Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 9

"I thought in America all were reckoned equal."

"You are not an American."

"Shall I return then to Europe? I could always travel first-cla.s.s, and so be safe from vulgar intrusion."

"Until your majority your father decided that your home was to be here after you left school."

"At what age do I attain my majority?" I asked eagerly.

"Are you tired of Oaklands?" His eyes were watching me intently.

"Never, until to day." I faltered, exceedingly frightened, but forced to tell the truth.

He turned over the leaves of the Caesar for a few seconds, in silence, then he said in quite gentle tones:--

"You are tired; we will leave books for another day."

I bowed, but dared not trust myself to speak lest I might reveal that my tears were struggling to find vent, and began gathering up my sketches.

He took up a view of Oaklands over which I had lingered lovingly for a good many hours, adding what I fondly thought were perfecting touches and said:--

"I should like to keep this, if you will give it to me."

My heart instantly grew lighter, so that I was able to say quite calmly that he was very welcome to it. This, however, was the only compliment he paid me for the work over which I had been expending so much time and effort during the past few months; but I had done the work much in the same fas.h.i.+on that the birds sing--from instinct.

CHAPTER VIII.

MRS. LARk.u.m.

Hubert left for college before the time came around for the distribution of our ripened fruit, and vegetables, for which fact I was very glad. I knew the task was going to be no easy one, with Mr. Winthrop silently, and no doubt sarcastically, watching me; and Hubert's good humored raillery would in no wise lighten my cares.

Mrs. Flaxman counseled me as wisely as she knew, but Mrs. Blake was my greatest help in the matter. Mr. Winthrop had not discovered, or if he had, did not interfere with my continued friends.h.i.+p for that worthy woman; so in my present perplexities I came to her for advice and consolation.

She promised to notify all her poor acquaintances when they were to come for their share of our gifts; she a.s.sured me there was already considerable interest, as well as surprise, awakened by the expectation of such a gathering at Oaklands.

For several days I watched Thomas and Samuel storing away such vast quant.i.ties of fruit and vegetables, that I concluded we could safely stand siege for a good many months, but I ruefully determined there would be little remaining for me to distribute. But one bright morning, just in range with my own windows, I saw the gardener nailing up some wooden booths, and when completed, they began to pour in great basketfuls of all sorts of vegetables, and afterward in separate booths, apples, pears, and plums. I slipped out before Mr. Winthrop was astir and inquired of Thomas if these were for my Mill Road pensioners.

"Yes, ma'am, that they are; and did I ever think I'd live to see this day?"

"Why, Thomas, are you not willing to share your bountiful harvest with those who have none?"

"Indeed I am. It's that makes me so glad this morning. I had that good-for-nothing Sam up at four o'clock, helping me saw the boards to build them bins to put the garden sa.s.s in. He reckoned you'd a much sight better have been staying in them foreign parts than be giving decent folks such bother. I give him a clip on the ear that made him howl in earnest, I can tell you. I says to him, says I, 'Why, one would think you was one of the aristocracy yourself to hear you talk so indifferent like about the poor folk. There's Miss Selwyn, with full and plenty, and see how she works for them; you'd ought to be ashamed of yourself,' I says to him."

"But I hope you won't punish the poor fellow on my account again--won't you please give him a holiday soon, for getting up to work so early this morning?"

"I'll see about it; but he gets holidays right along; he's nothing but a plague."

I saw poor Sam scuttling around a large apple tree quite within hearing of the gardener's voice, and concluded he was another instance of listeners never hearing any good of themselves. I did very little work or reading that day, but watched from the shelter of my window curtains the slowly acc.u.mulating pile. Samuel, I noticed, seemed to work with unusual cheerfulness, and even the gardener himself did not empty his basket any oftener than his well-abused help. Mr. Winthrop pa.s.sed once or twice, and seemed to give directions. I fancied he glanced up to my window as he stood watching them empty their baskets. At luncheon he said:--

"Your pensioners may come this afternoon, and carry away their produce."

"I will let them know immediately."

"Will you go and tell them yourself?" he asked, rather sternly.

"I can do so with all safety; they are perfectly harmless." I gave him a mutinous look, but my heart fluttered; for, in spite of myself, I was very much afraid of my guardian.

"You must not go about from house to house peddling your generosity," he said, sarcastically.

"It is your generosity, Mr. Winthrop," I said gravely; "besides, I do not go to their houses at all. I have only to acquaint Mrs. Blake that your gift is ready for distribution."

"One of the servants will go to Mrs. Blake. You will need all your strength to maintain the proprieties when your ragged crowd comes."

"Have you ever seen the Mill Road people?" I asked abruptly.

"Probably on the streets sometimes; but are they a very distinguished looking crowd, that you ask?"

"No, but they are human beings just like ourselves, created in G.o.d's image as clearly as the President of these United States, and some of them fulfilling the end for which they were made quite as acceptably, perhaps."

"The President would, no doubt, feel flattered to have his name so coupled."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Winthrop, I had forgotten your Presidents conquered the high position they fill, and are not born to it like mere puppets."

"You will compare your humble friends with European Royalties then, I presume."

"Oh, any one dropping into a soft nest prepared for them by others will do just as well," I said, not very politely.

Mrs. Flaxman looked on helplessly as she sat nervously creasing her napkin; then with a sudden look of relief she said: "Shall I despatch Esmerelda to the Mill Road? They will have little enough time to get all that heap of good things carried away before night."

Mr. Winthrop signified his willingness, and as she was leaving the room Mrs. Flaxman, by a look, summoned me to follow her. Once outside she said in her gentle way:--"I would not get arguing with Mr. Winthrop if I were you. He is a good deal older, and, pardon me, a good deal wiser; and while he never seems to lose his own temper he very easily makes others lose theirs."

"I will try not to," I said, very humbly, for now that my temper had calmed I realized that I had been very foolish in saying what I did. I went sorrowfully to my room, and, taking my knitting work, I sat down in my easy chair where I could watch them working busily at the vegetables.

But there came so many desolate, homesick fancies to keep me company, that pretty soon my eyes were so blinded with tears I could scarcely see the enlivening prospect under my windows. Ashamed of my weakness I set myself resolutely to thinking of Daniel Blake and his heavy, sad life; of the poor barefoot children, and tired mothers on the Mill Road; and of all the sadder hearts than mine should be, until the sultry, still air, and monotonous click of the knitting needles overcame my heartaches, and I went fast asleep. A knock at the door startled me. Hastily opening it, I met Esmerelda, who had come to announce the arrival of her neighbors.

"There's a good lot of them coming, and they look as frightened, and foolish as so many dogs that's been caught sheep killing. I declare I pity them."

"Where is Mr. Winthrop?" I gasped.

"Oh, you may be certain he's not far off; it's just death to him having so many of them poor wretches coming around his place. I can't think why he lets them."

"I will be there presently, Esmerelda," I said, turning away. It was certainly not my place to allow her to stand there gossiping about her employer.

I did not wait to brush my rumpled hair or bestow more than a pa.s.sing glance in the mirror, where I caught sight of a pair of wide, frightened eyes and an unusually pale face. Mr. Winthrop was waiting for me in the hall. In my excitement I still held in my hand the little sock I had been knitting. He glanced at it curiously, but made no mention of it.

"Your pensioners have come--a beggarly looking crowd."