WHERE MRS. CROCKS THREW THE SWITCH
When Pearl came out of the doctor's office into the sunshine of the
village street, she had but one thought--one overwhelming desire,
expressed in the way she held her head, and the firm beat of her
low-heeled shoes on the sidewalk--she must get away where she would
not see him or the people she knew. She realized that whatever it was
that had come between them was painful to him, and that he really
cared for her. To see her, would be hard on him, embarrassing to them
both, and she would do her share by going away--and she remembered,
with a fresh pang--that when she had spoken of this, he had made no
objection, thus confirming her decision that for her to go would be
the best way.
The three glorious years, so full of hopes and dreams, were over!
Pearl's house of hopes had fallen! All was over! And it was not his
fault--he was not to blame. Instinctively, Pearl defended him in her
mind against a clamorous sense of injustice which told her that she
had not had a square deal! The pity of it all was what choked her and
threatened to storm her well guarded magazine of self-control! It was
all so sudden, so mysterious and queer, and yet, she instinctively
felt, so inexorable!
Pearl had always been scornful of the tears of lovelorn maidens, and
when in one of her literature lessons at the Normal, the sad journey
of the lily-maid on her barge of black samite, floating down the
river, so dead and beautiful, with the smile on her face and the lily
in her hand, reduced form A to a common denominator of tears, and
made the whole room look like a Chautauqua salute, Pearl had stoutly
declared that if Elaine had played basketball or hockey instead
of sitting humped up on a pile of cushions in her eastern tower,
broidering the sleeve of pearls so many hours a day, she wouldn't have
died so easily nor have found so much pleasure in arranging her own
funeral.
But on this bright March day, the village street seemed strangely dull
and dead to her, with an empty sound like a phone that has lost its
connection. Something had gone from her little world, leaving it
motionless, weary and old! A row of icicles hung from the roof of the
corner store, irregular and stained from the shingles above, like an
ugly set of ill-kept teeth, dripping disconsolately on the sidewalk
below, and making there a bumpy blotch of unsightly ice!
In front of the store stood the delivery sleigh, receiving its load
of parcels, which were thrown in with an air of unconcern by a blocky
young man with bare red hands. The horse stood without being tied, in
an apparently listless and melancholy dream. A red and white cow
came out of the lane and attempted to cross the slippery sidewalk,
sprawling helplessly for a moment, and then with a great effort
recovered herself and went back the way she came, limping painfully,
the blocky young man hastening her movements by throwing at her a
piece of box lid, with the remark that that would "learn her."
The sunshine so brilliant and keen, had a cold and merciless tang in
it, and a busy-body look about it, as if it delighted in shining into
forbidden corners and tearing away the covers that people put on their
sorrows, calling all the world to come and see! Pearl shuddered with
the sudden realization that the sun could shine and the wind could
blow bright and gay as ever, though hearts were writhing in agony!
She hoped she would not see any of the people she knew, for the pain
that lay like a band of ice around her heart might be showing in her
face--and Pearl knew that the one thing she could not stand was a word
of sympathy. That would be fatal. So she hurried on. She would send a
wire of acceptance to her inspector friend, and then go over to the
stable for her horse, and be on her way home.
But there is something whimsical about fate. It takes a hand in our
affairs without apology, and throws a switch at the last moment. If
Pearl had not met Mrs. Crocks at the corner, just before she took the
street to the station, this would have been a different story. But who
knows? We never get a chance to try the other way, and it is best and
wisest and easiest of comprehension to believe that whatever is, is
best!
Mrs. Crocks was easily the best informed person regarding local
happenings, in the small town of Millford. She really knew. Every
community has its unlicensed and unauthorized gossips, who think they
know what their neighbors are thinking and doing, but who more often
than not get their data wrong, and are always careless of detail. Mrs.
Crocks was not one of these.
