room. "I suppose that you chose the books, Julia; they look like
you,--Ruskin, and Longfellow, and Greene's 'Shorter History;' surely you
don't expect girls like these to read such books. Why, I haven't read
half of them myself; and such good bindings. I really believe that these
are your own books."
"Why not? We have had great fun in choosing the books we thought they
might like to read from my collections, and from the old-fashioned
bookcases in Madame Du Launy's library. The best bindings are her books.
Many of them had never been read by any one, I am sure; and as to the
covers, we shall see that they are not ill-treated. We have a theory
that they may be more attracted by handsomely dressed books; for there's
no doubt," turning with a smile toward Miss South, "that they think more
of us when arrayed in our best."
"I love these low bookcases," continued Nora; "and I dare say that
you'll train them up to liking this Tanagra figurine, and the Winged
Victory, and all these other objects that you have arranged so
artistically along the top."
"And how you will feel," interposed Brenda, "when some girl in dusting
knocks one of these pretty things to the floor. That bit of Tiffany
glass, for instance, looks as if made expressly to fall under Maggie
McSorley's slippery fingers."
"Oh, that reminds me, Brenda, Maggie has come," said Miss South.
"No; not really?"
"Yes, her aunt brought her over very solemnly two or three days ago. She
said she thought it her duty not to trouble you again, as Maggie had
already been so much expense to you. She came here the day after you saw
her, and I explained our plans, and what we should expect from every
girl who entered. She promised that Maggie should stay the two years,
and showed a canny Scotch appreciation of the fact, that although Maggie
could earn little or nothing while here, at the end of the time she
would be worth much more than if she had spent the two years in a
shop."
"But how does Maggie feel?"
"Oh, I should judge that resignation is Maggie's chief state of mind. We
are going to try to help her acquire some more active qualities," said
Miss South.
"Come, come;" Brenda tried to draw Nora from the centre table on which
lay many attractive books and periodicals. "I'm very anxious to see
Maggie. Can't we see her now, Julia?"
"I believe she's in the kitchen, and as this is one of our most
attractive rooms, you might as well go there first."
"The kitchen, you remember, is practically Ruth's gift," said Julia, as
they stood on the threshold of a broad sunny room in the new ell, to
which they had descended a few steps from the main house. "She paid half
the expense of building the ell, and her purse paid for everything in
the kitchen."
"But how beautiful; why, it isn't at all like a kitchen!"
"All the same it is a kitchen, though we have tried to make it as
pleasant as any room in the house--in its way," concluded Julia smiling.
Advancing a few steps farther, Nora and Brenda continued their
exclamations of admiration. The walls, painted a soft yellow, reflected
the sunshine, without making a glare. The oiled hardwood floor had its
centre covered with a large square of a substance resembling oilcloth,
yet softer. A large space around the range was of brick tiles. The iron
sink stood on four iron legs with a clear, open space beneath it; there
were no wooden closets under it to harbor musty cloths and half-cleaned
kettles, and serve as a breeding place for all kinds of microbes. A
shelf beside the sink was so sloped that dishes placed there would
quickly drain off before drying. The wall above the sink was of blue and
white Dutch tiles, and between the sink and the range a zinc-covered
table offered a suitable resting-place for hot kettles and pans. Below
the clock shelf was another, with a row of books that closer inspection
showed to be cook-books. All these details could not, of course, be
taken in at once, although the pleasant impression was immediate.
"Plants in the window, and what a curious wire netting!" cried Brenda.
"Yes, it is neater than curtains, keeps out flies, and though it is so
made that outsiders cannot look into the room it does not obscure the
light. The shades at the top can be pulled down when we really need to
darken the room."
Nora stood enraptured before the tall dresser with its store of dishes
and jelly moulds, then she gazed into the long, light pantry, the
shelves of which were laden with materials for cooking in jars and tins
and little boxes, all neatly labelled and within easy reach. On the wall
were several charts--one showing the different cuts of beef and lamb,
another by figures and diagrams giving the different nutritive values of
different articles of food. On the walls were here and there hung
various sets of maxims or rules neatly framed, among which, perhaps the
most conspicuous, was:
"I. Do everything in its proper time.
"II. Keep everything in its proper place.
