"SALLY'S SUBSTITUTE."
"I stood
Among them, but not of them."
_Childe Harold._
IN a large flagged room on the basement story, Helen, Katie, and old
Biddy, were seated round a well-scoured table, making busy preparations
for the despatch of a creditable "cart" to Terryscreen Market; neat
bunches of salads, bouquets of flowers, and bundles of asparagus,
testify to their industry. As far as the young ladies are concerned,
their labours have been lightened by the interchange of riddles,
chiefly very poor ones, and the worse they were, the more they laughed,
and the more Biddy sniggered.
"I give up that one, as to what makes more noise than a pig under a
gate!" said Helen, holding an exquisite bouquet of roses towards her
cousin. "There is no answer. The pig could not be beaten."
"I wish I had some more twine," she added, looking anxiously around.
"I wish you had, my dear," returned Katie, "but I can do nothing _but_
wish! My hands are full. There is some in the cup on the chimney-piece
in the office. No, that's _gum_; it's in Dido's desk."
The office was a little den behind the dining-room, consecrated to
business, and the communings of Dido and Darby. The latter was in the
act of leaving it, when Helen appeared; his face looked more foxy than
usual, and there was a sly smile in his eyes as he said,—
"And what way are ye the day, Miss Denis?"
"Busy, Darby, terribly busy; I have half the asparagus to tie up yet,
and not a plum picked."
"Shure 'tis nothing but divarshion for the like of yees," he rejoined
contemptuously. "An I would not grudge to see you young ladies so
entirely fond of flowers and gardening—'Tis a nice quiet taste."
"Divarshion, indeed? There's little divarshion in picking gallons of
fruit in the blazing sun—and as to the wasps! but I'm in a hurry,
Darby, I have not a moment to spare. Please let me pass," she said, now
walking into the little office, where she discovered Dido seated at her
brass-bound bureau, surrounded by papers, and dissolved in tears.
"What on earth is the matter?" she inquired, laying her hand on her
cousin's shoulder.
"Nothing—nothing at all," hurriedly drying her eyes, and averting her
face.
"Come, Dido, I am certain that you are the last girl to cry for
nothing. What is it? Won't you tell me? Two heads are better than one.
Is it these accounts?"
"It is just this, Helen," wheeling round with sudden energy, "I've come
to the conclusion that it is hopeless to go on struggling any longer,
and trying to make both ends meet; I strive, and strive, to keep out
of debt—we spend next to nothing on ourselves, as you know, and when
I think I am getting my head above water at last, down comes something
and pushes me under, such as a big bill that I never expected, and
that nearly breaks my heart. Look at this," holding out a rather dirty
scrawl, "here is one now, and Darby says it must be paid at once. And I
did not even know it was owing. It's for seed-potatoes, and guano, and
wire to keep out the rabbits—altogether eleven pounds," she concluded
with a little sob.
"Eleven pounds!" ejaculated her cousin, taking it up and examining it.
"I notice that it is made out by Darby—does not that strike you as
rather peculiar?"
"Oh, no; he always does it," returned Dido, (the unsuspicious,) pulling
out a little drawer as she spoke.
"See! I have only three shillings, till after to-morrow, and these
Murphys declare they can't wait any longer than Monday—they are
pressed themselves, and Darby says they _must_ be paid. To hear him
talk, one would think I had only to go out and pick up sovereigns on
the gravel!"
"Then let uncle pay," said Helen sternly, "it's not more than the price
of one of his old books. I do think, Dido, that it is rather hard that
you should have to work for the support of the whole family, and that
all the income from the place goes, I may say, on _air_! Barry told me
that, even as it is, it brings in a thousand a year."
Dido made no immediate answer, but sat resting her chin on her hand,
and gazing fixedly out of the window. At length she seemed to have come
to some settled decision, for she rose and said, "I think I will try
the Padré once more; it's rather a forlorn hope, but nothing venture,
nothing have. Wait here till I come back, Helen," and with a melancholy
little nod she quitted the room.
Helen sat down in her cousin's chair in front of the old bureau,
with its inky baize desk, and numerous musty drawers; and noted with
feelings of hot indignation, the traces of Dido's tears—tears that
had splashed unchecked upon the leaves of an open account-book.
