A COMMITTEE OF LADIES
It was about a week after the receipt of Edna's letter that Willy Croup
came to Mrs. Cliff's bedroom, where that lady had been taking a
surreptitious glance at her Californian blankets, to tell her that there
were three ladies down in the parlor who wished to see her.
"It's the minister's wife, and Mrs. Hembold, and old Miss Shott," said
Willy. "They are all dressed up, and I suppose they have come for
something particular, so you'd better fix up a little afore you go down."
In her present state of mind, Mrs. Cliff was ready to believe that
anybody who came to see her would certainly want to know something which
she could not tell them, and she went down fearfully. But these ladies
did not come to ask questions. They came to make statements. Mrs. Perley,
the minister's wife, opened the interview by stating that, while she was
sorry to see Mrs. Cliff looking so pale and worried, she was very glad,
at the same time, to be able to say something which might, in some
degree, relieve her anxiety and comfort her mind, by showing her that she
was surrounded by friends who could give her their heartfelt sympathy in
her troubles, and perhaps do a little more.
"We all know," said Mrs. Perley, "that you have had misfortunes, and
that they have been of a peculiar kind, and none of them owing to your
own fault."
"We can't agree exactly to that," interpolated Miss Shott, "but I won't
interrupt."
"We all know," continued Mrs. Perley, "that it was a great loss and
disappointment to you not to be able to get down to Valparaiso and settle
your affairs there, for we are aware that you need whatever money is due
you from that quarter. And we understand, too, what a great blow it was
to you to be shipwrecked, and lose all your baggage except a hand-bag."
Miss Shott was about to say something here, but Mrs. Hembold touched her
on the arm, and she waited.
"It grieves us very much," continued the minister's wife, "to think that
our dear friend and neighbor should come home from her wanderings and
perils and privations, and find herself in what must be, although we do
not wish to pry into your private affairs, something of an embarrassed
condition. We have all stayed at home with our friends and our families,
and we have had no special prosperity, but neither have we met with
losses, and it grieves us to think that you, who were once as prosperous
as any of us, should now feel--I should say experience--in any manner the
pressure of privation."
"I don't understand," said Mrs. Cliff, sitting up very straight in her
chair. "Privation? What does that mean?"
"It may not be exactly that," said Mrs. Perley, quickly, "and we all know
very well, Mrs. Cliff, that you are naturally sensitive on a point like
this. But you have come back shipwrecked and disappointed in your
business, and we want to show you that, while we would not hurt your
feelings for anything in the world, we would like to help you a little,
if we can, just as we would hope you would help us if we were in any
embarrassment."
"I must say, however--" remarked Miss Shott; but she was again silenced
by Mrs. Hembold, and the minister's wife went on.
"To come straight to the point," said she, "for a good while we have been
wanting to do something, and we did not know what to do. But a few days
ago we became aware, through Miss Willy Croup, that what was most needed
in this house is blankets. She said, in fact, that the blankets you had
were the same you bought when you were first married, that some of them
had been worn out and given to your poorer neighbors, and that now you
were very short of blankets, and, with cold weather coming on, she did
not consider that the clothing on your own bed was sufficient. She even
went so far as to say that the blankets she used were very thin, and that
she did not think they were warm enough for winter. So, some of us have
agreed together that we would testify our friendship and our sympathy by
presenting you with a pair of good, warm blankets for your own bed; then
those you have could go to Willy Croup, and you both would be comfortable
all winter. Of course, what we have done has not been upon an expensive
scale. We have had many calls upon us,--poor old Mrs. Bradley, for
one,--and we could not afford to spend much money. But we have bought you
a good pair of blankets, which are warm and serviceable, and we hope you
will not be offended, and we do not believe that you will be, for you
know our motives, and all that we ask is that when you are warm and
comfortable under our little gift, you will sometimes think of us. The
blankets are out in the hall, and I have no doubt that Miss Willy Croup
will bring them in."
Mrs. Cliff's eyes filled with tears. She wanted to speak, but how could
she speak! But she was saved from further embarrassment, for when Willy,
who had been standing in the doorway, had gone to get the blankets, Miss
Shott could be restrained no longer.
