Is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept?
--TAMING OF THE SHREW.
Great preparations were making all Saturday and Monday for the expected
gathering. From morning till night Miss Fortune was in a perpetual
bustle. The great oven was heated no less than three several times on
Saturday alone. Ellen could hear the breaking of eggs in the buttery,
and the sound of beating or whisking for a long time together; and then
Miss Fortune would come out with floury hands, and plates of empty egg
shells made their appearance. But Ellen saw no more. Whenever the coals
were swept out of the oven, and Miss Fortune had made sure that the heat
was just right for her purposes, Ellen was sent out of the way, and when
she got back there was nothing to be seen but the fast shut oven door.
It was just the same when the dishes, in all their perfection, were to
come out of the oven again. The utmost Ellen was permitted to see was
the napkin covering some stray cake or pie that by chance had to pass
through the kitchen where she was.
As she could neither help nor look on, the day passed rather wearily.
She tried studying; a very little she found was enough to satisfy both
mind and body in their present state. She longed to go out again and see
how the snow looked, but a fierce wind all the fore part of the day made
it unfit for her. Towards the middle of the afternoon she saw with joy
that it had lulled, and though very cold, was so bright and calm that
she might venture. She had eagerly opened the kitchen door to go up and
get ready, when a long weary yawn from her old grandmother made her look
back. The old lady had laid her knitting in her lap and bent her face
down to her hand, which she was rubbing across her brow, as if to clear
away the tired feeling that had settled there. Ellen's conscience
instantly brought up Alice's words, "Can't you do something to pass away
a tedious hour now and then?" The first feeling was of vexed regret that
they should have come into her head at that moment; then conscience said
that was very selfish. There was a struggle. Ellen stood with the door
in her hand, unable to go out or come in. But not long. As the words
came back upon her memory, "A charge to keep I have," her mind was made
up; after one moment's prayer for help and forgiveness she shut the
door, came back to the fireplace, and spoke in a cheerful tone.
"Grandma, wouldn't you like to have me read something to you?"
"Read!" answered the old lady. "Laws a me! _I_ don't read nothing,
deary."
"But wouldn't you like to have _me_ read to you, grandma?"
The old lady in answer to this laid down her knitting, folded both arms
round Ellen, and kissing her a great many times, declared she should
like anything that came out of that sweet little mouth. As soon as she
was set free Ellen brought her Bible, sat down close beside her, and
read chapter after chapter; rewarded even then by seeing that, though
her grandmother said nothing, she was listening with fixed attention,
bending down over her knitting as if in earnest care to catch every
word. And when at last she stopped, warned by certain noises downstairs
that her aunt would presently be bustling in, the old lady again hugged
her close to her bosom, kissing her forehead and cheeks and lips, and
declaring that she was "a great deal sweeter than any sugar-plums;" and
Ellen was very much surprised to feel her face wet with a tear from her
grandmother's cheek. Hastily kissing her again (for the first time in
her life), she ran out of the room, her own tears starting and her heart
swelling big. "Oh! how much pleasure," she thought, "I might have given
my poor grandma, and how I have let her alone all this while! How wrong
I have been! But it shan't be so in future."
It was not quite sundown, and Ellen thought she might yet have two or
three minutes in the open air; so she wrapped up very warm and went out
to the chip-yard.
Ellen's heart was very light; she had just been fulfilling a duty that
cost her a little self-denial, and the reward had already come. And now
it seemed to her that she had never seen anything so perfectly beautiful
as the scene before her--the brilliant snow that lay in a thick carpet
over all the fields and hills, and the pale streaks of sunlight
stretching across it between the long shadows that reached now from the
barn to the house. One moment the light tinted the snow-capped fences
and whitened barn-roofs: then the lights and the shadows vanished
together, and it was all one cold, dazzling white. Oh, how glorious!