Sitting here before these tear-stained columns, she asked herself
dispassionately if a man who had brought forth nothing but second-hand
inventions, after forty years of costly experiments, was likely to
revolutionize the universe at last?
No, she had no patience with his concentrated selfishness, and _no_
faith in the apparatus. As to Darby Chute, she had never trusted him,
and although she had no solid grounds for her suspicions, yet she could
not divest herself of the idea, that he was a rascal! She was aware
that Darby did not eye _her_ with any favour, and indeed he had more
than once made craftily-veiled inquiries as to _when_ she was going
away?
"It was no use," said Dido, entering the room, and shaking her
head hopelessly. "I knew it. He just held up empty hands. That is
his invariable answer when I beg for a little money. It will just
have to be, as Darby says," sitting down, and looking at her cousin
despondently, "we must sell the white cow."
"Not the one I call _my_ cow; not Daisy?" cried Helen in consternation.
"Yes; she is the best of them all. She will fetch the most money. Darby
thinks we might get twenty pounds for her at the fair to-morrow. There
is no use in putting off the evil day, and I hate to owe a penny. I
cannot sleep if I am in debt."
"You should see what some girls owe, and how they sleep," said her
cousin, thinking of the Miss Platts, and how very lightly their
milliner's accounts lay on their minds. "Is there no resource but
Daisy? Can you suggest nothing else?"
"Nothing, unless—" and she hesitated and coloured—"unless I borrowed
the money from you, and I would not do that, for I might never be able
to pay you. No; there is nothing for it but Daisy!"
"My dearest Dido," said Helen, putting her arm round her neck, "what a
horribly mean wretch you must think me all this time. Don't you _know_
very well, that every farthing I possess, would have been in the common
purse months ago, only—only—uncle borrowed all my money the day after
I came here."
"What do you say?" cried Dido, jumping to her feet. "Oh, no, Helen; oh,
_surely_ he did not! Oh!" in great distress, and her eyes filling with
tears. "This is worse than all! This is _too_ bad. Oh, my dear, foolish
child, why did you let him know you had a farthing?"
"He asked me, and what could I say?"
"He has such odd ideas about money. He looks upon it as a kind of
common property, and he has all kinds of queer, wild schemes about
abolishing it altogether.—Was it much?" she asked anxiously.
"Never mind, Dido, how much. The loss is yours, dear; not mine. It
would have been in your hands long ago, only for this."
"Helen," said her cousin, looking very pale, "I can speak to you, as I
can to no one else—not even Katie. Papa is not like other people!"
"No," assented his niece with a very serious face.
"He was always eccentric; but latterly he has been getting more so.
Sometimes," lowering her voice, and glancing nervously at the door, "he
is——"
"Yes; I think I understand," nodding her head gravely.
"Biddy guesses it; so does Barry. Katie suspects nothing, poor child.
I've kept this to myself ever since I've known it," leaning her face on
her hand, and covering her eyes.
"And that was the reason that you would not listen to Mr. Halliday?"
"Yes;—mamma dreaded it, and not long before she died she—told me—and
she made me solemnly promise, to guard him as closely as possible, to
keep him near me as long as he had the faintest chance," her voice
dying away to a whisper.
Helen took her cousin's hand in hers, and her face was full of sympathy.
"He was only a little strange at times," continued Dido, "especially
about money. But during the last year I have seen it coming, and this
is one reason I've always resisted having Barry to live here, and
taking over the place; this is the reason that I struggle with all my
might to keep him and the Padré apart, for if he and Barry were to meet
constantly, Barry would _know_, and Barry would immediately insist upon
what is only to be the last resource. I promised mamma," here Dido
broke down, and leaning her head against her cousin's shoulder, wept
miserably.
"My poor Dido!" said Helen, smoothing her hair tenderly. "What a burden
you have had to bear all alone, and how noble, and unselfish, and
patient you have been. When I think of you, and think of myself, I am
bitterly ashamed! I have been latterly entirely wrapped up in myself,
and my own affairs, I never seem to give a thought to other people,
and you—you have renounced your own happiness for the benefit of
others——"
"I am not unhappy," interrupted Dido, drying her eyes; "or, at any
rate, I would not be, if he was getting better; but he is getting
_worse_, much worse—I see it coming nearer and nearer!" and she looked
up at her companion with pallid lips and startled eyes. "For days, when
you do not see him, he is sitting still in the workshop, and never
opens his lips. I carry him up his meals, and he takes no notice.
