stately animal with flowing mane and tail. "Won't James Mandeville
rejoice? Jack will be nowhere."
"I suppose boys like horses," said the old man, accepting the chair
Mammy Belle brought forward, and evidently not indifferent to the
admiration his gift excited.
The tree trimming went on, and presently returning to his usual
attitude of mind, Mr. Goodman remarked that there was a sinful waste
of money at this time of year.
"That is true," said Norah, pausing to study the effect of a paper
angel in tinsel, "but also there is the money that _might_ be spent to
make people happy, and isn't."
"Come, Norah, really, we must not stay any longer. You have done quite
enough," Marion was saying, partly in the wish to cut off a possible
argument, when the front door opened with a startling suddenness, and
a young man with a bag in his hand stepped into the hall and faced the
scene in the parlor,--the gay Christmas tree, the holly; Norah
standing on a chair, with her laughing face over her shoulder; Marion,
tall and stately, by the fireplace; and grim-looking Giant Despair in
the chair of state.
"Why, Marse Tom," gasped Mammy Belle, "I done spect you in de
mawnin'."
It was Marion who made the explanations,--their friendship for James
Mandeville and Mammy Belle's difficulty with the tree, and she did it
with a gracious charm of manner that was irresistible.
Mr. Norton's boyish yet careworn face flushed. "You are very kind to
my little boy," he said. "I wish his mother were here to thank you."
"Why, Norton, is that you?" exclaimed Giant Despair, waking up. "Do
you mean to tell me that James Mandeville is your boy? Upon my word!"
"It is fortunate you know Mr. Norton, for now you can testify to our
good intentions in invading his house, Mr. Goodman," said Norah,
laughing.
Mr. Norton was embarrassed. "I travel for Mr. Goodman's drug house,"
he said. Clearly he was not in the habit of meeting his employer
socially.
* * * * *
"And you say they keep a shop, mammy?" This was after the guests had
departed, and Belle had done her best to explain.
"Dey is ladies, anyhow," she insisted stoutly.
"That is very evident," said Mr. Norton.
"Jus' you ax James Mandeville in the mawnin'," added Mammy Belle. "He
'lows dat Miss Marion and Miss Norah done put the moon up, shore."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST
THE RICH MISS CARPENTER
Miss Virginia was writing to her sister. She had a great deal that was
pleasant to relate, and her pen moved on smoothly. There was
Charlotte's Christmas party which, with the assistance of Alex and
Madelaine, had gone off successfully.
Lucile Lyle had been one of the guests, for as a classmate of
Charlotte's it seemed necessary to ask her; but this Miss Virginia did
not mention. She did say, however, that Charlotte's interest in Lucile
seemed to have abated. This was quite true; indeed, there was a
growing coolness between the once devoted friends.
The cause of this was a little girl, a year younger than Charlotte,
who with her father and mother had recently come to board at the
Leighs'. The Reeds were strangers in the city, and Miss Sarah had
asked Charlotte to do what she could to make Helen feel at home.
They had taken a fancy to each other, and Charlotte enjoyed playing
chaperon to Helen when she was entered at Miss Barrows's school. Helen
was a bright girl with sweet, gentle manners, inclined to look up to
Charlotte as older and more experienced than herself; and in their
daily walks back and forth the friendship grew. Lucile chose to be
jealous, and something very like what in schoolgirl language is called
a fuss, followed. They no longer wore each other's rings, and Lucile
sang no more of beauteous eyes.
Miss Virginia knew all about it, and took pleasure in mentioning to
her sister that Charlotte's good sense had come to the rescue, and an
intimacy was no longer to be feared. That Mrs. Millard had small
confidence in her powers of discipline, Miss Virginia was well aware;
but Charlotte's excellent school reports spoke for themselves.
After giving various items of neighborhood interest, she paused;
glancing up, her eye fell on the shop across the way, and immediately
a sensation of uneasiness took possession of her. With an elbow on her
desk she continued to gaze out of the window, thoughtfully tapping
her cheek with her penholder. She had warned her sister that she meant
to do as she pleased; at the same time, she had not intended to buy
most of her Christmas gifts at the shop, and more than this, to remain
to chat on several occasions. And yesterday Charlotte had come in with
the announcement that Miss Carpenter was willing to show Helen and her
how to make baskets if they would come over some evening. They were
very eager to go. Could she refuse? The question interrupted her flow
of thought; she put aside the letter to be finished some other time,
and went in to see the Leighs.
