A LONG GOOD-BY
August flew by with its sultry air, and the grand house lay warm and
quiet until supper time, no one venturing out until the heat of the day
was past.
A disappointment it was to Sally that so little time was spent by the
young people in the arbor, for it was not easy for her to see or hear
them anywhere else.
Then came there a day in September when all the place was stirred as by
some great and important event. Captain Rothwell was at the dock or on
the deck giving swift orders, the sailors were hurrying to and fro, and
the brave _Belle Virgeen_ stood ready winged for sailing.
Sally a little while before had begged of Mistress Brace a piece of gray
and white print, out of which, being exceeding deft with her needle,
she had made for herself a neat gown.
Then the hired men had each agreed to pay her a few pence if every week
she would darn their stockings. And the darns were indeed of surprising
neatness for a little maid of but eleven years of age.
Sally could buy no stockings as yet with her earnings, but a cheap pair
of shoes she already had bought, and on the sweet September day, away
with the rest she went to see the _Belle Virgeen_ set sail.
Very hard she strained her eyes to get a glimpse of her Fairy Prince,
and her poor little heart was aching at thought of his crossing the
great lonely ocean to remain nearly a year away.
"Oh, a year doth seem such a very long while," she murmured, "and
although I should be ready to die of shame did any one know it, yet
great comfort and company hath it been for me to dream and imagine about
the Fairy Prince."
So much was there going on, and so great the bustle, that not much
thought could fill her mind, and soon there came an extra stir, a
carriage drove along the road, a lithe young form sprang out, and midst
a cheer from the "hands" that crowded the landing, Lionel Grandison went
up the gangplank.
Then came the signal from Captain Rothwell to draw in the hawsers, and
let the trim vessel glide.
Yes, there were Sir Percival Grandison, young Mistress Lucretia, and
Mistress Rosamond Earlscourt, all waving their kerchiefs, and smiling
bravely at the young student, who held his sea-cap high above his head,
waving it constantly.
Lady Gabrielle had not come to see him sail away. Like unto other
mothers at such times, she had not wished to see the lad depart.
On the edge of the crowd stood Sally. Still farther back she went, and
not much notice did she take that she was standing near a great wagon
that had brought some luggage to the dock, until all at once, from
around the other side, she heard a musical voice half sobbing out a
prayer:
"O Lorr Gord, do keep de chile f'om all de dangers ob de mighty deep!
Doan't let de waves nor de billows be swallerin' ob him up. Keep my
babby safe f'om all de mis'ries ob a forr'n land. Dese yere arms
has held him troo all kiner sickernesses. Deah Lorr, keep my chile
safe--Yah! yah! yah!"
It was Mammy Leezer, who, without stopping to end her prayer in proper
shape, had suddenly joined the cheer that went up as the vessel dropped
slowly down the stream.
Very still it grew again as the _Belle Virgeen_ drifted off and away,
until in the distance the staunch ship grew small, and the figure of a
boy standing straight and tall looked like a mere point against the sky.
Sallie's breast heaved and tears filled her eyes.
"Farewell, O Fairy Prince," she sighed, "farewell! I hate to see thee
go. I hope to see thee back some day, my Fairy Prince, and ah, what joy
would it be, if, without shame, I might sometime meet thee face to
face."
"Then away and prepare," cried her Fairy, and without stopping to look
back, or even to say a word to Mammy Leezer, Sally went swiftly to the
pine woods and began talking to herself again.
"Now one thing am I bound to do. It will be hard to see the way, but--I
am going to a dame school!
"Mistress Maria Kent has long had pupils, and a likely teacher she must
be. School goes in this day week. I mean to be there! But how? I know
not, yet some way will I find to learn."
That night Sally lay long awake. How busy was her mind! How many ways
she tried to plan! At length she exclaimed:
"I have it! I have it! That will I do. If Mistress Cory Ann makes a
noise about it,--and I greatly fear me she will,--then must I put on
bravery and tell her, with seemly respect, but with a good show of will,
that learning I want and that learning I must have."
The next afternoon, as soon as she was through her supper, Sally made
herself both neat and pretty in appearance. Her hair was now all the
time made to look almost smooth, the gray and white print with a red
rose for a breastpin was well brightened up. The decent shoes were on
her feet.
She slipped away without being seen by the sharp eyes of Mistress Cory
Ann, for she felt that her looks would not be pleasing to her. More than
once had Mistress Brace spoken smartly of her smoother hair, and she had
not liked the buying of the shoes.
Now, should she see Sally gliding away, the new dress on, a rose for
ornament, and with shoes on, she would demand being told at once whither
she was bound.
* * * * *
Mistress Maria Kent was sitting on the porch at her pretty little home,
the picture of an old-time schoolmistress. Her hair was parted with a
precision that could not have been increased, and it was brought
smoothly down on either side, where it was rounded just in front of her
ears, a little hard quirl being carried over her ears and pinned closely
to her back hair.
