WISE COUNSEL.
MILES' STORY—(continued).
THE next few days passed smoothly, so far as my work was concerned.
Not that I wasn't often clumsy and stupid, doing things awkwardly
enough from want of practice; but I tried hard, and Mr. Laurence was
wonderfully patient. He saw at least how anxious I was to learn. If I
forgot, he told me again, and if I blundered he made me try a second
time. He showed me exactly how he liked his books dusted—so many
shelves every week, and each shelf by itself, and every volume put
back into its own place. He stood by while I did it, over and over
again, till he was sure I knew how.
I had not leave to take away books for my own reading, of course, but
he lent me one at a time, choosing those I could understand, and he
was always pleased if I asked him questions. Sometimes he would come
into the museum, and give me quite a lesson on the things there.
It was wonderful how much bigger and wider the world grew as I
listened to him. Every day I grew more eager to learn, and more fond
of Mr. Laurence, and more bent on serving him rightly.
He did not yet allow me to go alone into the observatory. That was
to come later. "A careless touch might do such harm," he said; though
he was pleased to add that he did not count me careless. "But it would
not be fair yet to you, my boy," he said in his kind way.
The one real trouble in my new life was the way the maids looked
askance at me, and most of all the way I was disliked by Mrs. Crane.
To be sure, Mr. Laurence did not want me to have much to do with the
maids or with the servants' hall, and he told me so plainly; but still
I'd rather have been on pleasant terms, and I couldn't think why they
must all treat me as if I had no right to be in the house.
Of course I know now well enough that the feeling sprang from
jealousy, because I was favoured by Mr. Laurence, and was made free
to go in and out where none of them might venture. Besides, they did
not like me being put to meals with Mrs. Crane, instead of in the
servants' hall.
If I had been of a surly or an ill temper I should have found it hard
not to be unpleasant again; but as it was, I only felt uncomfortable,
and wondered what it all meant.
It was a good thing my mother had not trained me to be dainty in my
eating, for Mrs. Crane never asked me what I would like, but always
gave me the worst that was on the table. She had plenty of nice things
for herself, and I shouldn't have minded a little of them too; but all
the same I ate what she put on my plate, and I made no fuss, which was
best, of course, in every way. She would soon have used against me any
manner of grumbling on my part, and it is good for everybody to learn
not to mind what one eats. I do despise daintiness! Mr. Laurence never
seemed to care what he had on his plate, and as often as not he just
ate without knowing what he ate. Everybody can't be like that,
I suppose, because everybody hasn't such a mind as he had; but I do
think it contemptible when a man's happiness and good temper depend
on his victuals being to his taste. Or a woman's either—which perhaps
isn't quite so common, though I'm not sure.
The only person about the house who spoke kind words to me, beside Mr.
Laurence, was Andrews, the head gardener—a big slow man, who knew what
he was about. He had been used to come in once a week to dust out the
museum, because Mr. Laurence wouldn't trust anybody else among his
treasures. But Andrews didn't seem to mind seeing me there instead.
He always had a pleasant smile.
The very first Sunday after I got to The Myrtles, Mr. Laurence asked
if I would like to go home for the afternoon and evening: and right
glad I was to do it. Weeks might have passed, instead of only days,
since I'd seen them all.
There was plenty to hear and plenty to tell, though I was mindful
of what Mr. Laurence had said, and I wouldn't let myself gossip about
things I'd no business to repeat. Mother saw I was careful, and then
she grew careful too, and wouldn't ask many questions, and I knew
she thought me right.
Before I left home it had been all settled about Mrs. Coles' little
house being taken on by my parents, and now Mrs. Coles was gone, and
our house at Littleburgh was given up, and our furniture was on the
way down. The furniture in our new home did not belong to Mrs. Coles,
but to Mr. Kingscote; and as Mrs. Coles would not need the things
where she was going, Mr. Kingscote was going to let mother have the
use of some of them for the present—enough to furnish nicely the rooms
for letting, as we shouldn't have had enough of our own.
So it was all settled, and mother hoped to have all straight in a week
or two ready for lodgers. Two or three people had been already to ask
about lodgings.
I did not think my father seemed better, but he was as good and
patient as could be, and he had begun to have a little feeling in one
of his legs, which the doctor said was a good sign.
The wonderful thing to us all was that he should lie, day after day,
so quiet and contented, not worrying or fretful. It is bad enough for
anybody to be cut off from work, and laid on a bed for nobody can say
how long; but with a strong active man like my father, always used to
be busy, it must have been especially bad, and yet he didn't fuss or
grumble. It often seemed as if, when God laid him there, He gave him
a spirit of quiet willingness; though I didn't understand this till
long after. When father sometimes said with a little smile, "I'm
learning lessons, Miles!" I could not see at all what he meant.
It was before dinner that I went home that first Sunday, and
afterward father had to be left quiet, and Louey and Rosey went to
Sunday-school. I'd been used to go too from Mr. Kingscote's, as he
liked me to belong to the class of big boys; but I could not know yet
how it would be from Mr. Laurence's house; and this day I wanted most
of all to have a talk alone with my mother. She saw I wanted that;
and when the children were gone, she began by asking if I was happy.
"Yes," I said, "Mr. Laurence was so good;" and I told her all about
what he had said to me the first evening.
"Right too!" said she. "You can't be too careful, Miles. If Mr.
Laurence is to trust you, there's no other way."
"Only I may speak out to you, mother," I said.
"No," said she; "not one single thing to do with Mr. Laurence's ways
or habits, nor with his work. Not a single thing that you don't feel
sure he'd wish me to know. If you've troubles of your own, you may
tell them to me."
"Well, I don't know if I ought to call them troubles," I said, and I
laughed. "Not quite so bad as that; only I don't think the servants
like me being there."
"Which servants?" said she.
"Why,—all of them," I said, "except the gardener. Mrs. Crane, the
housekeeper, and Mrs. Perkins, the cook, and the parlour-maid and the
housemaid and the under-housemaid. I don't think any of them like me."
She asked one or two questions, and when I told her I had my meals
with Mrs. Crane, and was allowed in rooms where they mightn't go,
she said, "That's it!"
"What is?" I asked.
"It might have been wiser the other way," said she slowly, as if
thinking aloud. "I mean if you'd had your meals for a time with the
rest. But then there'd have been difficulties later, if—And Mr.
Laurence has a right to settle it as he will."
"I don't know what you mean, mother," I said.
"No," said she; "never mind; it's all right, Miles. You've just got
to do what Mr. Laurence tells you, and you mustn't mind a few cross
looks."
"Mr. Laurence doesn't want me to be much in the servants' hall,"
I said. "He told me so."
"Then you're quite clear as to what you've got to do. Mind, Miles,
you're there, taking Mr. Laurence's wages; and you're there to do what
he bids you. Your time is his, not your own."
"But if they don't like it?" I said.
"Well, then they must do without liking it," said she. "You're not a
coward, Miles. You can stand a few hits, if it's in the way of duty,
I hope. Only don't give them cause to be vexed,—not any real cause,
I mean. Don't you give yourself airs, or be rude. You're only the son
of a working-man; and it's as likely as not that some of their fathers
are better off than yours. That's neither here nor there, for Mr.
Laurence has a right to settle his household as he will. And if
anybody don't like it, why they've got the remedy in their own hands,
and they can go. But all the same I dare say it's a grievance, seeing
you put to your meals with Mrs. Crane, so you've got to be doubly
careful to give no offence."