JOSHUA HURD PROVES HOSPITABLE AND KIND.
“Come in, if it’s you, Eunice,” said a voice from within, “only don’t go
to pitching in about the whisky; I mean to drink a hot punch every night
of my life—two on ’em—three on ’em—four on ’em, if I’ve a mind to. The
kettle’s on now, I give you fair warning. Come in, if you’ve a mind to,
but none of your tantrums. Josh Hurd is Josh Hurd, and he ain’t to be
trod on.”
“It isn’t Eunice—only me,” said sweet-voiced Ellen, coming into the
room, where Joshua was hard at work, with his coat off, crushing an
unfortunate lemon in a huge wooden squeezer, which he held at arm’s
length, while the juice ran into a tumbler of generous dimensions, in
the bottom of which a liberal supply of sugar was fast melting.
“Wait one minute, till I get the licker mixed and the bilin water turned
in, and then if I don’t show you a punch wuth while for a rainy night,
set me down for a fellow that don’t know what’s what. This ’ere punch
will be a sneezer, now I tell ye, Miss Ellen. But hitch your chair up to
the stove; no need to be afeared of the tea kittle; I’m going to take
that off right away. Golly, don’t it steam up splendid!”
Ellen sat down by the little stove, on which a small iron tea kettle was
puffing steam from its nozzle with great commotion, and watched Joshua
compound his punch with considerable interest. Like the bird that has a
nest to build, a mind like hers is forever gathering up materials, rude
or beautiful, as circumstance or nature presents them. So Ellen warmed
her feet by the stove and looked on, smiling, while Joshua brewed his
punch with as much pride as some artists feel in composing a picture.
When the punch was complete, all but the water, Joshua took the kettle
in one hand, a spoon in the other, and stirred his beverage into
perfection, tasting it from time to time from the spoon, fearful of
getting in too much water. At last he took a spoonful in his mouth, held
it there, deliberated over it, and swallowed it at once with a sigh of
infinite satisfaction; then he exclaimed, exultantly: “That _is_ punch!”
with a nod of the head that seemed to be intended for the tea kettle,
which was fast subsiding from a rampant little humbug of a steam engine
into a harmless shell of iron; for the steam had concentrated itself
into a single drop of water, which trembled meekly on the end of the
nozzle, as if afraid to fall at the moment of Joshua’s triumphant
exclamation.
Then Joshua went to a cupboard, devoted to bridles and small articles of
horse furniture in its lower compartment, and in the upper part to such
odds and ends of crockery as he had been enabled to pick up in the
kitchen. From this miscellaneous assortment, he brought forth a pretty
amber-hued glass, with a frost-like pattern of grape-leaves cut around
it, but broken off at the stem. This he filled with punch from his own
tumbler and presented to Ellen, tasting it with a delicate sip on his
way from the table to the stove.
Ellen took the glass and tasted the hot punch, while Joshua stood
rubbing his huge hands, delighted.
“Isn’t that the clear stuff, now?” he said. “Lifts ye right out of your
bo—yer Ingin rubbers, now don’t it?”
“Isn’t it a little—just a little strong, Mr. Hurd?” Ellen suggested,
strangling in spite of herself.
“Strong!” exclaimed Joshua, in supreme contempt. “Strong! why a nussing
baby could drink that and think it was fennel-seed tea. Strong!”
“Perhaps it was from being so hot,” said Ellen, coughing the next
strangle down resolutely.
“Well, mebby! that tea kettle does spout the hottest I ever saw—blow it
and shake it up a little, and you’ll find it scrumptious enough. There’s
one good thing about boiling water, it will cool off, and then the
whisky comes uppermost.”
Ellen followed his directions, and at last managed to empty the tiny
glass, which, being without bottom, she was unable to set down.
“Have another?” said Joshua, reaching out one hand while he lifted the
tumbler to his lips with the other. “Speak right up, if yer do, for the
supply’ll give out mighty soon.”
“No more, Mr. Hurd. It’s as nice as can be, but my head isn’t used to
it, you know.”
“Nice! why of course it’s nice! Didn’t I wash the spoon and glasses
myself? But if you won’t take any more, here goes.”
Joshua emptied his tumbler and set it down with a deep, deep breath.
Then he drew a chair close to the stove.
“Now what is it yer want of me, Miss Ellen?” he said, confidentially.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it, for if there’s a gal on arth that I set
store by, it’s you. Next to the hosses, Miss Ellen, I’d do more for you
than anybody, not to say our Eunice. She thinks you’re awful smart, and
I usuerly think as she does. Now what is it yer want?”
“I want you to carry a letter down to Mr. Clarence Brooks and bring an
answer back, if there is one, without saying a word about it.”
“Your letter? ’Cause if it is, I won’t do it, nor tech it. That proud
chap’ed only make fun of you if I did.”
