THE NEW COOK
It was nearly four o’clock when Sardis arrived. The family were on the
veranda, each curious to see the cook whom the young man was to bring.
As he appeared alone at the big birch-tree they gave him scant notice,
their eyes passing from him to the place beyond where the new cook
would first come into view. They watched in vain.
“She probably rode,” whispered Lilith to Polly; “but why didn’t he ride
up with her?”
“I bet she wouldn’t come!” piped Clementina.
“It would be a joke if she left him in the lurch,” smiled Mrs. Daybill.
Polly stepped forward to greet the visitor, and Dr. Abbe lifting Dolly
in his arms went down the steps, saying, “Here is a young lady who
‘can’t wait to kiss Sardis.’”
There was a general laugh, and then Clementina got in her word.
“Where’s the new cook?”
“She will be here presently,--as soon as I get washed up.”
Polly’s heart “went down cellar,” as later she told Lilith.
After a little non-essential talk Sardis Merrifield walked over to the
Study with Dr. Abbe.
Lilith drew Polly inside and thence to the kitchen. “What does it
mean?” she began. “Not that the minister--?”
“Yes,” frowned Polly. “Every boy who has fried bacon or made coffee
at a camp thinks he is an accomplished cook.” She looked round the
spotless kitchen over which she and Lilith had spent the greater share
of the forenoon, and sighed. If only Benedicta would pop in and save
the day!
“I’m glad I blacked the stove,” reflected Lilith. “I thought first I’d
leave it for the new cook!”
“He’ll never know whether it is black or red,” scorned Polly. “In some
respects men are all alike.”
Nevertheless, the man that walked into the kitchen, unannounced, a few
moments later did look different from any other that Polly had ever
known. Very trim he was in his short white coat, a chef’s cap hiding
his thick brown hair. His face wore the expression of one in love with
his rôle.
“At your service, mademoiselle,” he said with a low bow.
Lilith peeped in from the back piazza, then swiftly stole away with a
silent chuckle. It was too funny! Could he really cook?
“If you will allow me,” began the newcomer, “I should like to look
round a bit, so that I may learn where things are. Or perhaps you will
be good enough to show me.”
“Now, Mr. Merrifield,” began Polly, “you needn’t think you must do
this to help out. We can get along. The truth is, Miss Brooks and I
don’t know much about cooking, and we were afraid you wouldn’t like it
very well; but if you can put up with--”
His hand stayed her apologies. “Miss Dudley,” he said, “I have come
here to cook, and I don’t like to give up a job until I have had a
chance at it. Then if I don’t suit you, I will get out as quick and
gracefully as I can.” He looked at her with mischievous eyes.
She laughed. “I suppose I’ll have to let you,” she replied, “and Lilith
and I will help all we can.”
“I think I shall not need any help,” he smiled. “I will agree to take
care of the kitchen.”
“All but the dishes, then,” yielded Polly.
“I always wash my own dishes,” he returned, with eyes that twinkled.
“You talk as if you were used to kitchen work,” laughed Polly.
“I am.”
The girl looked incredulous, but said nothing. At once she began
opening doors of pantry and storeroom and cupboards.
“Everything appears to be very convenient,” he approved, as he examined
the large ice-chest in the corner of the storeroom.
“We think so,” was the response. “Mrs. Gresham spared no money in
remodeling this part of the house.”
The talk passed to the donator’s beneficence, until, finally, they came
back to the kitchen, where the clock told them that tea-time was not
far away.
The new cook at once began preparations for the meal, and in the short
time that Polly remained she had to admit to herself that here was no
green hand, and she left the room with a relief that she had not known
since Benedicta’s departure.
That first tea will always remain in the memory of those that sat at
the table with Sardis Merrifield. Bouillon, deliciously seasoned;
small rolls--hot, light, tender, and crusted--as rolls should be;
salad served on individual dishes, lettuce leaves beneath and sprays
of parsley atop; a layer cake with filling of peaches and whipped
cream;--that was all, but no one who shared the meal felt any lack.
“Where did he get that salad dressing,” queried Lilith of Polly, while
the new cook was washing the dishes. “There wasn’t a drop in the
pantry, and he surely hadn’t time to make it; yet there it was, exactly
in the middle of each slice of tomato--and wasn’t it good!”
