Twilight Stories Part 20

"And I shall begin tomorrow," declared Caryl with still greater dignity, and drawing herself to her full height. "Aunt Sylvia says she'll try you. Now you'll be good, won't you?" she added anxiously. "It's only for two hours a day, Viny."

"I'll be good," declared Viny, "'strue's I live an' breeve." Meanwhile the darkest of plans ran riot in her little black head.

"Heart's Delight--Heart's Delight!" sang Caryl's happy voice all that day; and like St. Patrick's poor imprisoned snake, she began to feel that to-morrow would never come.

But hours come and go, and Caryl awoke the next morning, the brightest, cheeriest morning that ever called a happy girl out of bed.

"Aunt Sylvia won't have many more days in that dark little room of hers," she cried to herself, throwing on her clothes rapidly. "Oh, dear, where ARE the pins? I can't bear to wait a minute any more than Viny, when I think of that dear lovely nest, and the bay-window, and all that suns.h.i.+ne. I'll always have it full of flowers, and the bird shall sing all the time, and--and--and--"

The rest was lost in a dash of cold water over the rosy face, and Caryl soon presented herself at her aunt's bedside.

"I'll do well enough while you are gone," said her aunt, smiling up from the pillows into the bright face above hers. "Now you're not to worry about me in the least, for you cannot do justice to yourself if your mind is troubled. Remember, Caryl, and be thorough in your efforts to teach your little pupils."

"And Madam Grant is going to buy some of my panels and little plaques, I almost know," cried Caryl, bustling around for her aunt's long woolen wrapper and her day slippers, "for she told me she should want to see them some time. Then, Auntie--oh, then!"

The young girl in her eagerness climbed upon the old bed to lay her fresh young cheek against the pale thin one. How she longed to put brightness into the poor invalid's life!

"Remember," said Aunt Sylvia lightly, to hide the tears in her voice, "your fortune's to be made. Only be prompt and thorough, and put your whole mind to your work. That is the secret of success."

"I will, Auntie, oh, I WILL!" cried Caryl happily, "and Viny will do well, I guess," she added, the gleeful tones dropping down with an anxious note.

"Viny will prove a capital little nurse, I expect," said Miss Sylvia cheerfully; "now the day won't wait, Caryl, so get your old auntie up."

"My old auntie is just LOVELY," cried the girl, hopping off from the bed, and flying around merrily, well pleased at last when the invalid was in her chair, to see a little faint, pink color stealing up the wan cheek.

"The best cap, Aunt Sylvia--the best cap!" she cried, running for the one with the fresh lavender ribbons.

"What an extravagant puss!" exclaimed Aunt Sylvia, willing to humor the gay little heart, and tapping her cheek as the young girl settled the cap on the lovely gray hair.

"Everything must be best to-day," cried Caryl recklessly. "It's all fresh and new and fine! All the world is made just for us."

Maum Patty saw Caryl run down the dirty little brick path that served for all the lodgers in the old house as a walk to the broken-down gate, with her color-box under her arm, and her little roll of pictures in her hand, and heaved a sigh from her ample bosom.

"Dat chile can't make no fortin' like she's a-tinkin' of, but laws! let her try. Here, yer Viny, yer, be off up to de Missis' room. Scat now!

De pore lettle lamb," she mourned, as her hopeful grandchild unwillingly dragged her recreant feet off to her duties, leaving her grandmother to pursue her reflections in peace, "it mos' busts my heart to see her a-workin' an' de Missis keepin' up an' pretendin' she's as fine as a queen. 'Twarn't so in ole Patty's day. Den dar wos plenty-pies and turkeys. Lors, what stumpers! An' hull bar'ls o' flour, an' sugar, an' a creation sight of eberyting in de beyeutiful house, an' now look at dis ole sh.e.l.l!"

Maum Patty tossed her turban in intense scorn at each of the dark soot-begrimed walls of the place called kitchen.

"Missis ud feel more like folks," she said at each disdainful scrutiny, "an' like as not git well, ef we cud cut sticks inter anudder home. Ef de chile only CUD do it!"

She peered anxiously down the dirty little brick walk again, then fetched a still longer sigh.

"I don't darst to!" she declared in a mighty burst at last. "I don't, cos wot ud keep us all from the pore-'us den. It's every speck I kin do ter keep along of de Miss an' Car'l an' take keer of 'em wi'dout a cent o' pay; I don't darst tech my stockin' bag in de bank."

Maum Patty always spoke of her scanty savings deposited in the neighboring bank, in this way, fondly supposing them in the original condition in which ten years ago, she had taken them there for future s.h.i.+eld against sickness and old age.

Meantime the little black nurse had begun her work.

Peering around Miss Sylvia's half-closed door, Viny exclaimed to herself, "Umph! she don't want me; guess she's a'readin' now. I'll git into Miss Ca's room an' try on all her clo'es an' pertend I'm makin'

calls, an' peek inter ebery single place whar I kin, an' I'll be a lady, an' dar sha'n't no one scold Viny."

"Viny," called Miss Sylvia's soft voice, hearing a rustle at the door.