She found Alexina in the sitting room with Miss Sarah and her aunt.
Old Mrs. Leigh had the quilt she was making spread out on the couch
for admiration and suggestions. Miss Virginia, after paying tribute to
its beauties, mentioned the basket making, and asked for advice.
"Caroline insisted that they would push themselves into notice, and
while I cannot see that they are pushing, they are certainly--"
"Getting there," suggested Miss Sarah. "Do you know, Mr. Goodman has
been in several times after the shop closed at five o'clock, to have
Miss Norah read to him? Now, is that anything but pure kindness? I
suppose Caroline would say they were after his money."
"I had not thought of his caring to be read to as he has John; but he
told grandfather he got tired of John's reading, and there were some
political articles in the _Nineteenth Century_ Miss Pennington offered
to read to him," said Alexina, who had made up her mind definitely
that she wanted these shopkeepers for friends.
"I think that Miss Norah carries a cunning bag, as Malinda used to
say," remarked Mrs. Leigh.
"They have not returned our call, Miss Virginia," said Alex.
"No, and if I could do just as I pleased, I'd like to know them
better. I'd ask them to tea." Miss Wilbur spoke as one considering
some daring departure from the path of propriety.
Miss Sarah laughed. "I wish you would," she said.
When Friday night came, Miss Virginia did not see her way clear to
oppose the basket lessons, and in consequence found herself one of a
merry party in the shop. Alex had come over with them, and presently
Miss Sarah ran in.
Alex was in one of her bright moods, and Miss Sarah kept them laughing
over her first experiences in paying her taxes. Miss Carpenter, as she
separated long strands of raphia and initiated her pupils into the art
of twisting and stitching, was almost as merry as Miss Pennington,
whose infectious laugh, as she related James Mandeville's latest
speeches, kept them all in a gale.
Once in the course of the evening, Norah said, in reference to a
remark of somebody's, "That reminds me of our friend the rich Miss
Carpenter." And when the lesson was over, and Miss Virginia, beginning
to murmur something about its being late, Charlotte suddenly
announced, "I know a Miss Carpenter in Philadelphia."
There was an odd silence for a moment until she added: "At least, I
don't exactly know her, but I have heard a great deal about her. She
lives across the street from my uncle, and last spring when I was
there I used to see them take her out to drive. She had been ill, and
I never really saw her. _She_ is rich, and I wondered if she could be
the Miss Carpenter you spoke of, Miss Norah."
It was Marion who answered the question. "She is the very one. Norah
thinks a great deal of her, in fact,--is a little absurd about her."
"Why shouldn't I be? Hasn't she done everything for us?" cried Norah,
stoutly.
"Then you have seen her," said Charlotte, delightedly. "Is she
beautiful and--everything--as Mrs. Wellington said?" she looked at
Marion.
"Ask Miss Pennington."
"I consider her handsome and charming, but Marion is a connection and
ought to be able to tell you more than I."
"I am glad you know her, for I am very much interested in her because
of a special reason."
"Charlotte, my dear," Miss Virginia spoke warningly, "it is really
time we were going."
* * * * *
The discovery that Miss Carpenter of the shop was a relative of the
Philadelphia Carpenters relieved Miss Virginia beyond measure. She
sat down at once to finish her letter and convey the news to her
sister. She was vindicated; once more her conscience was easy.
The Terrace in general received the news with approval. That the
shopkeepers were not exactly ordinary persons had been felt all along.
Everybody had heard of Peter Carpenter. Possibly the shop was simply
another manifestation of family eccentricities on the part of this
cousin. It was easily settled that Miss Marion was a cousin,--probably
a second or third cousin; for Miss Virginia knew about the family, and
Peter Carpenter had had but one son.
Mrs. Russell, who went to the shop with Alex one day, was greatly
impressed with Marion's bearing. "Any one can see she is not an
ordinary person," she said.
"That must be because you know she is well-connected, mother," Alex
replied. "Mrs. Millard could not see it."
"I trust I am not quite so prejudiced," Mrs. Russell said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND
VALENTINES
"Undoubtedly our connection with the rich Miss Carpenter has affected
our social position. The air is full of affability. Before we know it,
we shall be in society." Norah looked up from her account-book to make
this remark.