When Bill Cavers got drunk, and spent in one grand, roaring spree all
the money which he and his wife and Libby Anne had saved for their
trip to Ontario, there were those who said that he went through six
hundred dollars that one night, making a rough guess at the amount.
Mrs. Crocks did not use any such amateur and unsatisfactory way of
arriving at conclusions. She did not need to--there was a way of
finding out! To the elevator she went, and looked at the books under
cover of looking up a wheat ticket which her husband had cashed and
found that Bill Cavers had marketed seventeen hundred and eight
dollars worth of wheat. From this he had paid his store bill, and the
blacksmith's bill, which when deducted, left him eight hundred and
fourteen dollars--she did not bother with the cents. The deductions
were easily verified--both the storekeeper and the blacksmith were
married men!
This was the method she followed in all her research--careful,
laborious and accurate at all costs, with a fine contempt for her less
scientific contemporaries. The really high spots in her life had been
when she was able to cover her competitors with confusion by showing
that their facts were all wrong, which process she referred to as
"showing up these idle gossips."
James Crocks, her husband, had chosen for himself a gentler avocation
than his wife's, and one which brought him greater peace of
mind--proprietor of the big red stable which spread itself over half a
block, he had unconsciously defined himself, as well as his place of
business, by having printed in huge white letters with black edging
across the shingled roof, the words:
"HORSE REPOSITORY" PROP.J. CROCKS.
Here the tired horses could forget the long trail and the heavy loads,
in the comfortable stalls, with their deep bedding of clean straw; and
here also, James Crocks himself was able to find the cheerful company,
who ate their meals in quietude of heart, asking no questions,
imputing no motives, knowing nothing of human intrigue, and above
all, never, never insisting that he tell them what he thought about
anything! Most of his waking hours were spent here, where he found the
gentle sounds of feeding horses, the honest smell of prairie hay and
the blessed absence of human chatter very soothing and restful.
As time went on, and James Crocks grew more and more averse to human
speech--having seen it cause so much trouble one way'n another, Mrs.
Crocks found it was an economy of effort to board one of the stable
boys, and that is how it came about that Mr. Bertie Peters found
himself called from the hay-mow above the stable, to his proprietors'
guest chamber, and all the comforts of a home, including nightly
portions of raisin pie--and best of all, an interested and
appreciative audience who liked to hear him talk. Mrs. Crocks as usual
had made a good choice, for as Bertie talked all the time, he was sure
to say something once in a while. A cynical teacher had once said of
Bertie, that he never had an "unuttered thought."
But even though the livery stable happenings as related by Bertie gave
Mrs. Crocks many avenues of information, all of her prescience could
not be explained through that or any other human agency. The young
doctor declared she had the gift or divination, was a mind reader, and
could see in the dark! Many a time when he had gone quietly to the
stable and taken out his team without as much as causing a dog to
bark, removing his sleigh bells to further cover his movements, and
stealing out of town like an absconding bank-teller, to make a call,
returning the same way, still under cover of night, and flattering
himself that he had fooled her this time, she would be waiting for
him, and timed her call to the exact minute. Just as he got in to his
room after putting his team away, his phone would ring and Mrs. Crocks
would ask him about the patient he had been to see. She did not always
call him, of course, but he felt she knew where he had been. There was
no explanation--it was a gift!
Pearl had been rather a favorite with Mrs. Crocks when the Watsons
family lived in Millford, but since they had gone to the farm and
prosperity had come to them as evidenced by their better clothes,
their enlarged house, their happier faces, and more particularly
Pearl's success in her school work in the city, all of which had
appeared in the local paper, for the editor was enthusiastic for his
own town--Mrs. Crock's friendly attitude had suffered a change. She
could put up with almost anything in her friends, but success!
But when she met Pearl on the street that day, her manner was
friendly.
