THE FARMHOUSE
It took a long time to bring Moya Murphy and little Sheila back to
health and strength, but it was only a day or two before Moya was able
to tell her story to Mrs. Emerson.
She was twenty-five, she said, and she had come to America with her
father and mother five years before. The New World had not given a
warm welcome to the new arrivals, for both of the parents had fallen
ill with pneumonia only a few weeks after they landed, and both died
within a few days of each other.
Moya, left alone and grieving, had soon after married Patrick Murphy, a
lad she had known in the old country. A happy life they led,
especially after little Sheila came to bless them.
When the declaration of war in Europe upset business conditions in
America, Patrick lost his "job" and all summer long he walked the
streets, working for a day now and then, but never securing a permanent
position, and always growing weaker and less able to work because he
was underfed. The little three-room flat that had been such a joy to
them, had long been given up and they lived and ate and slept in one
room, and thanked their stars that they had a landlord who did not
insist on being paid regularly, as did some they knew about who put
their tenants out on the street if the rent was not forthcoming
promptly.
"Somehow it's the sudden things that happens to me," said Moya to Mrs.
Emerson. She was sitting on the latticed back porch of the Emersons'
house, her fingers busy shelling peas for Kate, the old cook who had
lived with Mrs. Emerson ever since she was married. "Patrick was
crossing the street--'tis only six weeks ago, but it seems years! An
automobile with one of the shrieking horns screamed at him. 'Twas the
policeman on the crossing told me. Patrick was light on his feet
always, but that was when he had enough to eat ivery day. He thried to
jump back and his foot slipped and he fell under the car and it killed
him."
She sobbed and Mrs. Emerson and Kate wiped their eyes.
"Two days it was before I knew it; there was nothing on his clothes to
tell who he was, and I only found out when he didn't come home and I
went to the police and they took me to the Morgue and there he lay.
They gave me twenty dollars--the policemen did. They collected it
among themselves."
"Didn't they arrest the driver of the car?"
"'Twas a light car and it sped away before any one saw the number."
Kate Flanigan gave a grunt of disgust at the brutality of the driver.
"I gave the landlord half the money the policemen gave me. I owed it
for the rint. Then I set out to hunt work. Ivery day I walked and
walked and ivery day I carried the baby, for where could I leave her?
Nobody wanted a girl who wasn't trained to do anything, and even if I
had been able to do something well they wanted no baby. There's no
room for babies when you have to work," she said bitterly.
"I want you to feel that you are safe here, you and Sheila," said Mrs.
Emerson gently. "Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Smith and I have been talking it
over with Kate, and this is what we've planned, provided you agree."
Moya gathered up her baby jealously in her lap.
"It will keep you and Sheila together," said Mrs. Emerson quickly,
noticing her gesture, and smiling approvingly as Moya at once let the
child slide off her lap on to the floor where she sat contentedly
playing with some of the pods of the peas that had fallen from the pan.
"Perhaps Kate has told you that we are planning to have some women and
children who need country air come out from New York this summer and
live in a farmhouse that we have on the place here."
Moya nodded. "She did."
"We need a cook. We are going to give them simple food, but nourishing
and well cooked."
"If it's me you're thinking of for the cooking, ma'am, I'm a poor cook
beyond potaties and stew."
"You never were taught to cook?"
"Taught? No, ma'am. I picked up what little I know from me mother.
'Tis simple enough, but too simple for what you need."
"If you'll try to learn, here's what we've planned. Kate needs a
helper. Not because she isn't strong and hearty, but because Mr.
Emerson and I want her to have a little more time for pleasure than she
has had for a good many years. She won't take a real vacation, so we
are going to give her a partial vacation."
"Me being the helper?" inquired Moya, her thin face lighting.
"More than the helper. Kate has agreed to teach you how to cook all
the dishes that it will be necessary to cook for the women and children
this summer. You couldn't have a better teacher."
"I'm sure of it," answered the young woman, turning gratefully to Kate.
"I'll do my very best."
"You shall have a room for yourself and the baby, and wages," and she
named a sum that made Moya's eyes burn.
"I'm not worth that yet," she cried, "but I know you'll need me to
dress respectable, so I'll not refuse it and I'll get some decent
things for the baby and mesilf!"
"If Kate finds that you take hold well she'll teach you more elaborate
cooking. There's always a place waiting somewhere for a good cook, and
here's your chance to learn to be a really excellent cook."
So the problem of obtaining a cook was settled without trouble, and as
Ethel Brown found Mrs. Schuler not only ready but eager to act as
Matron, two of the possible difficulties seemed to have proved
themselves no difficulties at all.