How it was Done
Never in her life had Pam worked so hard as she did in that week before
Sophy was married. The house must be scrubbed from top to bottom. It had
seemed clean enough for everyday occupation, and she would not have
troubled about it until some wet spell had given her the leisure from
outside tasks necessary for cleaning out the one or two rooms which
seemed to need it most. But the wedding altered everything. Pam cared
not at all because the place needed almost everything in the way of
household plenishing; that was not her fault, nor her responsibility.
But her pride would have been hurt in its most vital part if those
neighbour women had come in to find dirty floors, and windows bunged up
with cobwebs. She was astir at dawn on Monday morning, and started on
her campaign against dirt in the most energetic fashion possible. When
she began to stir the rooms out she was dismayed to find how really
dirty they were, and she worked so hard that Jack declared there would
be nothing of her left by Thursday.
Sophy wanted to help with the cleaning, but was sternly reminded that
brides were looked upon as being rather ornamental than useful, and she
was not allowed to soil her hands for that one week at least. Don came
over on Tuesday and scrubbed the big kitchen for Pam; he had been away
over the week-end with George Lester, and knew nothing of the trouble at
home until he got back late on Monday evening, to find himself billeted
at the stores, in company with George, and ordered to keep away from
home. The two children who had sickened were not really ill, but of
course the next cases might be very bad indeed, so the Doctor was taking
no risks. Mrs. Grierson shut herself up with the small invalids, and the
rest of the children were taken to a lone house where there were no
other children, and their father saw them twice a day to make certain
they were not developing the complaint.
Dr. Grierson had done so many kind things for people in his time that
all the neighbours vied with each other in their efforts to smooth for
him the present embarrassment. Pam had to refuse so many offers of help,
and to insist so strongly that supplies should be kept down to the limit
she had asked for, that she was amazed, not only at the kindness of
everyone, but also at the resources at their disposal. She would not
allow them to bring anything to the house until Wednesday, by which time
she would have the place in fit trim to receive all the things that were
to be loaned, and all the food that was to be given.
She had refused to let Jack scrub, for she had her own ideas as to how
the work should be done, and she meant to have the house brought up to
standard somehow. But when Don appeared and took bucket and brush away
from her by sheer force, there was nothing for it but to give way,
because he was the stronger, and she knew she could not get the things
away from him if she tried. Then, too, he did the work in a masterly
fashion. It was pure pleasure to see the energy he put into the
brush-work, and the capable manner in which he swabbed up the water; the
corners, too, got such a routing-out that after watching him for five
minutes, Pam stretched her weary arms above her head, and went away to
put her hair straight, feeling that so far as the scrubbing was
concerned, her responsibility was at an end.
By Wednesday night the house was so transformed that Pam declared her
grandfather would not know the place if he came back.
“Do you think he will come back?” asked Jack, as the two had a final
look round before going to bed.
“Nathan said that if anything would bring him back it would be the
wedding. He would be so scandalized at the thought of having so many
women and girls about the place that he would certainly turn up if he
were still alive. That is one of the reasons why I have been so keen to
have a great fuss. Of course he may be very angry, but even that will be
worth while if it only ends this suspense, and lets us know where we
are.” Pam sighed. She was so very tired of the uncertainty of her
present life, and she so badly wanted her mother and the others to come
before the summer was really over. Their help would be useful, too, for
each day brought so many things to be done, and two pairs of hands
seemed quite inadequate for the task.
Sophy’s trunks were packed and labelled for the far west. There was
nothing left to be done, except the custards and the coffee, and there
would be plenty of help in the morning for them. Dr. Grierson had been
over for a last talk with his daughter, and Sophy had gone off to bed
drowned in tears, for it did seem cruelly hard that she could not have
the support of her mother’s presence at this, the most important time in
her life. But her father had promised that her mother should come to pay
her a visit before very long, and that was a very real consolation.
Still, there were tears to be shed, and Sophy was just having a really
good cry before Pam came upstairs.
