MRS. ORME.
MISS ARMSTRONG had not returned with Mrs. Van Zandt, finding business
to keep her in New York, and hearing that the school was not suffering
from her absence. When she did come back, she was able to tell the
children of the safe arrival of their box of flowers. And she brought
an urgent request from the lady to whom they had been consigned, for
another box of leaves when the foliage should begin to turn. She also
brought a quantity of missionary documents, which the children carried
home to their parents, and talked over among themselves.
"Ma," said Myra Bassett as she finished reading one of these same
papers, "why can't we have a mission band in our Sunday school? Just
think! Here is an Indian church in Minnesota, as poor as poverty,
giving eighteen dollars in money and beadwork for the cause of
missions; ¹ and our school don't give a cent."
¹ The White Earth church, which is a pattern in more ways than one.
See Bishop Whipple's reports.
"We take up a collection every Sunday," said Mrs. Bassett; "to be sure,
it goes to keep up the library."
"Exactly; and I don't call that giving, at all. It is just like taking
money out of one pocket and putting it into another. In Oldfield, the
Sunday school supports a Bible-woman in China."
"It wouldn't do to undertake quite as much as that at first, but we
might do something," said Mrs. Bassett. "I expect we should have
opposition from some quarters."
"So we did about cleaning the church, and yet we did it," said Myra.
"Very true. Well, I'll talk to your father. And if he don't see any
objection, I'll ask him to speak to Mr. Brace."
"I wish Mr. Brace had a wife," said Myra, who had "a true lover and
a sweetheart of her own" sailing on the seas, and was therefore not
afraid to speak. "It would seem so much more natural and easy to go to
him."
"It is just possible your wish may come to pass," said Mrs. Bassett.
"But, as to this notion of the mission band, I must say I like it for
the children's sake. How much they were interested in the flowers they
sent to New York!"
"Yes, and their interest did them good too."
Ma Bassett talked to her husband, and he in turn to Mr. Brace. The
subject was then brought up in teachers' meeting. Miss Armstrong was
present, and being called upon, said what she thought,—that such
efforts were as beneficial to those who made them as to those for whom
they were made. Mr. Brace seconded her warmly, and gave anecdotes from
his experience in other places. There was some opposition, of course.
But most of the teachers took up the idea with enthusiasm, and in
the course of a few weeks, the Oldham mission band was a fixed and
prosperous fact.
But we must now follow the fortunes of another of our Oldham
acquaintances. Selina was down at Oldbury staying with her sister, and
taking singing-lessons of Mr. Schultz, the professor in the famous
Oldbury schools. Lizzy was fond of Selina, and had begun by being much
pleased with the arrangement. But she was growing uneasy, and wishing
her sister at home again. Selina had made the acquaintance of a certain
Mrs. Orme, who had come up from New York, and taken a house for the
summer. Mrs. Orme was apparently rich,—at least, she spent her money
freely,—she was handsome, and had a frank, not to say free, manner,
which took Selina's fancy greatly.
There was nothing to be said against the woman, but Oldbury did not
take to her. Mrs. Orme's garden joined Mr. Woodbury's, and at her first
coming, Lizzy had shown her some neighborly civilities, though she had
never responded to her attempts at intimacy. Nevertheless, the two
families spoke together, and Mrs. Orme introduced herself to Selina
over the garden hedge. She had heard her singing, and been struck
with her fine voice. Mrs. Orme had a piano, and was no mean performer
herself. She asked Selina to sing with her, and lent her the latest
music. Mrs. Orme was in ecstasies over Selina's voice, and threw out
broad hints of having her young friend to spend the winter with her,
that she might have proper instruction.
"With that voice, and a few lessons in elocution, you might do any
thing," said Mrs. Orme. "You might make your fortune."
"Singing at concerts, do you mean?" asked Selina.
"Yes, of course, or on the stage. You needn't look so shocked, child.
A great many society ladies go on the stage now, just for fun. And, if
you don't care to do that, there are always church choirs in New York
where they will pay almost any price for a good soprano voice. You
must practise diligently, and especially singing at sight, for that is
all-important."
"Mr. Schultz says I improve in that, but he was very severe on me at
the last lesson," observed Selina. "He said, 'Miss Weston, you do not
improve in style. You are imitating your friend Mrs. Orme, or whatever
you call her, who sings in the manner of the beer-garden.'"
"Spiteful old hunchback!" said Mrs. Orme, coloring. "His mind is
as crooked as his body, and his own style is that of a broken-down
church-organ. But never mind. Wait till I get you to New York, my dear."
