"I know I cannot do much, Janet, but what I can I will. And, first, I
will take you to the house of a widow-woman who has a room to let; one
of our men wanted me to take it, but it was too far from my work. I went
to see the place, though, and it is quiet and respectable; the woman
looks kind, too. Would you walk slowly down the street, while I go to
the office and get my coat?"--he was in his working-dress,--"and then
I'll join you."
I got up, feeling that I had chilled him in some way, and reproaching
myself for it. When he rejoined me, we walked silently on, till, after
many a turning, we found ourselves in a narrow, quiet street, before a
small house, with a tiny yard in front. I do not know how the matter was
arranged; he did it all for me. There was the introducing me to a
motherly-looking person, as a friend of his from the country; the going
up a narrow staircase to look at a small room of which all that could be
said was that it was neat and clean; the bargaining for my board, in
which I was obliged to answer "Yes" and "No" as I could best follow his
lead; and then Tom left me with a shake of the hand, and the advice that
I should lie down and rest after my tedious journey; he would see me
again in the evening.
The quiet dinner with my landlady, the afternoon rest, the fresh toilet,
the sort of home-feeling that my room already gave me, all did their
part towards bringing back my usual composure before Tom came in the
evening; and then, sitting by the window in the little parlor, I could
talk rationally of my plans for the future.
I had money enough for twelve weeks' board, even if I reserved ten
dollars for other expenses. Surely, in that time I could find something
to do. And as to what I should do, I had thought that all over before I
left home. I might find some sewing, or tend in a store, or,
perhaps,--did he think I could?--I might keep school.
Tom would not hear of my sewing. He knew poor girls that worked their
lives out at that. I might tend in a store, if I pleased, but still he
did not believe I would like to be tied to one place for twelve hours in
the day. Why shouldn't I keep school? he was sure I knew enough, I was
so smart, and had read so many books.
I shook my head. I did not believe the books I had read were the kind
that school-mistresses studied. Still, I could learn, and certainly I
might begin by teaching little children. But where was I to begin?
"If only we knew some gentleman, Janet, some city-man, who knew what to
do about such things."
Suddenly a thought struck me.
"Tom, do you remember those gentlemen who came up to look at the coal
mines when they were first opened? One of them stayed at our house two
nights, and saw my books, and talked to me about them. Mr. Kendall was
his name."
"That's the very man; and a kind-hearted gentleman he seemed, not stuck
up or proud. I'll find him out for you, Janet, to-morrow; but there's no
need of your hurrying yourself about going to work. You must see the
city and the sights."
And Tom grew enthusiastic in describing to me all that was to be seen in
this wonderful place.
Tom had altered, had improved in appearance and manners, since he had
known something of city-life. I could not tell wherein the change lay,
but I felt it. He told me of himself,--of his rising to be head-man, a
sort of overseer, in the coal-yard,--of his good wages,--of some
investments that he had made which had brought him in good returns.
"So you see, Janet, that, even if you were not so rich yourself, I have
plenty of money at your service."
I thanked him most heartily, and roused myself to show some interest in
all that concerned him.
So passed the rest of the week,--quiet days with my landlady, or in my
room, where I busied myself in putting my wardrobe into better shape
under the direction of Mrs. Barnum, and quiet walks and talks in the
evening with Tom Salyers. It was evident that he was not satisfied with
my alleged motives for leaving home, but I so steadily avoided all
conversation on this point that he learned to respect my silence. On
Sunday he told me he had found out who Mr. Kendall was.
"One of the stockholders of the Company, and a good man, they say. I'll
go to him to-morrow, if you say so, Janet, and ask him anything you want
to know."
"No, Tom, I shall go myself. It is my business, and I must not let you
do so much for me. If you will go with me, though,"--I added.
And so the next morning saw us at Mr. Kendall's counting-room. It was
before business-hours: we had cared for that. We found Mr. Kendall
sitting leisurely over his papers, his feet up and his spectacles pushed
back. I had been nervous enough during the walk, but a glance at his
face reassured me. It was a good, a fatherly face, full of _bonhommie_,
but showing, withal, a spice of business-shrewdness. I left Tom standing
at the counting-room door, and, taking my fate in my own hands, walked
forward and made myself known.
"Oh, yes! the little girl that Hammond thought so much of, that he talks
about so often when he is down here. He thinks a school or two would
bring the Sandy people out, and holds you up as an example; but, for my
part, I think you are an exception. There are not many of them that one
could do much with."