"As it is all your doing, I trust you are pleased," returned Marion.
"That pretty fraud, Madelaine Russell, asked me yesterday if she might
not come with Alexina to the basket making next Friday," continued
Norah. "Of course I had to say 'yes.' Now I think I'll ask that little
type-writer girl I met at the mission. She is really a neighbor, for
she boards in that tall, dreary house on the corner of Walnut and
Pleasant streets."
"Why not ask her to dinner? I should really enjoy some company."
"A good idea, Marion. She looks hungry,--I don't mean for dinner, but
for something besides work. She is from the country. What have you in
that bag, Infinitesimal James?--some more 'finger ladies'?"
James Mandeville, who had at that moment entered, nodded his head,
speech being for obvious reasons out of the question.
"Eating in the shop is against the rule, except at afternoon tea,"
said Marion. "You must go outside, or join Susanna in the kitchen."
"Did you happen to meet Mr. Goodman this morning?" asked Norah.
"Yes, he buyed the finger ladies," answered James Mandeville, helping
himself again from the bag, and then passing it around. "I am going to
buy him a valentine," he added.
"To be sure, he deserves one. We'll go down town this very afternoon
and select it."
"Goody!" said James Mandeville, and in great spirits he carried his
cakes out of doors, and was presently busily engaged in playing
conductor on the doorstep, calling out in stentorian tones at
intervals, "All on a board!"
Norah found the business of selecting valentines in company with a
small boy, a lengthy one. James Mandeville's taste was exacting. At
first the comic ones caught his eye, and he was with difficulty
induced to consider more worthy specimens of art; then he bestowed his
favor upon an elaborate white satin heart, a combination sachet and
valentine, and again had to be diverted. At length his selection was
made,--a gilt and lace affair with a border of roses and the touching
motto, "To my own true love."
On their way home they stopped in a large jewelry store where Norah
had left her watch to be repaired, and while she waited she saw
Wayland Leigh bending in an absorbed manner over a collection of
fans,--delicate mother-of-pearl and lace trifles, as frail as they
were pretty. What business had he with such expensive things? she
wondered. It was quickly forgotten, however, in the difficulties
involved in making headway past the show windows, James Mandeville
wishing to exhaust the beauties of each one before moving on.
[Illustration: JAMES MANDEVILLE'S TASTE WAS EXACTING.]
The afternoon was nearly over when, after leaving her companion at his
home, she entered the shop, where Marion was busy folding and putting
away. Norah stood before the table, pulling off her gloves.
Suddenly she stooped and picked up an envelope from the floor. "Did
you get a letter from Dr. Baird?" she asked, as she read the address.
Marion's face flushed oddly. "No," she said, "it was just an
enclosure."
"A valentine?" cried Norah; but Marion went on with her folding, and
did not reply.
Norah walked to the window and looked out through the screen of plants
at the Terrace and the faint rosy glow that lingered in the southwest.
She guessed what it was her friend had received, and for a moment she
was not quite happy. Then she asked herself inwardly, but sternly,
"Are you a selfish beast, Norah Pennington?"
Presently Marlon came behind her and put an arm around her. "You don't
mind my not showing it to you, Norah. It was only a--"
Norah turned, and with a sudden motion stopped the word on her lips.
"Child, what is friendship worth if one minds things--like that? I
invited Miss Martin," she added.
Louise Martin was a fair, fresh-looking girl, who had come from a
country town several years before, and after a course in a business
college had found a position as stenographer in a real estate office.
Her gentle, refined manners had attracted Norah, who, persisting in
the effort to make friends with her, had at length broken through the
distant reserve with which she met all advances. The girl hesitated
over the invitation, saying she did not often go anywhere; but Norah's
friendly manner won the day, and promptly at half past six on Friday
evening Susanna ushered her into the shop.
Norah met her and presented her to Marion. "And now you are to come
upstairs to take off your things, for that always seems the sociable
way to begin," she said.
Miss Martin looked about her in surprise. "When you said you kept a
shop, I did not dream it was like this."
"We pride ourselves on not keeping an ordinary shop, but a most
unpretentious one, as you see."
"And this is where you live?" Miss Martin exclaimed with a sigh of
admiration, as she followed her guide into a very simple bedroom.
"We live all over the house. This is my room, however."
"It is the most beautiful place I ever saw," the girl said.