"I don't believe my father and mother will ever let me go," said Selina
regretfully.
"They are not your own father and mother, and I don't see that you
are bound to obey them," returned Mrs. Orme. "According to your own
account, you have done work enough to pay for all they ever gave you.
I don't doubt that they are very nice people," she hastened to add,
seeing that Selina looked rather shocked: "I am sure Mrs. Woodbury is
charming, if she would condescend to be friendly. But she seems to have
taken a dislike to me, for some reason. Ah, well, my dear, take pains
with your music, and improve as fast as possible; and we shall see what
can be done."
Mrs. Orme was right. Lizzy did not like her, and she was annoyed at the
intimacy that Selina had struck up with her.
"I do wish you would not go to Mrs. Orme's so often," she said to
Selina one day. "I am sure mother would not approve of it."
"What have you against Mrs. Orme, I should like to know?" asked Selina
in a tone which said, "What business is it of yours?"
"I have nothing against her personally; that is, she has done nothing
to me," answered Lizzy gently. "But I do not like her manners, and I
don't like such intimacy with a stranger. We know nothing at all about
Mrs. Orme."
"There spoke all Oldham," said Selina. "We don't know her, therefore
she must be bad."
"I did not say she was bad," returned Lizzy. "But I do say that it
is better to know something of a person's antecedents and present
standing, before rushing into a violent friendship with them."
"Don't you see what an advantage it is to me to sing with her?"
"I am not so sure of that. Mrs. Orme has a fine voice, and plays well.
But I don't think she has improved your style at all. Just compare her
singing with Miss Van Zandt's."
"Oh, Miss Van Zandt! I hate the very name of Miss Van Zandt; and I wish
she and her model, Miss Armstrong, had never come near Oldham. They
have set father and mother against me, and got me into disgrace; and
all for what? Because I would not play the hypocrite, and pretend to be
religious. I believe Miss Armstrong is a humbug, if ever there was one;
but then, she can talk pious, and whoever can do that goes down with
mother."
"I have no more to say, Selina," returned Lizzy. "Only I hope the
time will never come when you will need the love and kindness you
despise. But one thing I must add: I will not have my mother treated
disrespectfully under my roof by any one. Remember that."
"Who treats her disrespectfully?" said Selina. "I guess I love mother
as well as you do, any day, and would do as much for her, if I don't
flatter her, and swear that every thing is right because she does it.
But everybody is against me," she added, bursting into tears. "I have
always been alone in the world; and when I make a friend, I can't be
allowed to enjoy her, because you are jealous of her. I should think
you would be ashamed to show such a spirit."
"Heyday! What is that?" asked Mr. Woodbury from the other room, where
he was taking off his boots preparatory to reading the evening paper in
comfort. "I don't allow any one to scold my wife but myself, Selina.
What is that Lizzy is to be ashamed of?"
Selina deigned no answer, but retreated to her own room to have her
cry out. Having accomplished this act to her satisfaction, having
told herself what a sad thing it was to be an orphan; having said to
herself that every joy had its sting, and every rose its thorn, and
that, while she must expect an ordinary person like Lizzy to be jealous
of her musical talents, it was very hard that she should be placed in
her power,—having said all this to herself, and a great deal more, she
began to think, which is quite a different thing from talking to one's
self. She reflected that she would be very foolish to quarrel with
Lizzy and her husband. Suppose Mr. Woodbury should say that he would
not keep her any longer; suppose he should complain to her father:
there would be an end of the singing-lessons, for which she had longed,
and on which she built so many hopes.
She had already thrown away one chance of improvement,—that of singing
with Ida Van Zandt. Would it not be the greatest folly to lose another?
Then another voice began to make itself heard,—that of conscience; a
voice which Selina had not succeeded in silencing, and had not yet
learned wholly to disregard. She was an orphan, with no claim of
relationship to any human being that she knew of. She had never known
of any home but the asylum in Oldbury, till Mr. and Mrs. Weston came
and took her home to the ease and plenty of the Oldham farmhouse. But
for them, she might still be living in the red-brick house on Elm
Street, dressing on week-days in pink or lilac calico, and walking to
church on Sunday with the other children, if indeed, she had not been
bound out as a servant somewhere. She could not deny, even to herself,
that Mr. and Mrs. Weston had always treated her like a daughter, that
there was not a girl in Oldham who had more pretty things or more
chances for education.
