_"HE WILL DO ANYTHING FOR SUGAR."_
THE next morning, almost before she rose from the breakfast-table, Mrs.
Ferarra was surprised by a visit from Miss Ackerman.
"What can have brought her so early?" she thought as she hastened to
meet her friend.
She was still more astonished when she heard Miss Ackerman's errand,
and her indignation was greater than her surprise.
"I think Maria must have been out of her senses," said she. "I never
thought for a moment of the thimble being stolen, and I found it the
next morning just where I left it. What could have put such a thing
into her head?"
"Cousin Maria took a great dislike to Eunice, if you remember, mamma,"
said Anita. "I recollect now that she spoke as if she were very much
surprised when she came in from Mrs. Gunderson's and saw you using the
thimble. I dare say Miss Gunderson told her of the yarn, and she jumped
at once to the conclusion that Eunice had taken the thimble likewise.
But it was very wrong in her to say so. Poor Eunice! How unkind she
must think us!"
"Rather more than unkind if she blames us at all," said Mrs. Ferarra.
"Maria Fay has vexed me a good many times, but this is the worst
of all. It is as Anita says: she took a dislike to Eunice from the
beginning, as she is very apt to do, and was delighted to have her
prejudice—her penetration, as she calls it—justified. 'I can read
character at a glance' is a favorite phrase of hers. Moreover, she took
up the fancy that we intended to adopt Eunice into the family—an idea
which seemed to give her great offence for some reason or other."
"I think Cousin Maria had an intention of being adopted into the family
herself," said Anita, shrewdly. "She threw out several broad hints to
me of how useful she could be to me, and how much care she could take
off your shoulders in the housekeeping."
"Yes, this is a specimen!" said Mrs. Ferarra. "If she has any notions
of that kind, she may dismiss them at once.—But, Miss Ackerman, what is
the best way of meeting this most absurd calumny?"
"That we must consider," replied Miss Ackerman. "So far as the class is
concerned, the matter is very easily managed. I have a class-meeting at
my house on Tuesday afternoon. I think it would be well for you to be
present and tell the true story of the thimble, and I will relate that
of the yarn."
"And I will call on Mrs. Gunderson and explain the matter to her," said
Mrs. Ferarra. "I will also take pains to show my respect for Mrs. Riker
and her daughter in every possible way. I have a plan in my head for
the benefit of Eunice, but I must talk it over with my husband before I
make it public. I think I shall learn to take care of my thimble, now
that my carelessness has been the cause of so much trouble."
"Here comes Eunice herself," said Anita, looking out of the window.
"Run and meet her, my love, and bring her in yourself," said her
mother. "We must try in every way to show that we respect her."
Eunice had risen early enough to do quite a washing before seven
o'clock. She then prepared breakfast and called her mother, but Mrs.
Riker's head was still too bad to think of going out.
"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Riker. "You won't want to go up to Mrs.
Ferarra's alone, will you?"
"Oh, I don't mind that, if you are well enough to be left," replied
Eunice, secretly not very sorry to have the matter left in her own
hands, for Mrs. Riker was rather apt to become hysterical at exciting
times. "I think I will go up directly after breakfast, so as to be sure
of finding Mrs. Ferarra at home. Not that I believe she had anything to
do with the matter."
"I'm sure I hope not," said Mrs. Riker; "I don't like to think ill
of people who have been so kind to us. And, Eunice, when you come
home, you might go to Patrick McGuire's and get five pounds of brown
coffee-sugar. I would as soon have groceries as money for what he owes
me, and I suppose it would accommodate him. It won't make your walk
much longer if you go through the Red House lane and come out by Mr.
Hazleton's."
"And then I can gather some Virginia creeper leaves," said Eunice;
"they always turn a beautiful color on that stone wall."
"Very well, only don't pick poison-ivy instead."
"As if I did not know the difference by this time! Good-bye, mother.
Don't do anything about the washing. There is time enough to finish all
we are likely to have."