“I know it, Joshua,” answered Ellen, sadly; “I shall never write letters
to gentlemen, like other girls. No one will ever ridicule such things in
me!”
“I should like to see ’em try it!” exclaimed Joshua, clenching his huge
hands. “But if the letter ain’t from you, who’s it from?”
“I will tell you, Joshua; but, remember, it is a secret between us. Miss
Virginia wishes to send this note.”
Joshua unclenched his fist and uttered a low whistle.
“What, both on ’em—both on ’em!” he exclaimed. “But I’ll do that for
her, or anything else. Hand over the letter.”
Ellen placed the note in his hand.
“You’ll want an answer—I’d better not bring it into the house; jest you
stay here till I come back.”
Ellen promised to wait where she was till he returned. Joshua put on his
cap, wrapped an india rubber horse-blanket around him and went down
stairs. Ellen, being left alone in the room, fell into thought which was
only interrupted by the storm, which pelted against the windows and
absolutely raved among the tall elms that overhung the stables. All at
once she started up; a thought had come into her head which threatened
to destroy all her hopes for the morrow. The jewels which were to redeem
her brother had been left in Virginia’s room when Cora Lander took
possession of it. How were they to be obtained? Cora always locked the
door leading to her suite of rooms when she left them, if it was only
for an hour.
This thought, added to the gloom of the place and hour, completed the
feeling of depression that had for some time been creeping over her. She
was sad, too, from other causes. It was hard to feel that she—so full of
thought, young, talented and rich with feelings that few women ever
possessed—should be shut out of all the sweet hopes that were making
Virginia’s life so bright. Joshua’s speech, rude and uncouth as he was,
had wounded her deeply. She could not drive it from her mind.
Ellen arose from her chair and began walking up and down the room.
Sometimes, she paused to look out upon the storm, which beat heavily
against the windows. It seemed to her that Joshua had been gone a long
time; she listened for his footsteps on the stairs, and peered
impatiently from the window. Once she thought that he was stumbling up
stairs, and opened the door to listen. It was the horses stamping in
their stalls, and she went back disappointed.
At length footsteps plainly sounded from the room below—they mounted the
stairs and paused. Ellen flung the door open to give Joshua light, and
found herself face to face with Eunice Hurd, who strode into the room
flushed red with surprise.
“What on arth brought you here?” she demanded.
“I—I came to see Joshua Hurd,” faltered Ellen.
“Came to see our Josh, what for, I want to know?”
“I wanted him to go a little errand for me.”
“For you—a rainy night like this—well, I never did! Where has he gone
to? What has he gone after?”
Here Eunice began to sniff suspiciously. A new idea had come into her
head.
“Isn’t that a smell of licker? If this isn’t a lemon-squeezer, I don’t
know what is. What on arth—”
Here Eunice thrust her long forefinger into the tumbler, and scooping
out some sugar from the bottom, tasted it.
“Licker, and strong as Jehu—if he was strong, which it ain’t no proof of
because he driv hard. This ere tea kettle, too, hooked out of the
kitchen! That feller has hot drinks here every night of his life, I’ll
take my Bible oath. Have you seen him a doin ’on it?”
“I’m afraid I have done worse than that. He gave me a little, and I
drank it.”
“You did!”
“Yes, he was very earnest about it, and—and—”
Eunice had drawn her chair in front of the stove and planted her feet on
the hearth.
“Now tell me, Ellen Nolan—honestly—does that critter know enough to make
a decent punch?”
“Oh, Joshua knows enough for that and a good many other things.”
“Now, do you think so? Josh is a good soul as ever lived.”
“He is indeed; but, Miss Eunice, I want to ask a great favor of you.”
“Well, what is it?” asked Eunice, drawing close to the stove and lifting
the skirt of her dress a little, that the genial heat might fall on her
ankles, a sure sign of good humor with her.
“Miss Eunice, there is something in Miss Cora’s room that I want.”
“Well, what is it?”
“In the recess is an ottoman, something that has strayed into the room,
for it does not match the furniture. May we have it in our parlor? I do
not suppose she will miss it, or care if she does.”
Eunice turned her face square on the hesitating girl, and searched her
through and through with those scintillating eyes.
“Ellen Nolan, you are asking one thing and meaning another.”
“I know it, Eunice; but that is all I want.”
“Tell me all about it.”
“I cannot, Miss Eunice. It is my young lady’s affair.”
Eunice turned round and planted her feet on the floor with emphasis.
“Ellen Nolan, you may believe it or not, but Miss Virginia Lander
hasn’t, on this arth, better friends than I and Josh are to her. If we
could do what we want to, she would be—no matter, I’m ready to help her
do anything that won’t hurt Mrs. Lander.”
“This will hurt no one.”
“Tell me what it is? Trust me—you may. I’m bitter as gall sometimes, but
I’d amost lay down my life for that poor gal.”
