ALFARETTA'S PERPLEXITY
"Alfy! A-A-Alfy!"
Her name hissed into her ear partially roused the bound-out girl from a
nap she had been taking with the towel in one hand, an unwiped dish in
the other. She had the faculty of going to sleep anywhere and any time
opportunity offered. She now leaned comfortably against the wall beside
the sink, her eyes closed and her mind oblivious to her surroundings,
and dimly hearing through her dreams that sibilant call:
"A-A-A-Alfy!"
Then her ear was pinched and she brought back to reality.
"What you doin' to me, Montgomery Sturtevant? I'll tell your grandma!"
"Ain't meanin' to hurt you, A-A-Alfy. I--Don't you d-do that. I--Say,
I'm goin' to h-h-hide in the s-s-secret chamb--er. Don't you t-t-tell
anybody. You fetch my s-s-s-supper up after dark. An' some w-w-water.
Fetch enough to l-l-last--forever! I don't know as I s-s-shall
ever--ever--dare to c-c-come down."
The Mansion where the Sturtevants had lived during many generations was
a house even older than The Maples. It was far more quaintly ancient in
style, and had been one of the many "Headquarters" of our Revolutionary
generals. The earliest built house in the county, the part first erected
still stood strong and intact, though little used now. On this portion
of the Mansion the roof ended sharp at the eaves on one side, and but a
few feet above the ground; the opposite side being two full stories and
attic in height. Within this "old part" were many curious rooms, one
having the peculiarity of seven doors and but one window; a monster
fireplace, wherein one could stand and look straight up to the sky
through the great stone chimney, and where still hung a rusty gigantic
crane, once used for the roasting of meats and boiling of pots; but,
most curious of all, a perpendicular shaft leading to a "secret chamber"
beneath the sloping roof. To ascend this shaft one climbed upon small
triangular steps fitted alternately in the rear corners of it; and it
was entered through a sliding, spring-secured panel of the
"keeping-room." No stranger would have discovered that the panel was a
doorway, and even to Alfaretta it suggested deeds of darkness and
treachery. The utmost Montgomery had yet been able to persuade her to
do was to peep fearfully up that uncanny stair-way, from the dimness
below to the utter gloom at top. To ascend it, as he did, nimbly hand
over hand--the mere thought of it set her shuddering.
Now he was gone, and--there! She knew it. She heard him softly crossing
the bare floor of the "old part" in his stockinged feet, heard the rusty
squeak of the ancient spring-fastening, fancied that she heard--though
she could not--his swift ascent of the ladder stairs, and--heard no
more.
But she was now far wider awake than the pinch on her ear had made her,
and she was terribly disturbed. In that house everybody, meaning Madam
and herself, did what its young "master" desired. Of course on the
lady's part there were some exceptions to this rule, but none whatever
on Alfaretta's. The lad was at once her delight and her torment; in his
wilder moods teasing her relentlessly, but in his more thoughtful ones
pitying her for her hard lot in life. Yet, in fact, since the girl had
been taken from the "county farm" to serve Madam Sturtevant until she
should be eighteen, she was scarcely poorer than the mistress who
employed her, and who scrupulously shared her own comforts with her
charge.
Big as the house was, there was very little money in it. None whatever
would have been there save for the generosity of distant relatives who
regularly sent a small cheque to the Madam, as well as a box of clothing
for the grandson; nor did they even dream that upon that cheque and the
neighborly kindness of Eunice Maitland the household at the mansion
existed.
Fortunately, for the present, Alfaretta demanded nothing in the matter
of wages. When she should be eighteen the, to her, almost fabulous sum
of one hundred dollars would be her due as well as a decent "fitting
out" of wearing apparel. Then she would be free to go or stay, work for
"real wages" for this mistress, or engage herself to another. But
eighteen was a long way off as yet, and though sometimes a wonder as to
where she should get the pledged one hundred dollars did cross Madam
Sturtevant's mind, she put the thought aside as soon as possible.
Sufficient unto that day would be its own evil, and there had been days
in the past far more evil than Alfy's coming of age could ever be.
Had relic-hunters known it the Mansion was a storehouse of genuine
"antiques" which would have been eagerly purchased at fancy prices; but
Marsden was far out of the line of such persons, and, save in extreme
necessity, the old gentlewoman would have refused to part with her
belongings.
