It was perhaps one of the happiest nights that aunt Hannah ever spent.
She lay down in her bed in the sleeper and slept like a little child for
a time, for she was as tired as a baby after her day and night of
excitement, but in the early dawn she awoke and lay there listening to
the regular cadence of the moving train. It was music to her. Her life
had for years been a monotonous one, and every detail of the journey was
a delight to her. The turning wheels seemed to sing a tune to her, “Now
hath mine head been lifted up above mine enemies round about me.” She
tried to turn that thought out of her mind as soon as she discovered its
significance, for she did not like to think that even in her heart had
hid a feeling that Hiram and Nettie were her enemies, but somehow the
rejoicing stayed anyway.
She began to look forward to the morning and the day that was to follow,
the opening of her new life. What would it hold of good or of ill for
her? Would there be trials? Yes, but there had been trials before. She
would have “his strength to bear them, with his might her feet could be
shod. She could find her resting-places in the promises of her God,” as
she had done before. And it was such delightful work before her, a
prospect of making over a home and making it pleasant. Aunt Hannah took
rest, too, in the thought of experienced Molly Poppleton now reposing in
the berth above her. She was going on a mission at last. How good God
had been to her! He had tried her for a little while, but he was
bringing her out into a large place. She could see that, even though she
could not know the trials that were before her. Of course there were
trials, she expected that, earth was full of them; but she did not need
to carry them; Christ had borne them all for her long ago. She would
trust and he would bring her safely through as he had done before and
was doing now. Then her thoughts dwelt in sweet reflection upon her
Saviour whom she loved so much, and she communed with him and promised
to try to help every person who came within that house that she was to
make pleasant for him and his children, and to try to live for him
before them every day. And that crowded, rushing car became a holy
place, because God met her there and blessed her.
The train reached the Broad Street station at a very early hour. Celia
was glad of that, for it gave her plenty of time to meet her aunt and go
with her back to the house, without being late at the store. She had not
had time to reflect yet as to whether she would give up her position.
She was hardly ready to do so. It seemed to her that perhaps she might
do more good if she retained it for the present, at least until she
found some one else who needed it, and to whom she could give it with
profit, both to that person and to her employers who had been very kind
to her. Besides, she wished not to appear before the boarders yet as an
active agent in the reforms of the house.
At exactly half-past five she arrived at the Broad Street station. It
was an early hour for her to be out alone, and it was still dark save
for the electric lights which glared everywhere as if trying to keep off
the day. But the train would come in at five minutes to six, and Celia
had been too eager and too happy to sleep longer, so she paced up and
down in the ladies’ room until the train was almost due, watching the
people come and go and wondering about them all as she was wont to do.
As the time drew near for the train she went out and stood behind the
gates watching the trains moving back and forth. She began to say to
herself, “Oh, what if she should not come? What if something has
happened to the train? Or what if Nettie and Hiram have persuaded her at
the last minute not to come? Or what if she missed her train? But no,
she would have telegraphed. ‘Charge not thyself,’—dear me! How much I
do that. I must stop worrying ahead about everything. Aunt Hannah must
have seen that fault in me very glaringly. I never realized how much I
do it.” And then the train whistled and rolled into the station, and the
passengers began to alight, and stream into the gates, looking sleepy
and cold. Celia stood there in the dim greyness of the cold, foggy
morning and began to tremble with the excitement and joy of watching for
aunt Hannah. Suddenly she saw the ample form of Molly Poppleton loom up
behind the gilt-buttoned porter and she caught a glimpse of a little
grey bonnet just behind and knew that aunt Hannah was come.
She took them home in the street-car, and then escorted them up to her
little third story back room. She had risen early and put it in order.
Molly looked around in disdain.
“Well, Miss Celia, you don’t have things as fine in the city as I
expected,” she said. “The idea of their putting you up in such a room as
this! Why, Miss Celia, it ain’t as good as the kitchen chamber at
Cloverdale. I always heard a city was a dreadful place to live, but I
never thought it was this bad. The wonder to me is anybody that don’t
have to, stays in ’em. But we’ll have it _clean_ pretty soon anyway,
don’t you worry.” And she stalked to the window and surveyed the narrow
court below, where she surmised she would be obliged to dry her clothes.
She sniffed to herself, but Celia could see her practical eye already
planning how she would change the position of the ash bucket and the
garbage pail. She gave a sigh of relief at the thought of Molly
Poppleton’s ability, and turned to aunt Hannah, fairly smothering her in
kisses. Then she put a hand on each soft, loved cheek, held her off at
arm’s length and looked into her face.
“Now, you dear, good auntie, tell me just what you think of me? Am I a
wild, impractical girl, full of crazy schemes? Tell me right away.”
“Well,” said aunt Hannah, a queer little twinkle in her eyes, “that’s
what Hiram thinks.”
