STUDY OR PLAY?
Olive was standing at the window, with a thoughtful face. Any one who
remembered seeing her on the porch one evening, a little over two years
ago, and recalled her face then, compared to what it was now, would have
said in incredulous amaze:
"What a change!"
She was now nearly seventeen, though she looked every day of twenty,
both in face and figure. There was such a settled, purposeful look in
the face, and so much strength and soul looking out from the eyes, that
had been used to scowling fiercely, so much determination expressed in
the mouth, that had caught the trick of smiling much more readily than
it once had. Nor was this all of the change either; she had come to
realize that care in personal attire, and a study of pleasing others,
could frame the most unattractive in attractive guise, and indeed, they
had done their work for her. Instead of wearing the very things that she
knew did not harmonize with her peculiar dark complexion, she studied
what was becoming. Her hair, which was luxuriously long and heavy, she
wore in such a manner as to soften the severe outline to head and face,
and waved it deeply in front, so that curly tendrils of hair lessened
the height of her too-high brow, and gave a more girlish look to the
thoughtful face. In short, the Olive of two years ago was not much like
the Olive of to-day, and in what her character had changed, I leave you
to find out for yourself.
She stood there, looking out, and something pleasing, evidently, caught
her eye, for it brightened suddenly, then in a moment a look of regret
chased the smile from her face.
"What is it, dear?" inquired Mrs. Dering.
"What, mama?"
"The faces of my girls are so dear to me, that I can read them quickly.
Something pleased you, then brought an after-thought that was sad. What
was it?"
"Nothing. I only saw Bea coming with Dr. Barnett."
"Ah!" The same smile, followed by a look of regret and a little sigh
crossed Mrs. Dering's face, and she sewed a little faster than before,
as if her thoughts were suddenly quickened by something. Dr. Walter
Barnett had come to Canfield within the past year, rented a modest
little office, hung out a neat, pretty sign to indicate that all persons
afflicted with any of the ills to which flesh is heir, would always find
him ready and anxious to do his best; and after a patient, hopeful
struggle, he had now settled in a flourishing practise; for he was
courteous and gentle, ready and willing, and always inspired the
children with a liking, which old Dr. Potts, with his blue glasses and
loud voice, could never do. Dr. Walter also taught the bible-class, and
won the flinty hearts of the congregation, and the susceptible ones of
the young ladies. He also frequently walked home with Beatrice Dering,
and had fallen into the way of occasionally stopping in the evenings, if
he happened to be passing and saw them in the yard. The old house, with
its shady porches, clambering vines, and sheltering trees, made him
think of his own home he said, and then Mrs. Dering, with her sweet,
motherly ways, and surrounded by such lovely attractions, seemed to
charm him; and Ralph Tremayne possessed a wonderful influence over him
some way, which served to bring him there more frequently than he could
have found an excuse for coming, if that young gentleman had not formed
a part of the household.
Bea came up stairs in a little while, with a lovely color in her cheeks,
and looking very bewitching indeed, with her soft bright eyes, a posy
in her belt, and a merry smile on her lips.
"I met Dr. Barnett" she said, taking off her hat, and smoothing out the
ribbons with a little thoughtful air; "he was just going to see that
poor widow's little girl, who broke her back last week, and he stopped
while I gathered some flowers for him to take to her. He is going to
cure her if he can, and not charge anything. Isn't it good and kind in
him, mama?"
"Yes, dear, very. He did not tell you so, did he?"
"Oh no; he's too modest. Mrs. Dane told me. She went to see the little
girl, and took some things, for they are very poor, you know; and the
mother told her, and just cried when she told how good and kind he was,
and how he talked, and told Katie stories, when she was afraid to have
her back fixed."
"He is a very estimable young man, and a true Christian, I think," said
Mrs. Dering, watching Bea's animated face as she talked, and noticing
that there was no touch of embarrassment or any trace of color, as she
rehearsed her friend's praise.
"When I gave him the flowers," added Bea, taking the posy from her belt,
and sniffing at the fragrant leaves, "he gave me these, and said we
would exchange. He has a little window-garden in his office. I think
that is so nice,--and these grew in it; they need some water now, poor
little things. Hand me that vase, Olive! There!"
Mrs. Dering went on with her sewing, and her heart, ever young, went
back to the blissful days of her own life, like these in which Bea now
lived, and she thought, with a smile:
"Bless the dear innocent little heart. She doesn't suspect yet how happy
she is, nor what precious meaning the little exchange of posies will
soon take unto themselves."
Olive was thinking of Bea's happy face and blithe laugh, and after her
sister had gone singing from the room, she came over to her mother's
side, and sat down on a stool there.
