AT AIKENSIDE.
It was a long, tiresome ride, for grandpa, from Honedale to Aikenside,
and as he was not in his wife’s secret, he accepted thankfully the
doctor’s offer to take Maddy there himself. With this arrangement Maddy
was well pleased, as it would thus afford her the opportunity she had
so much desired, of talking with the doctor about his bill, and asking
him to wait until she had earned enough to pay it.
To the aged couple, parting for the first time with their darling, the
day was very sad, but they would not intrude their grief upon the young
girl looking so eagerly forward to the new life opening before her;
only grandpa’s voice faltered a little when, in the morning prayer, he
commended his child to God, asking that she might be kept from
temptation, and that the new sights and scenes to which she was going
might not beget in her a love of the world’s vanities, or a disgust for
her old home; but that she might come back to it the same loving, happy
child as she was then, and never be ashamed of the parents to whom she
was so dear. There was an answering sob from the chair where Maddy
knelt, and after the devotions were ended she wound her arm around her
grandfather’s neck, and parting his silvery locks, said to him,
earnestly;
“Grandpa, do you think I could ever be ashamed of you and grandma?”
“I hope not, darling; it would break our hearts; but finery and things
is mighty apt to set folks up, and after you’ve walked a spell on them
velvet carpets, you’ll no doubt think your feet make a big noise on our
bare kitchen floor.”
“That may be, but I shan’t be ashamed of you. No, not if I were Mrs.
Guy Remington herself.” And Maddy emphasized her words with a kiss, as
she thought how nice it would be provided she were a widow, to be Mrs.
Guy Remington, and have her grandparents live at Aikenside with her.
“But, pshaw! I’ll never be Mrs. anybody; and if I am, I’ll have to have
a husband, which would be such a bother!” was her next mental comment,
as, leaving her grandfather, she went to help her grandmother with the
breakfast dishes, wondering when she would wipe those blue cups again,
and how she should probably feel when she did.
Quickly the morning passed, and just as the clock struck two the
doctor’s buggy appeared over the hill. Up to this moment Maddy had only
been happy in anticipation; but when, with her shawl and bonnet on, she
stood waiting while the doctor fastened her little trunk, and when she
saw a tear on the wrinkled faces of both her grandparents, her
fortitude gave way; and ’mid a storm of sobs, she said her good-bys and
received her grandfather’s blessing.
It was very pleasant that afternoon, for the summer breeze was blowing
cool across the fields, where the laborers were busy; and with the
elasticity of youth, Maddy’s tears stopped their flowing, but not until
the dear old home had disappeared, and they were some distance on the
road to Aikenside.
“I wonder how I shall like Mrs. Remington and Mr. Guy?” was the first
remark she made.
“You’ll not see them immediately. They left this morning for Saratoga,”
the doctor replied.
“Left! Mr. Guy gone!” Maddy repeated in a disappointed tone.
“Are you very sorry?” the doctor asked, and Maddy replied:
“I did want to see him once; you know I never have.”
It would be such a surprise to find that Guy was no other than the
terrible inspector, that he would not undeceive her, the doctor
thought; and so he relapsed into a thoughtful mood, from which Maddy
aroused him by breaking the subject of the unpaid bill, asking if he’d
please not trouble grandpa, but wait until she could pay it.
“Perhaps it’s wrong asking it when you were so good, but if you only
will take me for payment,” and Maddy’s soft brown eyes were lifted to
his face.
“Yes, Maddy, I’ll take you for payment,” the doctor said, smiling, half
seriously, as his eyes rested fondly upon her.
Even then stupid Maddy did not understand him, but began to calculate
out loud how long it would take to earn the money. She’d heard people
say that the doctor charged a dollar a visit to Honedale, and he’d been
so many, many times, that it would take a great many weeks to pay him;
besides, there was the debt to Mr. Guy. She wanted to help pay that,
but did not see how she could, unless he waited, too. Did the doctor
think he would? It seemed terrible to the doctor that one so young as
Maddy should be harassed with the payment of debts, and he felt a most
intense desire for the right to shield her from all such care, but he
must not speak of it then; he’d rather she should remain a little
longer an artless child, confiding all her troubles to him as if he had
been her brother.