"III. Put everything to its proper use."
IV
AN EXPLORING TOUR
Examining and admiring everything in the kitchen, the girls had half
forgotten Maggie, until the sound of singing attracted their attention.
"'Hold the Fort,'" exclaimed Brenda; then, after listening a moment,
"But no, the words sound strange."
"Oh, it's one of their work songs," said Miss South, and listening
again, they made it out.
"Now the cleaning quite to finish,
Pile up every plate,
Shake the cloth, and then with neatness
Fold exactly straight.
Quick, but silent, every motion
Taking things away,
To the pantry, to the kitchen,
With a little tray."
"Their song betrays them," said Miss South; "this part of the work
should have been done earlier," and pushing open the door that led from
the other end of the pantry, the four found themselves in the girls'
dining-room.
"How is this?" asked Miss South so seriously that one of the young girls
holding the table-cloth dropped an end suddenly, and both looked
sheepish.
"It was such a lovely day that we went out and sat on the back steps,"
said one of them frankly, "and then we forgot all about this room."
"But it's the rule, is it not, to put this room in perfect order before
you wash the dishes?"
"Yes'm--but we forgot."
"Well, I'm not here to scold, but I only wish that you had been as
careful about this as about your kitchen work; I noticed that you had
left everything there very neat."
"Yes'm," was the answer from both girls at once.
"Where's Miss Dreen, Concetta?"
"Oh! she said she'd go to market right after breakfast, and leave us do
what we could without her."
"I understand," said Miss South, as she introduced each of the young
girls to the visitors.
"Miss Dreen, the housekeeper," she explained, as they turned to go
upstairs, "supervises the girls in the kitchen. I suppose that she left
them alone to test their sense of responsibility. She will require a
report on her return."
"Well, if they are as frank with her as with us, she will have little to
complain of. One looked like an Italian, and I thought that they were
never ready to tell the truth."
"That depends on the girl," said Miss South; "but I have confidence in
this one. The other, by the way, is German. Edith's protegee, you
remember. I wonder where Maggie is," she continued; "she ought to have
been there, for we have three girls together serve a turn in the kitchen
each week, and we had her begin to-day."
"I wish that Maggie were as pretty as Concetta," said Brenda, in a tone
louder than was really necessary, "for Maggie is mortal plain;" and
then, at that moment, she ran into somebody in a turn of the hallway,
and when in the same instant the door of an opposite room was opened she
saw Maggie McSorley gazing up at her with tear-stained eyes.
"Why, Maggie, I came downstairs expressly to find you. Have you been
crying?" A glance had assured her that the tears had not been caused by
her hasty words. Indeed, the swollen eyes showed that the child had been
crying for some time.
"What is the matter, Maggie?" asked Julia, while Nora and Miss South
passed on toward the reception-room. "Miss Barlow has come to see you,
and she may think that we have not been kind to you."
"Oh, no, 'm, you've been kind;" and Maggie began to sob after the
fashion in which she had sobbed during her first interview with Brenda.
At last by dint of much questioning they found that she and Concetta had
disagreed when they first set about clearing the table, and while
scuffling a pitcher had been broken.
"_I_ didn't do it--truly; Concetta said I'd surely be sent home in
disgrace, and she picked up the pieces to show you, and locked the
dining-room door so's I couldn't go back and finish my work, and put the
key in her pocket; and what will Miss Dreen say, for it was my day to
tidy up the dining-room."
Brenda and Julia saw that they had been rather hasty in forming an
opinion of Concetta's innocence and gentleness. They did not doubt
Maggie when she showed the swelling on her head, near her cheek-bone,
that she said had been caused by a blow.
"Evidently you and Concetta cannot work together at the same time. We'll
send Nellie down to the kitchen this week. Now, Brenda, I'll leave you
with Maggie for a little while, and she can tell you what she is
learning here."
But the interview was far from satisfactory to either of the two.
Maggie, always reticent, was now doubly so, as her mind dwelt on the
insult she had received from the Italian girl, "dago," as she said to
herself. On her part Brenda hated tears, and as she had not witnessed
the quarrel, she felt for Maggie less sympathy than when she had seen
her weep over the broken vase. Brenda asked a few questions, Maggie
replied in monosyllables, and both were relieved when Miss South
suggested that Maggie take Brenda up to see her room.