"Dat's Jip she's a-talkin' ter, I reckon," said Viny, stealing off on her tiptoes down the hall, and sticking her fingers in her ears that she might hear no more troublesome conscience calls; "I seen him on de rug when I peeked in de crack. Now den--Whoop, says I, WHOOP!"

She was safe now in Caryl's room, where the first thing she did was to indulge in a series of somersaults over the floor, and also, for variety, over the neat little white bed. These afforded her intense comfort. When she came up bright and s.h.i.+ning after this celebration of her independence, she drew herself up with a serious face and proceeded at once to stern business.

"Two hours ain't long," she observed wisely, "an' I mus' be back some of de time. Jiminy! she's forgot de key again!" In truth, Caryl in her great excitement of hunting for some pictures packed away in her precious drawer, had forgotten to pocket the key that protected her few treasures.

Ruthlessly, then, they were pulled out and overhauled, while Viny reveled in each new discovery, chattering softly to herself in glee. She tied on all the bright bits of ribbons she could lay her hands on, to the little tiny tails adorning her head. She twisted with great difficulty into a delicate white spenser that Caryl's mother had worn when a girl, saved for its tender reminiscence, and for the soft, fine old lace that would be of use to the young daughter by and by. Viny was nowise disturbed in her enjoyment at certain ominous crackings and creakings that proclaimed the giving way of the delicate material.

Arrayed at last to her satisfaction, although the lace did hang down in some shreds where her impatient fingers had clutched it, she whirled and whirled in front of the old-fas.h.i.+oned gla.s.s with many grimaces, trying the effect of her new costume.

"I want sumfin to s.h.i.+ne," she said at last, tired of this; "jew-EL-lery an' stuns. Le's see ef she's got any."

Now in one corner of Caryl's drawer was a small black box; unfortunately, the lock was broken in childhood, and there had been no money to spare for repairs of anything of that sort, so she had tied it securely with the strongest of twine, and written on the cover in big schoolgirl hand the words, "DON'T ANY ONE DARE TO TOUCH!" Although Viny was unable to decipher the writing in the least, it was fun enough to attack the string, which presently succ.u.mbed to the violent onslaught of tooth and nail, and the precious, precious bits of brightness were soon at the mercy of the little black fingers.

Maum Patty was droning away in the kitchen some old Methodist hymns.

Viny was dimly conscious of a faint call from the invalid's room, as she drew out in the utmost delight an old-fas.h.i.+oned brooch with a green centre around which were some little sparkling things.

She couldn't even say "Jiminy!" but simply held the pretty thing which seemed glad of its freedom from solitary confinement, and thus delighted to sparkle more than ever in its resting-place in the little black hand. With trembling fingers she fastened it into the centre of the lace spenser, above her naughty little bosom, hurrying to the gla.s.s to do so, and had just taken one look, when a low cry of distress struck upon her ear.

It filled her whole soul with dismay, rooting her like a little frozen thing to the spot. It was Miss Sylvia, she knew.

With one mighty effort she tore herself from the spot, and rushed headlong into the hall. "Oh--oh--OH!" came from the invalid's room.

At that Viny wrung her hands and writhed in dire distress.

"She's a-dyin'!" she gasped, her knees knocking together in a lively manner; "I don't darst to look--I don't!--I've killed her!" And the whole flood of remorse sweeping her very soul, she turned and scuttled down the crooked little stairs and into the street.

"A doctor!" was all her thought. She remembered hearing Caryl say he lived in a big brown house that had lots of flowers in the windows. But where upon the face of the earth the house was situated, Viny knew no more than a bird. However, she must get him, so she dashed blindly on, turning the first corner to run headlong into the arms of a portly old lady who was placidly enjoying the fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne at the same time that she displayed her rich street attire.

"Oh, my goodness!" cried the old lady, startled out of all fine speeches by the collision, and jumping in fright to the extreme edge of the curbstone. Then seeing the cause, she cried in anger, "You miserable, dirty little thing you, you ve nearly killed me!"

At the word "killed," Viny began to dance in terror on the sidewalk. "I know it," she cried, "oh, dear, I know it! she's dead, an' grandma 'll beat me."

"And if you don't know any better," cried the old lady, vainly trying to settle her gray puffs as they were before, "than to run into people in this way, I'll have you arrested, I will!"

At this Viny was completely overcome. Her guilty conscience pictured all sorts of punishments; worse, far worse, than "grandma's" judgments, and, falling on her knees, she grasped the old lady's black satin gown and implored for mercy.

The old lady, now her attention was drawn off from her own annoyance, settled her eyes on the brooch half concealed by a fold of the little lace spenser.

"You wicked, bad child!" she exclaimed, seizing her arm and pouncing one stiffly gloved hand on the sparkling brooch; "you've stolen that! It's bad enough to be run into by a dirty little thing fresh from Bedlam, without being wicked into the bargain. That's TOO much!"

The little black figure being too wretched to hear this tirade, could only mumble and wail and wriggle closer and closer into the folds of the rich gown.

"Get out of my dress!" cried the old lady excitedly. "Here, I'll call the police; if you don't let go of me this instant! Stop, I say!

Po-o-lice!"

Viny gave one violent jerk that brought her up to her feet, and with eyes distended in terror, started in wild despair across the street.