Jack was going to sleep on the settle in the kitchen to-night, because
his bedroom had been requisitioned as an extra sitting-room, and it was
all arranged, and in the most splendid order. A big table formed from
boards from the barn stretched the length of the kitchen, and was duly
spread for the feast with borrowed knives and forks, spoons, and
crockery. Oh, it was a fine sight! for no one had been niggardly, and
everyone had done their bit to give the Doctor’s daughter a good
send-off.
“What a lot of fuss for one wedding!” remarked Jack. “If I were you and
Don, I would get married at the same time, now that we have got all the
things here. It seems a real pity to waste all this fine spread on one
couple, and you could not get such a smart carpet every day.”
“I am not going to get married yet awhile, so don’t worry about that;
and if you think the show is wasted on two people, you had better find a
wife for yourself, or else help Nathan Gittins to find one,” laughed
Pam. But her colour mounted, for privately she had been thinking what a
lovely place Ripple was for a wedding.
“I should not wonder if it puts the idea in his head,” Jack answered
soberly; and then he pranced up and down the room, looking at all the
things that had been loaned, and wondering what would happen if a
burglar came along.
“Oh, don’t even mention such a thing!” cried Pam. “I should not know
where to put my head if anything happened to any of the things. You must
sleep with one eye open, and if you hear a sound you must make a clamour
at once. Would you rather that I stayed here with you? I could get quite
a lot of sleep sitting in a chair. Indeed, I am so tired that I think I
could have a comfortable nap standing on my feet, as Mrs. Buckle’s old
horse does.”
“No, no, my child, you toddle off upstairs and get your beauty sleep,
and then you will be properly good-looking for to-morrow,” said Jack,
taking her by the shoulders and gently pushing her towards the door. “It
does not do for a girl to play fast and loose with her complexion; she
can only take care of what she has got, and she can’t hope to get
another when that is gone, unless she can afford to buy one, and even
that is not like the real thing. Don’t you worry about me. If a burglar
comes nosing round after this co-operative furnishing, he will get more
than he bargains for from the old dog and me. We are in fine feather
to-night I can tell you, so there is no need for you to worry.”
Sophy had cried herself to sleep by the time that Pam got upstairs. Pam
herself was so sleepy that it was almost too much trouble to slip out of
her garments. But when she lay down, and her tired body could rest, she
suddenly became tremendously wide-awake. It was the thought of her
grandfather that was keeping her from sleep. Ever since Nathan Gittins
had declared that the wedding would fetch him back if anything did, Pam
had been expecting that he would come, and she was stirred to a
wonderful pitch of excitement about it. Of course he would be angry,
that was only to be expected. But if only the ceremony was over, and
Sophy safely turned into Mrs. George Lester, Pam decided that she did
not much care what happened in the way of a disturbance. There would be
plenty of people on hand ready to manage the old man, and she herself
could render a good account of her stewardship.
What was it Nathan had said yesterday? Oh, she remembered! He had said
that he had never seen the land at Ripple in such a fine state of
cultivation before, and he had known the place for a good many years.
For much of this he was responsible himself, as he had cultivated the
land—that is to say, he had ploughed it and planted it, as he had done
Mrs. Buckle’s land. But Pam and Jack had paid for this by lending him
the use of their hands and their strength on his own fields, and they
had kept the crops at Ripple hand-hoed ever since the first bit of green
had shown through. It had been hard work, and they had been appallingly
ignorant, but they had done exactly as they had been told, and had
worked so hard that success was bound to come.
Pam flounced round uneasily. If only she could go to sleep! When morning
came she would be so tired that it would be positive misery to drag
herself from her bed. Oh, it was stupid to be so wakeful when she could
sleep! The moon poured a flood of silvery light into the room, and
before it paled dawn would come stealing up over the forest, for the
summer nights were at their shortest. She rose softly from the bed she
shared with Sophy, and walked to the window. This room looked out on the
side of the house where the forest came nearest, which was one of the
reasons why Pam loved it so; another of her reasons for being fond of it
was because it had been her mother’s room—indeed, she had found one of
her mother’s old cotton frocks hanging in the funny home-made wardrobe
that stood in one corner of the wide room.
