ODDS AND ENDS.
"My patience alive!" exclaimed Kittie, slamming the stove door open, and
poking in among the ashes and cinders with wrathful haste, "if this
abominable fire hasn't gone out; I never did in all my life! burnt up a
bushel of kindling, too, dear me; water in the tea-kettle stone cold,
not a blessed thing cooking; no more stuff in here to start the fire up,
and Olive waiting for her breakfast this minute to go to the store, good
_gracious_!" and having freed her mind, Kittie ran to the back stairs,
jerked the door open, and shouted with much unseemly energy,--"Kathleen
Dering!"
"Just so; don't strain your lungs that much again, I'm coming, clear the
track," responded Kat cheerfully, and came clattering down with her
shoes unlaced, and her nose as red as a beet.
"Bless the people, but isn't it cold, though. Whew! Jupiter Ammons! What
a relief it is to say something when you're most friz. You don't look
cheerful, sister mine."
"I don't care; it's your week to build the fire and mine to set the
table, and I think you were real mean, to go to sleep again, when you
know Olive has to have her breakfast at seven," grumbled Kittie, flying
about distractedly, while Kat sat on the floor and whistled "Down in a
coal-mine," as she laced her shoes.
"That's the truth, my dear, melancholy like the present days. But you
just skip into the dining-room and set your table, and I'll have a few
words to say to this stove in private, if I don't freeze stiff
beforehand;" and Kat jumped up briskly, having compromised on a lace
with one shoe, by tying the strings about her ankle. "No kindling to
begin with! Oh, this is bliss! Now for a trot to the woodshed," and away
went Kat flying down the yard and back again in a minute with her arms
full.
"I'll be late," said Olive, putting her head in the door, just as the
fire began to snap with its new supply of kindling.
"Sorry, but doing the best I can," answered Kat, pausing a minute to
warm her numb fingers. "Can you get along on bread and coffee for this
morning?"
"I suppose I'll have to," answered Olive, none too graciously, and shut
the door again with a snap.
"Cross-patch, draw the latch, sit at the fire and spin," sang Kat; then
the door opened again, and Ernestine came in.
"Dear me, how cold it is in here, and Bea hasn't got the sitting-room
fire built either. I'd just as soon be out doors."
"Go on, and let's see how long you'll stay," said Kat, shaking an egg
into her coffee. "If the fires don't get along fast enough to suit you,
pitch in and build one of them; there's piles of difference between that
and standing around watching some one else."
Ernestine chose to ignore the remark, and stood warming her fingers,
while she contemplated the frosty window-pane.
"To-day's lesson-day, so of course I hate it," she said, with an air of
settled resignation. "I never thought I'd teach music, that's sure. I
never was cut out for it, so neither the children, nor I, get along
well. Is there anything I can do to help out here?"
"No, breakfast is ready; just trot the bread in to the table. I'll bring
the butter, and the coffee will be done in a few minutes; that's all
we've got for breakfast this morning," said Kat, vanishing down the
cellar stairs.
"I could eat two hundred and fifty griddle cakes, I know!" exclaimed
Kittie, as they collected about the table, and Bea began rattling the
cups, and the bread started around.
"Come down a hundred and seventy-five," laughed Ernestine who had taken
time, despite all depressing circumstances, to twist a rose-colored
ribbon in her sunny hair. "I believe it's going to snow real hard; don't
I wish those children wouldn't come to-day. You all can't imagine how
horrible it is to teach music."
"Well, you have the easiest time of any of us," said Kittie.
"You ought to cook and wash dishes awhile," cried Kat.
"Or keep the house," added Bea.
"Or have to stay all day long in the dreariest store in town and keep
books," echoed Olive.
"I thought you loved to work so?" said Ernestine, in answer to this last
comparison. "You're always preaching independence."
"So I do," answered Olive, setting her cup down with crackable force. "I
never would be idle, but I could choose more pleasant kind of work than
sitting in Mr. Dane's office all day; it's the dreariest place I ever
got into."
"Well, anyhow, Christmas is coming," said Bea, nodding cheerfully over
the coffee-urn.
"More's the pity," said Kittie disconsolately. "We're not going to get
anything; it'll be awful poky."
"But mama'll be home for ten days; oh, bliss!" cried Kat, waving her
teaspoon, and every cloudy face brightened. "Can't we give her
something, girls?"
