A REFORM IN THE BILL OF FARE.
"Justin," said Captain White, a few days later, "that child is starving
herself."
The two men had just left the house, and were on their way to the town.
"I know," said Justin, in a puzzled voice, "and I am wondering what to
do."
"Have you spoken to your mother?"
"Yes; I told her that Derrice was dainty about her food, and there must
be a change in our diet."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing; she apparently agreed to what I said. Micah, I am afraid I
have got to set up housekeeping for myself."
"You couldn't put that baby in charge of a house, Justin."
"Certainly not."
"And no boarding-house would content her; she'd want a first-class
hotel."
"Yes."
"And you can't afford that."
"No."
"And you don't know what to do. Will you leave it to me?"
"Yes."
"All right," and Captain White swung himself round a near corner and
disappeared. That day he came home later than usual to dinner, and
standing by the table looked with a contemptuous air at the meagre
roast of mutton, the half-dozen potatoes reposing in their jackets at
the bottom of a deep dish, the small, uninviting slabs of turnip, and
the few canned peas peeping timidly from a blue bowl.
Mrs. Prymmer glanced up pleasantly when he came in. "Give Micah some
mutton, Justin."
"No," vociferated Captain White, "don't give him any."
Mrs. Prymmer was surprised. Her cousin was something of a favourite
with her, in spite of his abruptness of speech, for he represented so
many dollars and cents,--a most important item in her housekeeping.
"Have some potato and turnip, then," she said, agreeably.
"No, I won't have any turnip and potato," and, instead of sitting
down in his usual place, he threw himself on the sofa, and sulkily
surveyed the three people at the table. Derrice went on toying with
her slice of meat. Justin remained imperturbable, while Mrs. Prymmer
was in despair. A recalcitrant boarder,--the thought was misery, for
the next step would be his loss. Justin's protestations and Derrice's
disdain were nothing. They were not boarders, but her cousin must be
propitiated.
"If I had thought, Micah," she said, hastily, "I would have made some
caper sauce."
"Caper sauce," he said, contemptuously. "What's caper sauce when the
whole dinner's backsliding!"
Mrs. Prymmer said nothing more until an attenuated jam roll came on,
when she observed, feebly, "Let me pass you a bit of pudding, Micah;
you'll want something to stay your stomach before night."
"To stay my stomach," he roared, with well-assumed fury. "I ain't got
any left; it's all worn out."
Mrs. Prymmer subsided after this, and her son and his wife finished
their meal in silence.
"Derrice," said Justin, drawing his wife aside before he left the
house, "you will find some fruit in your room. Have patience,
dear,--the bill of fare will soon improve."
Derrice smiled sweetly under his gentle touch, and when he kissed her,
and murmured, "Patient little wife," she blushed with pleasure, and
went to the window to watch him going with his slow and measured pace
down the different flights of steps to the street.
Mrs. Prymmer meanwhile sat in the dining-room, trembling like a person
awaiting doom, and fascinated helplessly by the strangely fiery eye of
her cousin.
"Hippolyta Prymmer," he was saying, angrily, "haven't I been boarding
in this here house for twenty years?"
"Yes, Micah."
"Haven't I paid you out good board money all the time,--eleven dollars
a week?"
"Yes, Micah."
"Come now,--you've found counterfeit money among it,--there's been a
bad quarter, a shady greenback?"
"No, Micah, there hasn't."
"Then what do you mean by treating me so?"
"Micah," she said, trembling more violently, "I don't know what you
mean."
"Ain't you getting old?" he inquired, lashing himself into a yet more
violent passion.
"I don't know,--yes, I suppose so."
"Ain't I getting old? Look at the gray hairs creeping in my head.
Look at the tracks of the old crow. Does it stand to reason that my
appetite's what it used to be?"
"I haven't noticed any difference, Micah."
"Haven't you?" he exclaimed, in violent sarcasm. "You think I can eat
cold meat, cold potatoes, and porridge just like I used to twenty
years ago? You've brought me up on it, and you think I can stay on it."
"I--I never thought about it, Micah."
"Well, you've got to think, or you'll see a pair of soles flashing down
the street. Does it stand to reason, because you've been brought up on
plain food and are tough as door nails on it, that you've got to stick
to it?"
"I--I don't know--" and in utter confusion Mrs. Prymmer tried to wonder
whether her usually self-possessed cousin was going crazy.
"I've got to clear out," he said, suddenly rising and flinging himself
toward the door. "You don't want to please me,--you don't care if I
starve to death. I'll go down to the hotel. Good-bye, Hippolyta. If any
one dies, send for me, and I'll come to the funeral."
"Micah, stop! stop!" cried the unhappy woman, clinging to him. "I can't
spare your board money. Justin's salary isn't large, and my rents are
slow coming in, and I've got to keep you. Tell me what I can do?"