Eunice, who was better informed on such matters because of her wider
reading, had once delicately suggested to her friend that such or such
an old "claw-foot" was worth a deal of money, and that it wasn't really
necessary to have four tall clocks, each more than a century old,
ticking the hours away in that empty house.
But her suggestion was wholly misunderstood. Madam had rather crisply
replied that she was perfectly capable of winding the clocks on the one
day in eight when they required it, and hoped to continue so till her
life's end. Indeed, it had used to be a rather formal little household
ceremony--that winding of the clocks on every Sunday morning. A ceremony
that had always been performed by the two reigning heads of the "family"
in each succeeding generation. It had been Madam's place to walk with
her husband from room to room and stand beside him while with the queer
old keys he wound the weights up from the bottom of the upright cases to
the top, whence they would again begin their slow descent to the bottom,
reaching it as another Lord's Day came around.
Nowadays, Montgomery, as the last of his race, had been promoted to
accompany his grandmother on this clock-winding tour, and had once
innocently asked:
"Did my father use to go with y-you, as I-I-I do?"
Strangely enough, he had never before inquired much about his parents,
but had somehow imbibed the knowledge that both were dead. His father
had once "gone away" and never returned; but his mother had come home,
bringing him an infant, had placed him in the Madam's arms, had taken to
her bed, and had left it only to be carried to the burying-ground on the
hill. Of her the old lady often talked, and once when they had carried
roses to the unmarked grave he had heard her softly quote: "A sweeter
woman ne'er drew breath, than my son's wife, Elizabeth."
But of that son, her own only child, she said nothing till he asked that
unfortunate question. Then she had turned upon him with a face so unlike
her own that he was frightened and needed no command to make him avoid
that subject forever after.
"Your father is--gone; has died to us. Speak of him no more."
The tragedy of her expression haunted him for a time, and he wondered
why she was so much more distressed by mention of her son than of her
husband, since both were dead. However, he soon forgot the matter save
to obey her wish, though afterward this clock-winding, which he had
thought a "bother an' n-n-nuisance," seemed fully as sacred an act as
the church-going which followed it.
This, then, was Montgomery's home and life, and why he who was so petted
and indulged should put himself in hiding, and, of all places, in that
dreadful "secret chamber," puzzled Alfaretta.
"He told me not to tell Madam, an' he told me to bring his supper. How
can I? How dast I? I--I'd be more afraid to go up that stair 'an to walk
through the graveyard alone at midnight. I would so, Ma'am Puss, an' you
keep your nose out that suppawn, I tell you!"
The perturbed little maid felt that it was good to have even a cat to
talk to, and vented some of her vexation by kicking the unlucky animal
aside from the pot, whose hot contents she was merely sniffing. Suppawn
and milk was the customary supper at the Mansion, and as its mistress
liked to have the pudding cooked for a long time and also continually
stirred during that operation, Alfaretta had become expert in the matter
of managing. The pot was duly put on at the hour appointed, and the
Indian meal carefully sifted into the salt, boiling water. When the
mixture appeared fairly smooth and Alfy's arm was tired the pot was set
upon the hearth and the young cook went to sleep. When the sleep was of
sufficient length to cool the porridge Ma'am Puss extracted her own
supper in advance of the family's, and nobody was the wiser. But to-day,
Alfaretta had forgotten to remove the pot from the stove while she did
her "noon dishes" and taken her intermediate nap, with the result that
the suppawn was burned and even the cat wouldn't touch it. And although
she had whisked it off the fire as soon as Monty had disappeared, her
trained nose told her that this was a supper spoiled for everybody. She
was very sorry for Madam, who would try to eat it, and always bore more
patiently with her young handmaid than that person wholly deserved, but
there was a silver lining to that cloud! Montgomery would never touch
suppawn if it were scorched: therefore, she need carry him none of it.
[Illustration: "MA'AM PUSS EXTRACTED HER OWN SUPPER IN ADVANCE OF THE
FAMILY'S"]
"Couldn't have got any milk up there, anyway, without spillin' it, Ma'am
Puss, an' you know it. Goody! Course he'll come down. He'll have to if
he gets starvin' hungry. No harm done--much. I wonder what he's been up
to now! Well, I can't help it. I didn't get him into no scrapes. An'
I'll work real hard the rest the afternoon, hemmin' that petticoat
Madam's give me to make over for myself. It'll be a real good petticoat
if I ever get it done, though it's about forty rods around the bottom, I
believe."
