mrs. Blake waited a few moments behind them to look around the old place where she had spent so many days, and shook hands with Thomas who remembered her very distinctly.

"It's odd doings for Oaklands having yon crowd come with their baskets,"

he said, grimly; "the young miss be like to turn things topsy-turvey."

"It's high time somebody did; what kind of reckonins will folks have bime-by, of all their riches, and overplus, and so many of their own kind of flesh and blood going hungry and naked?"

"Their reckonins be none in my line. I sees to the roots and posies, that they thrive; and there my work ends."

"Yes, posies are fed and sheltered, and little human creeturs like the widow Lark.u.m's there can starve for all the great folks cares. Deary me!

it's a terble onjointed sort of world; seems to me I could regilate things better myself. Well, a good afternoon, Mr. Prime."

"Good afternoon," Mr. Prime coldly responded. Plainly he did not enjoy Mrs. Blake's freedom of speech. I felt my trespa.s.ses against Mr. Winthrop were already so great I could scarcely increase them by leaving Mrs.

Blake abruptly, so I walked with her through the old gardens, where she had many a time, no doubt, dreamed her dreams long before my spirit got started on its long voyage through time and the eternities. I accompanied her all the way to the gate, listening sadly while she told me for the second time the sorrowful story of the widow Lark.u.m, whose baby I had just been fondling. "Ever since her man fell on the circular saw and got killed, she's been crying more or less. Her eyes look as if they'd been bound in turkey red; and I tell her she'll be blind soon as well as her father; but, laws! when the tears is there, they might as well come. It's their natur, I s'pose, to be a droppin'."

"What is to support them?" I asked.

"I guess the parish, but my! they dread it. I believe Mr. Bowen would be the happiest man in town if the Lord would send his angels for him; he's about the best Christian I ever sot eyes on."

"I think I can help them. Does it cost very much to keep a family."

"It depends on how they're kept. A trifle would do them. She's that savin', the hull of 'em don't cost much more'n a hearty man."

"I will tell, Thomas, to leave plenty of his vegetables with her; and, in the meantime, will you please tell her that I will help to keep the wolf from her door?"

"Indeed, I will, and be glad to. I can do a little myself; so you won't have all to do; and then she is right handy with her needle. My! I feel a burden lifted already. I couldn't help frettin' as well as her, though, she's no more to me than any other body."

"G.o.d has given you the heart that feels another's woes. Every one don't have that blessed gift."

"I expect not; or if they do, it's not minded. Seems to me the master looked none too well pleased along wi' us bein' there to-day." She looked at me keenly; but I was not going to make my moan even to this true-hearted friend.

"I hope this act of kindness may leave him so happy that he will give me leave to give away all the unused stuff I see going to waste about the place," I said, a trifle hypocritically.

"He's never knew what want is; and any way his heart's not over tender naterally; but there, young women can do most anything with men folks when they're good-lookin' and have nice ways wi' 'em. There's a sight of difference wi' girls. Some of 'em without any trouble get right into a man's heart, and they'll go through fire and water to please 'em; and others may be just as good-lookin' and they have hard work to get any man to marry 'em. I've wondered more'n a little about it, but it's a mystery." She turned her kindly wrinkled face on me and said, "You're one of them kind that can just wind a man round your finger, and I'm looking for better days at Oaklands. My! but you could do lots of good, if you got him on your side."

"Oh, Mrs. Blake, you don't know anything about it, but you are to be disappointed I am sure. But I can do something without any one's help.

Good-bye."

She took my hand, holding it for some time in silence; then she said softly: "Dear; you can get into other folk's hearts beside the men's."

CHAPTER IX.

AN EVENING WALK.

Thomas got his garden stuff distributed satisfactorily. "It would done your heart good to see how pleased the Lark.u.ms was over their share: I give 'em good measure, I tell you," he informed me that evening, as I made an errand to the stables in order to interview him.

"That Mr. Bowen, her blind father, he come out too, and I've not got better pay for anything for years than what he give me," Thomas continued solemnly.

"What did he give, you?" I asked.

"Well I can't just go over his words, but it minded me of the blessing the preacher says over us before we go out of church, only this was all just for you and me."

"You have found to-day that it is more blessed to give than to receive."

"That Mrs. Blake wan't far astray; but there, I wouldn't let on to the likes of her that Mr. Winthrop might do more for them. Anyway there's no one gives more for the poor in the parish, nor anything nigh as much; only its taxes, and one don't get credit for them."