The forest came so close on this side that only a strip of pasture lay
between it and the house. It was here that Pam had shot at the wolves to
scare them when they howled round the house in the winter. What a
difference between those nights and this one! Pam leaned out of the
window, and enjoyed the cool breeze, fragrant with the odours of hemlock
and pine, which stole across the wide reaches of the forest. Then her
ear was caught by a faint, rustling sound. What was it? Surely the cow
had not broken bounds again! It would be too annoying to have to go
hunting on Sophy’s wedding day. But no, by dint of craning her neck at a
most uncomfortable angle Pam got a glimpse of the cow lying peacefully
near to the big maple at the far end of the small strip of pasture. Then
she heard the rustling again, and she was positive she saw a head poked
out from the bracken and brambles.
A head! But whose head? Suddenly there rushed into her mind what Nathan
had said about her grandfather, and thrusting her head farther from the
window, so that she might not disturb Sophy, she called softly,
“Grandfather, Grandfather, is it you?”
How loud her voice sounded in the silence of the forest! The whirring of
the grasshoppers grew faint, as if they had paused listening for the
answer to her call; then a cock crowed lustily from the barn, under the
mistaken impression that morning was close at hand, and a sleepy bird in
a thicket hard by let loose a rippling cadence ending in a plaintive
chick-a-dee-dee-dee.
Though Pam strained her ears she heard not a single further movement,
and after a long while she crept back to bed, and fell asleep
immediately, not waking in the morning until she was aroused by Sophy.
Had it been fancy, or did someone really poke his head from that thicket
last night? she wondered. Directly she was dressed, she ran downstairs,
and made an exhaustive search of the spot. She got very wet from the
dew, and tore a three-corner slit in the sleeve of her blouse, but she
accomplished nothing else, and went back to the house feeling very cross
with herself for being so foolish.
Sophy was radiantly happy this morning, just as a bride should be. The
tears of last night had washed away her natural regret that her mother
could not stand by her to-day. After all, it might have been worse; and
Don, who came over early, told her that the two invalids were so well
that they refused to stay in bed, and were only kept in the house by
main force.
“Oh, it is a shame!” cried Sophy. “But there must always be a drawback
somewhere, and better that than some things. But it is horrid to be
parted from one’s mother!”
“So I think,” murmured Pam with a wistful sigh. “I have kept you from
Mrs. Grierson such a lot, too, that my conscience is troubling me a
bit.”
“Oh, you could not help yourself, and I have had a lovely chance of
doing my sewing,” said Sophy. “I cannot think how girls like to have
that sort of work done for them. I have had no end of real happiness
from making my trousseau.”
“That is because you are a hopelessly old-fashioned and stodgy person.
Early Victorian, we should call you in London, and we should tilt our
noses in quite a superior fashion. But all the same we should admire
your industry, and envy you the garments your clever fingers have made.”
Pam gave Sophy a big hug as she spoke, and then rushed away to look
after the custards. Weddings had their sad side, and it would be a real
grief to her to lose Sophy from her daily life. But she was not going to
shed tears to-day, however bad she might feel. Plenty of time for
weeping when the show was over and the guests were gone. She stirred the
custards with so much vigour that she spilled the stuff on to the hot
plate of the cooking stove, raising awful odours, and rousing the wrath
of Galena, who had come over early and assumed the leadership of the
food department.
There was so much to do that the hours of the morning simply flew. Pam
gave her turkeys a big meal in the middle of the day, and told them that
they would have very short commons for supper, and might even get none
at all. Then when the poultry and the young pigs had been stuffed until
they could eat no more, she and Jack rushed indoors to get into festal
attire. There was not much in the way of dress that either of them could
manage. Jack’s Sunday suit was rather shabby, and too small also, for he
had grown so fast since coming to New Brunswick. But he would not be the
only person with well-worn garments at the wedding, and when one
listened to his jokes, and joined in the laughter he raised, one forgot
all about his garb, and thought only of him.
Pam was not in much better case, for she had had no new clothes this
summer; but a girl’s things are easier to manage, and her white frock,
washed and ironed by her own hands, was fresh enough to pass muster
anywhere.
