A DULL WINTER
In answer to Ellen’s ring Jeremy himself appeared from the kitchen where
he was wiping dishes. Ellen fluttered her check before his eyes. “It’s
come! It’s come!” she cried. “A hundred and fifty dollars, dear man.
Isn’t it perfectly wonderful?”
“No more than it should be, not as much, in fact, but I’m heartily glad.
I had a notion you’d get a letter to-day, for I’ve just received one
from Peter Barstow.”
“And did he say anything about the violin? He wouldn’t, of course.”
“Why not? That is just the very subject he did write about.”
“How exciting! Do tell me.”
But just here came a call from the kitchen: “Jeremy, Jeremy, stop that
gossiping and come back and finish your work. Shut that door.”
“Yes, dear,” came the response. “Meet me at the church in half an hour,”
said the good old man hurriedly to Ellen, who only too well understood
the situation. Mrs. Todd’s orders were not to be ignored, and dear old
Jeremy never attempted apologies.
So he returned to his dishes, and Ellen went back to her room to gloat
over her check and to plan how it was to be spent. The time thus
employed passed so quickly that Jeremy was already at the organ when she
reached the church. He nodded to her, but continued to draw forth
harmonious chords absorbedly. She picked up her violin, which she
discovered lying on the bench, and held it lovingly till the last note
from the organ died away.
Jeremy turned toward her with a smile. She held out the violin to him.
“Please,” she said, and sat with chin in hands while he tuned up and
then played a quaint old air. “One more,” said Ellen, “and then we’ll
talk.”
Nothing loath Jeremy continued to play, ending with a note so fine and
high that it seemed as if it must issue from a thread of gossamer.
Ellen drew a long sigh. “I wish I could play like that,” she said, “but
now I never shall. I suppose I’m consumed with selfishness, but I do
hate to give up the darling violin. One part of me is thankful and
willing to do anything for Cousin Rindy, and the other part rebels like
fury.”
“Perfectly human and natural,” declared Mr. Todd. “Your first impulse
was strong enough not to make you hesitate a minute to make the
sacrifice, so I don’t see that you need flagellate your soul so
severely. You will always have music, always have the great gift of
appreciation, and that means everything. No matter what discords there
are without, one can always find harmony within.”
Ellen nodded. She knew where the outside discords lay, so far as he was
concerned, and she knew of the sacrifices he made to keep peace. Others
might laugh at that oft-reiterated, “Yes, dear,” but it prevented war,
sweet bells jangled, and all that. “Now tell me what Don Pedro said,”
she began, settling herself comfortably.
“He says just what one who knew him might expect. He wants me to come to
see him, to bring the violin, and makes the excuse of sending me a
ticket because I am employed as messenger, a pack-horse, you’d suppose,
from his elaborate apologies for burdening me with so weighty an object
as a violin, one so valuable that I am liable to be set upon by thieves
and am running terrible risks.”
“Isn’t that just like Don Pedro? He never does a nice thing for you but
he makes you think you are doing him a tremendous favor. Shall you go?”
“That’s as you say. Will you trust me with the violin?”
“You dear, silly man, of course I will. I am delighted that you have the
chance of seeing your old friend, and there is no one I would rather
entrust the violin to; you know that.”
“Will you take the organ next Sunday, and will you forego your usual
Saturday lesson?”
“Of course. I have had my holiday, now you must take yours.”
“Then say farewell to the violin, for I leave to-night. Don Pedro wants
me to come at once, for the boy is going home to get nursed up after his
illness and will be comforted by the new possession. I expect to be gone
a week. Bessie will have a friend staying with her, but you will drop in
once in a while, won’t you, to see how she is getting along?”
Ellen promised. Then she took up the violin, held it close for a moment,
reverently kissed it, handed it back to Mr. Todd, and with eyes full of
tears, hurried from the church. It was a bigger sacrifice than she at
first realized in her moment of exaltation, but it was done, and now to
put aside sentimentality and turn to stern duty. She mopped her eyes,
threw back her head, and marched steadily up street to the doctor’s,
entering his office as he was preparing to leave.
“Well, miss,” was his greeting, “where have you been gadding? I was just
wondering if you would get back in time to go to the hospital with me.”
“I went up home for a little while, and then I stopped in to see Mr.
Todd at the church. He is going away to-night, and wants me to take the
organ while he is gone.”
