Readjustment
It was all over. The excitement had subsided and all that remained to
tell the story of the previous afternoon's commotion was a
fire-scorched, water-soaked dwelling with a miscellaneous collection
of articles decorating its lawn. When the early morning sunshine
looked down upon the home which for eight years had sheltered the
Carruths, it beheld desolation complete. Alas for Eleanor's chemicals!
Her experiments had cost the family dear.
The only living being in sight was a policeman mounting guard over the
ruins. A staid and stolid son of the Vatterland who had spent the wee
sma' hours upon the premises and now stood upon the piazza upright and
rigid as the inanimate objects all about him. Beside him was a small,
toy horse "saddled and bridled and ready to ride," and anything more
absurd than the picture cut by this guardian of the law and his
miniature charger it would be hard to imagine.
Meanwhile the family was housed among friends who had been quick to
offer them shelter, Mr. Stuyvesant insisting that Mrs. Carruth and
Constance accept his aunt's hospitality through him, while the next
door neighbor, Mr. Henry, harbored Eleanor, Jean and Mammy, who
refused point blank to go beyond sight of the premises and her
charge--Baltie.
Mammy was the heroine of the hour; for what the old woman had not
thought of when everyone else's wits were scattered was hardly worth
thinking of. In the blanket which she had charged the girls to guard
were all of Mrs. Carruth's greatest treasures, among them a beautiful
miniature of Mr. Carruth of which no one but Mammy had thought.
Jewelry which had belonged to her mother was there, valuable papers
hastily snatched from her desk, and many of the girl's belongings
which would never have been saved but for Mammy's forethought. At
seven o'clock, when all was over, the crowd dispersed and the family
gathered together in Mr. Henry's living-room to collect their wits and
draw a long breath, Mrs. Carruth drew Mammy to one side to ask:
"Mammy, what is the meaning of this receipt? I cannot understand it.
Who has paid this sum and where was it paid?"
"Baby, dere comes times when 'taint a mite er use ter tell what we
gwine _do_. Dat 'surance hatter be squar'd up an' dat settled it. So
_I_ squar'd it--."
"Oh, Mammy! Mammy!" broke in Mrs. Carruth, almost in tears.
"Hush, chile! Pay 'tention ter _me_. What would a come of we-all if I
hadn't paid dat bill den an' dar? Bress de Lawd I had de cash an' don'
pester me wid questions. Ain' I tole yo' I'se _rich_? Well den, dat
settles it. When _yo_ is, yo' kin settle wid _me_. _Dat_ don' need no
argufyin' do it? Now go long wid Miss Constance an' Massa Stuyvesant
lak dey say an' git yo' sef ca'med down. Yo' all a shakin' an' a
shiverin' lak yo' got de ager, an' dat won' never do in de roun'
worl'. Yo'll be down sick on my han's."
And that was all the old woman would ever hear about it. When the
thirty dollars were returned to her in the course of a few days she
took it with a chuckle saying:
"Huh! Reckons _I_ knows wha' ter investigate _my_ money. Done git my
intrus so quick it like ter scar me."
After the first excitement was over came the question of where the
family was to live, and it was Hadyn Stuyvesant who settled it
forthwith by offering the home which had been his mother's; a pretty
little dwelling in the heart of Riveredge which had been closed since
his mother's death and his own residence with his aunt. So in the
course of the next week the Carruths were installed therein and began
to adjust themselves to the new conditions The first question to be
answered was the one concerning their home. Should it be rebuilt with
the money to be paid by the insurance company, or should it be sold?
It was hard to decide, for sentiment was strongly in favor of
returning to the home they all loved, while sound sense dictated
selling the land and thus lessening expenses. Sound sense carried the
day, and the little house on Hillside street became home, and in the
course of a few weeks the machinery ran along with its accustomed
smoothness, although it was some time before the family recovered from
the shock of realizing how close they had come to losing all they
possessed, and also keenly alive to the fact that what _had_ been
saved must be carefully guarded. Fifteen thousand was not an alarming
sum to fall back upon and the rent for the new home although modest,
compared with what their own would have commanded, had to be
considered.
