AMID THE GREEN MOUNTAINS
There are two characteristics sure to be found among the residents of a
small country village, and those are kindness of heart and a love of
gossip. The former showed itself in Sandgate when Albert Page went to
those his family were indebted to, and, with much humiliation to
himself, asked them to wait. Mr. Hobbs' reply is all that is necessary
to quote, as it was a reflex of all the others.
"Don't ye worry one whit, Mr. Page," he said; "take your own time, an'
if it's a year it's no matter. The only reason I called with the bill
was because it's customary when an estate is bein' settled. Tell your
folks I expect and want 'em to keep right on tradin' with me."
When Alice appealed to Mr. Mears she also met only the kindest of words.
"Ye can drive back an' forth, an' not be away from home over night,"
said he, "till snow comes, an' then I'll git ye a boardin'-place clus by
the schoolhouse and fetch and carry ye Mondays and Fridays."
The love of gossip showed itself as distinctly in a general discussion
by the townsfolk of the affairs of the Pages. For a month after Albert
had gone away and Alice had begun teaching, they were the subject of
much after-church and sewing-circle talk.
"If Alice could only git married now," observed Mrs. Mears, who was
perhaps the leader among the gossips in Sandgate, "it 'ud be the most
fortunit thing that could happen, but she holds her head perty middlin'
high for a poor girl, which p'raps is nat'ral, she comin' from one o'
the oldest families. They say there wa'n't nothin' left to either on 'em
when the Widder Page died, an' the wonder is how she managed to git
along as well as she did."
Fortunately none of this gossip, of which Mrs. Mears' remarks are only a
sample, reached Alice, for she had enough to bear as it was. The
vexations of an effort to pound the rudiments of an education into the
heads of two dozen or so barefooted boys and girls that comprised her
charge were far less hard to bear than the desolation of a home bereft
of mother and brother. Occasionally some one of the neighbors would drop
in of an evening, or one or two of her girl friends come and stay all
night. On Sundays she was, as she always had been, a regular attendant
at the village church, where she formed one of the choir. She had never
encouraged the attentions of any of the young men, who mostly wore the
habiliments of farmers on week days and worse-fitting ones on Sundays,
which accounted for Mrs. Mears' remark that "she held her head perty
middlin' high." It was true in a way, not from any false pride, but
rather because Alice was of a more refined and fastidious nature than
those who "would a-wooing go."
She was like a flower herself, not only in looks, but in delicacy of
feeling and sentiment, and her sweet face, sheltered by a mourning-hat
on Sunday at church, was a magnet that drew the eyes of many a village
swain. The days and weeks of her new life as a teacher passed in
uneventful procession until one by one the leaves had fallen from the
two big elm trees in front of the desolate home, the meadows were but
level fields of snow, and Christmas was only two weeks away. Then she
received a letter from the absent brother that caused her heart to beat
with unusual excitement. It read:
DEAR SIS: Three weeks ago I received a most flattering proposal
from Mr. Nason, Frank's father, who offered me a good salary to
take charge of his law business, and also the chance to accept
anything else that came my way. I have a nice office now in a block
he owns, and am so busy I do not find time to write to you even.
It's an opening of a lifetime, and I owe it mainly to Frank. Now I
am so homesick I am coming up to spend Christmas with you, and I've
invited Frank to come also. We shall be up the day before and stay
till the Monday after. Frank has done so much for me that I want to
entertain him in the best way possible. He knows absolutely nothing
about country life, and it may be dull for him, but he seems
desirous of coming, and so I want you to help me to make it cheerful
for him. To be candid, sis, I think the chance to see you, whom he
has heard me say so much about, is the real loadstone. I enclose a
bit of paper, and I want you to use it all in any way you wish.
It was a check for one hundred dollars!
It was not strange that at school next day Alice's thoughts were not on
the recitations, and when one boy spelled beauty "b-o-o-t-i-e," and
raised a laugh, she did not understand why it was. Children are in some
ways as keen as briers, and her pupils soon discovered that "teacher"
was absent-minded and they whispered right and left. When she discovered
it she didn't have the heart to punish them, and was glad when the time
came to dismiss school.
The instinct of her sex was strong within her, however, and that night
she said to Aunt Susan:
"Do you think, auntie, we could manage between us to make up some sort
of a pretty house-dress? Of course I must wear black when I go out, but
it would be no harm to wear something brighter at home. I could get some
delicate gray cashmere, and Mrs. Sloper can cut and fit it, and you and
I can make it evenings. I want a sort of house-gown trimmed with satin.
I wish I dared to have a new hat for church, with a little color in
it,--my mourning-bonnet makes me look so old,--but I am afraid people
would talk."
The feminine fear of looking old was needless in her case.
But how the days dragged, and how many times she counted them to see how
many more were to pass ere that dearly beloved brother was to arrive!
And what sort of a looking fellow was this Frank? she wondered. She
hoped he was tall and dark, not too tall, but good and stout. And how
could she ever entertain them? She could play and sing a few pretty
ballads, and any number of hymns, but as for conversation she felt
herself wholly deficient. Of the world of art, literature, and the drama
she knew but little. She had read a good many novels, it is true, and
had seen "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "East Lynne," and one or two other
tear-moving dramas played in the town hall, but that was all. She had
never even journeyed as far as Boston or New York. "He will think me as
green as the hills around us," she thought ruefully, "but I can't help
it. I can cook some nice things for him to eat, anyhow, and Bert must do
the talking. I wonder if he plays the piano. I hope not, for if he does
I'll not touch it."
Christmas came on Thursday that year and her school was to close for a
week on the Friday before. She had a little plan in her mind, and the
last day of school she called on two of the big boys to help her.
"My brother is coming home to spend Christmas," she said to them, "and I
want a lot of ground-pine to trim up the house. Will you bring me some?"
If there is anything that will touch a country boy's heart it is to have
"teacher"--and especially a young and pretty teacher--ask him to go for
ground-pine; so it is needless to say that Alice was supplied with an
ample outfit of that graceful vine. More than that, they begged for the
privilege of helping her festoon it, and when long ropes of it were
draped over the windows and above the fireplace in the big parlor, and
the hall and dining-room received the same decoration, the house
presented a cheerful appearance. The culinary department was not
neglected either, and a great store of pies, frosted cake, and doughnuts
was prepared.
"I do not know what I should do without you, Aunt Susan," the fair young
hostess said the day before the guests were to arrive; "I couldn't do
this all alone, and I want to give Bert a welcome."
It may be surmised that consideration for that big brother was not the
sole force that moved her, but the veil that shelters the heart of a
sweet young girl must not be rudely drawn aside. She had written: "I
shall be only too glad to do all in my power, in my poor way, to
entertain your friend who has done so much for you," and we will let
that disclosure of gratitude suffice.