"I don't see how," said Ernestine. "It takes every cent we all earn to
keep things going. Who ever thought we'd be so poor? Just think of last
Christmas, how glorious!"
Everybody remembered, and faces saddened again. How gay the house had
been in evergreens! how mysterious the locked parlors, where all knew, a
tree stood, branching up to the ceiling; how blissfully happy everybody
had been during the two weeks when the world becomes one in spirit and
truth, and the god of good-will wields the sceptre and wears the crown!
Father had been with them, dear, unselfish, great-hearted papa, whose
every exertion had been to make them all happy and whose dearest hope
and prayer had been that his girls might be noble, splendid women, with
pure, true hearts and the spirit of God therein.
"Olive, will you bring some butter when you come home? This is the last
drop," said Kittie, scraping the dish, and collecting the silver, after
the meal was finished, as it was very soon, for breakfasts were hurried
now-a-days.
"Yes; two pounds? That's the third time this month; our bill will be
pretty big. If I'm very busy I will not be home to dinner."
"Sha'n't I fix some lunch for you?"
"I haven't time to wait. Where's my rubbers?"
"I don't know. Kat, did you have Olive's rubbers last night?"
"Yes, and I don't know any more than Adam where I put them. Look in the
closet, Olive, and I'll run up stairs and see," answered Kat, departing
in haste.
"Well, I wish you would let my things alone," said Olive testily,
throwing down her mittens and veil, and diving into the closet; the
general closet, as it was called, where everything, from the kitchen
stove-hook to the girls best Sunday-go-to-meeting bonnets, were apt to
find a lodging at odd times. "I never can be on time," she muttered,
slamming things around and comparing various odd rubbers. "This closet
looks like a demented bedlam. I'd be ashamed, that's what I would."
"I can't do everything," answered Bea in a hurry, feeling that the
thrust was meant for her. "Because I'm housekeeper, it doesn't rest on
me to keep everything in perfect order, when you all help to muss up."
"It's like distraction without mama, anyhow," declared Kittie, departing
for the kitchen, with her hands full of dishes, and scowling defiantly
at the stove, where the fire was sizzling with a lazy sputter, while the
dish-water taking advantage of the lull in heat, cooled at leisure.
"Pretty near as bad without Huldah," was Ernestine's comment. "I'm
nearly starved for a splendid good meal like we used to have, when we
could eat all we wanted, and didn't have to think how much it cost, or
worry with cooking it."
"You do less than anybody towards getting it," said Olive, coming
flushed and impatient from her vain search. "If Kat doesn't leave my
things alone, I'll--"
"Let not your angry passions rise," cried Kat, coming in with a rubber
whirling on each hand, and quoting her copy-book with cheerful disregard
for any one's anger. "Here's your rubbers, my dear, and I found them
right where I put them, on the end of our mantel-piece, where I put them
in plain sight so as not to forget to bring them down this morning, as
my prophetic soul felt a row in the air if they were not in sight at six
and a half, sharp."
"You talk like a lunatic," was Olive's sole response as she drew them
on.
"It's my only talent, dear," answered Kat cheerfully, beginning to work
on the table, where she made the dishes rattle.
Bea trailed slowly through the room with her broom and dust pan, and a
rather discontented face. Olive tied on her veil and hurried away to her
daily business; Ernestine went to practice a new piece 'till the first
scholar should arrive; and Kittie and Kat were left to the bliss of
dish-washing and kitchen work. So began the day.
This was several weeks after events last recorded, and all things in the
Dering household had changed much.
Jean had not gone to Virginia at once. Her wardrobe had needed complete
repairing, and during the time so occupied, Mr. Congreve spent much of
it in the city, sending therefrom various and beautiful things for Jean,
and a dress for each of the girls, doing so without permission, knowing,
that if asked, it would be refused him.
Kittie and Kat had been withdrawn from school, and studied at home with
the older girls. Their part of the work fell in the kitchen. With Mrs.
Dering and Huldah for teachers, they had studied the easier branches of
cooking, and the crooks and by-ways of that department of general work.
They proved apt and merry pupils, and learned their tasks quite readily,
so, that while the girls missed the wonderful dishes that Huldah had
been able to "knock up," they were daily fed on very palatable food,
considering the age and newness of the young cooks.
Bea was chief housekeeper, kept an eye over general affairs, sat at the
head of the table, and had commenced doing her hair in a most dignified
way; filling with much girlish satisfaction, the position of "Miss
Dering," and "lady of the house."