Never had the walk up the hill seemed so long and tiresome to Eunice
as this morning, for never had she carried so heavy a heart. True, she
did not believe Anita had done anything to injure her, but yet the
thought would come, "What if she had?" She had learned to love Anita
dearly, with that warm, all-trusting affection which a girl of her age
bestows on those she admires; and it seemed to her that to find herself
deceived and her friend false would be more than she could endure.
All her fears, however, were dispelled at once by Anita's greeting as
she met her on the lawn:
"You darling girl! We were just talking about you. Come through the
conservatory into mother's own room: she is there with Miss Ackerman."
Certainly, neither Anita's greeting nor her mother's left anything to
be desired in the matter of cordiality.
Mrs. Ferarra came directly to the point:
"Eunice, have you heard this absurd story about my thimble?"
"Yes, ma'am," answered Eunice with a greatly-lightened heart. "It was
that I came about. Is the thimble found?"
"It never was lost," answered Mrs. Ferarra. "I have had from childhood
a very careless habit of putting my thimble down out of place, and
I did so in this instance. I found it the next day, as I presumed I
should, and the idea of its being stolen never entered my head for a
moment, nor that of any one else except Miss Fay's, and she is, I am
sorry to say, a very silly woman. I shall write to her to-day on the
subject, and I shall take pains to contradict the story everywhere."
"How do you think the story about the yarn could have originated?"
asked Miss Ackerman. "I never thought Mrs. Ray was a mischievous woman."
"No indeed!" answered Eunice. "She is an excellent woman, and one of
the best friends I have. I think I know who started that story, Miss
Ackerman, but I am not quite sure, and so I would rather say nothing
about it."
"Perhaps that is the best way," said Miss Ackerman. "I shall give the
true version of the tale to-morrow."
"Won't you stay and spend the day with Anita, Eunice?" said Mrs.
Ferarra. "I shall be out most of the day, and she will be glad of a
companion."
"Thank you, Mrs. Ferarra, but I don't see how I can," replied Eunice.
"Mother is not very well, and we have always more work to do on Monday."
"You will at least wait and let me take you home in the carriage; I
shall go out between eleven and twelve."
"I cannot even do that, though I should like it," said Eunice. "I
have an errand on my way home.—I suppose, Anita, you will be at the
class-meeting?"
"Oh yes, and also my 'fascinators,'" answered Anita. "I hope then the
girls will be satisfied about the worsted."
It was with a lightened and thankful heart that Eunice took her way
homeward. She bought her sugar amid many compliments from Patrick, who
cherished a warm admiration for Eunice, and insisted on making her a
present of some uncommonly fine oranges. When she left the shop, she
turned into a lane which led past the old Red House, as it was called—a
deserted and somewhat ruined mansion—on the veranda of which grew the
finest Virginia creeper in all the country.
She stopped to gather a leaf here and there, and as she drew near the
house, she started as a distressed cry of "Help! Help!" fell on her
ear, followed by a curious cry between a whine and a growl.
She quickened her steps, and a turn of the road brought before her eyes
a singular scene. There stood Julia Hazleton, pale and trembling, while
right before her, and penning her into an angle of the wall, stood
Mr. Ferarra's tame bear. He was clearly in no very good humor, for he
raised himself on his hind legs and growled as Eunice approached, and
seemed debating in his mind which to attack first.
A dozen thoughts passed through Eunice's mind in a second of time.
Should she run and call for help? It was some distance to the nearest
house, and who could tell what mischief might be done in the mean time?
"Oh, Eunice, what shall I do?" shrieked Julia as the bear gave another
growl. "Oh, do help me!"
"He will do anything for sugar." It seemed as if some articulate voice
spoke these words in Eunice's ear. She did not hesitate a moment. She
pulled open the end of the paper of sugar, and, walking straight up to
Bruin, she held the tempting sweet under his nose, saying in a coaxing
tone, "Come, old man—come and have something good."
The familiar words and the smell and sight of his beloved brown sugar
worked an instant change in Bruin's feelings. He dropped on all fours
and began to whine like a baby as Eunice withdrew the parcel a little
way.