"You'll not do it," he said, trying to get away from her.
"I will, I will, Micah, only try me," and genuine tears started in her
eyes.
Captain White flung himself back on the sofa and tried not to look at
her. "There'll be too much to do," he said, gloomily.
"No, no. I'll do anything."
"Would you give me hot biscuits for breakfast, and strong coffee,--none
of your slops, and you've got to rinse out the coffee-pot every morning
and not hold it over from one morning to another--"
"Yes, yes--"
"Keep still till you hear what more's to come. Always hot potatoes,
fried, or in chips, or some fancy way, and a chop, or steak, or liver
and bacon, or some such thing, and corn bread--"
"I'll do it," she sighed, "though it will be an awful trouble, and I'll
have to get up an hour earlier."
"And fruit to start with. Always apples, or oranges, or pears, grapes,
peaches, or whatever's in the market."
"Yes, you shall have it, Micah."
"And for dinner, soup always, and fish, and two kinds of meat, and
three kinds of pudding or pie, and more fruit and coffee and tea."
"But the money," she gasped,--"it will cost a fortune."
"Ain't I going to pay you,--just you wait; and a hot supper such as you
get at hotels. None of your bread and butter and preserves and weak
tea arrangements. Now, do you hear all that, and can you do it?"
"Yes, Micah, I can," she said, firmly. She had grasped the situation
now. "But you've got to pay me--"
"Well, how much?--name your price now, and don't cheat me."
"I'll have to reckon it up; but I should say it would be as much as
fourteen dollars."
"Fourteen dollars!--call it twenty. I'll pay you twenty dollars a week
if you'll set me such a table as I describe. Mind, no scrimping, and no
setting before me dishes that ain't for the rest of the family, to make
me feel mean. And you've got to have enough for me to bring a friend in
any time I choose. And any day you don't suit me, I'll clear out to the
hotel. I am going down there now to get my dinner, and you can spend
the afternoon laying in supplies," and, holding both hands over his
mouth, he rushed from the room.
He left his cousin standing in the middle of the floor, a prey to
resentful suspicion. Her eye fell on Derrice's half-eaten jam roll, and
she was just muttering, "I believe that girl is at the bottom of it,"
when the girl herself stood before her.
"Is Captain White ill?" she asked, in concern.
"No; he is fussing about his food. Did he say anything to you about
it?"
"No," replied Derrice, calmly, and going back to the parlour she
watched the lean ex-sailor rolling down the street in a more eccentric
fashion than usual.
He was choking and swaying with laughter. "I'm giving her something to
do besides attending divine service and bullying her daughter-in-law.
She'll have to stay at home and cook. Hippolyta Prymmer, you'll find me
most as hard as your other master, the devil," and, trying to suppress
his hilarious amusement, he entered the hotel, where he presently
had a door full of waiters gazing at him over each others' shoulders
in astonishment at the celerity with which he cleared one dish after
another of those set before him.
Justin, meanwhile, was having another kind of experience. The big brick
building to which he turned his steps was down by the river bank. All
through the town the river was bordered by a massive stone wall, upon
which many of the principal stores and offices were founded.
From the windows of the cashier's room one looked directly on the
river, and into this room Justin had entered upon arriving at the scene
of his daily occupation. He was standing engaged in conversation with
his assistant when a sudden shriek outside caused them both to hurry to
the window.
A child had fallen from a house near by on one of the large cakes of
ice whirling about the narrow channel. Her position was dangerous, for
she was too small to understand the directions shouted to her to throw
herself flat on her face and cling to the ice until an attempt could be
made to rescue her. Instead of heeding the warning voices, she extended
her little arms toward her agonised mother, while her pitiful cries
caused tears to spring to the eyes of every one who saw her.
The ice-cake on which she sustained her precarious footing swung under
the bank window. Justin looked down at the light head so strangely
like Derrice's, then, without a word, he lowered himself cautiously,
and dropped in the clear streak of water next the wall. Making a
few strokes he succeeded in catching hold of the mass of ice and in
inducing the small child to sit down.
Lower down, men with poles and ropes were waiting. The danger to the
child was not as great as that to himself, for he feared to draw
himself up on the raft of ice lest his weight should too much depress
it and disturb the little one now crouching on it. Carefully he tried
to guide it toward the rescuers, keeping meanwhile a watchful eye
on other swinging, pursuing blocks behind. One, however, was too
persistent for him. He tried to allow it to pass, to crowd himself
against the stone wall, but it turned a ragged edge, and he received a
blow on the temple. Dizzy, fainting, and with eyes full of blood, he
felt himself sinking down into the river, away from light and hope, and
all things pleasant and attractive.