Ellen almost shouted to herself. It was too cold to stand still; she ran
to the barn-yard to see the cows milked. There they were, all her old
friends--Streaky and Dolly and Jane and Sukey and Betty Flynn--sleek and
contented; winter and summer were all the same to them. And Mr. Van
Brunt was very glad to see her there again, and Sam Larkens and Johnny
Low looked as if they were too, and Ellen told them with great truth she
was very glad indeed to be there; and then she went in to supper with
Mr. Van Brunt and an amazing appetite.
That was Saturday. Sunday passed quietly, though Ellen could not help
suspecting it was not entirely a day of rest to her aunt; there was a
savoury smell of cooking in the morning which nothing that came on the
table by any means accounted for, and Miss Fortune was scarcely to be
seen the whole day.
With Monday morning began a grand bustle, and Ellen was well enough now
to come in for her share. The kitchen, parlour, hall, shed, and lower
kitchen must all be thoroughly swept and dusted; this was given to her,
and a morning's work pretty near she found it. Then she had to rub
bright all the brass handles of the doors, and the big brass andirons in
the parlour, and the brass candlesticks on the parlour mantelpiece. When
at last she got through and came to the fire to warm herself, she found
her grandmother lamenting that her snuff-box was empty, and asking her
daughter to fill it for her.
"Oh! I can't be bothered to be running upstairs to fill snuffboxes,"
answered that lady; "you'll have to wait."
"I'll get it, grandma," said Ellen, "if you'll tell me where."
"Sit down and be quiet!" said Miss Fortune. "You go into my room just
when I bid you, and not till then."
Ellen sat down; but no sooner was Miss Fortune hid in the buttery than
the old lady beckoned her to her side, and nodding her head a great many
times, gave her the box, saying softly--
"You can run up now; she won't see you, deary. It's in a jar in the
closet. Now's the time."
Ellen could not bear to say no. She hesitated a minute, and then boldly
opened the buttery door.
"Keep out! What do you want?"
"She wanted me to go for the snuff," said Ellen, in a whisper; "please
do let me. I won't look at anything nor touch anything, but just get the
snuff."
With an impatient gesture her aunt snatched the box from her hand,
pushed Ellen out of the buttery, and shut the door. The old lady kissed
and fondled her as if she had done what she had only tried to do;
smoothed down her hair, praising its beauty, and whispered--
"Never mind, deary; you'll read to grandma, won't you?"
It cost Ellen no effort now. With the beginning of kind offices to her
poor old parent, kind feeling had sprung up fast; instead of disliking
and shunning she had begun to love her.
There was no dinner for any one this day. Mr. and Mrs. Van Brunt came to
an early tea; after which Ellen was sent to dress herself, and Mr. Van
Brunt to get some pieces of wood for the meat-choppers. He came back
presently with an armful of square bits of wood, and sitting down before
the fire, began to whittle the rough-sawn ends over the hearth. His
mother grew nervous. Miss Fortune bore it as she would have borne it
from no one else, but vexation was gathering in her breast for the first
occasion. Presently Ellen's voice was heard singing down the stairs.
"I'd give something to stop that child's pipe!" said Miss Fortune.
"She's eternally singing the same thing over and over--something about
'a charge to keep.' I'd a good notion to give her a charge to keep this
morning; it would have been to hold her tongue."
"That would have been a public loss, _I_ think," said Mr. Van Brunt
gravely.
"Well, you _are_ making a precious litter!" said the lady, turning short
upon him.
"Never mind," said he, in the same tone. "It's nothing but what the
fire'll burn up, anyhow. Don't worry yourself about it."
Just as Ellen came in, so did Nancy by the other door.
"What are you here for?" said Miss Fortune, with an ireful face.
"Oh, come to see the folks and get some peaches," said Nancy. "Come to
help along, to be sure."
"Ain't your grandma coming?"
"No, ma'am, she ain't. I knew she wouldn't be of much use, so I thought
I wouldn't ask her."
Miss Fortune immediately ordered her out. Half laughing, half serious,
Nancy tried to keep her ground. But Miss Fortune was in no mood to hear
parleying. She laid violent hands on the passive Nancy, and between
pulling and pushing at last got her out and shut the door. Her next
sudden move was to haul off her mother to bed. Ellen looked her sorrow
at this, and Mr. Van Brunt whistled _his_ thoughts; but that either made
nothing, or made Miss Fortune more determined. Off she went with her old
mother under her arm. While she was gone Ellen brought the broom to
sweep up the hearth, but Mr. Van Brunt would not let her.