"Come, then, and you shall have it," said Eunice.
She walked back a few yards till she reached the turn of the lane, when
she poured out the sugar on the ground, taking care to scatter it well
about. With a complacent grunt Bruin fell to his feast, and Eunice
hurried back to Julia, who was standing in the same place, apparently
half benumbed with terror.
"Come now; let us run home while he is eating the sugar," said Eunice.
"He won't stir while there is any left. Come, Julia—you must run,"
she added imperatively as Julia looked at her without moving. "If you
don't, I shall have to go and leave you."
[Illustration: _The Mission Box._
"Come, old man,—come and have something good."]
The words acted as a stimulant to Julia's senses. Eunice put her arm
round her waist, and the two ran without speaking till they came to the
gate which opened into Mr. Hazleton's barnyard, and almost into the
arms of Mr. Hazleton himself.
"We are safe now," said Eunice as soon as she could gather breath
enough to speak.
"Safe from what?" asked Mr. Hazleton, naturally very much surprised.
"What has frightened you?"
"It was Mr. Ferarra's bear," said Eunice, trying to speak collectedly.
"He has got out again. Please, Mr. Hazleton, send some one to tell them
before he does any mischief."
"Did he chase you?"
"No, he got me in a corner of the wall," said Julia, who had recovered
her voice and her senses. "I was gathering some leaves, and I heard a
noise and looked round, and there he was. He seemed to want to play at
first, but when I screamed, he got angry and growled—oh, so savagely! I
do believe he would have killed me, only for Eunice. Just think, papa,
she had a paper of sugar, and she walked straight up and showed it to
him, and then called him away down the lane to get it!"
"I don't understand," said Mr. Hazleton. "Did this—this young person
entice the bear away?"
"Yes," answered Eunice. "I had just bought a parcel of sugar at Pat
McGuire's, and I knew Bruin would do anything for sugar; so I called
him down past the turn of the road, and emptied the whole five pounds
out on the grass. I hope it won't disagree with him," added Eunice,
laughing rather hysterically.
"Oh, papa, if you had seen her walk right up to the bear when he was
growling and showing his teeth, and might have killed her just as well
as not, and then help me when I could hardly walk, you—you wouldn't
call her a 'young person,'" sobbed Julia.
"My dear, I intended no derogation by the epithet," said Mr. Hazleton
in a tone of apology.—"I think Miss—I have not the honor of knowing the
young lady's name—"
"My name is Eunice Riker."
"Ah, I apprehend—a daughter of the late Garret Riker? I knew your
father well.—I think Miss Riker has behaved with the greatest gallantry
and presence of mind, and I shall never forget the obligation she has
laid us under. You had both better go into the house and take some
rest and refreshment. I have sent John to give notice to Mr. Ferarra
of the escape of the bear, and I think I shall take an opportunity of
remonstrating with him on the subject of keeping such an animal."
"Mr. Ferarra had given him to the Park, and they were to come after him
last week," said Eunice: "I heard Anita say so. But I must be going
home, or mother will wonder what has become of me."
"I beg you will wait a little," said Mr. Hazleton. "I am about to drive
down to the station, and will gladly set you down at your own door. I
shall really feel hurt if you refuse," he added in his politest manner,
seeing Eunice hesitate.—"Julia, take Miss Riker into the library.
She will perhaps like to see the new pictures which were put up on
Saturday."
Eunice consented, reflecting that she might secure the chance she
desired of speaking to Julia. As they were looking at the beautiful
landscapes, she entered on the subject that was uppermost in her mind:
"Julia, you were in Mrs. Ray's shop one day when I was there buying
some Shetland wool for Anita?"
"Yes," replied Julia, turning scarlet.
"And was it you who told Ida Van Zandt and Fanny Gunderson that I
changed away Mrs. Ackerman's yarn for wool for myself?"
"Yes, Eunice, I did."