Other times he has delusions. Not long ago, when I went up to speak
to him, I found him pacing up and down the room, shouting into a long
tube; he would not answer when I spoke, but at last he went and wrote
on a bit of paper, '_Leave me, mortal, I am the trumpet of Fame!_'
"See," searching in her bureau, "here it is! I brought it away
unintentionally, and then I hid it here, I don't know why."
Helen gazed at this proof of her uncle's mental aberration with
startled eyes, and then she said quietly,—
"I think the time has arrived when something ought to be done. Uncle
should have an experienced person to look after him, and surely _you_
might manage the money."
"Yes! Barry must know at last, and Katie, and every one," said Dido,
tearing up the scrap of paper with a sigh; "but to-day he is as sane
as I am, and as busy as possible over the apparatus, he may not have
another attack for a long time. Let us put it out of our heads. Don't
think of it, we will talk of something else. I must send word to Darby
this evening about Daisy; twenty pounds is the least——"
"Dido, Dido!" cried her sister, bursting into the room, "come down
this moment; Sally has fallen over the step in the dairy and sprained
her ankle, she is lying groaning on the settle in the kitchen, and she
won't be able to stir to-morrow?"
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Dido, starting up. "Do misfortunes ever come
alone?"
Half an hour later, the three girls were standing together looking
blankly at their preparation for the morrow's market. There lay golden
butter, cream-cheeses, pounds of honey, bouquets of flowers, and last,
but not least, their precious stock of grapes—grapes nursed through
the winter, in a windy old vinery, with a tenderness they had but ill
repaid.
"Is Sally's ankle very painful?" inquired Helen after a long pause.
"Yes; I've bathed it with arnica, but she won't be able to put her foot
to the ground for a week."
"Could Andy go?"
"Andy, my dear girl, wouldn't set foot in Terryscreen to save his life;
he was in jail there! It's just our luck, the best cart of the season!
I'd take it myself, only I would be known. There would be no real
disgrace in doing it—it's ten times more shameful to owe money."
"There's nothing for it but to put away what will keep, and to use the
rest ourselves," said Katie, the ever practical.
After a moment's silence, Helen said suddenly, "Look here, Dido, why
should not _I_ take the cart?"
"You!" shrieked her cousin. "Are you mad?"
"Now, just please to listen quietly, both of you," she returned with
decision.
"In the first place, I'm a stranger to all but the Reids and
Redmonds—that's one point," reckoning on her fingers. "In the second,
I can get myself up in character so that you would never know me.
Thirdly, I flatter myself that my brogue is undeniable. Fourthly, I've
plenty of confidence. Fifthly, I mean to go."
"Helen, you are not serious?" said Dido, gravely.
"Never more so, my dear.—I know the market prices as well as
yourselves. I shall dress myself up in an old garden frock and
sun-bonnet, and you will see if I don't pass off as a good-looking
slip of a country girl. You know very well you can't tell my brogue
from Sally's in the dark, so I will be your market woman, ladies, and
come home to-morrow with my pocket full of money, 'an ye may make your
minds quite aisy about me,'" suddenly adopting a brogue and dropping
a curtsey. "No one will know a hate about it, barrin' the Masther and
meeself."
At this her cousins burst out laughing, and finding that she was so
sanguine, and so resolute, and that all their expostulations were
uttered to deaf ears, they submitted to the scheme without further
demur. Of course Sally was taken into the secret, and when the subject
was very gently broken to her by her smiling, would-be deputy, at
first she held up her hands dramatically, and invoked both the local
and her own patron saints; but in the end she came round. Her thrifty
soul revolted against the wanton waste of all her beautiful cheese
and butter, and presently she was instructing Helen (who sat beside
the settle, gravely attentive), with immense animation, and impressive
authority.
"You'll find the Masther very tough to drive, miss, but he knows every
stone of the road, and is acquainted with all the shops, so ye may just
lave it to himself; there does be no use in prodding him, or striving
to drive him, for his mouth is as hard as the heart of Pharaoh,—and he
is that detarmined in his own way, that nations would not hould him!
