"Don't love any man like that, dear. None of them is worth it."
I didn't answer. What was the use? She said I looked tired out, and had
better go to bed, and that next day she would send the man who looked
after the furnace for my belongings.
Mrs. Kingston was really delighted to have me with her. She said she
could have had any number of girls in her house before this, but that
she had set her heart on having just me, because I was uncommon. She
had a funny habit of dismissing people and things as "ordinary and
commonplace." I was not that, it seems.
Here was I now in a really dear little home, not a boarder, but treated
like a daughter not only by Mrs. Kingston, but by Mrs. Owens, who
quickly made me call her "Mama Owens." She was a pretty woman of about
sixty, with lovely dark eyes, and white wavy hair that I often did up.
She had periodical spells of illness, I don't know just what. Both Mrs.
Kingston and Mrs. Owens were widows.
I brightened up a bit after I got there, for they wouldn't give me a
chance to be blue. We had a merry time decorating the house with greens
and holly, and we even had a big Christmas-tree. Mama Owens said she
couldn't imagine a Christmas without one. Just think, though I was one
of fourteen children (two of the original sixteen had died), I can
never remember a Christmas when we had a tree!
Bennet came over and helped us with the decorations, and he and Butler
were both invited to the Christmas dinner. Butler could not come, as he
was due at some Hull House entertainment, but Bennet expected to have
dinner with us before going to work. He was working nights now, and
would not have Christmas off.
I was getting only twelve dollars a week at this time, so I had little
enough money to spend on Christmas presents. I did, however, buy books
for Bennet and Mrs. Kingston and Mrs. Owens. Also for Lolly, to whom I
had written twice, begging her to forgive me. She never answered me,
but Hermann wrote me a note, advising me to "leave her alone till she
gets over it."
I had to walk to work for two days after that, as I didn't have a cent
left, and I did without luncheon, too. I rather enjoyed the walk, but
it was hard getting up so early, as I had to be at the office at eight.
I was working for a clothing firm not unlike the one Estelle was with,
and I had obtained the position, by the way, through Estelle.
On Christmas eve Margaret had to go to the house of a client in regard
to some case, so mama and I were left alone. We were decorating the
tree with strings of white and colored popcorn and bright tinsel
stuff, and I was standing on top of a ladder, putting a crowning
pinnacle on the tree,--a funny, fat, little Santa Claus,--when our bell
rang. Our front door opened into the reception hall, where our tree
was, so when mama opened the door and I saw who it was, I almost fell
off the ladder. He called out:
"Careful!" dropped his bag, came over to the ladder, and lifted me
down. You can't lift a girl down from a ladder without putting your
arms about her, and I clung to him, you may be sure. He kept smoothing
my hair and cheek, and saying,--I think he thought I was crying against
his coat,--"Come, now, Nora, it's all right! Everything's all right!"
and then he undid my hands, which were clinging to his shoulders, and
shook himself free.
Mama Owens had never met him, so I had to introduce them. She scolded
me dreadfully afterward about the way I had acted, though I tried to
explain to her that it was the surprise and excitement that had made me
give way like that.
It was queer, but from the very first both Margaret and Mama Owens
were prejudiced against him. Both of them loved me and were devoted to
Bennet. They were planning to make a match between us. Hamilton was the
stumbling-block; and although in time he partly won Margaret over, he
never moved mama, who always regarded him as an intruder in our "little
family."
I now hinted and hinted for her to leave us alone, but she wouldn't
budge from the room for the longest time. So I just talked right before
her, though she kept interrupting me, requiring me to do this or that.
She didn't ask him to do a thing, though if Bennet had been there, she
would have seated herself comfortably and let him do all the work.
However, I was so happy now that it didn't matter if all the rest of
the world was disgruntled. I hugged Mama Owens, and told her if she
didn't stop being so cross, Mr. Hamilton and I would go out somewhere
and leave her "all by her lonesome." I could do almost anything with
her and Margaret, and I soon had her in a good humor; she even went off
to get some Christmas wine for Mr. Hamilton.
I had in a general way told Roger something of what I had been doing
since I had seen him; but I did not tell him of the straits to which I
had come, or of the money I had borrowed from Bennet. He suspected that
I had passed through hard times, however. He had a way of picking up my
face by the chin and examining it closely. The moment we were alone, he
led me under the gas-light, and looked at me closely. His face was as
grave as if he were at a funeral, and I tried to make fun of it; but he
said:
"Nora, you don't look as well as you should."