“There’s Aikenside,” he said, at last, and it was not long before they
passed through the gate, guarded by the great bronze lions, and struck
into the graveled road leading to the house.
“It’s grander, finer, than I ever dreamed. Oh! if I could some time
have just such a home! and doctor, look! What does make that water go
up in the air so? Is it what they call a fountain?”
In her excitement Maddy had risen, and with one hand resting on the
doctor’s shoulder, was looking around her eagerly. Guy Remington would
have laughed, and been gratified, too, could he have heard the
enthusiastic praises heaped upon his home by the little schoolgirl as
she drove up to his door. But Guy was away in the dusty cars, and only
Jessie stood on the piazza to receive her teacher. There were warm
words of welcome, kisses and hugs; and then Jessie led her friend to
the chamber she was to occupy.
“Mother wanted you to sleep the other side of the house, but Brother
Guy said no, you should have a pleasant room; and when Guy says a
thing, it’s so. It’s nice in here, and close to me. See, I’m right
here,” and Jessie opened a door leading directly to her own sleeping
room.
“Here’s one trunk,” she continued, as a servant brought up and set
down, a little contemptuously, the small hair-cloth box containing
Maddy’s wardrobe. “Here’s one; where’s the rest?” and she was flying
after Tom, when Maddy stopped her, saying:
“I have but one—that’s all.”
“Only that little, teenty thing? How funny. Why, mamma carried three
most as big as my bed to Saratoga. You can’t have many dresses. What
are you going to wear to dinner?”
“I’ve been to dinner.” And Maddy looked up in some surprise.
“You have! We never have it till five, when Guy is at home; but now
they are gone, Mrs. Noah says we will have it at one, as folks ought to
do. To-day I coaxed her to wait till you come, and the table is all set
out so nicely for two. Can you carve, and do you like green turtle
soup?”
Maddy was bewildered, but managed to reply that she could not carve,
that she never saw any green turtle soup, and that she supposed she
should wear to dinner the delaine she had on. “Why, we always change,
even Mrs. Noah,” Jessie exclaimed, bending over the open trunk and
examining its contents.
Two calicoes, a blue muslin, a gingham and another delaine, beside the
one she had on. That was the sum total of Maddy’s wardrobe, and Jessie
glanced at it a little ruefully as Maddy carefully shook out the nicely
folded dresses and laid them upon the bed. Here Mrs. Noah was heard
calling Jessie, who ran away leaving Maddy alone for a moment.
Maddy had seen the look Jessie gave her dresses, and for the first time
there dawned upon her mind the possibility that her plain apparel, and
ignorance of the ways of Aikenside might be to her the cause of much
mortification.
“And grandma said they were so nice, too—doing them up so carefully,”
she said, her lip beginning to quiver, and her eyes filling with tears,
as thoughts of home came rushing over her.
She could not force them back, and laying her head upon the top of the
despised hair trunk, she sobbed aloud. Guy Remington’s private room was
in that hall, and as the doctor knew a book was to have been left there
for him, he took the liberty of getting it; passing Maddy’s door he
heard the low sound of weeping, and looking in, saw her where she sat
or rather knelt upon the floor.
“Homesick so soon!” he said, advancing to her side, and then amid a
torrent of tears, the whole came out.
Maddy never could do as they did there, and everybody would laugh at
her so for an awkward thing; she never knew that folks ate dinner at
five instead of twelve—she should surely starve to death—she couldn’t
carve—she could not eat mud-turtle soup, and she did not know which
dress to wear for dinner—would the doctor tell her? There they were,
and she pointed to the bed, only five, and she knew Jessie thought it
so mean.