“It was good, and he made the dressing,” answered Polly.
“How do you know?” queried Lilith in surprise.
“I asked him when I went out to offer my services as dish-wiper,”
replied Polly. “Do you know what was in that salad?”
“No, I couldn’t quite make out--tomatoes and cabbage for two things.”
“And macaroni!”
“I thought of that, but I couldn’t believe it was.”
“He found some in the refrigerator, so he chopped some cabbage to go
with it; he says he often puts them together.”
“And wasn’t it arranged prettily? Where in the world did he learn to do
those things?”
Polly shook her head. “I am going to find out.”
Two days afterward she came upon the new cook in the kitchen scanning a
small volume.
“I am hunting for a pudding recipe,” he told her.
“It is an imposition for us to let you do all this work,” she said
apologetically.
“No, indeed,” he replied; “it is a real pleasure. Besides, I was
falling out of practice. I ought to remember how to make this pudding
without consulting a recipe.”
Polly looked at him curiously. “You talk--and cook--as if you were a
professional,” she laughed.
“I am. This is the first summer for five years that I have not been
concocting dishes for the table. I cooked my way through college, first
at the commons, then at a New York restaurant. Finally a Yale boy
rescued me, and for three summers I was chef at his father’s home up
the Hudson.”
“Isn’t that fine!” exclaimed Polly, her eyes shining.
“Some people don’t see it that way,” smiled the young man.
“Why not?” Polly returned in an astonished tone. “I think it is
splendid to work one’s way through college; but I never should have
thought of cooking.”
“It pays pretty well, and it was the money I was looking for,” he
laughed.
“I knew a boy who took care of furnaces; but cooking is ever so much
better. And you do know how to cook!” Polly wagged her head in approval.
“It is well you think so,” he replied; “seeing you have to eat the
cooking.”
“By the way,” he went on, “my sub-conscious mind has just notified me
of a neglected duty. While you were down in Overlook this forenoon Mr.
Wheatley came to see his little granddaughter. He rode up with the
grocer.”
“Oh, did he!” cried Polly. “Rosalind must have been delighted.”
“Yes, but you should have seen her grandfather. He was almost beside
himself to find how much she had improved. Is she really expected to
walk at the end of two years?”
“Father thinks she will.”
There was a moment of tense silence.
Then the man asked, in lowered tone, “Has Dr. Dudley ever said whether
there was any chance for Dorothy?”
This was what Polly had dreaded the first time he was at Overlook; but
he had not asked the question. Now it had come. She could not bear to
hurt him. Her eyes misted, and she looked away.
“Yes,” she answered slowly, “he told me that before he saw her he
thought there might be help; afterwards--”
A tear escaped its bound, and her hand sought to hide it.
“Of course, it couldn’t be,” he said quickly. “I didn’t need to ask.”
“Oh, why must there be such hard things in the world!” broke out Polly
impulsively.
“Even as it is, she is happier than most children.”
“I know, still--” She did not go on; and he spoke brightly.
“Little Miss Rosalind Ferne told me to-day that I was extravagant.”
“Extravagant!” Polly’s forehead wrinkled in perplexity.
“She asked me what I was going to have for dinner, and I told her I
intended to fricassee three chickens. ‘Dear me!’ she said, ‘fricassee
means all cut up, doesn’t it?’ I told her it did. ‘Well,’ she replied,
‘I’m sorry, for I do like to see a bird on the table, and I think
you’re pretty extravagant with your ammunition.’”
Polly laughed. “She does make droll speeches.”
“Yes, she has strange thoughts. This morning I overheard the children
talking, and Rosalind said, ‘What pretty hills those are--the ’way-off
ones! I wish I knew who made them.’ Dorothy spoke up. ‘Why, Rosalind,
don’t you know? God made them.’--‘Who made the sunshine?’--‘God made
it,’ Dorothy answered.--‘Who made the stars?’ went on Rosalind.--‘God.
He made everything. He made the whole world.’ For a moment Rosalind was
silent; then she asked, in quite a now-I’ve-got-you tone, ‘Well, who
made God?’ But Dorothy was ready. ‘Nobody made Him,’ she replied. ‘He
has lived always. There never was a time when He didn’t live.’ They
were quiet for a little. Then Rosalind responded in a rather weary
tone, ‘My, He must be healthy!’