Meanwhile the two young girls in the kitchen were engaged in an animated
discussion. In Brenda's presence Concetta's great, dark eyes had
expressed intense admiration for the slender, graceful young woman
flitting about with pleased exclamations for everything that she saw.
"Ain't she stylish?" Concetta said to her companion as the visitors
turned away, "with all them silver things jingling from her belt, and
such shiny shoes. Say! don't you think those were silk flowers on her
hat?"
Concetta had not been able to give to her English the polish of her
native tongue, and the grammar acquired in her teacher's presence
slipped away under the influence of the many-tongued neighborhood where
she lived.
"She's a great sight handsomer than that Miss Blair," and she looked at
her companion narrowly.
"Yes, I wish she'd brought me here instead of Miss Blair; she seems so
lively, and Miss Blair is so--so kind of slow."
Gretchen knew very well that she was wrong in speaking thus of the one
whose interest had made her an inmate of the delightful Mansion, yet as
she and her companion continued to talk Brenda gained constantly at the
expense of Edith.
It not infrequently happens that those persons whom we ought to admire
the most are those whom we find it the hardest to admire, sometimes even
to like. Gretchen owed everything to Edith, who had been very kind to
her at a time when her family were in rather sore straits. But
appearances count for more than they should with many young persons.
Whatever Edith wore was in good taste, and costly, even when lacking in
the indefinite something called style. Nora the girls would have put in
the same class with Brenda, as quite worthy for them to copy when they
should be old enough to dress like young ladies. They did not know that
Nora's clothes cost far less than Brenda's, and that Edith's dress was
usually twice as costly. It was undoubtedly Brenda's brightness of
manner and her generally graceful air that they translated into
"stylishness"--the kind of thing that they thought they could make their
own by imitation and practice when they were older.
Now it happened that neither Concetta nor Gretchen had the least idea
that Maggie was Brenda's special protegee. Had they known this their
tongues might have flown even faster, as they jeered at the absent
Maggie for being a regular cry-baby. Their own wrongdoing in teasing
Maggie sat lightly on their little shoulders. It was their theory that
might makes right, and as they had been able to get rid of the girl they
didn't like, they believed themselves evidently much better than she.
With her rather listless guide Brenda made the tour of the upper
stories. There were twelve pretty bedrooms for the girls, of almost
uniform size, although varying somewhat in shape. The furniture in each
was the same, but to allow a little scope for individual taste each girl
was permitted to decide upon the color to be used in draperies,
counterpane, and china. Blue and pink were the prevailing choice, for
the range of colors suitable for these purposes is limited. Nellie asked
for green, and had it even to the green clover-leaf on the china; and
another girl begged for plain white, unwilling to have even a touch of
gilt on the china; "it makes me think of heaven," she confided to Julia,
"to see everything so white and still when I come up to my room at
night."
Maggie had chosen brown for her room, a choice that had especially
awakened the ridicule of Luisa, who had said that if she could have her
own way there should be a mixture of red, yellow, and blue on all her
possessions.
"Why, it's ever so pretty, Maggie," said Brenda, "and you are keeping it
neat; but I can't say that those broad brown ribbons tying up the window
curtains are cheerful, and I never did like a brown pattern on
crockery-ware; but still if you like it--"
"Well, I don't like it quite as much as I expected."
"Then perhaps later you can make some changes; I would certainly have
blue ribbons."
"Oh, I don't know, Miss Barlow, there's so many other colors, and I
can't tell which I'd like the best."
"I must send you two or three books for your bookshelf."
"Thank you, Miss Barlow," said Maggie coldly, without suggesting, as
Brenda hoped she might, some book that she particularly wished to own.
Just then, to her relief, Julia passed through the hall.
"Come upstairs with me and I will show you the gymnasium that we have
had built. Edith, you know, paid for it all."
So up to the top of the house the two cousins climbed, followed by Nora
and Maggie. Two large rooms had been thrown into one, and as the roof
was flat, a fine, large hall was the result. This was fitted up with
light gymnastic apparatus, and Julia explained that a teacher was to
come once a week to teach the girls. "In stormy weather, when we can't
go out, this will be a grand place for bean-bags and similar games, and,
indeed, I think that the gymnasium will prove one of the most
attractive rooms in the Mansion."
