MRS. MASON'S OPINIONS.
TEN days had gone by, and Mrs. Stuart had her foot up still on a chair,
swathed in bandages. She was allowed to hop downstairs once a day, with
Archie's aid, but not to stand yet.
Mrs. Stuart was by no means a patient invalid. It seemed to her very
hard indeed that she of all people should be laid aside, very hard that
she should have to suffer pain, very hard that she should be indebted
to neighbours—above all, to the Dunns—for help. Other people, of
course, had their troubles, and must expect to have them, as a matter
of course, but why Mrs. Stuart should have them was quite another
question. She could only count it "very hard." As for being patient and
cheerful under her trial, who could be so unreasonable as to expect it
of her!
Many a time Mrs. Stuart had heard in Church those familiar words—"Whom
the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He
receiveth." But it may very much be doubted how far Mrs. Stuart really
listened to the reading of the Bible in Church; and it may be doubted
still more how far she really understood what she heard. Her feeling
towards God was in no sense the feeling of a child towards a Father.
She had no love for Him, and she knew nothing of the deep Divine love
which will rather send pain and sorrow than suffer the wilful child to
wander on in courses of evil. Sometimes nothing less than great trouble
will bring the wayward soul to Christ.
Mrs. Stuart saw nothing of this, however. The love of God was far away
from her thoughts. She only considered herself a much injured woman;
and she felt sure that nobody had ever had so much to bear as herself;
while she was vexed with the Dunns for their persistent kindness, and
yet more vexed with Archie for his growing friendship with them.
Undoubtedly Mrs. Stuart was greatly indebted to the Dunns. Mrs. Dunn
had spent whole nights in the cottage, and had taken turns with Nancy
to run in and out by day. Mrs. Dunn was looking quite fagged with
all she had undertaken, and Mrs. Stuart ought to have been extremely
grateful. But she was not grateful at all. She was only annoyed with
herself and the Dunns and Archie and everybody—a most uncomfortable
state of mind to be in.
Mrs. Mason, living opposite Woodbine Cottage, was usually a very
convenient person in time of illness. Being a widow, with only one
married daughter, and having consequently no home-ties; being,
moreover, a motherly sort of body, with useful instincts, she liked to
be called in to help where help might be needed.
The very day, however, before Mrs. Stuart's accident, Mrs. Mason was
summoned to her married daughter by telegram. Had it not been for this,
she would as a matter of course have shared with Mrs. Dunn the care of
Mrs. Stuart.
After ten days, Mrs. Mason came home, leaving her daughter recovered
from a sharp little illness; and then she was speedily made acquainted
with events which had taken place during her absence. The next thing
that happened was Mrs. Mason's appearance in Mrs. Stuart's kitchen,
with a half-knitted stocking, a short time before tea.
"Now, you didn't expect to see me, did you?" she asked, in her round
comfortable voice, which exactly suited her stout and motherly figure.
"But I'm come. I told Mrs. Dunn I'd do it for her—get you your tea,
I mean, and wash up. Dear! I never thought I should find you like
this—that I didn't. There's never no knowing what'll happen next, and
that's a fact. Well—I'll put your kettle on to boil, first thing.
And so Mrs. Dunn's been looking after you all this while. Just like
her! She's got enough to do at home, though, and I told her I'd come
instead. But to think now of your stealing a march on me, like that! To
think of it!"
Mrs. Stuart failed to understand Mrs. Mason's meaning, and she
intimated the same in gloomy tones.
"What I mean! Why, I mean the Dunns, to be sure," said Mrs. Mason
briskly. "The nicest family that's come to Littleburgh for a year past.
And as soon as ever I'm out of the way, you've gone and stolen a march
on me, and got as intimate with 'em! No, I didn't expect it of you, I
did not, Mrs. Stuart!"
Mrs. Mason shook her head vigorously. But Mrs. Stuart was in no humour
for joking, and she intimated that fact also in yet gloomier accents.
"A joke don't do nobody any harm," said Mrs. Mason, "provided it's
harmless. There's jokes and jokes. There's a sort that's better
avoided. But I'd sooner laugh than cry over a worry any day. You
wouldn't be half such a skinny scarecrow of a woman, if you was to
laugh oftener, and glower seldomer over your frets. That you wouldn't."
