HARD TIMES.
The new arrangement worked exceedingly well.
As to Edgar's innermost personal feelings, no one is qualified to speak
with any authority. Whether he experienced a change of heart, vowed
better things, prayed to be delivered from temptation, or simply
decided to turn over a new leaf, no one knows; the principal fact in
his life, at this period, seems to have been an unprecedented lack of
time for any great foolishness.
Certain unpleasant things had transpired on that eventful Friday night
when he had missed his appointment with his fellow-students, which had
resulted in an open scandal too disagreeable to be passed over by the
college authorities; the redoubtable Tony had been returned with thanks
to his fond parents in a distant part of the state, and two others had
been temporarily suspended.
Edgar Noble was not too blind to see the happy chance that interfered
with his presence on that occasion, and was sensible enough to realize
that, had he been implicated in the least degree (he scorned the
possibility of his taking any active part in such scurrilous
proceedings), he would probably have shared Tony's fate.
Existence was wearing a particularly dismal aspect on that afternoon
when Edgar had met Polly Oliver in the Berkeley woods. He felt
"nagged," injured, blue, out of sorts with fate. He had not done
anything very bad, he said to himself; at least, nothing half so bad as
lots of other fellows, and yet everybody frowned on him. His father
had, in his opinion, been unnecessarily severe; while his mother and
sister had wept over him (by letter) as if he were a thief and a
forger, instead of a fellow who was simply having a "little fling." He
was annoyed at the conduct of Scott Burton,--"king of snobs and prigs,"
he named him,--who had taken it upon himself to inform Philip Noble of
his (Edgar's) own personal affairs; and he was enraged at being
preached at by that said younger brother.
But of late everything had taken an upward turn, and by way of variety,
existence turned a smiling face toward him. He had passed his
examinations, most unexpectedly to himself, with a respectable
percentage to spare. There was a time when he would have been ashamed
of this meagre result. He was now, just a little, but the feeling was
somewhat submerged in his gratitude at having "squeaked through" at all.
A certain inspired Professor Hope, who wondered what effect
encouragement would have on a fellow who did n't deserve any, but might
possibly need it, came up to him after recitations, one day, and said:--
"Noble, I want to congratulate you on your papers in history and
physics. They show signal ability. There is a plentiful lack of study
evinced, but no want of grasp or power. You have talents that ought to
put you among the first three men in the University, sir. I do not
know whether you care to take the trouble to win such a place (it _is_
a good deal of trouble), but you can win it if you like. That's all I
have to say, Noble. Good-morning!"
This unlooked-for speech fell like balm on Edgar's wounded
self-respect, and made him hold his head higher for a week; and,
naturally, while his head occupied this elevated position, he was
obliged to live up to it. He also felt obliged to make an effort,
rather reluctantly, to maintain some decent standing in the classes of
Professor Hope, even if he shirked in all the rest.
And now life, on the whole, save for one carking care that perched on
his shoulder by day and sat on his eyelids at night, was very pleasant;
though he could not flatter himself that he was absolutely a free agent.
After all ordinary engagements of concerts, theatres, lectures, or what
not, he entered the house undisturbed, and noiselessly sought his
couch. But one night, when he ventured to stay out till after
midnight, just as he was stealing in softly, Mrs. Oliver's gentle voice
came from the head of the stairs, saying, "Good-night, Edgar, the lamp
is lighted in your room!"
Edgar closed his door and sat down disconsolately on the bed, cane in
hand, hat on the back of his head. The fire had burned, to a few
glowing coals; his slippers lay on the hearth, and his Christmas "easy
jacket" hung over the back of his great armchair; his books lay open
under the student-lamp, and there were two vases of fresh flowers in
the room: that was Polly's doing.
"Mrs. Oliver was awake and listening for me; worrying about me,
probably; I dare say she thought I 'd been waylaid by bandits," he
muttered discontentedly. "I might as well live in the Young Women's
Christian Association! I can't get mad with an angel, but I did n't
intend being one myself! Good gracious! why don't they hire me a nurse
and buy me a perambulator!"
But all the rest was perfect; and his chief chums envied him after they
had spent an evening with the Olivers. Polly and he had ceased to
quarrel, and were on good, frank, friendly terms. "She is no end of
fun," he would have told you; "has no nonsensical young-lady airs about
her, is always ready for sport, sings all kinds of songs from grave to
gay, knows a good joke when you tell one, and keeps a fellow up to the
mark as well as a maiden aunt."
All this was delightful to everybody concerned. Meanwhile the
household affairs were as troublesome as they could well be. Mrs.
Oliver developed more serious symptoms, and Dr. George asked the San
Francisco physician to call to see her twice a week at least. The San
Francisco physician thought "a year at Carlsbad, and a year at Nice,
would be a good thing;" but, failing these, he ordered copious
quantities of expensive drugs, and the reserve fund shrank, though the
precious three hundred and twelve dollars was almost intact.
Poor Mrs. Chadwick sent tearful monthly letters, accompanied by checks
of fifty to sixty-five dollars. One of the boarders had died; two had
gone away; the season was poor; Ah Foy had returned to China; Mr.