"Hello stranger," she said, "I hear you have been doing big things
down there in the city, winnin' debates and makin' speeches. Good for
you, Pearl--I always said you were a smart girl, even when your people
were as poor as get-out. I could see it in you--but don't let it spoil
you, Pearl--and don't ever forget you are just a country girl. But I
am certainly glad you did so well--for your mother's sake--many a time
I was dead sorry for her having to work so hard! It's a comfort to her
now to see you doin' so well. Where have been now? I saw you comin'
out of the doctor's office just now--anybody sick? You're not looking
as pert as usual yourself--you haven't been powdering' your face, I
hope! No one sick, eh? Just a friendly call then, was it? See here,
Pearl--when I was young, girls did not do the chasin', we let the men
do that, and I'm here to tell you it's the best way. And look here,
there's enough girls after Doctor Clay without you--there was a man
from the city telling Bertie at the stable that he seen our doctor in
a box at the Opera with the Senator's daughter two weeks ago, and that
she is fair dippy about him, and now that he is thinking of goin'
into politics, it would be a great chance for him. The other side are
determined to make him run for them against old Steadman, and the old
lady is that mad she won't let his name be mentioned in the house. She
says the country owes it to Mr. Steadman to put him in by acclamation!
And the doctor hasn't accepted it yet. The committee went to see
him yesterday and he turned them down but they won't take no for an
answer, and they asked him to think it over--I suppose he told you all
about it--"
For the first time Mrs. Crocks stopped for breath. Her beady eyes were
glistening for excitement. Here was a scoop--if Pearl would only tell
her. She would be able to anticipate the doctor's answer.
"What is he goin' to do, Pearl, I know he would tell you; I have
always said that doctor thinks more of you than he does of any of the
other girls! What did he say about it, will he take it?"
Pearl was quite herself now--composed, on her guard, even smiling.
"I think the doctor would prefer to make his own announcement," she
said, "and he will make it to the committee."
Mrs. Crocks' eyes narrowed darkly, and she breathed heavily in her
excitement. Did Pearl Watson mean to tell her in as many words, to
mind her own business. But in Pearl's face there was no guile, and she
was going on her way.
"Don't be in a hurry, Pearl," said Mrs. Crocks, "can't you wait a
minute and talk to an old friend. I am sure I do not care a pin
whether the doctor runs or not. I never was one to think that women
should concern themselves with politics--that surely belongs to the
men. I have been a home body all my life, as you know, and of course I
should have known that the doctor would not discuss his business with
a little chit like you--but dear, me, he is one terrible flirt, he
cannot pass a pretty face. Of course now he will settle down no doubt,
every one thinks he will anyway, and marry Miss Keith of Hampton--the
Keith's have plenty of money, though I don't believe that counts as
much with the doctor as family, and of course they have the blue
blood too, and her father being the Senator will help. What! must you
go--you're not half as sociable as you used to be when you brought the
milk every morning to the back door--you sure could talk then,
and tell some of the weirdest things. I always knew you would be
something, but if you freeze up like a clam when you meet old
friends--it does not seem as if education has improved you. Can't you
stay and talk a minute?"
"I could stay," said Pearl, "and I can still talk, but I have not been
able to talk to you. You see I do not like to interrupt any one so
much older than myself!"
When Pearl walked away, Mrs. Crocks looked after her with a look of
uncertainty on her face. Pearl's words rang in her ears!
"She's smart, that kid--she's smart--I'll say that for her. There is
not a man in town who dare look me in the eye and take a rise like
that out of me, but she did it without a flicker. So I know I had her
mad or she wouldn't have said it, but wasn't she smooth about it?"
Then her professional pride asserted itself, reminding her that a
slight had been put upon her, and her mood changed.
"Of all the saucy little jades," she said to herself--"with the air of
a duchess, and the fine clothes of her! And to think that her mother
washed for me not so long ago, and that girl came for the clothes and
brought them back again! And now listen to her! You put your foot in
it, Pearl my young lady, when you rubbed Jane Crocks the wrong way,
for people cannot do that and get away with it! And remember I am
telling you."