At this moment a Chinese gong resounded through the house.
"Twelve o'clock; it seems hardly possible!" and Julia led the way for
the others to follow her downstairs.
From the school-room above three or four girls now appeared, and others
came from various parts of the house where they had been at work, among
them Concetta and Gretchen.
"Let me count you," said Miss South, after they were seated; "although I
can make only nine, I cannot decide who is missing."
As Concetta raised her hand Gretchen tried to pull it down.
"You're not in school; she don't want you to do that."
But the former continued to shake her hand, until Miss South noticed
her.
"Please, 'm, it's Mary Murphy; she told me she was going to sneak home
after breakfast. Her mother said she didn't sleep a wink for two nights
thinking of her dear daughter in such a place; so's soon as she'd read
the letter she said she'd go right home."
"Very well," said Miss South, "I'm much obliged to you for telling me;"
and then, to the disappointment of all, she made no further comment on
Mary Murphy's departure.
The half-hour in the library passed quickly. Each girl reported what she
had done thus far, and in some cases Miss South gave instructions for
the rest of the day. One or two had special questions to ask, one or two
had grievances. Promptly at half-past twelve Miss South gave the signal,
and they filed away to prepare for dinner.
"It's a kind of dress inspection. You will understand what I mean if you
have ever visited an army post."
"You did not find much fault."
"No, Nora, but I observed many things, and before night I shall have a
chance for private conversation with several who stand in special need
of it. There were Concetta's finger-nails, and Luisa's shoestrings, and
Gretchen had her apron fastened with a safety-pin. Ah! well, we can't
expect too much."
"They really are very funny," interposed Julia. "The other day I heard
Inez talking to Haleema as they were making a bed: 'Ain't it silly to
have to put all these sheets and things on so straight every day when
they get all mussed up at night.'
"'My mother never used to make the beds,' said Haleema reminiscently.
"'No, nor mine; we used just to lump them all at the foot of the bed,
and pile the blankets from the children's bed on the floor.'
"'It would be nice and handy to hang them over the foot here.'
"'Yes, they'd get so well aired, and it would save all this bother.'
"I'm almost sure that they would have tried this plan," continued Julia,
"had they not seen me standing in the hall. However, Haleema did
venture to say that she wondered why we insist on having the bureau
drawers shut, after they've all been put in good order. It's only when
they have nothing in them that she thinks that they should be closed.
She also prefers to use the chair in her room for some of the little
ornaments that she brought from home, and when she sits down she
crouches on the rug."
"Sits Turkish fashion, I suppose you mean."
"Perhaps it is Turkish fashion, although I imagine that there is no love
lost between the Syrians and the Turks."
"Haleema is much neater than Luisa, and although we think of her as less
civilized, she hasn't half as much objection to taking the daily bath
that Luisa considers a perfect waste of time."
"It's very discouraging," said Julia with a sigh.
"Oh, one needn't mind a little thing like that. One or two that I could
mention think it a great waste of time to wash the dishes after every
meal."
"Ugh!" and an expression of disgust crossed Brenda's face at the mere
thought of using the same plates and cups unwashed for a second meal.
"There's a slight strain on the one who supervises their table manners.
I've just been through my week. You see," and she turned in explanation
toward Nora and Brenda, "each resident serves for a week as head of the
girls' table at breakfast, and it is her duty to correct all their
little faults as a mother would. At the other two meals they have only
Miss Dreen, for we think that they ought to be free from the restraint
of our presence at these other meals."
"Do you try to guide conversation, too?"
"Oh, yes, but thus far our presence has seemed a decided damper, and the
solemnity of breakfast is in great contrast with the hilarity at the
other two meals. At tea-time their laughter sometimes reaches even as
far as the library."
"They are ready to learn, and particularly ready to imitate. I am really
obliged to watch myself constantly," said Julia, "lest I say or do
something that may return against me some time, like a boomerang."
"Then I fear that I should be a poor kind of resident," rejoined Brenda,
"for it has been said that I speak first and think afterwards. However,
in the presence of Maggie McSorley I am always going to try to do my
best; for apparently it's my duty to bring her up for the next few
years, and I won't shirk. But I wish that it had been Concetta instead
of Maggie on whom I stumbled. I'm going to tell Ralph that I've found a
perfect model for his new picture. Wouldn't you let her pose?"