Remembering the dingy boarding-house, Norah understood. "It is all
simple and inexpensive," she said. "Miss Carpenter and I pride
ourselves on the large amount of comfort we have achieved for a small
amount of money. You see we have matting on the floor, with a few
rugs; as our landlord would not do anything to the walls, we had a
frieze made of this big-flowered paper which cost next to nothing, and
relieves the whiteness; the white iron beds and the dressing-tables
were not expensive, nor the draperies, which are in our line, you
know." While she talked Norah opened the door into the next room.
"This is Miss Carpenter's," she said. "We are just alike, except that
she is rose colored and I am blue."
There were some things Norah had not mentioned,--toilet articles such
as Miss Martin had never seen outside of a show-case, and a silk
dressing-gown of great daintiness that lay across a chair in Miss
Carpenter's room.
"I was surprised when you said you kept a store,--you did not look
like it; but if this is the way you live--" Miss Martin did not
finish her sentence as she allowed Norah to take her hat.
That everything about the small domain impressed her, it was easy to
see. The simple dinner served so deftly by Susanna, the appointments
of the table, and by no means least, her two hostesses.
Before eight o'clock the basket makers arrived, with them Madelaine,
who made a pretty pretence of being deeply grateful to Miss Pennington
for allowing her to come. Miss Martin watched her with serious
admiration in her eyes. Here was a girl little younger than herself,
whose whole business in life was to be beautiful and engaging.
"I have brought my prettiest valentine to show you," Madelaine said.
"Isn't it a dear?" and taking from its box a gauzy fan, she held it
out for inspection.
Norah, who was nearest, took it. "It is certainly pretty if not
durable," she remarked.
"I hate durable things," said its owner, with a shrug of her dainty
shoulders. "I know it cost a great deal, for I priced one like it."
"Madelaine!" expostulated her sister.
"Goosie, I don't mean since this came."
"And you don't know who sent it?" asked Charlotte.
"Think of sending a gift like this and not getting the credit for it,"
said Miss Sarah, viewing it from a practical standpoint.
"If I knew who sent it, mamma wouldn't let me keep it,--at least Alex
wouldn't,--so of course I do not know."
It was impossible not to smile at her.
"You are a fraud, Madelaine," Miss Sarah said. "I wish I had the money
some people spend on valentines."
"James Mandeville has a more practical mind than Miss Russell's
unknown admirer; he delivered his valentines in person and demanded
full credit," Marion observed.
Norah whispered to Alex, "Please be nice to my little girl," so Alex
took a seat beside Miss Martin and showed her how to begin a basket.
"Miss Pennington says you are a stenographer. I am trying to learn,
but I am hopelessly stupid. Do you think one can learn by one's self?"
"I learned at the Business College," answered Miss Martin; and
looking Alex up and down she added, "but you do not have to do it, do
you? I am glad I can support myself, but there are other ways,--like
this,--only I never dreamed of it before. In a business office
generally you are just part of a machine." Discovering that Miss
Wilbur, too, was listening, she came to an embarrassed pause.
"What would you do if you were to become suddenly rich, Miss Sarah?"
Madelaine asked, and everybody stopped to listen.
"Lose my mind, probably," was the answer.
"Riches make people so dreadfully commonplace," said Norah.
"What can be more commonplace than poverty?" Alex demanded.
"Well, I suppose both extremes are bad. It is, after all, the people
who have neither poverty nor riches who have ideas and make something
out of life."
"I could get heaps out of life if I were rich," Madelaine said.
"I still insist that rich people are to a considerable extent
unoriginal and stupid. They associate with persons exactly like
themselves, do the same things, say the same things, eat the same
things--"
"This is Miss Pennington's hobby," Marion remarked, smiling.
"What would you do if you were to become rich?" Miss Virginia asked
her.
"I believe I should go on with the shop for the present," was the
reply.
"I think I should start a Settlement like the one you have told me
about," Alex said, turning to Norah. "But then," she added, "I should
have to learn a great deal first. You can't do anything that amounts
to anything without learning how."
Miss Sarah had been meditating, now she spoke, "I think I'd try to
give a good time to some persons who never have any fun, to whom life
is only a grind."
"There are so many of them," added Miss Martin, timidly.
"I am afraid I have always been dreadfully selfish," sighed Miss
Virginia.