“Old Jeremy going to have a holiday, is he? That’s good. Where’s he
going?”
“To the city to visit an old friend, and also to take my violin to the
person who has bought it.” Ellen thought she might as well put a bold
face upon the matter.
“Your violin? Oh, yes, I did hear that you had one given you. Don’t you
want to play on it yourself?”
“I shall not have time for that and for the organ, too; besides, I don’t
believe Cousin Rindy ever could stand hearing me squeaking out scales
and exercises every day.”
“Humph!” The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “Didn’t I hear something about
it having belonged to your father?”
Ellen’s lip trembled, and she did not trust herself to do more than nod
affirmatively as the doctor shot her a keen glance. But she soon
controlled herself and spoke steadily as she asked, “How long will it be
before Cousin Rindy can leave the hospital?”
“In about a couple of weeks, I should say, but don’t you worry any about
that; she is better off there than she would be anywhere else, and the
longer you make your visit to Caro the better she and the rest of us
will like it.”
“That’s mighty nice for you to say, but I know Cousin Rindy will be
fretting till she gets back home; she does so hate to be idle.”
“A good rest won’t hurt her, and as for you, it isn’t to be supposed
that you can take on housekeeping and nursing, too.”
“But I shall have to, for a while.”
“We’ll see about that. Are you ready to go?”
Miss Rindy’s face brightened as Ellen entered the room. These daily
visits meant everything to her. Ellen saved up bits of gossip to tell
her, cut out jokes from the newspapers, brought some interesting story
to read to her, and cudgelled her brains for some new means of
entertainment.
“Well, here’s the useless old hulk still cumbering the earth,” was Miss
Rindy’s greeting on this special day. “If Sam Rowe doesn’t get me out of
this room pretty quick, I’ll have to mortgage my house and sell my old
carcass to the doctors for what it would bring after I’m gone, though,
being damaged goods, it wouldn’t bring much.”
“How can you conjure up such ghastly things?” said Ellen, stooping to
kiss her. “In this room you are going to stay till you are able to go
home. Moreover, you are not to fret over it another minute. Look at
this, if you please.” She produced her check and gave it into her
cousin’s hands.
“Where did you get this? What have you been doing? Who is this Reed
Marshall?”
“I’ve been doing nothing disgraceful. Just keep quiet and I’ll tell you
all about it,” which she proceeded to do.
“But your father’s violin! I’m not going to consent to you selling it.”
“You can’t help yourself; the deed is done. Now listen to me, Cousin
Rindy, and don’t work yourself up into a pepper-jig. You know perfectly
well that the violin is a useless possession so far as I am concerned,
and one who is always discoursing upon usefulness and scorning
sentimentality should encourage me in getting rid of it.”
“But not for my benefit; the price should be set aside for your own
educational advantages.”
“Educational advantages go to grass! But for you I might this minute be
scrubbing down the back stairs of an orphan asylum. Do allow me the
happiness of paying a little toward my debts.”
“But I know how delighted you were to have the violin, and it grieves me
to have you give it up.”
“I am surprised at you, Orinda Crump; the idea of you encouraging me in
maudlin sentiment, a practical body like you. Now don’t let’s hear any
more about it. I have you where you can’t badger me, so let’s accept
what Heaven has sent and say Thank you to Reed Marshall.”
“Who is he? You haven’t told me.”
“The young man who blacked up and came to Mr. Barstow’s party.”
“How old is he, and what does he look like?”
“‘Haven’t an idea’ answers both those questions; you remember I told you
I never saw him really. Dr. Rowe says that Miss Sophia Garrett has been
here to see you.”
“Yes, she came out this morning with a string of gossip that would reach
from here to town. What’s this about Jeremy Todd? Sophy says he is going
to the city, neglecting his work at the church and running up useless
expense,” Miss Rindy laughed as she quoted Miss Sophia.
“How in the world did she find out that he is going? I only knew it
to-day, myself.”
“Trust Sophy for finding out things, and her tales never lose by the
telling. So he really is going?”
“Yes, he is going to visit Mr. Barstow, who is an old friend, and as he
is to be the bearer of the violin, Mr. Barstow insists upon paying all
his expenses, and I am to take the church music while he is away, which
will be only over one Sunday.”