The company began to arrive quite early, for everyone was anxious to
have as much of the fun as possible. The horses were unharnessed, and
turned into the farther pasture with the cow. The poor beasts thought
that Sunday had come a little earlier than usual. They were worked so
hard at this time of the year that a few extra hours off work meant a
lot to them. Some of them had come fourteen or fifteen miles, but they
would rest until late in the evening, and so they enjoyed the treat in
their own way as much as the humans did in theirs.
Pam and Jack received the company. It was not etiquette that Sophy
should be seen as yet, so she remained upstairs, feeling rather out of
it, if the truth be told, and wondering what all the laughter was about
down below. By peeping from the big empty room which was next to their
bedroom she could get glimpses of wagons driving up to the house, filled
with people, and every minute the laughter and the fun downstairs grew
louder and merrier.
“What a time they are having!” she murmured, then she paced the room
restlessly, her little high-heeled shoes making a fitful tapping on the
bare floor as she walked. Of course it was lovely to be the bride, the
person of most consequence in the crowd, the one to whom all the others
were looking; but she realized that the others had their compensations,
and that there was a large amount of fun to be got in the hard work of
organizing and carrying the festivity through.
Then a hush fell on the place, and the house grew suddenly quiet. Sophy
began to tremble then, for she realized that the minister had come, and
she guessed that she would soon hear Pam’s foot on the stairs. It was
Pam who was coming to fetch her. Pam had to act in a good many rôles
that day. She was bridesmaid, she was hostess, and she had to mother the
poor fluttering little bride as well. These manifold interests left her
with no time to think of herself; she had scarcely a moment either to
think of her grandfather, or to wonder what sort of a scene there would
be if he chose this moment for his return to his home.
A light run of feet up the stairs, then the door flew open, and Pam
burst into the room.
“Oh, you are lovely!” she cried, with positive awe in her voice. “My
dear, I never realized before what a beautiful face you have; it has
always been the beauty of your character that has appealed to me. Come,
it is time, and the clergyman is waiting!”
All Sophy’s impatience and restlessness dropped from her as if it had
never been. She rose slowly, and without a word she put her hand in that
of Pam, then went with her down to the crowded sitting-room, where the
bridegroom awaited her coming. The silence was so profound that the
tapping of Sophy’s heels sounded quite loud as she crossed the kitchen
and entered the sitting-room, where her father came forward to lead her
on to the bright-hued carpet. A bobolink was singing in the tree
outside, and the sunshine filtered in through the elegant pair of white
lace curtains which Mrs. Luke Dobson of Hunt’s Crossing had lent to
adorn the window.
A low murmur of approval swept round the crowded room as the bride
walked forward to take her stand on the carpet. It was doubtful whether
Sophy heard it, for the full solemnity of what she was doing was on her
now, with the exaltation of a great happiness. It was Pam who heard it,
and to her it was like sweet music, for she knew that she had succeeded
in her undertaking, and that Sophy’s wedding, regarded from the
standpoint of a social function, was all that it should be.
It was a very novel sight to Pam, and it upset all her previous notions
of what weddings were like. She had been a spectator at several weddings
in London churches, but this was quite different, and in some peculiar
fashion immeasurably more solemn. In fact, before the ceremony was over
she was shaking and shivering, and telling herself that matrimony was
such a terrible responsibility that she would never dare to face it on
her own account. The old dog poked its head in at the open door, but
seeing the number of people gathered in serious state, the creature
backed out and fled. It had in a measure got used to seeing people, but
a number of persons gathered in one place always seemed to upset its
nerves.
When the benediction was pronounced, there was a stir and a movement;
everyone wanted to crowd about the bride, to congratulate her. But Pam
fled to the out-place where the kettles had been set to boil on the
cracked stove. She was responsible for the coffee-making, and she knew
that the wedding feast must begin directly the register had been signed,
for those of the guests who had come long distances would be greatly in
need of refreshment, and she was not minded to fall short in her duties
as hostess.
