ROSE FINDS A RESTING-PLACE
“Or course, Mr. Jarvis, you will stay with us to dinner, and as much
longer as you can,” said Miss Silence as he drew out a big gold watch
and snapped the case open.
“Thank you, madam, thank you. I shall be glad to accept your
hospitality for the dinner. In the meantime I think I will take a walk
about your pleasant little village. By the way, there are two questions
I always ask concerning a place: what is its latitude, and population?”
and he looked from one to another.
Miss Silence laughed. “I am afraid we can answer neither question.”
“It doesn’t matter, I can judge of the latter myself.” And having
enveloped himself again in his muffler, overcoat, cap, and gloves, he
went briskly down the walk, his cane seeming more for ornament than
need.
Rose hurried out into the kitchen and putting on her gingham apron
began to set the table. “I suppose now,” and Silence counted out the
eggs to fry with the ham, “that I sha’n’t have you to help me much
longer.”
“Oh, Miss Silence,” and dropping the bread tray, Rose caught her around
the waist and gave her a squeeze, “you know, you know, I never will go
away from here as long as I may stay.”
For Rose had been tossed to and fro like a shuttlecock at the mercy
of adverse currents so long, that she felt not only some wonder but a
little uneasiness as to what disposal would next be made of her.
“It’s very nice, of course,” as she sliced the bread, “when I didn’t
know that I had a relative to have Great-Uncle Samuel walk in, and I
suppose he has the right to say where I shall go, and what I shall do.
Only I’m so tired of changes and uncertainties that I wish I might
never have to make another change; and I wish that I might know right
now, right away, what I am going to do.”
As for Mr. Samuel Jarvis, the surprising news of Rose’s existence,
followed so quickly by her appearance before him in the flesh, was of
itself bewildering, to say nothing of the responsibility so suddenly
thrust upon him of making provision for her future.
This was shown by a certain preoccupation of manner on his return. Not
so much so but that his eyes, still keen and bright, noted everything
around him; the well-appointed table, the delicately served food, the
low tones and gentle manners of the group surrounding it, the air
of order and comfort pervading the modest home. But it was not till
he pushed back from the table after the meal that he mentioned the
question of vital interest to Rose.
“I’ve been thinking,” he spoke to Mrs. Blossom, tapping his cane on the
floor as he talked, “what I ought to do for Kate’s baby now I’ve found
her, and I don’t know when I’ve come across a harder proposition. I
don’t wonder that women look worn out who have half a dozen girls to
provide for. I’m sure that one would be too much for me.
“Of course Sarah Hartly is the one who ought to take Violet—oh, Rose,
so it is, and if she wasn’t so supremely selfish she would. I stopped
off at Fredonia, on my way from Buffalo here, and put it up to her.
There she is, her grandmother’s sister, and Kate her only niece, a
widow without chick or child, and a house she doesn’t begin to use, and
she said her health wasn’t good enough, and her nerves were too weak to
take a bouncing girl—those were her very words, ‘bouncing girl,’ into
her family. I should think her nerves would be weak,” he sniffed, “with
that miserable whiffet dog she keeps, barking and snapping at every
one. Snapped at me he did, and I told Sarah plainly that if a dog ever
bit me some one would pay well for it. She shut him up then, and he was
howling and scratching when I came away.
“Now, I can’t take her. I never was married and I don’t know any more
what a girl needs than the man in the moon. Besides, I live at a club
and that would be no place for a young girl. But as I was saying
about—what did you say her name was? Oh, yes, Rose, she looks strong
and healthy, and I’d like to have her stay where she could have pure
air, and new milk and fresh eggs. There is no place like the country to
live, at least when one is young.
“I’m quite pleased with your little village; it’s situated nicely,
and your town-folk tell me you have no malaria. I have made inquiry
about the school and am told it is unusually good for a place of this
size. And, Mrs. Blossom, I had just as soon tell you that I have made
inquiries about your family, with the most flattering answers. You have
all shown the kindest interest in the poor child, and from what I have
heard, and still more from what I have seen, I feel that if she can
remain in your care it will be the best arrangement I could make for
her. Would that suit you?” turning to Rose.
“Indeed it would,” her face bright with pleasure that what she had
wished seemed so near fulfilment. “Nothing could suit me better.”