When Pearl left Mrs. Crocks standing on the street she walked quickly
to the station, but arriving there with the yellow blank in her hand,
she found her intention of accepting a school in the North had grown
weak and pale. She did not want to go to North, or any place. She
suddenly wanted to stay. She would take a school some place near--and
see what was going to happen; and besides--she suddenly thought of
this--she must not decide on anything until she saw Mr. Donald, her
old teacher, and got his advice. It would not be courteous to do
anything until she saw him, and tomorrow was the day he wanted her to
go to the school to speak to the children. Why, of course, she could
not go---and so Pearl reasoned in that well-known human way of backing
herself up in the thing she wanted to do! So she tore off a couple of
blank forms and put them in her purse, and asked the agent if he knew
how the train from the East was, and he gave her the assurance that it
had left the city on time and was whoopin' it along through the hills
at Cardinal when last heard from--and stood a good chance of getting
in before night.
All the way home, Pearl tried to solve the tangle of thoughts that
presented themselves to her, but the unknown quantity, the "X" in this
human equation, had given her so little to work on, that it seemed
as though she must mark it "insufficient data" and let it go! But
unfortunately for Pearl's peace of mind it could not be dismissed in
that way.
One thing was evident--it was some sudden happening or suggestion that
had changed his attitude towards her, for there was no mistaking the
tenderness in his messages over the phone the day before--and why did
he remember the day at all, if it were only to tell her that she
was too young to really know her own mind. The change--whatever it
was--had taken place in the interval of his phoning, and her visit,
and Mrs. Crocks had said that a committee had gone to see him and
offer him the nomination! What difference would that make? The subtle
suggestion of the senator's daughter came back to her mind! Was it
possible--that the Watson family were--what she had once read of in an
English story--'socially impossible.' Pearl remembered the phrase. The
thought struck her with such an impact that she pulled her horse up
with a jerk, and stood on the road in deep abstraction.
She remembered the quarrel she had once had with a girl at school. It
all came back in a flash of rage that lit up this forgotten corner of
her memory! The cause of the quarrel did not appear in the record, but
that the girl had flung it at her that her people were nothing and
nobody--her mother a washerwoman and her father a section hand--now
stood out in letters of flame! Pearl had not been angry at the
time--and she remembered that her only reason for taking out the
miserable little shrimp and washing her face in the snow was that
she knew the girl had said this to be very mean, and with the pretty
certain hope that it would cut deep! She was a sorrel-topped, anaemic,
scrawny little thing, who ate slate-pencils and chewed paper, and she
had gone crying to the teacher with the story of Pearl's violence
against her.
Mr. Donald had found out the cause, and had spoken so nicely to Pearl
about it, that her heart was greatly lifted as a result, and the
incident became a pleasant recollection, with only the delightful
part remaining, until this moment. Mr. Donald had said that Pearl was
surely a lucky girl, when the worst thing that could be said to her
was that her two parents had been engaged in useful and honorable
work--and he had made this the topic for a lesson that afternoon in
showing how all work is necessary and all honorable. Out of the lesson
had grown a game which they often played on Friday afternoons, when a
familiar object was selected and all the pupils required to write
down the names of all the workers who had been needed to bring it to
perfection.
And the next day when lunch time came, Mr. Donald told them he had
been thinking about the incident, and how all that we enjoy in life
comes to us from our fellow-workers, and he was going to have a new
grace, giving the thanks to where it belonged. He said God was not the
kind of a Creator who wanted all the glory of the whole world--for he
knew that every man and woman or boy or girl that worked, was entitled
to praise, and he liked to see them thanked as they deserved.
A new grace was written on the board, and each day it was repeated by
all the pupils. Pearl remembered that to her it had seemed very grand
and stately and majestic, with the dignity and thrill of a pipe-organ:
"Give us to know, O God, that the blessings we are about to enjoy
have come to us through the labors of others. Strengthen the ties of
brotherhood and grant that each of us may do our share of the world's
work."