“Oh, he does, does he? Well, I don’t really suppose it will matter much,
do you? But I mustn’t stop now to talk. I have to be at that store in an
hour, and it takes half of that to get there. We must talk business. Do
you think you can get along to-day by yourself, with Molly? That is, I
mean without my worthy advice and assistance? Of course I’ll be home at
half-past six, and I’ll give in my resignation there if you think best,
but I hardly like to do it quite so soon after Mrs. Green was so kind
about getting it for me. It doesn’t seem quite fair to the firm either
to stop now, after they have had all the trouble of teaching me. Mrs.
Morris is to leave on the noon train. She is ready, except that her
faith hasn’t been quite equal to believing that you were really coming
to take her place. She told the boarders this morning that she was going
away for her health, and that she had secured a woman to take her place
for a while. She guessed they would like it just as well. She wasn’t
sure when she should return. The German promptly gave notice that he
should leave, and I am glad of it. Some of the others said that if
things didn’t go better than they had been doing for a week they would
have to follow his example, but I think they will change their minds
when they see the difference. I amused myself going to market last
evening. I bought a great big roast, one of the finest cuts, and some
fine potatoes and apples and yeast and flour. I know Mrs. Morris’ flour
isn’t good, for she can’t make anything out of it fit to eat. I also got
some spinach and celery and sweet potatoes, canned tomatoes and a few
other things. I want to have a regular treat the first night regardless
of the cost. You can figure things down afterward, but I thought we’d
have enough for once to make up for the days of starvation. That Maggie,
down in the kitchen, is a slouch and a bear. She gets in a towering rage
whenever you go near her. I have not said anything about her, except to
ask what contract Mrs. Morris had with her. I find it is on a day to day
basis, so you can do as you please. If you and Molly want her, and can
get the right kind of help out of her, keep her. If not, get rid of her
and we’ll find a second girl who knows how to do things right. Now,
shall we go down and see Mrs. Morris? And are you sure you are equal to
all this, and not too tired to begin to-day? I suppose Mrs. Morris would
wait till you are rested, if you want her to.”
But aunt Hannah smiled and said no, she was eager to begin. Then she
took off her bonnet and smoothed her grey hair and went down.
Mrs. Morris had on the inevitable old calico wrapper. Celia wondered if
she meant to travel in it. Her hair had evidently not been combed that
morning, only twisted in a knot. She seemed embarrassed by aunt Hannah
in her trim grey traveling dress, and hardly knew on what footing to
meet her.
“For the land sake!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands, from custom
perhaps, on the side of her wrapper before shaking hands. “So you’ve
come! And you’re really willing to undertake it, and think you can
succeed? I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. It’s a hard life! You look
too good for such a life. They’re an awful torment, boarders are! Me
heart has just been broke time an’ again with the troubles I’ve been
through with them. I’ll show you all around, and if you feel you can’t
do it, _yet_, I shouldn’t feel you was bound in any way to stick to your
bargain. Miss Murray she seemed to be so sure, but I wouldn’t want you
to be took at no disadvantage. You see I am afraid, if I get away, I
shan’t want to come back again, and I don’t want to go off and feel I
left you dissatisfied.”
They went down to breakfast soon, and Celia saw her aunt seated before
the uninviting meal. She felt sorry for her, and yet she thought she
would enjoy the meal with the prospect of the one she would give the
boarders later in the day. But she was scarcely prepared for the look of
horror that gradually overspread the good woman’s face, as she tasted
dish after dish and found them alike unpalatable. There was oatmeal that
morning. It was thick and lumpy, and only half cooked. Besides the salt
had been forgotten. There was pork and greasy fried potatoes, but they
were both cold, and unseasoned. The coffee was weak and muddy. Celia
swallowed a few bites. She felt that she could go hungry for one day.
Then she said a soft good-bye to aunt Hannah, squeezing her hand under
her napkin so the boarders would not see and slipped away.
Aunt Hannah finished all she cared to of her meal and went back to Mrs.
Morris. Molly Poppleton sat down to her breakfast in undisguised
disgust. Nothing but the prospect of the power that was to be hers held
her tongue from expressing her mind on the subject of good food decently
cooked. She did not even pretend to eat much, and she looked at the
slatternly form of Maggie as she lounged in to gather some plates, with
animosity in her eye. She spent most of her time in the dining-room
counting the fly specks and finger marks on the wall and windows. She
made up her mind that she would get time for those windows somehow
before dinner, if possible. If not, they should be done before another
dawn of light and breakfast anyway.
Meantime Mrs. Morris was showing aunt Hannah the house. This room
brought so much a week, and that one only so much, and so on, and at
each room she had a tale to tell of its various inmates during the years
she had kept a boarding-house. Aunt Hannah listened quietly, mentally
making notes of what she would and would not do. She saw, without
seeming to do so, the worn furniture, the need of a patch on a carpet,
or a turning of furniture to hide it, the need of a wardrobe, or bureau
in some cases. She set down in her mind the number of window shades
torn, or worn out or lacking, and thought how much some cheap muslin
curtains would improve things. She felt like a rich fairy, as she went
from room to room seeing its need, and knowing that she could wave a
wand and change it all. Sometimes the bareness or the attempt at
decoration by the boarder was pitiful. She paused a moment before a
picture of a quiet sweet-faced woman, in a dark velvet frame on Harry
Knowles’ bureau, and wondered who she was, and if the young man whom
Mrs. Morris said roomed there was worthy of a mother with such a face as
that. Then she went at Mrs. Morris’ request with her to her room and sat
there during an hour of conversation, in which Mrs. Morris, with many
sighs and tears, detailed her entire life and troubles for her benefit.