"Oh, no, Virginia, you aren't that," said Miss Sarah. "Like some of
the rest of us, you may have lived in a small circle, but within its
bounds no one could accuse you of selfishness. Let's all promise to
remember each other when we come into our fortunes," she added.
After they had gone,--Miss Martin lingering to say with shy
earnestness, "I have had _such_ a good time," and receiving in return
a cordial invitation to consider herself a member of the basket
society,--Norah joined Marion before the fire.
"Do you know, Wayland Leigh gave that fan to Madelaine," she said.
"Are you sure? It must have cost twenty-five or thirty dollars."
"I saw him looking at them the other day. I rather suspect his aunts
have spoiled him."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD
NEIGHBORS
Late in February, after some weeks of unusually cold weather, an
epidemic of grip developed. In the Terrace there were several victims,
among the first the Leighs' cook; and when it came to filling her
place, it was discovered that she was by no means the only member of
that useful profession laid low. It was quite impossible to find a
substitute. Miss Sarah was obliged to do her own cooking, with the
assistance of a not very intelligent housemaid.
There were ten in her family now, and it was no light task; but she
might have proved equal to it if she had not been overworking all
winter. Her spare moments had been given to sewing and embroidering
for the shop, she had indulged and petted her aunt and Wayland just as
usual, besides attending to her housekeeping in the most painstaking
fashion; and all the while like an ominous cloud hovering over her was
the doubt whether she would be able to make the two ends meet.
Perhaps she was extravagant with the table, but during her brother's
lifetime they had lived in an easy, lavish way, and she knew no other.
It hurt Miss Sarah,--foolishly, but naturally,--that her nephew should
have to pay board out of his small salary; and when one week he
omitted to hand her the usual five dollars, she could not bear to ask
him for it, although the lack of it put her to some inconvenience.
To Wayland things seemed moving on easily enough at home. He had
become almost reconciled to the boarders, who made possible the more
elaborate table; and it seemed to him quite impossible that so small a
sum could make any great difference. He meant to pay it in time, but
just now he was hard up. He had made the mistake of trying to be a
society man, to compete with those whose incomes were many times as
large as his own. In his heart he knew the purchase of that fan for
Madelaine was a piece of inexcusable extravagance, but he had been too
weak to resist.
Madelaine was most gracious in these days to Winston Graham, a
pampered youth whom Wayland had despised from his babyhood, and had
tyrannized over at school. Now the tables were turned. Years had
improved Winston, and any lack of brilliancy was more than atoned for
by an ample fortune, in the management of which he was showing
unexpected shrewdness.
For the moment that foolish fan had brought him a little pleasure.
There could be no doubt Madelaine guessed the sender. Somebody was
absurd, she said; if she were certain who sent it, she would return
it,--and then she smiled bewitchingly over the gauzy trifle that had
cost more than half a month's salary.
Miss Sarah was in some measure to blame. She should have taken her
nephew into her confidence. Such things as taxes and unexpected
plumber's bills did not present themselves to his mind, and when he
presently found himself in debt, he went so far as to wonder if she
might not be able to help him out,--temporarily, of course.
It was not till matters had grown desperate that he decided to do
this. Wayland was not in the habit of getting into debt, and an
insistent tailor and florist made his life miserable. With masculine
obtuseness he chose the most unpropitious moment. Miss Sarah, after a
hard day, had dropped into an easy-chair for a little rest after
dinner. Wayland had forgotten the absence of the cook, and in the
lamplight his aunt looked placid and comfortable.
"Aunt Sarah," he began, "I am rather hard up just now--"
"Never mind, dear, I can get along, I think. You can pay me back
sometime when it is convenient."
"Yes, I mean to,--but I have been a fool. I--I am going to turn over a
new leaf,--not go out any more, and save up," Wayland stammered.
Usually to a remark of this kind his aunt would respond with consoling
assurance that he was young and must have a little pleasure; but
to-night she only said with a sigh it would perhaps be better; that
when one was poor the only peaceful thing was to accept it.
"Then I suppose you couldn't lend me a little?" he faltered.
"Lend?" Miss Sarah sat up very straight. "Oh, Wayland, are you in
debt?"
"Oh, well, if you can't it is all right; but you needn't jump all over
a fellow."
"I do not understand what you mean by 'jumping all over you.' I
certainly don't feel like such gymnastics. But I want you to tell me
honestly the state of affairs."