Full of good intentions, Alfaretta carefully set the burned pudding back
on the stove, wherein the wood fire had nearly gone out, and sat down to
her task of needlework. In reality, she was a very tired little girl.
Madam was daintily neat and vigorous for a woman of her years. Never
very robust, she still exercised what strength she had in a ceaseless
round of sweeping and dusting. All the empty old rooms were as orderly
as when there had been many servants to attend them, but this was
accomplished at a cost of incessant labor and watchfulness, which the
mistress really enjoyed since it filled her days with "things to do,"
but which was not so well liked by her bond-maid.
Ma'am Puss curled herself at Alfy's feet and purred herself to sleep so
soundly that a tame mouse, the girl's own especial pet, came out from
hiding and scampered merrily about the kitchen floor. The chorus of
clock-ticks sounded drowsily through the silent house, Madam was taking
her daily rest on her lounge in the sitting-room, and after a time the
seamstress's good intentions passed into a maze of dreams. In them she
seemed to be eternally climbing steep stairs into a chamber of horrors
tenanted by one starving boy; or she was watching Madam choke to death
over a lump of hot scorched porridge; or she was being tossed on the
horns of Squire Pettijohn's black bull,--the terror of all young, and
some old, Marsdenites,--and from this last dream she awoke to find the
kitchen quite dark, and Whitey mooing outside the window.
It was Montgomery's place to "tend cow," the lonely remnant of a once
large herd, but it was Alfaretta's duty to milk it.
"Yes, Whitey! It's all right, an' for once you've come home by yourself.
A good job, too. Let me see. How fur have I sewed? To there--to there!"
sleepily murmured the maid, and realizing that she had on that afternoon
of best intentions accomplished the magnificent distance of two inches!
"Two inches, if it's a stitch. Two inches a day for--How many days will
it take to hem--to hem--Huh! I can't bother! But if I'm to go to school
next quarter as Madam says I may, I'll have to do faster 'n that. Might
get it ready for my outfit, like Monty says," remarked the sewer to
herself, laughing carelessly.
Folding the garment neatly, she put it back in the work-basket her
mistress had given her, and taking her pail, went out to milk old
Whitey. But first she attended to what was properly Montgomery's part of
the evening's chores, stalling the cow and throwing into her manger the
scanty supply of night fodder that could be afforded. Then she sat down
to milk, and accomplished that operation so slowly that Whitey turned
her head as far as the stanchions would permit to see what this slowness
meant.
With the coming of the dusk Alfaretta's perplexities had returned and
brought others with them. It was not only a question of the boy's going
supperless--nor her courage, nor of burned porridge and Madam's lifted
eyebrows when it was tasted, which to the bond-girl was "Worse 'an a
lickin';" it was that further one of the grandmother's inquiries. How
should she answer them?
She loitered as long as she could, but the evil hour could not be
indefinitely postponed. Madam's habits were as exact as those of her
ancient clocks, and precisely as the four of them were striking six the
little silver bell tinkled in the dining-room.
With an air of every-day indifference, Alfaretta dished the burned
porridge upon a delicate china platter and filled a cut-glass pitcher
with milk. These she placed upon a silver tray and carried to the
shining mahogany table where the mistress was already seated. Then she
took her own place behind the lady's chair, as she had been trained,
ready to serve the simple meal; yet hardly had she stationed herself
there than the dreaded question came:
"Where is Montgomery, Alfaretta?"
"Oh, dear! How not to tell the truth an' how not to lie!" reflected the
perplexed girl, but not till the question was repeated did she reply: "I
s'pose he's--he's somewheres."
Madam's eyebrows were lifted then. "Why, Alfaretta!"
"Yes, Madam. I'm sorry the suppawn scorched. I--I was terr'ble sleepy
an' I stopped stirrin' a little minute an' first I knew--"
"I asked for Montgomery. Did you tell him that supper was served?"
"No, Madam."
"Please do so."
Glad of any reprieve from giving the answer she hated to make, the girl
left the room in haste, as if intent upon summoning the lad. But she
was gone longer than seemed necessary, nor did the waiting grandmother
hear the boyish voice she loved, despite its stammering; and she was
herself just rising to look for the lad herself when the maid reëntered,
pale and breathless, and evidently frightened in extreme.