CHARLOTTE'S PROBLEMS
There was a cold rain, freezing as it fell, and the outdoor world
looked cheerless and forsaken. In Ruth's room the fire was evidently
doing its best to make one forget that it was winter and almost
Christmas. Ruth was absorbed in the tying of a gorgeous lavender
bow which was to adorn a sweet-grass basket standing on the table
near her. So intent was she on her work that she heard no footsteps
in the hall, and she jumped violently when a voice at the door
said, "Well, this is the cheerfulest place I've found. May I come
in and stay a little while?"
"Why, Charlotte, of course you may. I'm delighted to see you," and
Ruth's glance swept the table and bed to see if any gift were in
sight which ought to be concealed.
"Don't stop your work; just let me lie here and look at the fire.
Meanwhile you can say nice, soothing things to me, for I'm tired
and cross." Charlotte stretched herself on the rug and even laid
her cheek for an instant on the black kitten, a concession that
would have filled Betty's soul with joy.
"What's the matter?" asked Ruth a bit absently, as she held the
basket out at arm's length and gazed critically at the bow.
"Oh, we're in several different shades of dark-blue over at our
house," answered Charlotte. "Mother has shut herself up with a
raging headache, Molly has quarreled with her best chum and refuses
to be comforted, and one of the twins has the earache. To crown it
ail, Melina, who is usually cheerful, is going around the kitchen
looking as though she'd lost her last friend, and I actually
haven't had the courage yet to find out what's the matter with her.
Fortunately for every one, Cousin Josie blew in, and when she saw
how things were going she made me go out for an hour, and said
she'd stay with the children."
"It must be hard to manage so many," said Ruth who longed to help
but didn't know how. "I'm sure I think you're awfully brave to be
so cheerful all the time."
"Oh, but I'm not; I'm the most doleful thing you ever knew at home
sometimes. And every little while I have to play baby and fuss it
all out to some one. You happen to be the victim this time, but
if it hadn't been you it would have been Mrs. Hamilton, or Betty."
Charlotte's voice quavered, and there was a long silence while
she stared gloomily into the fire and Ruth searched her mind for
something comforting to say. At last she said hesitatingly, "I wish
there was something I could do to help."
"I know you do," answered Charlotte with a smile. "But you can't
except just by understanding, and letting me tell my woes to you
occasionally. After I've really been in the dumps I'm the most
courageous thing you ever saw, and feel that I can accomplish wonders.
I suppose the reason I feel blue just now is because Christmas is
so near."
"Christmas! Why, don't you just love Christmas?"
"Love it! I should say not. I usually hate it."
Ruth's eyes opened very wide as she stared at Charlotte. That any
sane girl should hate Christmas was incomprehensible.
"Christmas won't seem the same to me this year," she said soberly,
"but I love it and I'm going to have as good a time as I can. Why
do you hate it, Charlotte?"
"Oh, for various reasons. Mother always seems sicker at this season,
and father looks anxious and more tired. I always feel that he's
trying to squeeze out a little more money to give us a good time,
and doesn't see how he possibly can. As for me, I'm so hopelessly
in debt to other people in the way of presents that I shall never
swim out." Charlotte tried to speak lightly, but it was a dismal
failure.
"I never felt about it in just that way,--I mean about being in debt
to people. I dare say I've missed giving sometimes when I should
have given, if that's the way of it. I love to choose and make
presents for the people I'm fond of, and that's what Christmas
means to me."
"Well, that's very lovely and quite the proper way to think of it,
I know, but it wouldn't seem quite so easy to you if you didn't
have any money to spend."
"Why not make things?" asked Ruth innocently.
Charlotte laughed. "Bless your heart, child, doesn't it cost money
to buy materials? And I do all the sewing I can possibly make up
my mind to in helping to keep the twins from falling out of their
clothes. You never saw such holes."
There was a long silence while Charlotte lay still, apparently trying
to go to sleep, and Ruth's forehead puckered itself into wrinkles
as she wrestled with a weighty problem.
Suddenly Charlotte opened her eyes. "Look here, Ruth," she said
bluntly, "I didn't mean to come over here and tell a tale of woe
about not having any money, and I'm ashamed because I have. Please
forget all about it."
"Oh, Charlotte," cried Ruth, dropping scissors, thimble and spool
with a clatter as she got up from her chair. "Oh, Charlotte, I wish
you would let me do something I want very much to do."