Meanwhile the girls had returned to their school duties, the older
ones working harder than ever, especially Eleanor, whose conscience
troubled her not a little at thought of her carelessness which had
caused all the trouble, for well she realized that her failure to care
properly for the powerful acids with which she had been experimenting
when Constance appeared upon the scene had started the fire.
Constance had immediately set to work to evolve from the apparel
rescued a winter wardrobe for the family, and displayed such ingenuity
in bringing about new gowns and headgear from the old ones that the
family flourished like green bay trees. Still Constance was not
satisfied, and one afternoon said to Eleanor, who now shared her room,
but who had _not_ laid in a new supply of chemicals:
"Nornie, put down that book and listen to me, for I'm simmering with
words o' wisdom and if I don't find a vent I'll boil over presently."
Eleanor laid aside the book she was poring over, laughing as she
asked:
"What is it--some new scheme for making a two-pound steak feed five
hungry mouths, or a preparation to apply to the soles of shoes to keep
them from wearing out?"
"It has more to do with the stomach than the feet, but I'm not joking.
I want to take account of stock and find out just where we are _at_
and just what we _can_ do. Mother has her hands and head more than
full just now, and I think _I_ ought to give a pull at the wheel too."
"And what shall _I_ be about while you are doing the pulling? It seems
to me a span can usually pull harder than a single horse. By-the-way,
apropos of horses, what _has_ Mammy done to poor old Baltie? Do you
realize that she has not yet had him two months, but no one would ever
recognize the old horse for the decrepit creature Jean led home that
afternoon."
"I know it! Isn't she a marvel? I believe she is half witch. Why,
blind and twenty-five years old as he is, old Baltie to-day would
bring Jabe Raulsbury enough money to make the covetous old sinner
smile, I believe; if anything on earth could make him smile. I thought
I should have screamed when she started off with her steed the other
day. That old phaeton and harness she found in the barn here were
especially sent by Providence, I believe. I never expect to see a
funnier sight if I live to be a hundred years old than Mammy driving
off down the road with that great basket of apples by her side and
Jean perched behind in the rumble. Mammy was simply superb and proud
as the African princess she insists she is," and Constance laughed
heartily at the picture she made.
"What did she do with her apples? I wish I could have seen her," cried
Eleanor.
"She had them stored away in our cellar. She had gathered them herself
from mother's pet tree and packed them carefully in a couple of
barrels. How on earth she finds time to do all the things she manages
to I can't understand. She took that basket out to Mrs. Fletcher. You
remember Mrs. Fletcher once said there were no apples like ours and
Mammy remembered it. Still, I am afraid Mrs. Fletcher would never have
seen that basket of apples if her home had not adjoined the Raulsbury
place. You know Jabe had to pay a large fine before he could get free.
Such an hour of triumph rarely comes to two human beings as came to
Mammy and Jean when they drove that old horse past Jabe's gateway and
kind fate drew him to that very spot at the moment. Mammy is still
chuckling over it, and Jean isn't to be lived with. But enough of
Mammy and her charger, let's get to stock-taking."
"Yes, do," said Eleanor.
"I've been putting things down in black and white and here it is,"
said practical Constance, opening a little memorandum book and seating
herself beside her sister. "You see mother has barely fifteen hundred
dollars a year from father's life insurance and even _that_ is
somewhat lessened by the slump in those old stocks. Now comes the fire
insurance settlement and the interest on that won't be over seven
hundred at the outside, will it?"
"I'm afraid not," said Eleanor with a doubtful shake of her head. "But
suppose we are able to sell the old place?"
"Yes, 'suppose.' If we _do_, well and good, but supposes aren't much
account for immediate needs, and those are the things we've got to
think about now."
"Then let me think too," broke in Eleanor.
"You may _think_ all you've a mind to; that's exactly what your brains
are for, and some day you'll astonish us all. Meanwhile _I'll_ work."
"Now, Constance, what are you planning? You know perfectly well that
if you leave school and take up something that _I_ shall too. I
_won't_ take all the advantages."