Such was the substance of Maddy’s passionate outpouring of her griefs
to the highly perplexed doctor, who, after quieting her somewhat,
ascertained that the greatest present trouble was the deciding what
dress was suitable to the occasion. The doctor had never made dress his
study, but as it happened he liked blue, and so suggested it, as the
one most likely to be becoming.
“That!” and Maddy looked confounded. “Why, grandma never let me wear
that, except on Sunday; that’s my very best dress.”
“Poor child; I’m not sure it was right for you to come here where the
life is so different from the quiet, unpretentious one you have led,”
the doctor thought, but he merely said: “It’s my impression they wear
their best dresses here, all the time.”
“But what will I do when that’s worn out! Oh, dear, dear, I wish I had
not come!” and another impetuous fit of weeping ensued, in the midst of
which Jessie came back, greatly disturbed on Maddy’s account, and
asking eagerly what was the matter.
Very adroitly the doctor managed to draw Jessie aside, while as well as
he was able he gave her a few hints with regard to her intercourse with
Maddy, and Jessie, who seemed intuitively to understand him, went back
to the weeping girl, soothing her much as a little mother would have
soothed her child. They would have such nice times, when Maddy got used
to their ways, which would not take long, and nobody would laugh at
her, she said, when Maddy expressed her fears on that point. “You are
too pretty even if you do make mistakes!” and then she went into
ecstasies over the blue muslin, which was becoming to Maddy, and
greatly enhanced her girlish beauty. The tear stains were all washed
away, Jessie using very freely her mother’s _eau-de-cologne_, and
making Maddy’s cheeks very red with rubbing, the nut-brown hair was
brushed until it shone like satin, a little narrow band of black velvet
ribbon was pinned about Maddy’s snowy neck, and then she was ready for
that terrible ordeal, her first dinner at Aikenside. The doctor was
going to stay, and this helped to relieve her somewhat.
“You must come to the housekeeper’s room and see her first,” Jessie
said, and with a beating heart and brain bewildered by the elegancies
which met her at every turn, Maddy followed to where the dreaded Mrs.
Noah, in rustling back silk and a thread lace collar, sat sewing and
greatly enjoying the leisure she had in her master’s absence.
Mrs. Noah knew who Maddy was, remembering the old man said that she
would not disgrace a drawing-room as fine as that at Aikenside. She had
discovered, too, that Mrs. Agnes was opposed to her coming, that only
Guy’s determined will had brought her there; and this, if nothing else,
had disposed her to feel kindly toward the little governess. She had
expected to see her rather pretty, but was not prepared to find her
what she was. Maddy’s was a singular type of beauty—a beauty
untarnished by any selfish, uncharitable, or suspicious feeling. Clear
and truthful as a mirror, her brown eyes looked into Mrs. Noah’s, while
her low courtesy—so full of deference, found its way straight to that
motherly heart.
“I am glad to see you, Miss Clyde,” she said, “very glad.”
Maddy’s lip quivered a little and her voice shook as she replied:
“Please call me Maddy. They do at home, and I shan’t be quite so—so—”
She could not say “homesick,” lest she should break out again into a
fit of crying, but Mrs. Noah understood her, and remembering her own
experience when first she went from home, she involuntarily stooped to
kiss the pure, white forehead of the girl, who henceforth was sure of
one friend at least at Aikenside.