“I thought they’d laugh; but not a sound! So I peeped in. There they
sat, solemn as little owls. Nobody had seen anything funny about that!”
The days flew swiftly over Sunrise Chalet. Sardis Merrifield had been
cook in the commodious kitchen for more than a week and had treated the
family to an astonishing variety of fancy dishes and plain. At first
the White Nurse had worried for fear the children were having too rich
food; but the cook assured her that the richness was mostly in the
unfamiliar names, and as nobody became ill, she soon settled down, with
everybody else, to the enjoyment of the novel viands with which the
table greeted them, meal after meal.
Early one afternoon Benedicta appeared at the kitchen door with Grocer
Jack, and the welcome that she received would have turned any head
which was not as well-balanced as hers.
“Well, now stop talkin’, all of you,” she laughed finally, “and leave
me the kitchen to myself! I can’t concoct cookies or doughnuts to such
a tintinnabulation as this!”
“But you don’t need to,” cried Lilith. “Mr. Merrifield keeps us
beautifully cooked up.”
“Oh!” scoffed Benedicta, turning merry eyes towards the minister, “I
know what a man’s cooking is--I’ve had it! It’s bacon and eggs, bacon
and eggs, ham and griddles, and bacon and eggs--that’s what it is! I
warrant you haven’t got a cooky or a doughnut in the house--have you,
now?” Her challenging eyes swept the group.
“Show her into the storeroom, Merrifield!” laughed Dr. Abbe.
“There’s Fruit Wheels and Buttercups!” piped Clementina.
“Parrots and pans! what hifalutings are those?”
“Oh, they’re little--” began the child; but two of her audience were
disappearing in the hallway that led to the storeroom and she speeded
after.
“Well, I don’t see ’s I’m a requisite here,” laughed Benedicta as she
returned to the kitchen. “Such things for a man to make!”
“We had White Monkey for supper,” Clementina informed her; “but they
wouldn’t let me have any. And then they ate it all up!” she ended
plaintively.
“‘White Monkey’!” repeated the housekeeper in a shocked tone.
“Just a cheese dish,” explained Lilith.
Polly threw her arm around Benedicta’s waist. “When are you coming back
to stay?” she asked.
The woman looked at her tenderly.
“When you want me?” she queried.
“As soon as you can come. We’ve been lost without you.”
“Huh, looks like it!” she returned. Nevertheless, Polly knew that
she was pleased. “When’s your French cook goin’?” with a nod in the
direction of Sardis.
“He says he can’t be away beyond his two weeks.”
“I’ve got to stay with my sister over Sunday,” was the reply, the word
so unfamiliar to her lips slipping out smoothly. “After that, Sereno
thinks he and Oscarlucy can get along. My, it’s amazin’ly marvelous the
things that ten-year-old kid can do--and do as well as I could. She’s
an extraordinary wonder. But, then, she has a mighty smart grandfather
and grandmother. Why, that house was like waxwork when I got there, the
patient all fixed up in bed as nice as you please. I d’n’ know what I’d
’a’ done without Oscarlucy when she was so sick. But the doctor says
she’ll be all right in a little while--There! I forgot! I sh’d think
I was losin’ my mind! Where’s my bag? Oh, thanks! There’s a letter to
pay you for it,” handing the thick missive across Clementina’s head to
Sardis Merrifield. “I thought I might as well bring up all the mail
there was, seein’ I was comin’.”
She handed out the letters and papers, and then went upstairs with the
girls.
The children were in bed, Lilith and Dr. Abbe had gone for a moonlight
walk, Benedicta had “stepped down” to see “Young Ben,” Mrs. Daybill was
sewing, and Polly was alone on the veranda, when Sardis came across
from the Study.
“Want to walk about on ‘Top o’ the World’ a few minutes?” he smiled.
Polly ran down to him, and they went up the road together.
“I’d like a little advice,” he began.
“I’m afraid I shall not be very wise at that,” she returned; “but I
will do my best.”