“Isn’t that just like Sophy to make a mountain out of a mole-hill? She
reminds me of those scientists to whom you give a bone and they will
construct a mastodon. I can’t help going back to that check, Ellen. You
are sure it isn’t too much? I’d hate to have you accept more than the
thing is worth. It seems a monstrous price to pay for a violin.”
“It is a very fine one, and Mr. Todd says it is really worth more, so
does Mr. Marshall say so in his note.”
“You didn’t bring the note for me to see. Why not?”
“Oh, I was in a hurry and it didn’t seem worth while,” Ellen answered
casually, wondering just why she didn’t want her cousin to see it. “The
check was the main thing. I am sure it will pay your hospital expenses.”
“But not the doctor.”
“Perhaps not, but I have another scheme for that.”
“What is it?”
“Sha’n’t tell you till I see how it is going to work out.”
Miss Rindy drew the girl’s head down as she rose to go. “You are a good
child, Ellen,” she whispered, “and I am thankful you are here instead of
scrubbing down the back stairs of some Home.”
“So am I,” Ellen whispered back. Then the doctor and the nurse appeared,
and in a few minutes Ellen was on her way back to town.
During these daily trips back and forth to the hospital she had many
confidential talks with the doctor, who was always friendliness itself,
and one day came an opportunity to lay before him the scheme of which
she had spoken to Miss Rindy. It was when he spoke of the pressure of
his work, and of how difficult he found it to get time for
correspondence and the making out of bills.
“I don’t see why I couldn’t do some of that,” Ellen spoke up. “If you
would let me pay our bill that way, I’d be very grateful, Doctor.”
“What bill?”
“Your bill for attending Cousin Rindy. You go to see her every day.”
“I visit the hospital every day, and it is a pity if I am not allowed to
drop in for a few minutes to see an old friend. There isn’t going to be
any bill sent to Rindy Crump from my office. She can pay the hospital
charges, or, rather, you can, but that’s all.”
“You know perfectly well she will never consent to that. She is a great
stickler for paying what she owes, and she will be perfectly miserable
if you don’t send her a bill.”
The doctor laughed. “I wish all my patients would have a touch of that
kind of misery. My soul! Why wasn’t Rindy’s father a doctor so she could
claim professional services as her right?”
“But he wasn’t, and she can’t.”
“I suppose you’d call that a laconic fact. I reckon I can be as stiff as
she can, and I tell you there isn’t going to be any bill from me.”
“Very well, we won’t call it a bill, but just an exchange of courtesies.
You work for us; I work for you. When shall I begin?”
The doctor almost allowed his car to run into a ditch as he turned to
look at his companion. “You do beat the Dutch!” he exclaimed. “I’m not
going to let you work for me.”
“Sorry you scorn my services. Perhaps you think I’m not equal to the
task. I write a fair hand, and can tackle a typewriter on a pinch. If
you think I will fall down on that job, some morning you’ll find me
scrubbing off your back porch or sweeping down the walk; I’m bound to
get even with you some way.” Ellen’s thoughts harked back to the
conversation with her cousin.
The doctor was in a brown study the rest of the way home. After he had
helped Ellen from the car she stood for a moment and laid her hand on
his coat sleeve, looking up pleadingly into his face. “Please, Doctor,”
she said.
The doctor laid his gloved hand upon hers. “Ellen North,” he said, “I’d
hug you right here in front of my own windows if Sophy Garrett didn’t
live across the street. You’re a witch. I give in. We’ll tackle those
books and that pile of letters to-morrow morning.”
“I’d love to hug you if it wasn’t for Miss Sophia,” returned Ellen
gayly.
In two weeks Miss Rindy was back in her own home, which was swept and
garnished from garret to basement. The sweeping was not done by Ellen
alone, for neighbors to the right and left lent a hand, and the
garnishing promised to be overdone when anybody who had a blossoming
plant brought it to adorn Miss Rindy’s room. Moreover, all sorts of
contribution in the way of food were handed in, so, for a few days at
least, there was no danger that the two cousins would suffer from
hunger.
But as soon as this first excitement passed, everything settled down to
a dull routine, and it was a tired Ellen who went to bed each night.
From early morn till late at night every moment was filled, and many,
many were the steps she took. Miss Rindy, more or less compliant when
she was under the care of a regular nurse, became, as is usually the
case in convalescence, a difficult patient, with all sorts of whimseys
and unnecessary demands.