Amanda Higgins had been entrusted with the task of looking after matters
in this direction, but she was rather a feather-headed young person, and
all thought of the kettles and the fire went out of her head directly
she heard the tap-tapping of Sophy’s heels on the stairs. She had rushed
to see the bride, and getting squeezed into a corner of the sitting-room
whence it was not easy to escape, she had stayed there, revelling in the
show, while the fire had died down for want of attention, and the
kettles were scarcely warm.
Poor Pam! It was really hard to have succeeded so far to fail at this
point. She trembled with anger as she stuffed dry kindlings into the
stove, and listened to the roaring of the flames up the rusty old
stove-pipe. But it was horrid to feel angry on such an occasion; indeed,
it seemed almost like an insult to Sophy to give way to such bad temper
just now, and Pam fought with might and main to get calm control of
herself, the while she plied her fire with sticks.
Her face was hot and red, her hands were dirty, and even her frock had
some smudges, when the Irishman who had driven Janey Robinson and her
lame sister to the wedding came in from the barn, and took the work out
of her hands. He declared that he was a first-rate hand at making fires
burn on all occasions, and that nothing would make him happier than to
get those kettles to boil. Pam yielded her task thankfully enough, and
was turning to wash her hands before going back to the company when the
Irishman said:
“There was an old man came a-creeping round here a while ago, and he was
after asking if the young lady were to be seen, and I tould him that if
it was yourself he was after wanting to see, he would have to be waiting
until the wedding was over. He was moighty curious to know whose wedding
it would be, and when I had tould all I knew, and a little more, he said
that he would be after resting himself in the shade of the trees, until
such time as you might find it convenient to see him.”
Pam turned with a jerk, her heart beating so hard that it seemed to her
the Irishman must hear it.
“An old man, did you say? Where, oh where has he gone?”
“He said that he would be resting in the shade away out beyant,” and the
Irishman, whose name was Riley O’Sheen, flung his hand out in a vague
direction of the forest.
It was her grandfather, of course! That was Pam’s first thought, and her
second was that he was afraid to enter his own house because of the
wedding crowd, and all the bustle that was on hand. She must go and find
him, and bring him in to join in the feast! Oh, this tiresome Irishman,
why had he not come before to let her know she was wanted?
“Go, find Miss Gittins or Mrs. Buckle, and ask one of them to make the
coffee for me, and to begin the meal if I am not back. I must go to find
my grandfather, and bring him here as quickly as I can!” Pam was wildly
excited. She remembered the rustling that she had heard in the
undergrowth, and how she had fancied she saw a face poked out. Could
that have been the old man, come to reconnoitre before he ventured back
to his home? Then came the maddening wonder as to what it was that had
kept him away so long, and why he seemed afraid to come back.
She ran swiftly across the narrow strip of pasture, and plunged in among
the trees.
“Grandfather, Grandfather, where are you?” She was sending her voice out
in a shout, for she argued he might be hard of hearing, and oh, she must
make him understand that she wanted him to come. The Irishman had said
that he was going to rest in the shade over there, but that was surely
foolish, when there was shade in plenty under the trees which stood
almost close to the house.
“Grandfather, Grandfather, where are you?” Try as she would, she could
not keep a ring of impatience from her voice. They would be wanting her
at the house. Neither Mrs. Buckle nor Galena would know quite how much
coffee to make, and it was of all things most exasperating to have to
run away in this fashion, when there was so much to be done, and the
occasion was so unusually festive.
In spite of all the calling there was no response. Perhaps the man had
gone farther away. Pam searched along the narrow tracks made by the pigs
and the calves, she wandered here and hurried there with feverish
persistency, until the perspiration was pouring down her face. She had
torn her frock, and her hair, done more elaborately than usual, was
streaming down her back.
How really horrid it all was! She was ready to give up the quest in
disgust, and to go back to the house, when, shouting once again, she
heard a faint response to her calling, and at once plunged forward to
meet the one who called. In her haste she went to jump the rotting trunk
of a tree that lay half-buried in fern, but catching the heel of her
shoe as she tried to clear the obstacle, she came down with a tremendous
crash, and was for the time completely stunned.