Mrs. Mason was too useful a woman to be quarrelled with for her
plain-spokenness; but certainly, her remarks did not lessen Mrs.
Stuart's moodiness.
"That Nancy Dunn is the best and prettiest girl ever I see!" remarked
Mrs. Mason.
Mrs. Stuart grunted.
"Isn't she now?" asked Mrs. Mason.
"I've got nothing to say against her," declared Mrs. Stuart, with the
air of one suppressing truths.
"Shouldn't think you had, nor anybody else neither. Don't Archie like
her?" demanded Mrs. Mason, rising to get the teapot.
No answer to this.
"Well, if I was you, I'd encourage it in every way I could. That's
what I'd do," said Mrs. Mason emphatically, rinsing out the teapot.
"She's a pretty girl, and a good girl, and she'll make a good wife to
somebody some day. That girl's had a training that it isn't many girls
get now-a-days. She'll clean up a room in next to no time; and she's
first-rate at washing and ironing; and she's a good cook in a plain
way. Yes; Mrs. Dunn's a wise mother. She's trained up Nancy to follow
in her footsteps. And that isn't all neither; for she's trained up
Nannie to live for God, and to think of the world that's to come, and
not only of just how to eat and drink and get along."
Mrs. Stuart found something to say at last. She opened her lips with a
resolute, "I don't hold with being so mighty religious."
"No?" said Mrs. Mason. "How much religion do you hold with?"
"I'm not one as likes shams," said Mrs. Stuart.
"Nor me neither," responded Mrs. Mason. "But there's no sort of
shamming about the Dunns. It's real honest hearty living to God, and
trying to do His will. I can tell you, Mrs. Stuart, I've learnt a thing
or two from them already, though it's so short a time they've been
here; and I'm not ashamed to own it. And I hope I'll be the better for
knowing them. And as for being 'mighty religious'—if fighting against
wrong, and struggling to do right, and helping those that's in need,
and serving God in every bit of daily life—if that's what you mean
by 'mighty religious,' why, I wish there was a lot more of it in the
world. I do, and that's a fact. For it would be a deal better sort of
world."
"I don't like talk," said Mrs. Stuart.
"Nor me neither," assented Mrs. Mason again. "That's to say, I don't
like talk that's not carried out in action. Folks must talk. It's
natural to human nature. And folks 'll talk mostly of what comes
nearest to 'em. There's some cares most for eating, and they'll talk
of their eating. And there's some cares most for politics, and they'll
talk of politics. And there's some cares most for their children, and
they'll talk of their children. And, dear me, there's some cares only
for themselves, and won't they talk a lot about themselves? But that's
all natural. It's all human nature.
"And when a man cares for religion, and loves God from his heart—why,
don't it stand to reason that he'll speak sometimes of the things he
cares for most? That's not shamming, Mrs. Stuart. It's shamming if a
man talks religion, and don't let it come into his daily life. And
it's shamming when folks keep all their religion for Sunday, and make
believe to pray to Him in Church, and then never think of Him at all
from Monday morning till Saturday night. That's shamming, as much as
you like. But as for talk—why, talk's natural—in moderation. And you'll
never find Mrs. Dunn talk too much. No, never."
Perhaps the same could not be said of good-humoured voluble Mrs. Mason.
She brought the teapot from the hob, and set it on the table.
"There—that's all right," she said, in a different tone, possibly
feeling that she had said enough on one subject. "I've had my tea
before coming, so I don't want any; but I'll stay to wash up. I've
got my knitting. And by-and-by I'll come in again. So Archie's out
with friends to-night? Well, he's a likely young fellow—sure to make
friends. I hope they'll all be as good friends as the Dunns. And you've
had Mr. Wilmot here, paying you visits? Kind sort of man, isn't he?—and
as good! No sort of sham there neither! But he don't look as he should.
What is come over him?"
Mrs. Stuart did not know that anything had.
"He's not himself," said Mrs. Mason. "Lost all his colour, and don't
walk with half his spirit. He'd ought to take care of himself. Good
people ain't too common in this world. It's my belief, he works a deal
too hard. Yes—there's something wrong. I'm sure I don't know what."