Her long-waisted dress of blue cambric was of a Puritan plainness, while
the deeply wrought collar lying flat around her neck was fastened with a
round breastpin that had hair curiously plaited in the centre,
surrounded by black and white enamel, and all framed in gold.
She lifted her eyes from the book she was reading to see a spare little
figure coming up the garden walk.
"Good evening, little maid," she said pleasantly, "was there something
you wished to say to me?"
[Illustration: "'GOOD EVENING, LITTLE MAID,' SHE SAID, PLEASANTLY."]
Sally swallowed hard, and scarcely lifting her eyes, she replied, in a
frightened voice:
"Yes, Mistress Kent, I want to get learning."
"That is praiseworthy," said Mistress Maria, "and have any arrangements
been made by which you can enter upon the duties and privileges of a
youthful scholar?"
Sally had told herself on the way that she must be brave, and so,
scarcely understanding or even knowing what Mistress Kent had said, she
began with a good show of courage for so timid and untaught a child:
"There is no one to help me, Mistress, I must help myself, but I can do
things if I try. I have set my heart on getting learning, which I shall!
I have no money but about fourpence-ha'penny a week for darning
stockings, but I have skill with the needle somewhat. If I could clean,
or weed, or sew, my work should be well done. Could I sew for you or
your mother, Mistress Kent, or do any kind of work that would pay for
learning to read and write and spell? For learn I shall!"
Sally was on the point of crying out loud as she finished her speech, so
very hard had it been for her to make it, yet glad and half surprised
she was, that, without stopping, the whole story had been told.
Mistress Kent was silent for a time after Sally had spoken. She was
thinking to herself:
"This is something new. Here is a little maid ten or eleven years of
age, who, all by herself, has come to my door, saying that learning she
wants and must have, and will gladly pay for it what she can with her
own small hands."
But the Mistress had to be wise and prudent. The children who came to
her school were well taught and well reared, came of proud parents who
paid well for their schooling, and would never let their little people
associate with children of the poorer classes.
They were all well dressed, carefully washed and combed, wore fine
stockings and tasteful shoes, and had high notions already in their own
proud little heads.
So Mistress Kent, who had a good, kind heart under her stiff waist, was
quiet so long a time that Sally raised her eyes and saw a look of
trouble on the face of the schoolmistress. She was looking far off on
the distant fields, and was surely trying to think something out. At
length she said, slowly and distinctly:
"It would not be best, little maiden, for you to enter the classes with
other young persons of your age, for they would be too far beyond you in
their studies. Nor can I feel it would do to enter you with A, B, C
scholars, for they would be much younger, and smaller in stature than
yourself.
"But I like not to send away either lad or maid who desires greatly to
learn. Twice a week, I go a few miles to pay a short visit to a sister
who is lame; if then you will come promptly of a Wednesday and Saturday
afternoon, when school does not keep, and look gently after my aged
mother, and also do a little plain sewing,--for I like not that the
hands should be idle,--I will on other evenings of the week lend you
books and faithfully teach you to read well, write, and spell."
Sally almost forgot her fear and cried out, "Oh, thank you, thank you,
good Mistress Kent! I will indeed take good care of the aged mother,
and do the sewing with a careful eye."
And then, as if unable to help it, she ran forward and put a kiss on the
teacher's thin neck.
The spinster flushed rosy red and said, in a voice that trembled:
"There, there, child, that will do, be not overmuch thankful for what it
pleaseth me to do, but come on Wednesday of next week, and we will
proceed to help each other."
Sally wandered toward home as if in a dream. For, lo! so easily had she
already found a way to learn. And perfectly happy she would have been,
had not a voice said grimly within her:
"But you have not yet reckoned with Mistress Cory Ann Brace!"
It was then Thursday, and nearly a week would Sally have in which to
settle matters. And the next Saturday, after cleaning kitchen, steps,
and shed with much care, she said to Mistress Cory Ann that twice a week
she had the chance to go to Mistress Kent of the dame school in the
afternoon to do her some service, and that evenings she was to be taught
by the schoolmistress.
Then it was that Mistress Cory Ann blazed forth, and poor Sally felt her
hopes dying down under her wrath. Indeed! had she not seen the slicking
up, the rigging and the putting about to make herself fine? Not a step
should she go to Mistress Kent to be taught book-learning!
"Have I not clothed and fed you, ungrateful girl," she cried, "but off
you must go making a smart lady of yourself, and getting notions that
will fit you neither to do one thing nor another? Was it seeing that
young macaroni of a boy start off in all his glory to cram his head with
book stuff that set you up to wanting the same thing yourself? Get the
notion out again, then, quick! Not a word more of this nonsense about
Mistress Kent and her teachings. If you disobey, off you go to the Town
House, and there stay until you are eighteen."
Oh, dreadful! Sally said not another word; she only moped about as if
heart-broken. She did not go over to Ingleside after supper, but went
across to the pines, and throwing herself face downward on the moss, as
she had done once before when her ignorance first appeared before her,
she cried and cried until again she fell asleep.