TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.
AS a matter of fact there wasn't a cake left. Neither doughnut nor
gingersnap; hardly a crumb to tell the successful tale. Nettie surveyed
the empty shelves the next morning in astonishment. She had been too
busy the night before to realize how fast things were going. Naturally
the number and variety of dishes in the Decker household was limited
and the evening to Nettie was a confused murmur of, "Hand us some more
cups." "Can't you raise a few more teaspoons somewhere?" "Give us
another plate," or, "More doughnuts needed;" and Nettie flew hither and
thither, washed cups, rinsed spoons, said, "What did I do with that
towel?" or, "Where in the world is the bread knife?" or, "Oh! I smell
the coffee! maybe it is boiling over," and was conscious of nothing but
weariness and relief when the last cup of coffee was drank, and the
last teaspoon washed.
But with the next morning's sunshine she knew the opening was a
success. She counted the gains with eager joy, assuring Jerry that they
could have twice as much gingerbread next time.
"And you'll need it," said Norm. "I had to tell half a dozen boys
that there wasn't a crumb left. I felt sorry for 'em, too; they were
boarding-house fellows who never get anything decent to eat."
Already Norm had apparently forgotten that he was one who used
frequently to make a similar complaint.
There was a rarely sweet smile on Nettie's face, not born of the chink
in the factory bag which she had made for the money; it grew from the
thought that she need not hide the bag now, and tremble lest it should
be taken to the saloon to pay for whiskey. What a little time ago it
was that she had feared that! What a changed world it was!
"But there won't be such a crowd again," she said as they were putting
the room in order, "that was the first night."
"Humph!" said that wise woman Susie with a significant toss of her
head; "last night you said we mustn't expect anybody because it was the
first night."
Then "the firm" had a hearty laugh at Nettie's expense and set to work
preparing for evening.
I am not going to tell you the story of that summer and fall. It was
beautiful; as any of the Deckers will tell you with eager eyes and
voluble voice if you call on them, and start the subject.
The business grew and grew, and exceeded their most sanguine
expectations. Mr. Decker interested himself in it most heartily, and
brought often an old acquaintance to get a cup of coffee. "Make it
good and strong," he would say to Nettie in an earnest whisper. "He's
thirsty, and I brought him here instead of going for beer. I wish the
room was larger, and I'd get others to come."
In time, and indeed in a very short space of time, this grew to be the
crying need of the firm: "If we only had more room, and more dishes!"
There was a certain long, low building which had once been used as a
boarding-house for the factory hands, before that institution grew
large and moved into new quarters, and which was not now in use. At
this building Jerry and Nettie, and for that matter, Norm, looked with
longing eyes. They named it "Our Rooms," and hardly ever passed that
they did not suggest some improvement in it which could be easily
made, and which would make it just the thing for their business. They
knew just what sort of curtains they would have at the windows, just
what furnishings in front and back rooms, just how many lamps would
be needed. "We will have a hanging lamp over the centre table," said
Jerry. "One of those new-fashioned things which shine and give a bright
light, almost like gas; and lots of books and papers for the boys to
read."
"But where would we get the books and papers?" would Nettie say, with
an anxious business face, as though the room, and the table, and the
hanging lamp, were arranged for, and the last-mentioned articles all
that were needed to complete the list.
"Oh! they would gather, little by little. I know some people who would
donate great piles of them if we had a place to put them. For that
matter, as it is, father is going to send us some picture-papers, a
great bundle of them; send them by express, and we must have a table to
put them on."
So the plans grew, but constantly they looked at the long, low building
and said what a nice place it would be.
One morning Jerry came across the yard with a grave face. "What do you
think?" he said, the moment he caught sight of Nettie. "They have gone
and rented our rooms for a horrid old saloon; whiskey in front, and
gambling in the back part! Isn't it a shame that they have got ahead of
us in that kind of way?"
"Oh dear me!" said Nettie, drawing out each word to twice its usual
length, and sitting down on a corner of the woodbox with hands clasped
over the dish towel, and for the moment a look on her face as though
all was lost.