Aunt Hannah’s quiet, respectful attention and sympathy led her on until
she had unburdened all her heart. Then was the Christian woman’s
opportunity, and she spoke the word in season to the other woman, that
word which cannot fail to bear fruit in due time. Mrs. Morris, with her
empty life and joyless spirit, while she received the words with tears
and some gratitude, but gave no outward sign that they had more than
touched the surface of her life, yet remembered what had been said to
her, and as she sat in the train that afternoon, speeding far away from
the scene of her disappointments and disheartening, her fare paid by one
Christian, her house taken and managed by another whom she saw must be a
true saint, pondered all these things in her heart.
Mrs. Morris was gone, and aunt Hannah descended to the kitchen, bidding
the impatient Molly Poppleton wait until she called her.
Just before Mrs. Morris’ departure, she had informed the sullen-looking
Maggie that Miss Grant was the woman who was to take her place. Maggie
had responded with a significant look, which did not promise much for
taking the new mistress into her favor. She met Miss Grant in the middle
of the dining-room during her progress to the kitchen. Her hair was
frowsy, her dress soiled and torn, and her arms akimbo. Altogether she
would have furnished a formidable encounter to a woman who was not used
to managing servants and holding the reins of her household well in her
own hands.
“I just came to see what you wanted fer dinner,” she announced. “There’s
some things come from a new place where we never deal. I thought I’d let
you know.”
Aunt Hannah thought a minute. Then she said:
“Yes, Maggie, I’ll be out in the kitchen soon to attend to dinner, but
meantime it is only one o’clock and there is time enough to get this
room in order first. I think you would better wash those windows.”
Maggie stood aghast.
“And what’s the matter with this room, I’d like to know?” she said in a
loud, belligerent tone. “It’s just the same as it always is, and what’s
good enough fer Mis’ Morris ought to be good enough fer you. Indeed I’ll
wash no windows to-day. I’ve got me afternoon’s work all planned out.
This room’ll be swep’ when I sets the table fer dinner, an’ that’s all
it’ll get to-day. And you needn’t trouble your self about comin’ in the
kitchen. I never likes to have the missus in the kitchen, it flusters
me. I know me business and I ’tend to it, and I likes to have them as I
live with attend to theirs. If you’ve got any orders, give ’em, and I’ll
get dinner on time, you needn’t worry about that.”
Maggie had backed up against the kitchen door, her arms still akimbo,
and stood as if to defend the fortress of her dominion.
Aunt Hannah waited till she had drawn down a crooked shade and rolled it
straight again, pinning the torn edge, before she answered. Then she
turned and calmly faced the irate Maggie.
“I always manage my own kitchen, Maggie,” she said, in a quiet voice,
“and I intend to do so still. I want this dining-room put in order
first, before anything else is attended to. Get some cloths and hot
water right away, please.”
There was a dignity about aunt Hannah that was new in Maggie’s
experience. She had been accustomed to intimidate Mrs. Morris by such
conversation as she had just used, and she supposed she could do the
same by her new mistress. She never expected to have it treated with
such calm indifference. She was forced to her last resort.
“I can’t stay in a house where things are managed that way. No lady goes
into the kitchen. I know me business, and I don’t like to be interfered
with. If you ain’t suited with me doing as I think best, I can find
plenty of places.”
“Oh, certainly, if you prefer,” said aunt Hannah, pulling down the other
shade and fixing it neatly.
“Well, if I do, I’ll go right away, and then what’ll you do?” burst out
the astonished Maggie. “There’s all them boarders got to have their
dinner. You can’t fool with boarders, you know. They’ll all leave you.”
“I shall do very well,” answered aunt Hannah. “I brought one of my home
servants with me, and I can get others very easily. If you choose to
stay and do as I say I would like to have those windows washed at once,
otherwise you may go.”
Poor Maggie! She was crestfallen. This was new treatment. The mistresses
she was used to had to cater to the desires of their servants. She did a
great deal of work, and she preferred to do it her way. But aunt Hannah
was firm. Molly at that moment, too impatient to begin to be able to
wait any longer, put her head in at the door and asked if Miss Hannah
was ready for her. She eyed the crestfallen Maggie with the superiority
of a conqueror. That was enough. Maggie tossed her head and declared she
would not do another stroke of work in that house, and demanded back
pay. Miss Hannah settled up with her, and she departed, leaving Molly
monarch of the kitchen and scornfully surveying her new realm.