Tears actually came into those changeable eyes. The bony hands which
Eunice clasped around her knees shook visibly.
“I _will_ tell,” said Ellen, feeling how sincere the woman was. “When we
were in those rooms, the first day we came here, Miss Virginia hid her
mother’s jewels in that ottoman. It is hollow, and closes with a
spring.”
Eunice burst into a chuckling laugh.
“That’s where they was, is it? _She_ knew about them, and has searched
all the desks and drawers over and over agin. She seemed to hanker arter
them pearls more than anything. So she hid ’em—I wouldn’t a thought so
much cuteness was in the innocent critter. Only this very night ’tother
one was after me to know if I hadn’t seen ’em somewhere about among her
things. She’s jest crazy to get hold on ’em.”
“But you will never permit it, Eunice?”
“Permit it! I’d see her in—in Jehosaphat fust!”
“But how can we get them out of her room?”
“Wait till to-morrow, and I’ll do it. If she keeps keys, well I have to
have ’em too.”
Ellen threw both arms around the old maid’s neck and kissed her on the
lips. A grim smile stole over that hard mouth.
“I ain’t much used ter kissing,” she said, and her harsh voice broke a
little, “but sometimes it is a refreshment, ain’t it?”
The loneliness that spoke out in these words touched Ellen to the heart.
“I am so glad I trusted you,” she said.
“You might a done it always—I meant to have helped that poor gal—for
Josh and I knew how it was—and thought I had it all worked out, but that
young sarpent was too much for me. The time may come yit. It’s only on
account of Mrs. Lander that I have grit my teeth and kept in. She’s jest
as near to me as Miss Virginia is to you, and that critter has almost
killed her. She began to domineer over her as if she’d been a nigger
slave driver, and Mrs. Eliza Lander her personal property. But I told
her a thing or two and scared her out of that. She’s afraid of me now, I
tell you. If it hadn’t been for that, Miss Virginia would a suffered
more en you ever dreamed on; she’d a been in an insane asylum now. It’s
the gospel truth I’m telling you.”
“I believe it. Miss Virginia knows how often you have befriended her.”
“She don’t know, and she can’t know how hard it is for me to do more or
not to do more. If it wasn’t for Eliza Lander—well, well, that young imp
of Satan has got the better of us all—tied us up by the heart. I ain’t a
religious pusson, Ellen Nolan, and I’ve done some things that I’m awful
sorry for, not meaning to do anybody one mite of harm, but I’d no more
change places with that splendid cretur than I would with a rattlesnake
carrying a string of rattles that long. I hate the sight of her, and so
does Joshua.”
Here Joshua came in, dripping wet. He stopped a moment on the threshold,
astonished to find Eunice there and embarrassed about the letter, but
Ellen spoke to him at once.
“Did you find Mr. Brooks?—have you brought any answer?”
Joshua took a note from his vest pocket and gave it to her.
“It is for my young mistress,” she said, addressing Eunice. “We are
going to New York just as soon as you can help us about what we were
talking of, and after that we shall have some good news to tell you.”
“What—she hasn’t found any new evidence? That Brooks ain’t a lawyer nor
nothing, that’s going to take up her case, is he? If that’s so, I must
have her word—no, she must take her affidavit on it—that she’ll be a
better child to Mrs. Lander than that critter has ever been. If she’ll
take her Bible oath to that, I’ll do my best to help her, and so will
Joshua Hurd; I’ll answer for him.”
“And he’ll answer for himself,” said Joshua, seating himself on the
table and pushing the tumbler behind him, fully believing that Eunice
had not seen it.
“You needn’t push it away, brother Joshua, I know what’s been in it.”
Brother Joshua! What was the world coming to? Such words of endearment
had not met the man’s ears for so long a time that he could not remember
back to them.
“Joshua?”
“Well, Eunice?”
“Is there any hot water in the tea kettle?”
“I—I don’t know, Eunice.”
“Is there any licker in that long bottle there?”
“Well, Eunice, I—I—shouldn’t wonder!”
“Lemon and sugar?”
“I sometimes make a glass of hot lemonade before I go to bed on rainy
nights like this, and try to keep them things handy.”
“Joshua, make me a glass of that hot lemonade, exactly as you have made
it once afore to-night; I feel kinder chilly, Joshua.”
“Jest?” asked Joshua, looking wistfully at the table.
“Jest,” answered Eunice.
Joshua made the lemonade, and the brother and sister sat a long time
with their feet on the stove hearth talking in low voices to each other.
Ellen went away just as the kettle was put on the stove again, and
Eunice called after her not to fear about the otterman, she would attend
to that.
When Virginia received her note, she hurried off to her bed-chamber and
read it on her knees by the little shaded lamp, that seemed to fill the
room with moonlight. It was very short, but she read it over and over
again, leaving half-a-dozen kisses on the signature and sleeping with it
in her bosom that night.