But it was the very same day that Jerry appeared again, his face
beaming. This time it was hard to make Nettie hear, for Mrs. Decker
was washing, and mingling with the rapid rub-a-dub of the clothes was
the sizzle of ham in the spider, and the bubble of a kettle which was
bent on boiling over, and making the half-distracted housekeeper all
the trouble it could. Yet his news was too good to keep; and he shouted
above the din: "I say, Nettie, the man has backed out! Our rooms are
not rented, after all."
"Goody!" said Nettie, and she smiled on the kettle in a way to make it
think she did not care if everything in it boiled over on the floor;
whereupon it calmed down, of course, and behaved itself.
So the weeks passed, and the enterprise grew and flourished. I hope
you remember Mrs. Speckle? Very early in the autumn she sent every
one of her chicks out into the world to toil for themselves and began
business. Each morning a good-sized, yellow-tinted, warm, beautiful
egg lay in the nest waiting for Jerry; and when he came, Mrs. Speckle
cackled the news to him in the most interested way.
"She couldn't do better if she were a regularly constituted member of
the firm with a share in the profits," said Jerry.
The egg was daily carried to Mrs. Farley's, where there was an invalid
daughter, who had a fancy for that warm, plump egg which came to her
each morning, done up daintily in pink cotton, and laid in a box just
large enough for it. But there came a morning which was a proud one
to Nettie. Jerry had returned from Mrs. Farley's with news. "The sick
daughter is going South; she has an auntie who is to spend the winter
in Florida, so they have decided to send her. They start to-morrow
morning. Mrs. Farley said they would take our eggs all the same, and
she wished Miss Helen could have them; but somebody else would have to
eat them for her."
Then Nettie, beaming with pleasure, "Jerry, I wish you would tell Mrs.
Farley that we can't spare them any more at present; I would have told
you before, but I didn't want to take the egg from Miss Helen; I want
to buy them now, every other morning, for mother and father; mother
thinks there is nothing nicer than a fresh egg, and I know father will
be pleased."
What satisfaction was in Nettie's voice, what joy in her heart! Oh!
they were poor, very poor, "miserably poor" Lorena Barstow called them,
but they had already reached the point where Nettie felt justified in
planning for a fresh egg apiece for father and mother, and knew that
it could be paid for. So Mrs. Speckle began from that day to keep the
results of her industry in the home circle, and grew more important
because of that.
Almost every day now brought surprises. One of the largest of them was
connected with Susie Decker. That young woman from the very first had
shown a commendable interest in everything pertaining to the business.
She patiently did errands for it, in all sorts of weather, and was
always ready to dust shelves, arrange cookies without eating so much as
a bite, and even wipe teaspoons, a task which she used to think beneath
her. "If you can't trust me with things that would smash," she used to
say with scornful gravity, to Nettie, "then you can't expect me to be
willing to wipe those tough spoons."
But in these days, spoons were taken uncomplainingly. Susie had a
business head, and was already learning to count pennies and add them
to the five and ten cent pieces; and when Jerry said approvingly: "One
of these days, she will be our treasurer," the faintest shadow of a
blush would appear on Susie's face, but she always went on counting
gravely, with an air of one who had not heard a word.
On a certain stormy, windy day, one of November's worst, it was
discovered late in the afternoon that the molasses jug was empty, and
the boys had been promised some molasses candy that very evening.
"What shall we do?" asked Nettie, looking perplexed, and standing jug
in hand in the middle of the room. "Jerry won't be home in time to get
it, and I can't leave those cakes to bake themselves; mother, you don't
think you could see to them a little while till I run to the grocery,
do you?"
Mrs. Decker shook her head, but spoke sympathetically: "I'd do it in a
minute, child, or I'd go for the molasses, but these shirts are very
particular; I never had such fine ones to iron before, and the irons
are just right, and if I should have to leave the bosoms at the wrong
minute to look at the cakes, why, it would spoil the bosoms; and on the
other hand, if I left the cakes and saved the bosoms, why, they would
be spoiled."