“Suppose we go to the point at once,” he said; “then we will see. The
letter that Benedicta brought me was from a New York friend. He is a
Yale man and one of a number from the University that are planning
what will doubtless be of untold benefit to one of the worst sections
of the city. They have acquired the land already, sufficient for
their purpose. The scheme is to put up a few buildings at first and
if successful to add to them as needed. They are planning a church, a
school, a homey hotel for young women, a lodging-house and restaurant
for men and boys, a club-house with gymnasium, and so on. They want me
to help.”
“To be pastor of the church?” questioned Polly eagerly.
“If they can get a congregation,” he nodded. “It would be my ideal
life,” he went on; “though it would not be easy. For myself I should
not mind the hardness, or the discouragement--which must be expected;
but”--for an instant he paused--“if I should wish to marry, a woman
well might hesitate to share the responsibilities of such a future.”
“Why?” asked Polly in a surprised tone. “You cannot know girls very
well, if you think they must have velvet cushions and paths of roses.”
“You are right,” he responded; “I have known but few girls in all my
life. Still, I am very sure that those--nearly all, at least--would not
be attracted by the great opportunities, they would not be willing to
make the sacrifice.”
Polly shook her head. “I think it is just the work that the right kind
of woman would like. Take my mother, for instance--you know she used to
be a nurse before her marriage--why, she couldn’t be contented a day
if she were not helping somebody somewhere. A life of pleasure cannot
satisfy the earnest, thoughtful girl of to-day. She craves her share of
the world’s work, she wants to see some little spot grow better and
happier under her hands.”
“Then, you would advise me to accept the offer?”
“I should think you would not hesitate one moment, since you are sure
that it is just what you would like best.”
“Thank you; I wanted your opinion. This proposal is not wholly
unexpected. Last spring Waite practically said that they should want me
as soon as the church was finished; but the word came earlier than I
looked for it. The building will not be ready before next summer, and I
have one more year of study in New Haven.”
The talk fell to other matters, and they walked on and on until they
were near the bungalows on the other part of the mountain. A girl came
out from the Robinson house, and Polly recognized Sally.
“I thought it was you,” she said as they met. “Father has just come up
from Overlook and brought your mail with ours. I was going to run over
with it.”
“Oh, a letter and paper from mother!” cried Polly joyfully, scanning
the superscriptions by the light of the moon. “Thank you. Benedicta
brought some mail this afternoon, but nothing for me. I always miss
mother’s letters if they don’t come on the regular days.”
The others were on the veranda when they returned, and Polly excused
herself to read her letter. Upstairs, standing by the lamp, she tore
open the envelope.
As she read, her eyes widened and she dropped limply into the nearest
chair. She reached for the newspaper which had slipped to the floor
and slitted the wrapper with unsteady fingers. Glancing hurriedly over
it her eyes rested on a marked paragraph near the middle of the third
page. Quickly she read it through, and then read it again. She was
still sitting there when she heard footfalls on the stairs.
“Lilith!” she called, and the girl came in.
Polly thrust the paper towards her, pointing to the article.
Lilith glanced at Polly first and was startled at her face. It was
colorless with a dazed expression; but it told of neither grief nor
trouble. Her eyes came back to the printed page, and she read:--
Mrs. Marion Winifred Stuart, of Richmond, Virginia, announces the
engagement of her daughter, Valorie Lynde Stuart, to Mr. David
Gresham Collins, son of Mrs. Eva Gresham Collins, and grandnephew
of David Gresham, of Fair Harbor, Connecticut.
Polly smiled.
“Do-don’t you--care?” whispered Lilith.
“I want to shout ‘Halleluiah!’ at the top of my voice!”
“Polly Dudley!”
“I do! I feel so deliciously light--I may fly away!”
Lilith looked into the sparkling eyes and believed her.
Polly went to bed; but sleep did not come. That first exaltation had
passed and left her heart quivering and sad. She reviewed her talk with
Sardis. Why had he sought her opinion? What was it to him? Questions
clamored for answers. Why should her path always lead through such
tangles? There was Lilith--she had come up to Overlook, heart-free,
untroubled; now she was radiantly happy with her new-found lover.