Olive was book-keeper in Mr. Dane's store, and really more head of the
family than Bea, as she kept all accounts, settled the bills, and was
frequently consulted on some questionable matters, involving the home
expenses. To Ernestine fell the easy lot of four pupils in music.
Affording her no opportunities of display, or avenue for compliments or
praise, she thought it very hard indeed, and found it bitterly
uncongenial, to her ideas of independence, if, indeed, she had ever
possessed any really tangible ones. She wanted to help, as a matter of
course, especially as all the rest did; but such an ordinary,
self-denying way was sadly distasteful to her, and she still had a
vague, but pleasing, idea of becoming a great prima-donna and
electrifying vast concourses of people, who would praise, admire, and
pay her largely. Unfortunately, however, such positions do not lie
around in wait, and invite some one to honor them with an acceptance;
but, in spite of such a discouraging fact, Ernestine held tenaciously to
her pleasing idea, and spent much time in thinking how delightful all
things would be, when that time arrived.
Mrs. Dering had secured the desired position in the seminary, three
miles out of Canfield, and had a flourishing class in both music and
languages. The stage came in twice a week after mail, and at these times
the anxious mother made hurried trips home, and these few hours were
snatches of greatest joy and comfort to all parties, and especially
comforting to the girls, who found the first few weeks of the new life
very trying, and oftentimes discouraging.
On the next Tuesday evening, when the stage came in, Mrs. Dering found a
thick, tempting letter, with the Staunton post mark, and Jean's prim,
childish hand writing. There had come several short letters from the
little girl, who said she would wait until she saw everything about her
new home before writing a very long letter to describe it; so it was
evident now that the long letter had come, and with this extra joy for
herself and the girls, Mrs. Dering hurried home, where everything was
radiantly bright for her reception, and where the girls looked and felt
as though care had rolled from them for the time, or was at least so
lightened, that it seemed quite gone.
They did not read the letter until after supper, and on the evenings
when mother was with them, this meal was always a long one, for there
was so much to talk about, and somehow it seemed so natural and old-time
like, to linger about the table, that they invariably did so.
After awhile they went into the sitting-room, leaving the dishes until
later, when mama said they would all help; and seating themselves, with
many smiles and nods of satisfaction, about the fire, prepared to hear
all that Jean had to say about her new home.
_Congreve Hall, Staunton, Virginia,
November, 29th, 18--._
"DEAR PRECIOUS MAMA AND SISTERS:
"I promised to write you a long letter, and tell you all about
Congreve Hall, as soon as I had seen everything about it, and
felt well enough acquainted to tell it well. It is so beautiful
and big that I hardly know how to begin; I do wish the girls
could see it, especially Ernestine; she likes splendid, grand
things so much.
"We came out of Staunton, which is a lovely city, in a beautiful
carriage, which was waiting for us at the train. It was a lovely
day, and the sunshine was so warm that Uncle Ridley had the top
all put back, so that I could see everything. The road was so
wide and very smooth that the carriage just rolled along like we
were on a floor, and the horses were such splendid big black
ones, with harness all covered with shiny things, and they acted
as if they were as proud as could be. The driver was dressed
beautifully, nicer than the gentlemen dress at home for every
day, and when I got into the carriage he lifted his tall hat,
and called me 'Miss Dering.' It sounded so funny I pretty nearly
laughed; but Uncle Ridley looked as if it was all right, so I
thought perhaps I had better not.
