A truly worthy old body was our nurse, Susan Bridget. Stern and hard of
visage, firm and determined in disposition and of unpolished though
perfectly respectful manners, she was nevertheless peculiarly sweet
tempered, and possessed as kind a heart as ever beat within woman's
breast. She had been our nurse from the period of our first becoming
inmates of Fern Bank, and each year that passed her simple piety, fidelity
and unaffected good sense raised her higher and higher in uncle and aunt's
esteem. Although not exactly adapted to the position of lady's maid, aunt
would not dismiss her as we grew older, feeling secure that in her was
united to the duties of an orderly, industrious servant the true
thoughtful care and anxiety of a Christian friend, and that she was,
therefore, well fitted for an attendant upon two growing up, motherless
girls like ourselves. Susan was certainly an old-fashioned and not always
very grammatical speaker, but that seemed, I always thought, to enhance
yet more the spirit and truth of her admonitions, of which she was very
unsparing toward her nurslings when she considered them needed. I liked
her quaint matter-of-fact mode of speech far better than many a more
elegant style, for it brought her directly to the point with a kind of
rough eloquence that at once struck at the understanding, leaving the
delinquent no excuse to stand upon. She was quick and just in her
perception of character, and altogether peculiarly fitted to deal with so
capricious and whimsical a young damsel as dear, humoursome Charlotte. To
say the truth, too, the latter, if she did not entertain more respect for
the opinions and scoldings of nurse Susan, as she continued to be called,
was greatly more afraid of her than of our gentle and kind guardians.
"I can't think, not I, why it is Miss Lotty will be always so contrary in
her ways!" Susan exclaimed after listening with a disapproving face to my
modified account of the morning's contretemps; "what's the good of it? can
she tell me that? She gains nothing and loses a deal; she spoils the
pleasure to herself of almost everything she does by her whimsies and
silly tempers, and makes other folks uncomfortable too. She doesn't see
how ugly and unpleasant it makes her in the eyes of her fellow-creatures,
spoiling her looks and her manners, but more and worse than that, how
sinful it makes her in the sight of God."
"I am so afraid," interposed I, "that she does not intend going at all
to-day, Susan."
"Not going at all!" repeated Susan in a voice of stern amazement, stopping
short in her preparations for our dressing and staring at me.
"She says it is too early to go, and she will not hurry herself," I
replied.
"Not hurry herself! that's a pretty way of talking, and it's her uncle and
aunt as wants her!" and Susan hastened from the room and down stairs,
saying, as she went, "I'll just give her a bit of my mind, that's what
I'll do."
Now, in what that bit of mind consisted I did not know exactly, though I
pretty well guessed. Its administration proved much more speedily
efficacious, however, than the bits of mind which aunt and I had bestowed
upon Miss Lotty, for in a wonderfully short space of time up she came,
with a rather depressed head and considerably subdued look, albeit a
half-rebellious expression still lurked in her eyes and round the corners
of her handsome mouth. Close behind followed Susan Bridget with very much
the air of a schoolmaster bringing back some runaway scholar, her tall,
bony figure more than usually straight, stiff and determined. To have seen
her at that moment any one would have thought her one of the most
relentless tyrants in the world. Poor, dear, soft-hearted Susan!
There was but brief while for dressing, and no time was now lost on
superfluous words. Susan, without waiting to extract the half-sulky,
reluctant replies from Charlotte as to whether she did or did not approve
certain articles of dress, unhesitatingly selected such as she herself
chose for the occasion, and without ceremony put them upon Lotty,
hastening her movements and utterly disregarding her pettish complaints
and discontented looks. So it was, therefore, that when the carriage came
to the door, and uncle and aunt were ready, to my great joy Charlotte was
ready too—ready in fact a few minutes before myself, I not having had the
advantage of Susan's assistance. Just lingering a moment as Lotty left the
room to press a warm kiss of farewell and glad thanks for her successful
management of the former on good old Susan's hard cheek, I sped down
stairs after my sister, and we were soon on our way to Rathfelder's Hotel.