"No," said he, "it's more than you nor I can do. You know," said he,
with a sly look, "we might sweep up the shavings into the wrong corner."
This entirely overset Ellen's gravity, and unluckily she could not get
it back again, even though warned by Mrs. Van Brunt that her aunt was
coming. Trying only made it worse, and Miss Fortune's entrance was but
the signal for a fresh burst of hearty merriment. What she was laughing
at was of course instantly asked, in no pleased tone of voice. Ellen
could not tell, and her silence and blushing only made her aunt more
curious.
"Come, leave bothering her," said Mr. Van Brunt at last. "She was only
laughing at some of my nonsense, and she won't tell on me."
"Will you swear to that?" said the lady sharply.
"Humph! No, I won't swear, unless you will go before a magistrate with
me; but it is true."
"I wonder if you think I am as easy blinded as all that comes to?" said
Miss Fortune scornfully.
And Ellen saw that her aunt's displeasure was all gathered upon her for
the evening. She was thinking of Alice's words, and trying to arm
herself with patience and gentleness, when the door opened, and in
walked Nancy as demurely as if nobody had ever seen her before.
"Miss Fortune, granny sent me to tell you she is sorry she can't come
to-night. She don't think it would do for her to be out so late. She's a
little touch of the rheumatics, she says."
"Very well," said Miss Fortune. "Now, clear out."
"You had better not say so, Miss Fortune. I'll do as much for you as any
two of the rest; see if I don't!"
"I don't care if you did as much as fifty!" said Miss Fortune
impatiently. "I won't have you here; so go, or I'll give you something
to help you along."
Nancy saw she had no chance with Miss Fortune in her present humour, and
went quickly out. A little while after Ellen was standing at the window,
from which, through the shed window, she had a view of the chip-yard,
and there she saw Nancy lingering still, walking round and round in a
circle, and kicking the snow with her feet in a discontented fashion.
"I am very glad she isn't going to be here," thought Ellen. "But, poor
thing! I dare say she is very much disappointed. And how sorry she will
feel going back all that long, long way home! What if I should get her
leave to stay? Wouldn't it be a fine way of returning good for evil?
But, oh dear! I don't want her here! But that's no matter."
The next minute Mr. Van Brunt was half startled by Ellen's hand on his
shoulder, and the softest of whispers in his ear. He looked up, very
much surprised.
"Why, do _you_ want her?" said he, likewise in a low tone.
"No," said Ellen, "but I know I should feel very sorry if I was in her
place."
Mr. Van Brunt whistled quietly to himself. "Well!" said he, "you _are_ a
good-natured piece."
"Miss Fortune," said he presently, "if that mischievous girl comes in
again, I recommend you to let her stay."
"Why?"
"'Cause it's true what she said--she'll do you as much good as
half-a-dozen. She'll behave herself this evening, I'll engage, or if she
don't I'll make her."
"She's too impudent to live! But I don't care; her grandmother is
another sort. But I guess she is gone by this time."
Ellen waited only till her aunt's back was turned. She slipped
downstairs and out at the kitchen door, and ran up the slope to the
fence of the chip-yard.
"Nancy--Nancy!"
"What?" said Nancy, wheeling about.
"If you go in now, I guess Aunt Fortune will let you stay."
"What makes you think so?" said the other surlily.
"'Cause Mr. Van Brunt was speaking to her about it. Go in, and you'll
see."
Nancy looked doubtfully at Ellen's face, and then ran hastily in. More
slowly Ellen went back by the way she came. When she reached the upper
kitchen she found Nancy as busy as possible--as much at home already as
if she had been there all day, helping to set the table in the hall, and
going to and fro between that and the buttery with an important face.