As she spoke Ruth threw herself on the couch beside Charlotte and
put her arms about her. Charlotte, who was most undemonstrative, was
vaguely comforted by the friendly embrace, and to her own surprise
found herself returning it.
"Charlotte," pleaded Ruth, "I've really more money than I need for
Christmas presents this year, for Uncle Jerry sent me a check to
use just as I please. Now won't you let me give you your present
now, and give it to you in money, so that you may have the fun of
using it before Christmas? Oh, oh, don't you dare say a word yet
if you can't say yes," she said fiercely, putting her hand over
Charlotte's mouth, and in her anxiety pressing so hard that Charlotte
gasped for breath.
"Don't you see what a pleasure you'd be giving me?" Ruth went on.
"I do so love to give people what they really want, and it's so
hard to know. And there won't a soul know about it except us, and
I'm dying to have a secret with some one."
Charlotte couldn't help laughing, Ruth's manner was so funny and
anxious. "Thank you very much, Ruth, but I really couldn't," she
said at last decidedly. "They wouldn't be my presents if I used
your money for them; and besides, it makes me feel as though I'd
no business to complain to you as I've done."
"Oh, Charlotte, they will be. It won't be my money, for I shall give
it to you to use just as you please, and what's the good of having
a friend if you don't tell her your troubles once in a while?"
Charlotte was silent and troubled, but she smiled a little at Ruth's
mixed-up sentences. Ruth thought this was a good sign and rushed
on without giving her a chance for a positive refusal.
"Don't you suppose I know how hard it is for a proud old thing like
you to do it? But I'm just selfish enough to try to tease you into
it because it's going to be such a favor to me. Do, Charlotte,
that's a dear."
With Ruth's arms tightly around her, and Ruth's brown eyes looking
at her with mischievous pleading, Charlotte found it difficult to
be disappointing. "Well--" she said at last.
"You will!" cried Ruth in a tone of rapture. "Oh, Charlotte, you're
a darling, and I'll do as much for you some day."
"I feel as though I'd been in a hold-up," murmured Charlotte, as
Ruth released her after another violent squeeze, and went to her
desk.
"I don't wonder," laughed Ruth coming back with an envelope in her
hand. "Now, Charlotte, I don't want to hurry you, but your hour
is up, and I think you'd better go. I have a premonition that the
twins have fallen into something or other."
Charlotte rose lazily and held out her arms for the coat which
Ruth was holding and into the pocket of which she had slipped the
envelope. "You're a sly thing," she said. "You're afraid if I stay
I'll go back on my bargain."
"Never," laughed Ruth. "You're not that kind. Can't you go into
Boston with me to-morrow and do some shopping? It will be almost
the last chance before Christmas."
"Why, yes. I think so. I'm almost sure I can." Charlotte started
to go, but turned and gripped Ruth's hand. "You're a trump, Ruth,
and you've helped me lots," she said with an effort, "but I must
say I don't feel quite right about taking that money."
"Oh, but I do. I shall enjoy it more than any other present I'm
giving. We'll have a great time to-morrow spending it."
Once out of the house Charlotte couldn't resist the temptation to
take a peep at the contents of the envelope. As she caught a glimpse
of a crisp five dollar bill her first impulse was to go immediately
and make Ruth take it back. She half turned, and waited irresolutely
until the cold sting of the rain forced her to realize that the
middle of the street was no place for deciding a weighty question.
Then she went slowly toward home, uncomfortable because she had
taken the money, happy because of the affection and sympathy Ruth
had shown her.
At home a more cheerful atmosphere reigned, and Charlotte felt her
spirits rise as she walked into the up-stairs sitting-room where
the children were. "You're an angel of peace, Cousin Josie," said
Charlotte gratefully. "I'll try to keep them happy until bedtime,
though I'm no such genius at it as you are."
Charlotte felt so cheered and comforted that she thought of poor
Melina, whose sorrows she had not yet investigated, and turned
toward the kitchen. Melina was one of those rare maids-of-all-work
whose services cannot be estimated, nor can they be paid for in
mere money. Coming into the family when Charlotte was a small child,
she had taken each successive baby into her heart, and had worked
for them all as faithfully and lovingly as if they belonged to her.
As she walked into the room she was startled to find Melina rocking
hard with her apron thrown over her face and audible sniffs going
on behind it. The chair was making such a noise that at first she
didn't hear Charlotte, and the latter had time to wonder whether
it wouldn't be better to steal away softly and come in later. She
knew she should hate to be found crying and she supposed Melina
would. Before she could decide Melina threw down the apron and
jumped up.