“Wait a moment,” waving his hand to Mrs. Blossom not to speak; “I want
to make myself fully understood. If Kate’s baby remains here you will,
of course, be paid for her board, but I should want you to regard
her as more than a mere boarder—in short, to receive her as one of
your family, and give her the same care and interest, and as long as
the arrangement continues that this shall be her home, and all that
implies.”
As Rose glanced from one to another she recalled the day when homeless
and friendless she had sat in that same room and waited, with a hungry
hope in her heart, for the decision that meant so much to her; the
misery and uncertainty of further wandering, or the happiness and
security of a shelter and abiding-place. There had been a great change
since then. Now she had Great-Uncle Samuel to vouch for her; she was no
longer an unknown and half-suspected applicant for charity, but ready
and able to pay for what she had. But so dear had that home, and those
within it grown to Rose, with such a dread did she shrink from the
thought of being thrust out again among strangers that not even on that
first time, it seemed to her, did she wait the answer more eagerly.
As often happened, impulsive Silence was the first to speak. “For my
part, I should be only too glad to have Rose stay with us, and I will
do all I can to make her happy here.”
“I’m sure,” it was Mrs. Patience’s gentle voice, “Rose has won for
herself a place in our home, that would be vacant without her.”
It was a moment longer before Mrs. Blossom spoke, and when she did
there was a quiver in her usually firm, self-controlled tone, “Yes, I
will keep Rose, and I will do for her just as I would have done for my
own little Rachel if she had lived.”
Grandmother Sweet, sitting in her rocker with the sunshine falling
across her snowy hair and serene face, laid down her knitting, whose
subdued click, click, seemed like her own quiet personality to pervade
the room, “I feel it borne on my mind, Elizabeth, that thee will never
regret the word thee has just given.” And then to Mr. Jarvis, “Thee
need feel no concern for the child, for while Silence and Patience in
the tenderness of their hearts would, I fear, wholly spoil her, their
mother will be heedful of her duty to guide and train. And truly it
will be a pleasure to us all to have this little one of the dear Lord
set in our midst.”
“Thank you, madam,” and Great-Uncle Samuel made a deferential bow to
her; “I shall go away with my mind at ease.
“And now,” to Rose, “if I leave you with these kind ladies I shall
expect you to be good and obedient in return for all they do for you.”
“I’ll try to be,” was Rose’s dutiful answer.
“That’s right, that’s right. I hope you always will remember to. Young
people are very apt to think they know it all when they haven’t the
first idea what’s for their good. I’m glad you look like your mother,
and hope you will have all her good qualities, but I want you to
remember the trouble she brought on herself and all who cared for her
just by wilfulness. I believe that settles everything. Four dollars, I
was told, is the average price for board here; if that is satisfactory
a check will be sent you every three months, for that and Rose’s
expenses. But mind,” turning to Rose, “you must be very prudent to make
the money last.”
She hesitated a little. “I—I could go back to the Fifields’. They would
pay me fifty cents a week and that would save a good deal.”
He threw up both hands. “What! Robert Jarvis’s granddaughter, Kate’s
child, a servant? Bless me! Never let me hear of that again!”
“Rose is very helpful about the house,” added Mrs. Blossom. “I will not
ask that price.”
“Little enough, madam, little enough. Besides, I want you to teach her
useful things; to cook, to take care of a house. More men are killed by
bad bread than bullets, and I don’t want Kate’s baby ever to murder any
one that way.” As he spoke he began to draw on his overcoat.
“Why, you are not going?” exclaimed Mrs. Blossom.
“Yes, madam, yes. There seems no need for me to stay longer. The team
that brought me from the station is waiting to take me back for the
evening train, and I can be in Buffalo again in the morning.”
“But when are you coming again, Uncle Samuel?” asked Rose.
“Can’t say, Rose—yes, I am right, it is Rose. What with dyspepsia
and rheumatism, and the weight of years, I am not a great traveler.
Besides, everything is, I believe, satisfactorily settled. My brief
stay has been very pleasant,” as he shook hands around, ending with
Rose and the admonition, “Be a credit to these good ladies.”
The team was already waiting at the gate. “He doesn’t intend to come
again,” said Rose with a wistful accent as she stood at the window and
watched Great-Uncle Samuel tuck the fur robes about him and drive away.