Under the long strain Ellen, too, grew irritable, and more than once
rushed from her cousin’s room in tears. It was just after one of these
tempests that Dr. Rowe happened to come in. Ellen opened the door for
him. He looked at her keenly as he laid aside his hat and overcoat, then
he took her by the chin and tipped back her head. “What’s the matter?”
he asked sharply.
“Nothing much,” answered Ellen, the tears still too near the surface not
to suffuse her eyes.
“There’s got to be a stop to this all work and no play business,” said
the doctor. “Get on your things and I’ll take you for a ride.”
“But there is so much to do, and who will stay with Cousin Rindy?”
“Never mind about having so much to do, and as for Rindy, it will do her
good to have a quiet hour in which to meditate upon her sins. Leave
things where she can get at them, and she’ll get along. She is not
liable to fall down in a fit.”
Ellen still hesitated, and, seeing this, the doctor promised to send
Caro to stay with Miss Rindy, so Ellen finally went, still feeling
rather conscience-stricken. “I feel as if I were neglecting my duty,”
she sighed as she climbed into the car by the doctor.
“The trouble with you is that you are trying to cultivate a Puritan
conscience,” returned he.
“You wouldn’t think so if you could have heard me ‘sass’ Cousin Rindy
this morning. She is so notional and exacting sometimes, that I flare up
and the fur flies. I suppose we get on each other’s nerves.”
“Exactly. Do you know, Miss North, that you have worked out that bill of
mine? I wanted to talk to you about it; that’s why I got you off to
myself to-day. When Caro is around she hangs on your neck and talks
nonsense, while Rindy monopolizes the conversation when she is present.
Do you want to keep on doing my sums for me?”
“Indeed I do if you want me to.” Ellen had been taking home the work and
doing it in the evenings.
“Well, now that we are quits of professional services I can pay you
something, not a munificent sum, but enough to pay some one to help you
out with the work once in a while and give you more freedom.”
“Oh, doctor, how good you are! You know Beulah Fitchett does our
washing, and I am sure she would be glad to come oftener.”
“Then that’s settled. I am getting up some statistics for an article I
want to write for a medical magazine, so you can help with that; and I
want to make a special report to the health department, so that will
keep us busy for a while.”
Cheered by her drive and heartened by the prospect of relief from hard,
rough work, Ellen returned to face the future bravely. Miss Rindy
improved steadily, and soon was able to get about on crutches and to do
many little things. Beulah responded with alacrity to the invitation to
come and help with the housework, and while she never quite satisfied
Miss Rindy, being sketchy in her performances and slow in her movements,
nevertheless she was good-natured, honest, and clean. Moreover, though
she had a high opinion of her own importance and had to be managed, Miss
Rindy knew how to get along with her.
“I always invite her to do things and never order her,” she told Bessie
Todd; “and she is such a source of entertainment that I would put up
with a good deal for the sake of having her around. She told me to-day
that her whole name was Beulahland, but they called her Beulah for
short.”
“Great big fat thing; I wouldn’t be bothered with her,” responded
Bessie.
“That’s because you haven’t a proper sense of humor,” returned Miss
Rindy. “A laugh is worth more to me than servile respect.”
So Beulah, being “invited” to cook, wash, iron, and clean, stayed on,
and the days went less heavily for Ellen. To be sure, she often sighed
over the uninteresting matter contained in the doctor’s notes, and
wearied of statistics, still at sight of Beulah’s ponderous figure and
smiling black face, her thanks went flying heavenward for the means
which enabled her to pay for this helper, and the tangles in her temper
smoothed out accordingly.
However, once in a while the effort to appreciate plain living and high
thinking was too much for her, and she so yearned for the flesh-pots,
represented by those things which Frank’s attentions promised, that she
smiled upon him graciously and built foolish castles and saw herself
joint owner of the red automobile and mistress of an ornate abode.
“I believe I am developing into a flirt, and at seventeen that is pretty
bad,” she confessed to Caro.
Caro giggled and said: “Go ahead, honey. I’d love you to be Florence’s
sister-in-law; she would be so pleased.”
“Now you start my compunctions to raging,” cried Ellen, “for you know
I’d be far from pleased. I suppose sisters-in-law can’t be eliminated
even from daydreams. Perhaps one could stand Frank, but his family!” She
made an expressive gesture and Caro giggled again. Therefore to Frank’s
surprise and dismay she turned him the cold shoulder the next time they
met, while she did penance by working doubly hard the following day.