When he came to himself he found that he was lying on his own bed, and
his mother and Captain White were bending over him.
Both their faces were drawn with anxiety, but they grew relieved at his
feeble smile.
"He's come to," said Captain White, gleefully.
An old man advanced from a corner. "I told you it would not be long. It
was only a slight concussion."
"Slight concussion," grumbled Captain White, "combined with almost
total drowning. Well, old boy, how do you feel?"
"Shaken up. Did they get the child?"
"Yes, squealing like a pig to think you'd left her."
"Who got me out?"
"I performed that little service. I was sitting, taking my dinner in
the hotel, when I heard a great racket, and saw waiters running toward
the pantry windows. I ran too,--saw you coming along under the hotel
wall, ramming the child ahead; then, right within smell of good food,
you went down like a stone. I went like another, thanking my lucky
stars that I'm as much at home in the water as a rat, but I did better
than you, for I took a rope with me. You know they always keep one
at the hotel in case of accidents. I clutched you, and up we came
together, thanks to the waiters. How are you now?"
"Better. Where is Derrice?"
"I don't know; out somewhere. I wish she would get home without
hearing. Some one will have the kindness to frighten her to death.
Sharks and tommy cods, here she comes! Look at your mother trying to
stop her. What wild geese women are!"
There was no stopping Derrice. With a deathly white face, and round,
startled eyes, she flew straight to the bed, and, seeing the spots of
crimson on her husband's bandaged head, slipped down beside him, and
promptly fainted.
"She ought to have been kept out," said Mrs. Prymmer, in annoyance,
while she went to a drawer for hartshorn.
In a few minutes the girl had recovered, and, seizing one of her
husband's hands, knelt on the floor beside him, and buried her face in
the bed-clothes. Not a word would she speak, even when addressed, until
an hour had passed, and Mary had rung the supper bell from below.
"Well, I suppose we've got to eat," said Captain White, sauntering
along the hall, and looking in the door. "You don't feel like coming
down, Justin?"
"I believe I will lie still; my head is light yet."
"I will stay with him. Go down, you all," and Mrs. Prymmer stared at
Derrice, whom she never mentioned by name, if she could possibly avoid
doing so.
The girl raised her pale face. "I will stay with him."
"No," said Mrs. Prymmer, obstinately. "You go down. I am his mother."
"And I am his wife," exclaimed Derrice, springing to her feet.
Mrs. Prymmer quailed before her haughty gesture. She was beaten, and,
while Justin and Captain White maintained a discreet silence, she
precipitated herself with angry celerity toward the staircase.
Derrice waited until she heard her enter the dining-room; then she
turned to her husband, who had raised himself on his elbow, and was
staring fixedly at her, his breath coming hard and fast, his eyes
bright with a strange expectancy.
"Justin," she said, vehemently, "what is the matter with me? I feel as
if I could strike any one that kept me from you."
The jealousy of a new-born love animated the passionate, almost fierce,
little figure beyond him. In secret and exultant pride the young man
marked her burning eye, the convulsive heaving of her beautiful breast,
and her nervously extended hands.
"Come here, Derrice," he said, quietly.
She went readily to him, the young wife who had always been so shy,
and, surrendering herself unheedingly to his caresses, struggled in
vain for self-control.
"It was such a shock,--I heard you were dead. I ran, then I stopped; my
breath was all gone. I thought of my father, but it did not comfort me.
Justin, am I going mad?"
"No, no," and in intense and long-mastered emotion, he drew her head to
his breast. "Lie there, dear child, and rest; you do not wish to leave
me?"
"No, no," she murmured. "I have been a bad wife to you. I thought of
it, and my heart stood still. I will do what you say now, I promised my
father to be good."
A sigh of ineffable satisfaction escaped his lips. Very gently, in
order not to startle her, he drew her closer to him, "Derrice, this is
love."
"Is it? It is more like death," and, raising her head, she looked
sharply at him.
"To love is to suffer, darling."
"And is this the way you have been feeling about me?"
"Yes, yes; I cannot describe the long-drawn-out misery of the past few
weeks."
In proud, sweet dignity she put her arms around his neck, kissed him
once, then gently forced his head back on the pillow. "I shall never
make you suffer again, and now I must enforce the doctor's orders. You
are to be kept still."
In a fascinated, incredulous ecstasy he watched her as she took up her
position at his bedside. He could not persuade her to talk, and when,
with an irrepressible remark, he occasionally lifted his head, she
immediately averted her own, and he had a glimpse only of a pale, happy
cheek. However, she sometimes extended a hand, and, with an air quite
grandmotherly, smoothed the coverlet, or pressed his fingers, in order
to assure him that she was not sleeping at her post of duty.