First and foremost, ye go to Clancy's with the butter and the eggs, an'
you'll not take less than a shilling a pound, dear, and sevenpence the
dozen. She'll bate you down, seeing you are strange, and it's not Sally
MacGravy she has to dale with! but just you say, 'Divil a copper less
you'll take,' and let on you are going to Dooley's across the street.
Afther that I'm thinking you will never be able to stand forenint the
fruit and vegetables in the square, so ye might go over to Dooley's
in _earnest_ and offer him the vegetables and fruit chape; that's in
raison, do ye mind. Then there's the grapes and flowers, I don't know
what to say about them at all! They must just take their chance; it's
the butter that's lying so heavy on me! With regard to the cowcumbers,
and honey, and cream-cheeses, a messman does be in from barracks, a
fellow with an eye like a needle in his head, and the deuce for bating
you down. Then, wance in a way, ye have the officers' ladies; them's
the wans for the flowers, and you'll mind to charge them double,
darlin'! that's about all," concluded Sally, coming to the end of her
instructions, and her breath, simultaneously.
Next morning, at grey dawn, Helen was astir and dressed; her cousins,
who had hardly been able to sleep a wink with excitement, attended
her at her early breakfast, poured out her tea, buttered her toast,
and surveyed her appearance with subdued giggles and expressions of
astonished delight. They assured her repeatedly that they would pass
her on the road and never recognize her. She was arrayed in a clean
but faded cotton, turned up over a striped dark petticoat, a pink
sun-bonnet, a white apron, and a little checked shawl. Certainly
she was not quite as _like_ sally as her relations could have
wished—which, considering that Sally was bordering on forty, and
weighed fourteen stone, was not surprising—but they both emphatically
declared that she would readily pass for what she professed to be—"a
good-looking slip of a country girl who had taken Sally's place."
"Too good-looking, Helen, dear," said Dido, kissing her as she mounted
the cart. "Keep your bonnet pulled well over your eyes, and try and do
not show your teeth when you laugh; and above all stick to the brogue!"
These were Dido's final injunctions; and she escorted the cart half-way
down the avenue, and then took off her shoe, and threw it after it for
luck. The last glimpse Helen caught of her favourite cousin, she was
hopping along the damp drive, in quest of the said slipper.
The Master was not to be hurried. Two hours for the five miles was his
_own_ time, lounging along in a leisurely way, in a series of zig-zags
from ditch to ditch.
It was a lovely August morning; the dew lay heavy on the grass, and
silvery, gossamer cobwebs hung about the hedges. Helen felt her pulses
beating with excitement entirely untouched by fear. A bold adventurous
spirit possessed her; there was something so utterly novel, so
deliciously strange, in her present undertaking; as if she had left
Helen Denis behind, and had embodied herself in a new identity!
Presently the Master was overtaken and passed by various carts, and
even by pedestrians—who had each, and all, a word for Sally. But this
was not Sally! this was a black stranger, who was not disposed to waste
her time in idle badinage, and who took no more notice of them than the
stick in her hand, and seemed an "impident, stuck-up piece!" However,
it was the Crowmore mule; there was no mistake about _him_—once
seen—never forgotten!
"Mind that mule," cried one, "or he'll break everything that's on him,
and run away with you!"
"Faix, and no loss if he does!" retorted another.
"Musha, an' will ye look at the nate foot and ankle we have, hanging so
aisy and so careless over the side of the shaft! 'Tis a lady we are,
all out! Do ye mind the gloves on her!"
"Bedad, an' if she is, she looks mighty at home on an ass's car,"
shouted a fourth.
The subject of these and other delicate witticisms, was not sorry
to find herself jogging over the cobble stones of the High Street
of Terryscreen. Greatly to her astonishment, the Master, of his own
accord, rose a beautiful trot for the town, and rattled up in gallant
style to Clancy's, the butter shop. His new driver's heart beat
unusually fast as she alighted, made the reins secure, and taking a
heavy basket on her arm, proceeded to air her brogue in real earnest.
Early as it was, the place was crowded, and she had some difficulty in
edging her way to the counter, where she was at once confronted by a
big, stout woman, with a merry face, and her hands on her hips, who,
staring at her hard, said,—
"An' where is Sally the day?"
"She's hurt her foot," replied her substitute, in a voice that was
scarcely above a whisper.
"And so you are doing her work?"
"Just for the time, Mrs. Clancy."
"From this part of the country, dear?"
