PROGRESS
Mistress Kent was willing to confess, after a few weeks, that many
bright children had come to her to be taught, but never had there come a
child more swift to learn than Maid Sally Dukeen. She learned in fact as
though her beautiful little ringlets held each a cell in which to hide
the things she was all the time finding out.
Before the winter term of school began she could read well, and also
write and spell. No need to urge attention with the little maid; the
only thing needed was to hold her back.
Every evening except Wednesday and Saturday, as soon as her supper was
eaten, over to Mistress Kent's raced Sally, the books the mistress had
lent her under her arm, and her lessons so perfectly learned that the
good teacher wondered when she found time for so much study.
Had she peeped into Mistress Brace's house almost any day she would have
known. When Sally went to bed a book was under her pillow, for there
would be a little time for study before she got up in the morning. While
dressing, she was busy spelling as well. And while the dishes were being
washed, a book was before her on shelf or window-sill.
Sally managed to study midst the clattering of dishes and the swish of a
broom. For Mistress Cory Ann thought not much of the books, and minded
not how much noise she made while the poor child was conning a lesson,
but she dared not stop her. Sally had found out that the parson would be
her friend should trouble arise, and the parson and the burgesses were
powers that Mistress Cory Ann dared not trifle with.
When it grew chilly, muddy, or it might be a little frosty, Sally bought
herself a pair of gum shoes, for with all her extra studying she yet
found time for mending and darning, so earning a little all the time.
She also bought a good shawl, which kept her nice and warm.
And when she said, "I need a decent hat; I wonder would the parson help
me to get one," Mistress Brace bade her keep away and not go bothering
the parson. Then before the next week she got for Sally a poke bonnet
that was both warm and sightly.
Keen little Sally would not have gone to the parson; she was too proud
to beg a single penny's worth, but she had found a new way of getting
around Mistress Cory Ann since she had seen all that curtseying to the
parson.
Then something else that was beautiful happened to Sally, that filled
the little maid's heart with joy and gladness.
She had gone one afternoon in January, soon after the beginning of the
year, to run about in the pine woods, for what with work and study she
had grown tired and felt stupid.
"Go and play," cried her Fairy.
"But my books," said Sally.
"You will grow dull, and do well neither with books, needle, or other
work without some time for play," cried the Fairy.
And so Sally put by her book, left her mending, and ran like a wild,
free thing into the woods, that had a fresh, sweet smell to them. The
air was cool and did the child good. She wandered farther and farther
on, thinking it was in truth a good thing to play at times.
"Sing!" cried her Fairy, "none will hear thee, sing'st thou ever so
loudly here."
Now naught has yet been said of Sally's voice. She scarcely knew she had
what would be called "a voice." Often she sang at her work, but Mistress
Brace would likely as not bid her be quiet and not make so great a
racket.
Mistress Cory Ann liked to talk a great deal herself, and so would hush
Sally's singing, which after a time made Sally think that singing was
only making a troublesome noise, so she did not much of it in the house.
"Sing!" said the Fairy.
Sally stood against a tree and sang without a thought or care as to how
her voice might sound. The notes rang out clear and strong, for she sang
as would a bird. And over and again she sang a few sweet verses she had
learned from hearing young Mistress Rosamond Earlscourt practising them
with her lute in the summer-house.
[Illustration: "SALLY STOOD AGAINST A TREE AND SANG WITHOUT A THOUGHT OR
CARE."]
As she stopped, full of the joy of hearing her own young voice, she
heard a little sound, and, turning around, oh! oh! there stood Master
Sutcliff, the precentor, or leader of the meeting-house choir, which was
made up of all such young men and maidens as could sing with melody in
their voices.
Master Sutcliff was also teacher of the singing-school, to which all
were welcome who could pay the regular fee, either in money, apples,
fruit, or hay.
"You have a heartsome voice," said the singing master, coming closer to
Sally, and speaking in his own rich bass. "A heartsome voice; how would
it please you to come to the singing-school and help lead some of the
more timorous ones?"
"I do not think my mistress would allow it," said Sally, with downcast
eyes.
"If she consents would'st come?" asked Master Sutcliff. "I will teach
you to sing correctly, and do something toward training the voice a kind
Providence hath given thee."
"Yes, I would come," said Sally, without lifting her eyes.
Off strode Master Sutcliff, but Sally could sing no more. What would
Mistress Cory Ann say?
"She will not allow it," said Sally to herself.
"Wait and see," cheered her Fairy.
And it seemed that wonders would never cease now they had begun, for
when Sally went about getting supper Mistress Brace said to her:
"If you would be doing some good by your screeching at tunes, Master
Sutcliff has been here, and will pay me three shillings a term for
letting you help at his singing-school. I told him I couldn't be
lending you for nothing, so now, all but Saturdays your evenings will be
taken up. I hope that will satisfy you."
"My dress is not fit," said Sally.
"I will see to that!" snapped Mistress Cory Ann.
And see to it she did. For she went the next day to Goodman Chatfield's
store, and bought a piece of blue linsey-woolsey, which in a day or two
was made into so becoming a dress, that Mistress Brace wished she had
bought the green one, which was not as pretty, but which Goodman
Chatfield held at a higher price.
And Master Sutcliff knew he had made a good trade, for Sally's strong
young voice was true as well, and soon led right bravely the chorus of
many voices. And for the maid herself it was great joy thus to sing with
others, and be taught the notes that she soon learned.