Ellen was not suffered to help, nor even to stand and see what was
doing, so she sat down in the corner by her old friend Mrs. Van Brunt,
and with her head in her lap watched by the firelight the busy figures
that went back and forward, and Mr. Van Brunt, who still sat working at
his bits of board. There were pleasant thoughts in Ellen's head that
kept the dancing blaze company. Mr. Van Brunt once looked up and asked
her what she was smiling at. The smile brightened at his question, but
he got no more answer.
At last the supper was all set out in the hall so that it could very
easily be brought into the parlour when the time came; the waiter with
the best cups and saucers, which always stood covered with a napkin on
the table in the front room, was carried away; the great pile of wood in
the parlour fireplace, built ever since morning, was kindled; all was in
apple-pie order, and nothing was left but to sweep up the shavings that
Mr. Van Brunt had made. This was done; and then Nancy seized hold of
Ellen.
"Come along," said she, pulling her to the window--"come along, and let
us watch the folks come in."
"But it isn't time for them to be here yet," said Ellen; "the fire is
only just burning."
"Fiddle-de-dee! they won't wait for the fire to burn, I can tell you.
They'll be along directly, some of them. I wonder what Miss Fortune is
thinking of--that fire had ought to have been burning this long time
ago, but they won't set to work till they all get here, that's one
thing. Do you know what's going to be for supper?"
"No."
"Not a bit?"
"No."
"Ain't that funny! Then I'm better off than you. I say, Ellen, any one
would think _I_ was Miss Fortune's niece and you was somebody else,
wouldn't they? Goodness! I'm glad I ain't. I am going to make part of
the supper myself--what do you think of that? Miss Fortune always has
grand suppers--when she has 'em at all; 'tain't very often, that's one
thing. I wish she'd have a bee every week, I know, and let me come and
help. Hark!--didn't I tell you? there's somebody coming this minute;
don't you hear the sleigh-bells? I'll tell you who it is now; it's the
Lawsons; you see if it ain't. It's good it's such a bright night--we can
see 'em first-rate. There--here they come--just as I told you--here's
Mimy Lawson, the first one--if there's anybody I do despise it's Mimy
Lawson."
"Hush!" said Ellen. The door opened and the lady herself walked in,
followed by three others--large, tall women, muffled from head to foot
against the cold. The quiet kitchen was speedily changed into a scene of
bustle. Loud talking and laughing--a vast deal of unrobing--pushing back
and pulling up chairs on the hearth--and Nancy and Ellen running in and
out of the room with countless wrappers, cloaks, shawls, comforters,
hoods, mittens, and moccasins.
"What a precious muss it will be to get 'em all their own things when
they come to go away again," said Nancy. "Throw 'em all down there,
Ellen, in that heap. Now, come quick--somebody else'll be here
directly."
"Which is Miss Mimy?" said Ellen.
"That big ugly woman in a purple frock. The one next her is Kitty--the
black-haired one is Mary, and t'other is Fanny. Ugh! don't look at 'em;
I can't bear 'em."
"Why?"
"'Cause I don't, I can tell you; reason good. They are as stingy as they
can live. Their way is to get as much as they can out of other folks,
and let other folks get as little as they can out of them. I know 'em.
Just watch that purple frock when it comes to the eating. There's Mr.
Bob."
"Mr. who?"
"Bob--Bob Lawson. He's a precious small young man for such a big one.
There--go take his hat. Miss Fortune," said Nancy, coming forward,
"mayn't the gentlemen take care of their own things in the stoop, or
must the young ladies wait upon them too? t'other room won't hold
everything neither."
This speech raised a general laugh, in the midst of which Mr. Bob
carried his own hat and cloak into the shed as desired. Before Nancy had
done chuckling came another arrival; a tall, lank gentleman, with one of
those unhappy-shaped faces that are very broad at the eyes and very
narrow across the chops, and having a particularly grave and dull
expression. He was welcomed with such a shout of mingled laughter,
greeting, and jesting, that the room was in a complete hurly-burly; and
a plain-looking stout elderly lady, who had come in just behind him, was
suffered to stand unnoticed.