The dinner was a success, so far as Maddy was concerned. Not a single
mistake did she perpetrate, though her cheeks burned painfully as she
felt the eyes of the polite waiters fixed so often upon her, and
fancied they might be laughing at her. But they were not, and thanks to
the kind-hearted Guy, they thought of her only with respect, as one who
was their superior and must be treated accordingly. Knowing how
different everything was at Aikenside from that to which she had been
accustomed, Guy, with the thoughtfulness natural to him, had taken the
precaution of speaking to each of the servants concerning Miss Clyde,
Jessie’s teacher. As he could not be there himself when she first came
it would devolve upon them, more or less, to make it pleasant for her
by kind, civil attentions, he said, hinting at the dire displeasure
sure to fall on any one who should be guilty of a misdemeanor in that
direction. To Paul, the coachman, he had been particular in his
charges, telling him who Maddy was, and arguing that from the insolence
once given to the grandfather the offender was bound to be more polite
to the grandchild. The carriage was to be at hers and Jessie’s command,
Paul never refusing a reasonable request to drive the young ladies when
and where they wished to go, while a pretty little black pony, recently
broken to the saddle for Agnes, was to be at Miss Clyde’s service, if
she chose to have it. As Guy’s slightest wish was always obeyed,
Maddy’s chances for happiness were not small, notwithstanding that she
felt so desolate and lonely when the doctor left her, and standing by
Jessie she watched him with a swelling heart until he was lost to view
in the deepening twilight.
Feeling that she must be homesick, Mrs. Noah suggested that she try the
fine piano in the little music-room.
“Maybe you can’t play, but you can drum ‘Days of Absence,’ as most
girls do,” and opening the lid she bade Maddy “thump as long as she
liked.”
Music was a delight to Maddy, who coveted nothing so much as a
knowledge of it, and sitting down upon the stool, she touched the
soft-toned instrument, ascertaining by her far several sweet chords,
and greatly astonishing Jessie, who wondered at her skill. Twice each
week a teacher came up from Devonshire to give lessons to Jessie, but
as yet she could only play one scale and a few simple bars. These she
attempted to teach to Maddy, who caught at them so quickly and executed
them so well that Jessie was delighted. Maddy ought to take lessons,
she said, and some time during the next day she took to Mrs. Noah a
letter which she had written to Guy. After going into ecstasies over
Maddy, saying she was the nicest kind of a girl, that she prayed in the
morning as well as at night, and looked so sweet in blue, she asked if
she couldn’t take music lessons, too, advancing many reasons why she
should, one of which was that she could play now a great deal better
than herself.
It was several days before an answer came to this letter, and when it
did it brought Guy’s consent for Maddy to take lessons, together with a
note for Mr. Simons, requesting him to consider Miss Clyde his pupil,
on the same terms with Jessie.
Though greatly pleased with Aikenside, and greatly attached to Jessie,
Maddy had had many hours of loneliness when her heart was back in the
humble cottage where she knew they were missing her so much, but now a
new world, a world of music, was suddenly opened before her, and the
homesickness all disappeared. It had been arranged with Mrs. Noah, by
Agnes, that Jessie should only study for two hours each day,
consequently Maddy had nearly all the time to herself, and well did she
improve it, making so rapid progress that Simons looked on amazed
declaring her case to be without a parallel, while Jessie was left far
behind. Indeed, after a short time Maddy might have been her teacher,
and was of much service to her in practicing her lessons.
Meanwhile the doctor came often to Aikenside, praising Maddy’s progress
in music, and though he did not know a single note, compelling himself
to listen while with childlike satisfaction she played him her last
lesson. She was very happy now at Aikenside, where all were so kind to
her, and half wished that the family would always remain as it was
then, that Agnes and Guy would not come home, for with their coming she
felt there would be a change. It was nearly time now to expect them.
Indeed, Guy had written on one Saturday that they should probably be
home the next, and during the ensuing week Aikenside presented that
most uncomfortable phase of a house being cleaned. Everything must be
in order for Mr. Guy, Mrs. Noah said, taking more pains with his rooms
than with the remaining portion of the building. Guy was her idol;
nothing was too good for him, few things quite good enough, and she
said so much in his praise that Maddy began to shrink from meeting him.
What would he think of her? Perhaps he might not notice her in the
least, and that would be terrible. But, no, a man as kind as he had
shown himself to her, would at least pay her some attention, and so at
last she began to anticipate his coming home, wondering what their
first meeting would be, what she should say to him, and what he would
think of her.