"Who said I had any notion of leaving school? Not a bit of it. My plan
won't affect my school work. But of that later. Now to our capital.
Mother will have at the outside nineteen hundred a year, and out of
that she will have to pay five hundred rent for this house. That
leaves fourteen hundred wherewith to feed and clothe five people,
doesn't it? Now, she can't possibly _feed_, let alone clothe, us for
less than twenty dollars a week, can she? And out of that must come
fuel which is no small matter now-a-days. That leaves only three
hundred and sixty dollars for all the other expenses of the year, and,
Nornie, it isn't enough. We _could_ live on less in town I dare say,
but town is no place for Jean while she's so little. She'd give up the
ghost without a place to romp in. Then, too, mother loves every stone
in Riveredge, and she is going to _stay_ here if I can manage it. So
listen: You know what a fuss everybody at the fair made over my
nut-fudge and pralines. Well, I'm going to make candy to sell----."
"Oh, Constance, you can't! You mustn't!" interrupted Eleanor whose
instincts shrank from any member of her family launching upon a
business enterprise.
"I can and I _must_," contradicted Constance positively. "And what is
more, I shall. So don't have a conniption fit right off, because I've
thought it all out and I know just exactly what I can do."
"Mother will _never consent_," said Eleanor firmly, and added, "and I
hope she won't."
"Now Nornie, see here," cried Constance with decided emphasis. "What
_is_ the use of being so ridiculously high and mighty? We aren't the
first people, by a long chalk, that have met with financial reverses
and been forced to do something to earn a livelihood. The woods are
full of them and they are none the less respected either. For my part,
I'd rather hustle round and earn my own duddies than settle down and
wish for them, and wail because I can't have them while mother strives
and struggles to make both ends meet. I haven't _brains_ to do big
things in the world, but I've got what Mammy calls 'de bangenest
han's' and we'll see what they'll bang out!" concluded Constance
resolutely.
"Mammy will never let you," cried Eleanor, playing what she felt to be
her trump card.
"On the contrary, Mammy is going to _help_ me," announced Constance
triumphantly.
"_What_, Mammy consent to a Blairsdale going into trade?" cried
Eleanor, feeling very much as though the foundations of the house were
sinking.
"Even so, Lady," answered Constance, laughing at her sister's look of
dismay. "Old Baltie was not rescued for naught. His days of usefulness
were not ended as you shall see. But don't look so horrified, and,
above all else, don't say one word to mother. There is no use to worry
her, and remember she _is_ a Blairsdale and it won't be so easy to
bring her to my way of thinking as it has been to bring _you_; you're
only half one, like myself, and remember we've got Carruth blood to
give us mercantile instincts."
"As though the Carruths were not every bit as good as the
Blairsdales," brindled Eleanor indignantly.
"Cock-a-doodle! See its feathers ruffle. You are as spunky as the
Henry's game cock," cried Constance laughing and gathering Eleanor's
head into her arms to maul it until her hair came down.
"Well," retorted Eleanor, struggling to free herself from the
tempestuous embrace, "so they are."
"Yes, my beloved sister. I'll admit all that, but bear in mind that
_their_ ancestors were born in Pennsylvania _not_ in 'ole Caroliny,
and that's the difference 'twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee. I don't
believe Mad Anthony stopped to consider whether he was a patrician or
a plebeian when he was storming old Stony Point, or getting fodder for
Valley Forge, so I don't believe _I_ will, when I set out to hustle
for frocks and footgear for his descendants. So put your pride in your
pocket, Nornie, and watch me grow rich and the family blossom out in
luxuries undreamed of. I'm going to _do_ it: you'll see," ended
Constance in a tone so full of hope and courage that Eleanor then and
there resolved not to argue the point further or discourage her.
"When are you going to begin this enterprise?" she asked.
"This very day. I'm only waiting for Mammy to come back from market
with some things I need, and there she is now. Good-bye. Go look after
the little Mumsie, or Jean; you'd find your hands full with the last
undertaking, no doubt," and with a merry laugh Constance ran
down-stairs to greet Mammy who was just entering the back door.