Eunice was silent a minute. As soon as she could command her voice she
said,—
"Do you think that was right, Julia? Would you have liked it if I had
done so by you? I saw you buying some aprons that day. Suppose I had
told people that you were making a bill on the sly, or something like
that?"
"You wouldn't have been far wrong," said Julia in a curious voice. "How
did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I was making 'a bill on the sly.'"
"I didn't know it, of course," answered Eunice. "I only spoke of that
because I heard you say once that your father would not let you make
bills."
"Well, I did make the bill on the sly, and I did tell the story about
you," said Julia. "I was vexed because you had done more for the box
than I had, and because Miss Ackerman took more notice of you than she
did of me; and so I was ready to believe any harm of you. I thought
when I took the work, I should do it the best and quickest of anybody,
and get the most praise; and when I saw that everybody, even little
Mary, had accomplished more than I had, I was angry enough to burn up
the whole thing together."
"There was not much charity in that," remarked Eunice—"not if you did
the work from such motives, I mean."
"There was not one bit of charity in it," assented Julia. "All I did
was just done 'to be seen of men.'"
"But just think what an injury you have done me, Julia!" said
Eunice—"An injury that perhaps can never be repaired, for it is not
easy to stop such a report when once it gets going. We have lost work
by it already."
"A great many people don't believe it, though," said Julia eagerly.
"When mother heard it, she said she did 'not believe one word of any
such thing. It was a malicious slander, and the person who started such
reports ought to be severely punished!' I felt mean enough, I can tell
you. I don't know what she will say when she knows that I did it."
"Perhaps she won't know; only, Julia, I do think you ought to
contradict the story, because there is not a word of truth in it. I
bought the wool for Anita, and left the yarn to be matched for Mrs.
Ackerman. I don't see what you ever saw in me to make you think I would
do so," added Eunice with a quivering lip.
"I never saw anything but what was good in you, Eunice. It was all my
own envy and wicked temper. You don't know how it all looked to me when
I stood there in that corner fenced in by the bear. I have heard that
when people are drowning they see their whole lives spread out before
them—which, of course, is impossible—but I can easily believe that they
think of many things in a short time; for it seemed to me this morning
as if every wrong thing I ever did was looking at me out of the eyes of
that bear."
"Then, how will it seem when you come to stand before the
judgment-seat?" asked Eunice in a low tone.
Julia shook her head and was silent for a moment. Then she resumed
cheerfully,—
"But I shall put you right, Eunice, whatever happens to me. Here comes
mamma. I wondered where she was."
Mrs. Hazleton quite forgot to be dignified. She forgot all about
Eunice's "proper station" and all the rest of it, and she could not
have clasped "the young person" in her arms and kissed her with more
motherly warmth and tenderness if she had been a princess of the blood:
"You dear, dear girl! To think you should have had such presence of
mind and courage!—Didn't I tell you, Julia, that Eunice—" And here
Mrs. Hazleton stopped in some confusion.
"Oh I know all about it, Mrs. Hazleton," said Eunice, smiling. "I have
been to see Mrs. Ferarra, and it will be all straightened out. As to
what I did this morning, I don't really think there was so much danger.
I have often fed Bruin, and knew his tastes pretty well, though I won't
deny that I was a good deal frightened, because one can never tell what
these wild creatures may do."
"I think there was great danger, such as I shudder to think of,"
said Mrs. Hazleton. "A young school-friend of my own was torn all to
pieces by a bear which every one thought was perfectly tame. * But the
carriage is here, and Mr. Hazleton has to meet the train."
* This is a fact. No tame bear is to be trusted.
"Eunice has given all her mother's sugar to the bear, mamma," said
Julia.
"We will remember that," said her mother.—"Good-bye, my dear. I shall
see you again before long."
As Mrs. Hazleton opened the door, Eunice whispered to Julia,—
"Tell your mother about the bill, Julia. You will feel better if you
do."
"I dare not," said Julia; "it would be worse than the bear."
"It will all come out some time," said Eunice; "and remember, God knows
it all."
"Well, I'll try. Good-bye, Eunice."