"Pretty soon we began to go up hill, and I thought we must have
come very far because the horses went so fast; but we had only
come half-way. The leaves had not fallen then, and the mountains
reaching up so high, way ahead of us, did look like some
beautiful pictures that we used to see when papa took us to the
city with him. After awhile we came to a big gate, oh, so tall,
and such high posts, with figures on top of them, holding big
lamps with ever so many globes, and Uncle Ridley says some
night, he will light them, so I can see how bright it makes it
all around, and way down the road. We went through, and then the
road began to wind around, and it was perfectly lovely; we went
up and up, under the grandest trees, and after a little ways,
there began to be statuary sitting around under them, and
beautiful seats made like the limbs of trees, all twisted
together. I saw a flight of stone steps, and they came up the
hill from another gate, for people that walk, and they look as
white as snow in the green grass. All of a sudden we turned
around a big curve, and I just screamed right out; I was so
surprised, and Uncle Ridley said that was Congreve Hall. Why,
mama, it is big enough to be a hotel in the city, and ever so
many people could go in the front door all at once, it is so
wide, and such lovely marble steps go up to it. There are two
big towers, and two funny little squatty ones, with a big stone
railing around the top, and there are porches, terraces Uncle
Ridley says they call them, all of stone. They go pretty near
around the house, and then end in steps, broad ones, that make a
big curve and come down to the ground. I think that's a mighty
funny way to build them. The house is such a pretty grey color,
and some places there is moss growing all over the sides, and
there are ever so many vines too, that Uncle Ridley says would
hold me up, they are so old and strong. Inside everything is so
big and grand and dark, that I was afraid at first, and never
went around anywhere unless uncle went with me; but I'm getting
more used to it now, and like to hunt around, in the big rooms,
and walk around in the splendid halls. My rooms, I have four you
know, are all furnished so sweet in blue and white, with the
dearest little easy chairs and sofas, and the cunningest little
bed, with an angel on top holding the pretty curtains that come
down all around. I just thought at first that I would want to
stay in bed all the time. My maid has a little room just off my
bath room, and she is such a funny girl. She combs my hair and
dresses me, and all that, and talks all the time just like a
monkey. Her name is Bettine, and she always calls me Miss Jean.
My governess, Miss Serle, is such a dear, kind lady, and I'm
going to study awful hard, so as to know lots and make you
happy, dear mama, when I come home. Uncle Ridley is just the
dearest, nicest, kindest uncle that ever lived, I'm sure. He is
so good to me, and I love him like everything. Sometimes he
tells me about Mabel, and then he takes out his big red
handkerchief and cries; and I'm almost glad I'm lame so I can
look like her, and make him happier. Mabel Congreve must have
been a very sweet little girl, and very pretty; there are
pictures of her all over the house, but the one in the library
is the prettiest. She is all dressed in white, with such lovely
yellow curls, and sitting in the very little blue velvet chair
that I ride around in now. Uncle Ridley always sits in there,
and I do believe he talks to her. I have all of her things,
except her pony; he died, and mine is a new white one; such a
darling, and I go to ride every pleasant day in her little
buggy, with beautiful soft cushions and silk curtains. Her chair
is on wheels, and I can ride all over the house by myself, or
have Bettine draw me, whichever I want. All of her things are
just as nice as new, because Uncle Ridley has been so careful of
them. Yesterday he brought me her crutch, and said he wanted me
to use it. It is such a shiny, beautiful black wood, with a
silver rim and pad on the bottom, so it don't make any noise,
and a soft top covered with blue velvet.
"I always take my breakfast in my room, because Uncle Ridley
does not get up until so late, and it would be very dreary in
the big dining-room for me. After breakfast I take a ride either
in the house or out, then play awhile, or do as I please until
ten; then Miss Serle comes to my room, and my lessons last until
twelve. Dinner is gloomy. There is a servant stands behind Uncle
Ridley, and he is so tall and solemn looking in his white vest
and necktie, that I don't feel comfortable at all. After dinner
I play or ride until two o'clock, then I have my lessons and my
music 'till four, and after that Miss Serle almost always reads
to me awhile. I practice from five o'clock for a half an hour,
then play 'till eight o'clock, and that is time for me to go to
bed. Some days Uncle Ridley takes me into Staunton with him.
"I believe I have told you everything now that you asked me
about, and I've tried hard to write a nice letter, because you
were always so particular about it, I've looked in the
dictionary for all the words I wasn't sure of, and I hope you
will not find many mistakes. Do please, dear mama and girls,
write me long, long letters, because I get so lonesome and
homesick for you all. Every night when I say my prayers and ask
God to take care of you all, I can hardly keep from crying, and
sometimes I do, and then Bettine looks so sorry and most like
she wanted to cry too.
"The doctor that Uncle Ridley wants to have me see first, is
very sick, you know I told you, but he is getting better, and
perhaps I will not have to wait so long. Oh, my dear mama, I
know you ask God to let me grow straight, but please ask Him a
very great many times, so that He will be quite sure to hear. I
do.
"I am going into Staunton with Uncle Ridley to put this in the
office myself, so you will know it came right from me with a
kiss on it.
"Good-bye, my dear, darling mama and sisters,
"Your own
"JEANIE."