"No; a good bit beyant."
"Oh, well,"—tasting the butter with her finger and glancing at her
sharply—"butter is down, ye know. Elevenpence."
"Is it?" innocently. "I am not to go home with less than the shilling."
"Is that the way with you? Well, we'll say elevenpence halfpenny,
honey!"
"No, Mrs. Clancy, mam, I really _dar_ not do it!"
"Well, I see she has ye well schooled, and I suppose you'll just have
to get it! Eighteen pounds did ye say?" now going towards the till—but
being waylaid by a customer, Helen was left to wait among the crowd for
a considerable time.
Far from every eye being centred on her, as she had tremblingly feared,
no one noticed her by word or glance; and her courage, which had ebbed
as she entered the shop, now came back in full tide.
The Clancys were driving a roaring trade, if one might judge by
appearances. Their establishment was thronged by men in corduroy and
frieze, and women in long blue cloaks, or plaid shawls, all bargaining,
buying, or gossiping. She was wedged in between the counter and two
stalwart matrons, who were holding forth to one another with great
animation. And oh, how their garments did smell of turf!
"And what way is Mary the day, Mrs. Daly?" inquired one.
"'Deed, an' I'm thinking, she is just dying on her feet; first she had
a slight sketch of a cold, now 'tis a melancholy that ails her. John
took her up to Rafferty's funeral, thinking to cheer her out of it, but
she got a wakness standin' in the berryin'-ground, an 'tis worse she
is, instead of better."
"That's bad! An' how is Dan?"
"Oh, finely. Shure he has the pledge! Glory be to God!"
"Musha, an' I wish Pat had! When he comes into the town here, he gits
into that much company there's no daling with him at all. Ye can't
be up to them men! I thought this morning he was getting very good
entirely, when I was in Fagan's store, and saw him and a couple of
chaps drinking coffee. Shure, wasent it that Moody and Sanky they were
at—an' wasent it half whiskey?"
"Ah! now ye don't tell me that?"
"An' 'deed, an' I do! I don't say as a needleful of sperrits ever did
any wan any harm—but there does be _some_ would drink the Shannon!"
"Purviding it was potheen," supplemented her listener, dryly.
"There's your change, Alannah," called out Mrs. Clancy across the
counter, "and mind ye, it will be elevenpence next week."
Helen smiled agreeably, nodded her head, and pocketed the silver. Sally
would surely be able to do battle for herself by the following market
day! After a considerable struggle she made her way out of the crowd,
and once more ascended the market-cart. So far so good—the butter and
eggs were off her mind—now for Dooley's, and the vegetables. But,
unluckily, the Master—who was, as we know, an animal of great strength
of character—had determined to trot off to his usual station, near
the Courthouse. Of course Helen could please herself about Dooley's,
but he and the cart went to their accustomed post. The habits of years
were not to be thus trifled with! This clause had not been in the bond.
Helen had meant to have got rid of the fruit and vegetables (even at
a sacrifice) and to have immediately afterwards set her face towards
home—but to stand and sell her wares from the cart in the open market,
was an ordeal that she had never anticipated. However, as she and the
Master came together, together they were bound to return, and her
arrangements were solely dependent on his good pleasure (a somewhat
humbling reflection). For years he had been accustomed to stand for
three hours per week in Terryscreen Market Square, just behind the
Courthouse, and to vary the programme to-day was an idea that never
once entered his grizzled head. His lady driver, who had discovered
that his mouth was all that Sally had prophesied (and more), meekly
abandoned herself to her fate, and having loosened her tyrant's bit,
and administered a "lock of hay," set to work to lay out her wares,
and arrange her stall to the best of her ability. As she gazed around
upon the crowd, and listened to the confused buzz of many brogues, her
head failed her, her boasted confidence seemed to be oozing away at
the tips of her fingers. Supposing she lost her head, supposing she
was discovered? But who was to discover her? argued common sense; and
if she had passed in Clancy's shop, surely she would pass here. She
was doing no harm, quite the reverse; and when she thought of Dido's
difficulties, and Dido's tears, and those three shillings lying in her
desk, and looked round on her fine stock of garden produce, capable of
being turned into silver coin of the realm, she recovered herself, and
by the time she had sold her first head of cabbage, her courage and
_sang-froid_ were completely restored!