But the aesthetic emotions which it sent through her young soul the
first time she said it, did not in any way interfere with the sweet
satisfaction she had in leaning across the aisle and wrinkling up her
nose at her former adversary!
She began to wonder now if Mr. Donald had been right in his idealistic
way of looking at life and labor. She had always thought so until this
minute, and many a thrill of pride had she experienced in thinking of
her parents and their days of struggling. They had been and were, the
real Empire-builders who subdued the soil and made it serve
human needs, enduring hardships and hunger and cold and bitter
discouragements, always with heroism and patience. The farm on which
they now lived, had been abandoned, deserted, given up for a bad job,
and her people had redeemed it, and were making it one of the best
in the country! Every farm in the community was made more valuable
because of their efforts. It had seemed to Pearl a real source of
proper pride--that her people had begun with nothing, and were now
making a comfortable living, educating their children and making
improvements each year in their way of living and in the farm itself!
It seemed that she ought to be proud of them, and she was!
But since she had been away, she learned to her surprise that the
world does not give its crowns to those who serve it best--but to
those who can make the most people serve them, and she found that
many people think of work as a disagreeable thing, which if patiently
endured for a while may be evaded ever afterwards, and indeed her
mother had often said that she was determined to give her children an
education, so they would not need to work as hard as she and their
father had. Education then seemed to be a way of escape.
Senator Keith, of Hampton, with his forty sections all rented out, did
not work. Miss Keith, his daughter, did not work. They did not need to
work--they had escaped!
It was quite a new thought to Pearl, and she pondered it deeply. The
charge against her family--the slur which could be thrown on them was
not that of dishonor, dishonesty, immorality or intemperance--none of
these--but that they had worked at poorly paid, hard jobs, thereby
giving evidence that they were not capable of getting easier
ones. Hard work might not be in itself dishonorable--but it was a
confession.
Something in Pearl's heart cried out at the injustice of this. It was
not fair! All at once she wanted to talk about it to--some one, to
everybody. It was a mistaken way of looking at life, she thought; the
world, as God made it, was a great, beautiful place, with enough of
everything to go around. There is enough land--enough coal--enough
oil. Enough pleasure and beauty, enough music and fun and good times!
What had happened was that some had taken more than their share, and
that was why others had to go short, and the strange part of it all
was that the hoggish ones were the exalted ones, to whom many bowed,
and they--some of them--were scornful of the people who were still
working--though if every one stopped working, the world would soon be
starving.
"It is a good world--just the same," said Pearl, as she looked away to
her left, where the Hampton Hills shoved one big blue shoulder into
the sky-line. "People do not mean to be hard and cruel to each
other--they do not understand, that's all--they have not thought--they
do not see."
From the farm-houses set back in the snowy fields, came the cheerful
Spring sounds of scolding hens and gabbling ducks, with the occasional
bark of a dog. The sunshine had in it now no tang of cold or
bitterness, for in Pearl's heart there had come a new sense of
power--an exaltation of spirit that almost choked her with happiness.
Her eyes flashed--her hands tingled--her feet were light as air. Out
of the crushing of her hopes, the falling of her house of dreams, had
come this inexplicable intoxication, which swept her heart with its
baptism of joy.
She threw back her head and looked with rapture into the limitless
blue above her, with something of the vision which came to Elisha's
servant at Dothan when he saw the mountains were filled with the
horses and the chariots of the Lord!
"It is a good world," she whispered, "God made it, Christ lived in
it--and when He went away, He left His Spirit. It can't go wrong
and stay wrong. The only thing that is wrong with it is in people's
hearts, and hearts can be changed by the Grace of God."
A sudden feeling of haste came over her--a new sense of
responsibility--there were so many things to be done. She roused the
fat pony from his pleasant dream, to a quicker gait, and drove home
with the strange glamour on her soul.