One day Mistress Brace saw Parson Kendall again coming up her steps,
and, curtseying as before, she bade him enter.
"I hear," said the parson, "that Master Sutcliff pays thee a quarterly
sum for allowing the young maid that is in thy care to lead somewhat at
the singing-school."
"Yes," said Mistress Cory Ann, "I could not let her sing for naught. I
feed her, there surely should be some return."
"But she sings only at night, when a maid of her tender years had far
better be in her bed. And she serves thee a large part of the day. So I
think it but thy duty to use what Master Sutcliff gives thee for her use
alone."
"I shall," said Mistress Brace, "and more, too, for I clothe as well as
feed her."
"But not overabundantly," insisted the parson. "I met the young damsel
yesterday, and I think she wore no hosen."
"She hath stockings," said Mistress Brace.
"More than one pair?"
"Perhaps not, parson."
"Then more she must have. I find that I once met the maiden's father, a
well-dressed, goodly appearing man. It puzzleth me that so little should
have been left for his little daughter's needs. A gentleman he was
whose image hath not faded from my mind."
Very much it vexed Mistress Brace that Parson Kendall should keep so
sharp an eye on Maid Sally. And still more it troubled her that he
should speak again of her father and the kind of man he seemed.
But from that time Sally had better clothes to wear and felt no shame as
she went to and fro to evening lessons and to singing-school.
And so came the springtime, the sweet springtime, and there was beauty
everywhere. On the porch at Ingleside the honeysuckle and climbing roses
were bursting into radiant bloom. The birds began nesting in the
magnolias and the white-belled halesia-trees.
Sandpipers went scudding along down by the water, and the mountain holly
began putting on a new dress. The pink azalea, or swamp pink, violets,
buttercups, and all kinds of meadow beauties began peeping up all
around.
So smart a scholar had Sally shown herself, that Mistress Kent would
gladly have taken her into her classes, but the proud Virginia matrons
who sent their richly clothed children to the dame school would still
have thought Sally too poorly dressed a little maid to sit beside their
dainty little darlings.
Sally was beginning to add, subtract, divide, and multiply. And when the
school closed for the summer and Mistress Kent lent her a simple history
to read, she was wild with delight that she would still have a book near
by.
And much as Sally hated to give up her lessons for a few months, there
was a bird singing in her heart, singing a song of which poor Sally was
half ashamed and yet which made her very, very glad. For in June, rich,
flowery, song-bird June, _he_ was coming home, her Fairy Prince!
"And now I can far better understand all he reads," she said to her
Fairy. Then her glad voice fell. "But I can never, never come up to
him," she sighed; "there is yet a mountain of difference between us."
"You have begun to climb," said her Fairy.
"Ah, but there is proud Lady Rosamond Earlscourt, and Lady Irene
Westwood, and so many other high-born damsels of his own kind, all so
proud, so well-born."
"What know you of your own birth?" asked her Fairy, sharply. "How often
must I ask thee?"
"I only remember the Flats and Slipside Row," said Sally's forlorn
voice.
"Keep climbing," said her Fairy. "Does not something within you still
urge you to climb and climb?"
"Yes, yes," cried Sally, "and climb I will!"
And now that evenings of study had stopped for awhile, Sally went again
after supper to the beloved seat at Ingleside. And Lady Lucretia
Grandison and Lady Rosamond Earlscourt strolled often over to the arbor
and chatted gaily while their white fingers held the embroidery at which
they worked continually when not reading.
Many the scarf, cape, or flowing sleeve they worked themselves with
which to deck their fair necks, shoulders, and arms.
One evening, as Sally sat dreaming on the stones, she heard Rosamond
Earlscourt say:
"I must furbish up my riding-suit, for cousin Lionel will want to mount
Hotspur once he is home again, and I my Lady Grace."
And Lucretia answered, "Lionel liketh best to ride alone when on
Hotspur's back. Do not you remember he thought it made Hotspur impatient
to have another horse beside him, and raised his temper?"
"Then there are other horses he can ride," returned Rosamond. "My
beautiful Lady Grace is tired of standing in the stable, but I like not
to ride alone or only with a groom for company."
These words seemed to rouse something in Sally's soul, and she cried,
inwardly:
"Oh, why could not I have a 'Lady Grace,' a dear horse of my own on
which to fly across the country? I could ride, I know I could, and oh,
oh! I feel it within me that a fine horse, fine books, fine clothes, a
fine house, all, all that I see at Ingleside or Cloverlove, would fit
into my soul!"
"Dear child," said her Fairy, pityingly, "it is hard not to have what
the heart cries out for. Why not try to find out more about yourself?
Have you ever questioned Mistress Brace about your father, or it might
be about your mother, or what she may know of the home from whence they
came?"
Sally had never thought of this before. She was now twelve years old,
but the three years spent at the Flats, rather a miserable place, and
now nearly four at Slipside Row, were all that she plainly remembered.
Now, seeing and hearing these people who were so far above her, had
wakened that spirit or Fairy within her, which set her thinking of a
better kind of life.
"Perhaps Mistress Brace has things that belonged to my parents, and that
ought to be given me," murmured Sally.
"Why not ask her that, too?" said the Fairy.
"It would be no use," sighed the maiden.