"Land, how you scared me," she said huskily. "I guess I was just
having a kind of a little nap."
"Oh, was that it?" answered Charlotte. She felt the delicacy of
the situation, and hated to pry into things that others didn't want
her to know.
"Any cookies, Melina?" she continued carelessly. "I thought I'd
take some up to the children. My, but these are good! Who was it
in your family used to like them so much? Oh, I know, it was your
nephew down in Maine. How is he now, Melina? Does he get any better?"
Melina's answer was so indistinct that Charlotte looked at her in
amazement to see two great tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.
"Oh, Melina, is he worse, and is that what makes you feel so bad?"
she cried sympathetically.
"No, he ain't worse. If anything he's a little mite better."
"What is the matter then? Don't you want to tell me? Perhaps father
or some of us could help."
Melina shook her head. "It's only that I ain't got quite enough
money to make him the Christmas present I'd planned for him, and
what's worse I've been fool enough to write him it was coming. It's
one of those new-fangled beds so that he can be wheeled around,
and the end raises so that he can sit up a little. He's counting
on it so that I can't bear to disappoint him. All I need is five
dollars, and I thought sure I should have it because some one owes
me just that much. But I got a letter to-day saying she couldn't
pay it until after the first of January, so there 'tis."
"If father was only home he could fix it ail right, but I'm afraid
mother hasn't five dollars she could spare just now," said Charlotte
doubtfully.
"If she had I wouldn't take it," answered Melina, whose business
principles were founded on a rock. "Your father paid me up to
yesterday, and it ain't time for me to have any more."
"Oh, Melina, wait!" cried Charlotte, and she flashed out of the room
and up the stairs, leaving Melina to wonder what had come over the
girl. She was back in a moment, hiding both hands behind her as
she came into the kitchen. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement,
and she was so different from the ordinarily languid Charlotte that
Melina looked at her in astonishment.
"Melina," she said earnestly, "do you remember when I was a little
girl and I used to beg you over and over again to say which hand
you'd take? Now, please, please choose now."
Melina hesitated, but Charlotte's manner was so persuasive that
she couldn't resist, and murmuring, "left hand nearest the heart,"
touched that one.
Charlotte pushed something crisp and crackling into her hand. "It's
mine to do just what I please with," she cried exultantly, "and I
never wanted to do anything more than I want to do this."
Melina stared at the five dollar bill in her hand. Then she held
it out to Charlotte again. "I can't take your money," she said. "I
ain't saying that I wouldn't like to have it, but I can't take it."
Charlotte looked at her pleadingly. Then she remembered how Ruth
had won her over. "But, Melina, it's a favor to me. You've always
been doing me favors, I know, but you might do just this one more."
Melina shook her head. "It's no use," she began, and then stopped
aghast, for Charlotte, the self-controlled, the hater of tears,
startled Melina and fell forever in her own estimation by bursting
into sobs. "For the land's sake, child, don't do that," ejaculated
Melina, almost whirling herself off her feet in her frantic efforts
to decide whether to throw water on her or burn feathers under her
nose.
Those who rarely cry are likely to do so with great violence when
they once give themselves up to it, and Charlotte's rending sobs
drove poor Melina to the verge of distraction. At last she gathered
the girl's slender figure into her arms and sat down in the big
rocker.
"There, there, lamb," she said, "put your head on Melina's shoulder
and cry all you want to," and she held her tenderly until the
gasping sobs grew less frequent.
"Oh, Melina, if you could only make up your mind to take that
money," said Charlotte at last, getting up and trying hard to keep
back the persistent tears. "I do want that poor boy to have his
bed right away. I think I could stop crying if you only would."
Melina's thin lips tightened.
"Well," she said at last, grudgingly, "I'll take it and call it a
loan. I must say, though, that I think you took an unfair advantage
of me. I ain't seen you cry since you was little more than a baby."
"I didn't do it to get my own way. I've been holding on to myself
all day, and that was just the last straw that made me let go.
Don't call it a loan, for I never want to see it again. Keep it
till you find some one who needs it as much as you do just now,
and then pass it along. Wouldn't it be interesting to see how far
five dollars could travel if it was passed from one to another that
way?"
"Talk about goodness," muttered Melina as Charlotte disappeared,
"that child's a wonder,--sometimes."