Mr. Weston had bought the piano expressly for her, for Lizzy was not
musical, and he had given her every advantage that the place afforded;
while Mrs. Weston and Lizzy had done more than their share of the work,
that she might have time to practise. Pursuing the subject with the
obstinacy which belongs to that inconvenient counsellor, conscience
further informed her that she had heretofore made a very inadequate
return for all that had been done for her, that she had been often
ill-natured and disrespectful, often careless, and always jealous lest
perhaps Lizzy might have something which she had not. She knew that
Mrs. Weston had made a great sacrifice in letting her come to Oldbury
in the very busiest time of the year, that she might have the benefit
of Professor Schultz's instructions before he went to New York.
Mrs. Weston, like many notable housewives, disliked having hired help;
yet she had taken in Mariette Jewsbury to assist through harvest-time,
in order that she, Selina, might have a nice time in Oldbury; only
making the condition that she should be guided by Lizzy in all things.
What sort of a return was she making?
But Selina did not care to listen to the voice of conscience. She said
to herself that she would be more cautious; that she would not quarrel
with Lizzy, or come across her prejudices. It was perhaps only natural
that Lizzy should be jealous of her friendship with a superior person
like Mrs. Orme, and she must be careful not to annoy her. She would
go to work that very evening, and knit a pair of shoes for the baby,
and that would make every thing right. She had just arrived at this
conclusion when Lizzy called her to tea. She bathed her face and eyes,
smoothed her hair, and went down prepared to be amiable.
"Horace and myself are going up to see mother Woodbury a little while,"
said Lizzy, after tea. "Will you go with us? Mother sent word this
afternoon that she would like to have us come over."
"I don't think I will," answered Selina. "But I will go as far as
Smith's: I want to buy a little yarn. But what about baby?"
"Oh, Jane will look after him. She likes nothing better, you know."
Jane was the girl whom Mr. Woodbury, asserting his authority, had
insisted on his wife's keeping,—a proceeding severely commented upon
by Aunt Betsy and old Miss Jewsbury as an extravagant and "up-setting"
proceeding.
"You know mother will be very glad to see you, Selina," remarked Mr.
Woodbury. "You are a favorite with her, and she loves to hear you sing."
"She is very kind, I am sure," said Selina. "I will go some other time,
but to-night I have something I want to do."
"I hope she won't go into Mrs. Orme's," said Lizzy as they walked away.
"And so do I. The fact is, Lizzy, that intimacy must be broken up, if
Selina goes home to do it. I don't like the woman; and I like still
less the style of visitors she has, the men especially."
"Some of them are not nice-looking, certainly. However, I don't think
Selina has ever been there when Mrs. Orme has had company. Well, we
will think about it, and try to see our way. I rather wish we had not
left her at home alone. However, I don't believe she will go there
to-night."
Nevertheless, Selina did go to Mrs. Orme's. She persuaded herself that
there was something she did not understand in the pattern for a baby's
shoe that Mrs. Orme had lent her, and that it was necessary for her to
seek information. It could do no harm to run in just for a minute.
Mrs. Orme received her with open arms, and introduced her to a friend
of her own from Boston,—Mr. Pyncheon, a member of one of the oldest
Beacon-street families. No, she said playfully, they would not waste
time over the stupid knitting; Mr. Pyncheon was an excellent judge of
music, and he must hear her sing.
Mr. Pyncheon seconded his hostess. He was a comparatively young-looking
man, with very white hair and whiskers. He delighted Selina by his
praise of her music.
"I have not heard such a voice since I lost my own daughter," said he.
"Miss Weston reminds me of her."
"She is like poor Angelina," said Mrs. Orme. "I noticed it myself.
Isn't it a shame, Mr. Pyncheon, that such a voice should be buried in
the wilds of Oldfield, and never heard except in the village choir?"
"It is indeed. Miss Weston ought to go to some of the great German
schools. Even now her voice would be noticed in New York."
It is useless to repeat any more of the compliments by which Selina was
fooled to the top of her bent.
She sang song after song, alone and with Mrs. Orme, till, warned by the
striking of the clock, she returned just in time to meet Mr. and Mrs.
Woodbury as they returned from their evening visit. Lizzy was greatly
annoyed, and spoke more sharply than was at all common with her.
"I only went in to get a pattern Mrs. Orme promised me," said Selina,
restraining herself by a great effort. "Mrs. Orme had some new music,
and kept me to try it. I am sorry you are vexed, Lizzy, but you know I
can't break off with her all at once, when she has been so kind to me
in lending me music, and so on. I won't go there if you don't want me
to, though I must say I can't see any harm in her."
Already sorry for her severity, Lizzy said no more.
And Selina, warned by what had happened, actually staid away from Mrs.
Orme's for three whole days.