"Ask Miss South," responded Julia.
But Miss South, without waiting for the question, only shook her head,
with an emphatic "No, indeed."
V
PHILIP'S LECTURE
Angelina was smiling broadly, "grinning from ear to ear" some persons
would have expressed it, as she ushered two visitors into the room where
Miss South, Julia, and Pamela were sitting one afternoon toward six
o'clock, for Pamela was one of the residents at the Mansion.
"Why, Philip; why, Tom!" cried Julia, rising from the lounge where she
was looking over a folio of engravings, "this _is_ a pleasure."
"Yes, we thought we'd accept promptly your kind invitation to drop in
upon you at any time, so that we could see the Mansion and its contents
just as they are."
"Oh, yes, they are always ready for inspection."
"We hope that you will ask us to stay to dinner," added Tom, after he
had followed Philip's example and had shaken hands with the others.
"Oh, certainly! especially as you have made it so evident that you are
ready to accept."
"That is delightful! You see we feared to wait for a formal invitation,
lest you might show us only the company side of things, and we are
anxious to see you just as you are."
"Ah! we have no company side. We decided in the beginning to welcome our
friends at any time, if they would take us just as we were."
"This doesn't look like an institution," said Tom, glancing around the
pretty room.
"No, we haven't seen the real inmates yet. I suppose you keep them under
lock and key," interposed Philip.
"Hardly," responded Miss South, "because--"
Then, as the door was pushed open for a minute, shouts of merriment from
another part of the house showed that if in durance vile, the inmates
were at least in full possession of some of their faculties.
Then the party broke up into two groups. Tom in his vivacious way told
of his experiences as a fledgling lawyer. This was his first visit to
Boston since he had been admitted to the bar, and he described himself
as just beginning to believe that he might escape starvation from the
fact that one or two clients had made their appearance at his office.
"It's lucky for my friends that a little practice is coming my way, for
I was ready, for the sake of business, to set any of them by the ears.
Why, the other day when I was out with my uncle, and the cable car
stopped too suddenly, I almost hoped that he would sprain his
ankle--just a little, that I might have the chance to bring suit against
the company."
"How cruel!" exclaimed Julia, into whose ear he had let fall these rash
admissions.
While Tom ran on in this frivolous fashion, Philip was talking more
seriously with Pamela and Miss South. Indeed, seriousness was a quality
that Philip now showed to an extent that seemed strange to those who had
known him in his earlier college years. Much responsibility had recently
come to him on account of his father's failing health, and in the West
he had been so thrown on his own resources that he no longer regarded
life as unsatisfactory unless it offered him amusement.
"I have wondered," he was saying to Miss South, "if you really wished me
to give that talk on the Western country."
"Yes, indeed, we are very anxious to have it. We are counting on you to
open our lecture season."
"Oh, I'm only too happy, although you must remember that I'm not a
professional; but my lantern is in order, and I have nearly a hundred
slides. Many of them are really fine,--even if I do say it," he
concluded apologetically.
"I'm sure they are," responded Miss South, "and I can tell you that we
older 'inmates,' as you call us, are equally anxious to hear you."
"You mean, to see the pictures; they will be worth your attention, but
as to my speaking--"
"'You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage,'"
interposed Tom mockingly, as he overheard the latter part of the
sentence. Whereat Philip, somewhat embarrassed, was glad to see
Angelina at the door announcing "Dinner is served," and leading the way
with Miss South the others followed them to the dining-room.
As they took their places Philip found himself beside Pamela. He had
seen her but two or three times since her Freshman year at Radcliffe,
and in consequence would hardly have dared venture to allude to that
sugar episode through which he had first made her acquaintance. But
Pamela, no longer sensitive about this misadventure, brought it up
herself. Though Philip politely persisted that it had seemed the most
natural thing in the world to see before him on a Cambridge sidewalk a
stream of sugar pouring from an overturned paper-bag, Pamela assured him
that to her he had appeared like a hero on that memorable occasion,
since he had saved her from a certain amount of mortification.