"I am bound to say," she began, "that, while I put my money in with the
rest to get those blankets,--and am very glad to be able to do it, Mrs.
Cliff,--I don't think that we ought to do anything which would look as if
we were giving our countenances to useless extravagances in persons, even
if they are our friends, who, with but small means, think they must live
like rich people, simply because they happen to be travelling among them.
It is not for me to allude to hotels in towns where there are good
boarding-houses, to vestibule cars and fur-trimmed cloaks; but I will say
that when I am called upon to help my friends who need it, I will do it
as quick as anybody, but I also feel called upon by my conscience to lift
up my voice against spending for useless things what little money a
person may have, when that person needs that money for--well, for things
I shall not mention. And now that I have said my say, I am just as glad
to help give you those blankets, Mrs. Cliff, as anybody else is."
Every one in the room knew that the thing she would not mention was the
money Mrs. Cliff had borrowed for her passage. Miss Shott had not lent
any of it, but her brother, a retired carpenter and builder, had, and as
his sister expected to outlive him, although he was twelve years younger
than she was, she naturally felt a little sore upon this point.
Now Mrs. Cliff was herself again. She was not embarrassed. She was
neither pale nor trembling. With a stern severity, not unknown to her
friends and neighbors in former days, she rose to her feet.
"Nancy Shott," said she, "I don't know anything that makes me feel more
at home than to hear you talk like that. You are the same woman that
never could kiss a baby without wanting to spank it at the same time. I
know what is the matter with you. You are thinking of that money I
borrowed from your brother. Well, I borrowed that for a year, and the
time is not up yet; but when it is, I'll pay it, every cent of it, and
interest added. I knew what I was about when I borrowed it, and I know
what I am about now, and if I get angry and pay it before it becomes due,
he will lose that much interest, and he can charge it to you. That is all
I have to say to you.
"As for you, Mrs. Perley, and the other persons who gave me these
blankets, I want you to feel that I am just as grateful as if--just as
grateful as I can be, and far more for the friendliness than for the
goods. I won't say anything more about that, and it isn't necessary, but
I must say one thing. I am ready to take the blankets, and to thank you
from the bottom of my heart, but I will not have them unless the money
Miss Shott put in is given back to her. Whatever that was, I will make it
up myself, and I hope I may be excused for saying that I don't believe it
will break me."
Now there was a scene. Miss Shott rose in anger and marched out of the
house. Mrs. Perley and the other lady expostulated with Mrs. Cliff for
a time, but they knew her very well, and soon desisted. Twenty-five
cents was handed to Mrs. Perley to take the place of the sum
contributed by Miss Shott, and the ladies departed, and the blankets
were taken up-stairs. Mrs. Cliff gave one glance at them as Willy
Croup spread them out.
"If those women could see my Californian blankets!" she said to herself,
but to Willy she said, "They are very nice, and you may put them away."
Then she went to her own room and went to bed. This last shock was too
much for her nerves to bear. In the afternoon Willy brought her some tea,
but the poor lady would not get up. So long as she stayed in bed, people
could be kept away from her, but there was nowhere else where she could
be in peace.
All night she lay and thought and thought and thought. What should she
do? She could not endure this condition of things. There was only one
relief that presented itself to her: she might go to Mr. Perley, her
minister, and confide everything to him. He would tell her what she
ought to do.
"But," she thought, "suppose he should say it should all go to the
Peruvians!" And then she had more thinking to do, based upon this
contingency, which brought on a headache, and she remained in bed all
the next day.
The next morning, Willy Croup, who had begun to regret that she had ever
said anything about blankets,--but how could she have imagined that
anybody could be so cut up at what that old Shott woman had
said?--brought Mrs. Cliff a letter.
This was from Edna, stating that she and Ralph and the two negroes had
just arrived in New York, from which point they were to sail for Havre.
Edna wished very much to see Mrs. Cliff before she left the country, and
wrote that if it would be convenient for that lady, she would run up to
Plainton and stay a day or two with her. There would be time enough for
this before the steamer sailed. When she read this brief note, Mrs. Cliff
sprang out of bed.