"It's Miss Janet," whispered Nancy--"Mr. Marshchalk's aunt. Nobody
wants to see her here; she's one of your pious kind, and that's a kind
your aunt don't take to."
Instantly Ellen was at her side, offering gently to relieve her of hood
and cloak, and with a tap on his arm drawing Mr. Van Brunt's attention
to the neglected person.
Quite touched by the respectful politeness of her manner, the old lady
inquired of Miss Fortune as Ellen went off with a load of mufflers, "Who
was that sweet little thing?"
"It's a kind of sweetmeats that is kept for company, Miss Janet,"
replied Miss Fortune, with a darkened brow.
"She's too good for everyday use, that's a fact," remarked Mr. Van
Brunt.
Miss Fortune coloured and tossed her head, and the company were for a
moment still with surprise. Another arrival set them agoing again.
"Here come the Hitchcocks, Ellen," said Nancy. "Walk in, Miss Mary--walk
in, Miss Jenny--Mr. Marshchalk has been here this great while."
Miss Mary Hitchcock was in nothing remarkable. Miss Jenny when her
wrappers were taken off showed a neat little round figure, and a round
face of very bright and good-humoured expression. It fastened Ellen's
eye, till Nancy whispered her to look at Mr. Juniper Hitchcock, and that
young gentleman entered dressed in the last style of elegance. His hair
was arranged in a faultless manner--unless perhaps it had a _little_ too
much of the tallow-candle; for when he had sat for a while before the
fire it had somewhat the look of being excessively wet with
perspiration. His boots were as shiny as his hair; his waistcoat was of
a startling pattern; his pantaloons were very tightly strapped down; and
at the end of a showy watch-ribbon hung some showy seals.
The kitchen was now one buzz of talk and good-humour. Ellen stood half
smiling to herself to see the universal smile, when Nancy twitched her.
"Here's more coming--Cilly Dennison, I guess--no, it's too tall; _who_
is it?"
But Ellen flung open the door with a half-uttered scream and threw
herself into the arms of Alice, and then led her in; her face full of
such extreme joy that it was perhaps one reason why her aunt's wore a
very doubtful air as she came forward. That could not stand however
against the graceful politeness and pleasantness of Alice's greeting.
Miss Fortune's brow smoothed, her voice cleared, she told Miss Humphreys
she was very welcome, and she meant it. Clinging close to her friend as
she went from one to another, Ellen was delighted to see that every one
echoed the welcome. Every face brightened at meeting hers, every eye
softened, and Jenny Hitchcock even threw her arms round Alice and kissed
her.
Ellen left now the window to Nancy and stood fast by her adopted sister,
with a face of satisfaction it was pleasant to see, watching her very
lips as they moved. Soon the door opened again, and various voices
hailed the new-comer as "Jane," "Jany," and "Jane Huff." She was a
decidedly plain-looking country girl, but when she came near, Ellen saw
a sober, sensible face and a look of thorough good-nature which
immediately ranked her next to Jenny Hitchcock in her fancy. Mr. Bill
Huff followed, a sturdy young man; quite as plain and hardly so
sensible-looking, he was still more shining with good-nature. He made no
pretension to the elegance of Mr. Juniper Hitchcock; but before the
evening was over, Ellen had a vastly greater respect for him.
Last, not least, came the Dennisons; it took Ellen some time to make up
her mind about them. Miss Cilly, or Cecilia, was certainly very elegant
indeed. Her hair was in the extremest state of nicety, with a little
round curl plastered in front of each ear; how she coaxed them to stay
there Ellen could not conceive. She wore a real watch, there was no
doubt of that, and there was even a ring on one of her fingers with two
or three blue or red stones in it. Her dress was smart, and so was her
figure, and her face was pretty; and Ellen overheard one of the Lawsons
whisper to Jenny Hitchcock that "there wasn't a greater lady in the land
than Cilly Dennison." Her brother was very different; tall and athletic,
and rather handsome, _he_ made no pretension to be a gentleman. He
valued his fine farming and fine cattle a great deal higher than Juniper
Hitchcock's gentility.