This seemed logical reasoning. Susie, perched on a high chair in front
of the table, was counting a large pile of pennies, putting them in
heaps of twenty-five cents each. She waited until her fourth heap was
complete, then looked up. "Why don't you ask me to go?"
"Sure enough!" said Nettie, laughing, "I'd 'ask' you in a minute if it
didn't rain so hard; but it seems a pretty stormy day to send out a
little chicken like you."
"I'm not a chicken, and I'm not the leastest bit afraid of rain; I can
go as well as not if you only think so."
"I don't believe it will hurt her!" said Mrs. Decker, glancing
doubtfully out at the sullen sky. "It doesn't rain so hard as it did,
and she has such a nice thick sack now."
It was nice, made of heavy waterproof cloth, with a lovely woolly
trimming going all around it. Susie liked that sack almost better than
anything else in the world. Her mother had bought it second-hand of a
woman whose little girl had outgrown it; the mother had washed all day
and ironed another day to pay for it, and felt the liveliest delight in
seeing Susie in the pretty garment.
The rain seemed to be quieting a little, so presently the young woman
was robed in sack and waterproof bonnet with a cape, and started on her
way.
Half-way to the grocery she met Jerry hastening home from school with a
bag of books slung across his shoulder.
"Is it so late as that?" asked Susie in dismay. "Nettie thought you
wouldn't be at home in a good while; the candy won't get done."
"No, it is as early as this," he answered laughing; "we were dismissed
an hour earlier than usual this afternoon. Where are you going? after
molasses? See here, suppose you give me the jug and you take my books
and scud home. There is a big storm coming on; I think the wind is
going to blow, and I'm afraid it will twist you all up and pour the
molasses over you. Then you'd be ever so sticky!"
Susie laughed and exchanged not unwillingly the heavy jug for the
books. There had been quite wind enough since she started, and if there
was to be more, she had no mind to brave it.
"If you hurry," called Jerry, "I think you'll get home before the next
squall comes." So she hurried; but Jerry was mistaken. The squall came
with all its force, and poor small Susie was twisted and whirled and
lost her breath almost, and panted and struggled on, and was only too
thankful that she hadn't the molasses jug.
Nearly opposite the Farley home, their side door suddenly opened and a
pleasant voice called: "Little girl, come in here, and wait until the
shower is over; you will be wet to the skin."
It is true Susie did not believe that her waterproof sack _could_ be
wet through, but that dreadful wind so frightened her, twisting the
trees as it did, that she was glad to obey the kind voice and rush into
shelter.
"Why, it is Nettie's sister, I do believe!" said Ermina Farley, helping
her off with the dripping hood.
"You dear little mouse, what sent you out in such a storm?"
Miss Susie not liking the idea of being a mouse much more than she did
being a chicken, answered with dignity, and becoming brevity.
"Molasses candy!" said Mrs. Farley, laughing, yet with an undertone of
disapproval in her voice which keen-minded Susie heard and felt, "I
shouldn't think that was a necessity of life on such a day as this."
"It is if you have promised it to some boys who don't ever have
anything nice only what they get at our house; and who save their
pennies that they spend on beer, and cider, and cigars to get it."
Wise Susie, indignation in every word, yet well controlled, and aware
before she finished her sentence that she was deeply interesting her
audience! How they questioned her! What was this? Who did it? Who
thought of it? When did they begin it? Who came? How did they get the
money to buy their things? Susie, thoroughly posted, thoroughly in
sympathy with the entire movement, calm, collected, keen far beyond her
years, answered clearly and well. Plainly she saw that this lady in a
silken gown was interested.
"Well, if this isn't a revelation!" said Mrs. Farley at last. "A young
men's Christian association not only, but an eating-house flourishing
right in our midst and we knowing nothing about it. Did you know
anything of it, daughter?"
"No, ma'am," said Ermina. "But I knew that splendid Nettie was trying
to do something for her brother; and that nice boy who used to bring
eggs was helping her; it is just like them both. I don't believe there
is a nicer girl in town than Nettie Decker."