"Edna come here!" she exclaimed. "That would be simply ruin! But I must
see her. I must tell her everything, and let her help me."
As soon as she was dressed, she went down-stairs and told Willy that she
would start for New York that very afternoon. She had received a letter
from Mrs. Horn, and it was absolutely necessary to see her before she
sailed. With only a small leather bag in her hand, and nearly all her
ready money and her peace-destroying draft sewed up inside the body of
her dress, she left Plainton, and when her friends and neighbors heard
that she had gone, they could only ascribe such a sudden departure to the
strange notions she had imbibed in foreign parts. When Plainton people
contemplated a journey, they told everybody about it, and took plenty of
time to make preparations; but South Americans and Californians would
start anywhere at a moment's notice. People had thought that Mrs. Cliff
was too old to be influenced by association in that way, but it was plain
that they had been mistaken, and there were those who were very much
afraid that even if the poor lady had got whatever ought to be coming to
her from the Valparaiso business, it would have been of little use to
her. Her old principles of economy and prudence must have been terribly
shaken. This very journey to New York would probably cost twenty dollars!
When Mrs. Cliff entered Edna's room in a New York hotel, the latter was
startled, almost frightened. She had expected her visitor, for she had
had a telegram, but she scarcely recognized at the first glance the pale
and haggard woman who had come to her.
"Sick!" exclaimed poor Mrs. Cliff, as she sank upon a sofa. "Yes, I am
sick, but not in body, only in heart. Well, it is hard to tell you what
is the matter. The nearest I can get to it is that it is wealth struck
in, as measles sometimes strike in when they ought to come out properly,
and one is just as dangerous as the other."
When Mrs. Cliff had had something to eat and drink, and had begun to tell
her tale, Edna listened with great interest and sympathy. But when the
good lady had nearly finished, and was speaking of her resolution to
confide everything to Mr. Perley, Edna's gaze at her friend became very
intent, and her hands tightly grasped the arms of the chair in which she
was sitting.
"Mrs. Cliff," said she, when the other had finished, "there is but one
thing for you to do: you must go to Europe with us."
"Now!" exclaimed Mrs. Cliff. "In the steamer you have engaged passage
in? Impossible! I could not go home and settle up everything and come
back in time."
"But you must not go home," said Edna. "You must not think of it. Your
troubles would begin again as soon as you got there. You must stay here
and go when we do."
Mrs. Cliff stared at her. "But I have only a bag and the clothes I have
on. I am not ready for a voyage. And there's the house, with nobody but
Willy in it. Don't you see it would be impossible for me to go?"
"What you need for the passage," said Edna, "you can buy here in a few
hours, and everything else you can get on the other side a great deal
cheaper and better than here. As to your house, you can write to that
other lady to go there and stay with Miss Croup until you come back. I
tell you, Mrs. Cliff, that all these things have become mere trifles to
you. I dare say you could buy another house such as you own in Plainton,
and scarcely miss the money. Compared to your health and happiness, the
loss of that house, even if it should burn up while you are away, would
be as a penny thrown to a beggar."
"And there is my new trunk," said Mrs. Cliff, "with my blankets and ever
so many things locked up in it."
"Let it stay there," said Edna. "You will not need the blankets, and I
don't believe any one will pick the lock."
"But how shall I explain my running away in such a fashion? What will
they all think?"
"Simply write," said Edna, "that you are going to Europe as companion
to Mrs. Horn. If they think you are poor, that will explain everything.
And you may add, if you choose, that Mrs. Horn is so anxious to have
you, she will take no denial, and it is on account of her earnest
entreaties that you are unable to go home and take leave in a proper
way of your friends."
It was half an hour afterwards that Mrs. Cliff said: "Well, Edna, I will
go with you. But I can tell you this: I would gladly give up all the
mountains and palaces I may see in Europe, if I could go back to Plainton
this day, deposit my money in the Plainton bank, and then begin to live
according to my means. That would be a joy that nothing else on this
earth could give me."
Edna laughed. "All you have to do," she said, "is to be patient and wait
awhile, and then, when you go back like a queen to Plainton, you will
have had your mountains and your palaces besides."