Greenwood was difficult about his meals; the roof leaked; provisions
were dear; Mrs. Holmes in the next street had decided to take boarders;
Eastern people were grumbling at the weather, saying it was not at all
as reported in the guide-books; real-estate and rents were very low;
she hoped to be able to do better next month; and she was Mrs. Oliver's
"affectionate Clementine Churchill Chadwick."
Polly had held a consultation with the principal of her school, who had
assured her that as she was so well in advance of her class, she could
be promoted the next term, if she desired. Accordingly, she left
school in order to be more with her mother, and as she studied with
Edgar in the evening, she really lost nothing.
Mrs. Howe remitted four dollars from the monthly rent, in consideration
of Spanish lessons given to her two oldest children. This experiment
proved a success, and Polly next accepted an offer to come three times
a week to the house of a certain Mrs. Baer to amuse (instructively) the
four little Baer cubs, while the mother Baer wrote a "History of the
Dress-Reform Movement in English-Speaking Nations."
For this service Polly was paid ten dollars a month in gold coin, while
the amount of spiritual wealth which she amassed could not possibly be
estimated in dollars and cents. The ten dollars was very useful, for
it procured the services of a kind, strong woman, who came on these
three afternoons of Polly's absence, put the entire house in order, did
the mending, rubbed Mrs. Oliver's tired back, and brushed her hair
until she fell asleep.
So Polly assisted in keeping the wolf from the door, and her sacrifices
watered her young heart and kept it tender. "Money may always be a
beautiful thing. It is we who make it grimy."
Edgar shared in the business conferences now. He had gone into
convulsions of mirth over Polly's system of accounts, and insisted,
much against her will, in teaching her book-keeping, striving to
convince her that the cash could be kept in a single box, and the
accounts separated in a book.
These lessons were merry occasions, for there was a conspicuous cavity
in Polly's brain where the faculty for mathematics should have been.
"Your imbecility is so unusual that it 's a positive inspiration,"
Edgar would say. "It is n't like any ordinary stupidity; there does
n't seem to be any bottom to it, you know; it 's abnormal, it 's
fascinating, Polly!"
Polly glowed under this unstinted praise. "I am glad you like it," she
said. "I always like to have a thing first-class of its kind, though I
can't pride myself that it compares with your Spanish accent, Edgar;
that stands absolutely alone and unapproachable for badness. I don't
worry about my mathematical stupidity a bit since I read Dr. Holmes,
who says that everybody has an idiotic area in his mind."
There had been very little bookkeeping to-night. It was raining in
torrents. Mrs. Oliver was talking with General M---- in the parlor,
while Edgar and Polly were studying in the dining-room.
Polly laid down her book and leaned back in her chair. It had been a
hard day, and it was very discouraging that a new year should come to
one's door laden with vexations and anxieties, when everybody naturally
expected new years to be happy, through January and February at least.
"Edgar," she sighed plaintively, "I find that this is a very difficult
world to live in, sometimes."
Edgar looked up from his book, and glanced at her as she lay back with
closed eyes in the Chinese lounging-chair. She was so pale, so tired,
and so very, very pretty just then, her hair falling in bright
confusion round her face, her whole figure relaxed with weariness, and
her lips quivering a little, as if she would like to cry if she dared.
Polly with dimples playing hide and seek in rosy cheeks, with dazzling
eyes, and laughing lips, and saucy tongue, was sufficiently
captivating; but Polly with bright drops on her lashes, with a pathetic
droop in the corners of her mouth and the suspicion of a tear in her
voice,--this Polly was irresistible.
"What's the matter, pretty Poll?"
"Nothing specially new. The Baer cubs were naughty as little demons
to-day. One of them had a birthday-party yesterday, with four kinds of
frosted cake. Mrs. Baer's system of management is n't like mine, and
until I convince the children I mean what I say, they give me the
benefit of the doubt. The Baer place is so large that Mrs. Baer never
knows where disobedience may occur, and that she may be prepared she
keeps one of Mr. Baer's old slippers on the front porch, one in the
carriage-house, one in the arbor, one in the nursery, and one under the
rose hedge at the front gate. She showed me all these haunts, and told
me to make myself thoroughly at home. I felt tempted to-day, but I
resisted."
"You are working too hard, Polly. I propose we do something about Mrs.
Chadwick. You are bearing all the brunt of other people's faults and
blunders."
"But, Edgar, everything is so mixed: Mrs. Chadwick's year of lease is
n't over; I suppose she cannot be turned out by main force, and if we
should ask her to leave the house it might go unrented for a month or
two, and the loss of that money might be as much as the loss of ten or
fifteen dollars a month for the rest of the year. I could complain of
her to Dr. George, but there again I am in trouble. If he knew that we
are in difficulties, he would offer to lend us money in an instant, and
that would make mamma ill, I am sure; for we are under all sorts of
obligations to him now, for kindnesses that can never be repaid. Then,
too, he advised us not to let Mrs. Chadwick have the house. He said
that she had n't energy enough to succeed; but mamma was so sorry for
her, and so determined to give her a chance, that she persisted in
letting her have it. We shall have to find a cheaper flat, by and by,
for I 've tried every other method of economizing, for fear of making
mamma worse with the commotion of moving."