Mrs. Farley seemed unable to give up the subject. She asked many
questions as to how long the boys stayed, and what they did all the
time.
Susie explained: "Well, they eat, you know; and Norm doesn't hurry
them; he says they have to pitch the things down fast where they board,
to keep them from freezing; and our room is warm, because we keep the
kitchen door open, and the heat goes in; but we don't know what we
shall do when the weather gets real cold; and after they have eaten all
the things they can pay for, they look at the pictures. Jerry's father
sends him picture papers, and Mr. Sherrill brings some, most every day.
Miss Sherrill is coming Thanksgiving night to sing for them; and Nettie
says if we only had an organ she would play beautiful music. We want
to give them a treat for Thanksgiving; we mean to do it without any
pay at all if we can; and father thinks we can, because he is working
nights this week, and getting extra pay; and Jerry thinks there will
be two chickens ready; and Nettie wishes we could have an organ for a
little while, just for Norm, because he loves music so, but of course
we can't."
Long before this sentence was finished, Ermina and her mother had
exchanged glances which Susie, being intent on her story, did not see.
She was a wise little woman of business; what if Mrs. Farley should
say: "Well, I will give you a chicken myself for the Thanksgiving time,
and a whole peck of apples!" then indeed, Susie believed that their
joy would be complete; for Nettie had said, if they could only afford
three chickens she believed that with a lot of crust she could make
chicken pie enough for them each to have a large piece, hot; not all
the boys, of course, but the seven or eight who worked in Norm's shop
and boarded at the dreary boarding-house; they would so like to give
Norm a surprise for his birthday, and have a treat say at six o'clock
for all of these; for this year Thanksgiving fell on Norm's birthday.
The storm held up after a little, and Susie, trudging home, a trifle
disgusted with Mrs. Farley because she said not a word about the peck
of apples or the other chicken, was met by Jerry coming in search of
her. The molasses was boiling over, he told her, and so was her mother,
with anxiety lest the wind had taken her, Susie, up in a tree, and had
forgotten to bring her down again. He hurried her home between the
squalls, and Susie quietly resolved to say not a word about all the
things she had told at the Farley home. What if Nettie should think
she hadn't been womanly to talk so much about what they were doing! If
there was one thing that this young woman had a horror of during these
days, it was that Nettie would think she was not womanly. The desire,
nay, the determination to be so, at all costs had well nigh cured her
of her fits of rage and screaming, because in one of her calm moments
Nettie had pointed out to her the fact that she never in her life heard
a _woman_ scream like that. Susie being a logical person, argued the
rest of the matter out for herself, and resolved to scream and stamp
her foot no more.
Great was the astonishment of the Decker family, next morning. Mrs.
Farley herself came to call on them. She wanted some plain ironing done
that afternoon. Yes, Mrs. Decker would do it and be glad to; it was a
leisure afternoon with her. Mrs. Farley wanted something more! she
wanted to know about the business in which Nettie and her young friend
next door were engaged; and Susie listened breathlessly, for fear it
would appear that she had told more than she ought. But Mrs. Farley
kept her own counsel, only questioning Nettie closely, and at last
she made a proposition that had well nigh been the ruin of the tin of
cookies which Nettie was taking from the oven. She dropped the tin!
"Did you burn you, child?" asked Mrs. Decker, rushing forward.
"No, ma'am," said Nettie, laughing, and trying not to laugh, and
wanting to cry, and being too amazed to do so. "But I was so surprised
and so almost scared, that they dropped.
"O Mrs. Farley, we have wanted that more than anything else in the
world; ever since Mr. Sherrill saw how my brother Norman loved music,
and said it might be the saving of him; Jerry and I have planned and
planned, but we never thought of being able to do it for a long, long
time."
Yet all this joy was over an old, somewhat wheezy little house organ
which stood in the second-story unused room of Mrs. Farley's house,
and which she had threatened to send to the city auction rooms to get
out of the way.
She offered to lend it to Nettie for her "Rooms," and Nettie's
gratitude was so great that the blood seemed inclined to leave her face
entirely for a minute, then thought better of it and rolled over it in
waves.