Patricia had had a little bitterness which lasted only long enough
to make the joy that had followed it seem the sweeter. She was not
envious of her friends--oh, no, not in the least degree. She rejoiced
in their gladness; yet she could not resist comparing her way with
theirs. During the later years they had been together David was but an
unsatisfactory lover. She had felt trammeled by his watchful, jealous
eyes. Their love, if love it had really been, looked now but the shadow
of the joyousness which she realized love might be. And only within a
few hours she had practically told Sardis Merrifield that the really
greatest happiness the right kind of woman could have was in her labor
for others! What a hypocrite she was! When her heart was yearning, not
for increased opportunity for work, but for the love that was not for
her! She scorned, she despised herself, and yet this new emotion was
something beyond her power. Hours dragged by with thoughts like these
racing through her brain. Finally weariness overcame her and she slept.
It was late when she awoke. She rose and dressed quickly, suddenly
remembering that she was to take Benedicta down to Overlook and had
planned to start early.
Sardis was hanging up the dishpans as Polly came into the kitchen.
“Suppose you ride down to Overlook with us,” she said. “I’m going to
take two or three of the children, and Dolly will enjoy it better if
you are with her.”
“Thank you,” he smiled; “I shall be glad to go. I need some supplies,
and the grocer won’t be here until to-morrow; so I was thinking I’d beg
your car and run down and get them. This makes it all right.”
“I didn’t know you could drive,” Polly looked surprised.
“Yes. I learned last summer. The car was a Grant Six, similar to yours.
I have not touched one this year, but I think I have not forgotten.”
“Then you don’t need me, and you can take more children.”
He looked at her earnestly, almost questioningly. For an instant Polly
was afraid that he was offended at her suggestion.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “I do need you--I think I have always needed
you. I only wish that you needed me.”
He was still looking steadily across the corner of the kitchen table
into the brown eyes. They widened a bit with astonishment, and then
flashed with incredulous joy. Her cheeks paled and flushed.
She had the poise of a startled bird just ready to take wing.
“Miss Dudley, do you--need me? Do you?” He bent towards her, and
involuntarily she drew back.
“No, don’t!” he pleaded. “I’m not coming--unless you want me.”
Her lips moved, but with no word. She looked up into his eyes, a sweet,
tremulous smile on the lips that would not speak.
“Bless you, little girl!” he breathed, and took a quick step round the
table.
“Teeters and tongs!” ejaculated Benedicta from the back piazza, “what
in the universe are you doin’? Ain’t you ready yet? I’ve been sittin’
there in the chariot for an hour or less. I thought we were goin’ to
Overlook!”
“Yes, Benedicta, I’ll be out in a minute!” Polly’s lips had spoken.
There was a knock, and then the inner door crept open, Lilith calling
out, “Anybody here?--Oh, I beg your pardon!”
“What is it, Lilith?” Polly said hurriedly. She flung the door wide.
“I thought there was nobody there,” she apologized. “I was afraid you
were waiting. The children are all ready.”
“I was asking Mr. Merrifield to go with us, and just found out that
he could drive,” explained Polly, somewhat lamely, as the girls went
upstairs together.
“Say, Miss Polly,” called Benedicta.
Polly came to the head of the flight.
“Do you mind if I drive the chariot down? I was dyin’ to get my hands
on that wheel, and I’ve been holdin’ ’em on it for the longest time,
waitin’ for you folks. It did feel amazin’ly rapturous.”
“Why, certainly you can drive,” Polly assured her.
“Just as lief as not?” was the anxious inquiry.
“Surely, Benedicta, and I’ll be down directly.”
“How lovely you look!” beamed Lilith innocently. “Your eyes are even
brighter than they were last night. I wish David Collins had got
engaged a year ago if it is going to make you look this way.”
“Thank you,” replied Polly. “I am glad he is all right; now I can be
happy with a clear conscience.”
The horn was honking as they went out. “Hurry up!” called Benedicta.
“We shan’t arrive till noon.”
“Miss Polly is going to walk down with me,” Sardis Merrifield answered.
“Teeters and tongs!” she replied, “you’ll be totally exhausted by the
time you reach the foot.”
“Oh, no,” laughed Polly, “one couldn’t be tired. Look over
there--fringes of purple and gold as far as you can see! It is a royal
road to Overlook to-day.”
“Teeters and tongs!” floated out to them as the doors clicked together.
“’Course it’s a ‘royal road’ ... but ’tain’t the goldenrod and
asters!... God bless ’em!”
THE END
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS
U . S . A