"Mama, are you glad?"
"Yes, dear, both glad and sad. A mother always dreads the time when she
must begin to prepare herself to have her children leave her; but it
must come, so if she can know that their new choice will bring them
happiness, it, of course, lessens the pain which comes with losing them.
Dr. Barnett is a good Christian, a perfect gentleman, and I think he
loves Beatrice. I also think she is quite unconscious of it as yet, and
I am very glad. I hope it will continue so. She is young yet, my dear
little girl, and when she becomes aware of the new love, then I must be
content with second place, and I do not want it to come yet."
"And, mama--"
"Well, dear."
"I want to speak of something that may be all imagination on my part,
and will take your word to settle it. But don't you think Ralph thinks a
great deal of Kittie?"
"Yes, he does; but it is all a brotherly feeling, anything else would be
nonsense! Why, they're nothing but children!" said Mrs. Dering a little
sharply.
"I know Kittie is, and she never thinks of such a thing any more than a
genuine kitten; but Ralph is twenty, mama," said Olive.
"I know; and very old for his age in many things, but at heart he is
nothing but a boy. He has always been at home with his mother, and has
an almost girlish love and preference for ladies' society. He and Kittie
are genial in amusements, just as you and he are in books and ambitions.
They love each other as brother and sister, but as nothing more. I
should be sorely displeased if any other idea should ever reach either."
"It never will through me," said Olive. She then sat silent for a long
time, and finally breaking the pause, by saying:
"Mama, do you remember, one night a long time ago, when we were all
telling disappointments?"
"Yes, quite well."
"Of course, it was all nonsense; but I have often thought since, that
some time, I would tell you what I wanted to do."
"And am I to hear now?"
Olive smiled, and looked a little wistful.
"Yes, I guess I will tell you, though it will be no surprise to you. I
want to study, but I can never do it in Canfield. When I was fourteen, I
first thought of going to the city and studying in Cooper's Institute
and coming home for over Sunday, and I began to save up my money for it.
The money that I gave to papa was that, and I was at work on a head to
take with me, because I thought perhaps I would have to have a trial
picture. I knew I couldn't go then, because I was too young and
inexperienced; but I'm older now, and if you would only say that you are
willing, so that I could begin to put just a little money away every
month--"
Mrs. Dering laid down her sewing, and looked in amaze at Olive's face,
which had become so enthusiastic as she put her plea in a voice that
trembled in its eagerness.
"My dear child, I had thought of that same thing for you."
"Why, mama!"
"I had, indeed; and is it possible that it has been your own thought and
desire for so long? You have so cheerfully given up your own work and
done that less tasteful, and so patiently waited for the time to come
when you could use your own money, that I had decided on just this
thing, and will draw enough money from the bank to send you. I have a
dear old friend in the city who would be delighted to have you board
with her during the week, and now that Ralph is here, you can and shall
be spared from your work, and shall take a rest in doing the work that
you love."
Olive looked speechless. Her eyes were full of sparkling tears, and her
lips trembling with a smile. She evidently did not know what to say for
some moments, then she exclaimed:
"Oh, mama! Is it really so? It seems too good to believe, I had almost
given up hope, for it didn't seem as if I ever could go. Oh, how I will
study and draw, so as to make money and make my name;" and overcome with
joy and a desire to shed some happy tears, Olive jumped up and ran out.
In a day or two, however, something happened that deferred Olive's
studies for a while longer. It was from Jean, a long letter, full of
love and longings to see them all, and long reports of what the doctors
were doing for her, and how she could stand straight now without her
crutch, and would soon be able to take a step. And after all that, she
began about Uncle Ridley: how kind and good he was, how she had
everything she could think of; how they loved each other; and then came
this piece of news:
"He wants one of the girls to come and make a visit, mama. He's often
said so; but the other day he told me to write for one of them, which
ever one I wanted, and he would pay her expenses. Now you know I never
could choose which of the girls I'd love to see most, because I want to
see them all so very much. But I think he wants to see Olive; he's often
said so; and he's asked me so much about her, and said he'd like to know
her because she was so impudent to him. Why was she? Do you know, mama?
I think it's so strange, when he's such a dear, darling uncle. Anyhow, I
think it would please him very much if she would come, and oh, how very
happy I would be. Tell me what you think about it, and I do hope she'll
come; and if she can't, please let one of the others, and hurry and let
me know. I can hardly wait."
"Of course you'll go," said Kittie, when the letter was finished, and
the question open to discussion.
"To be sure," said Kat. "Olive, you're a lucky girl. I wish I had been
impudent to him."
"I always have wanted to see Congreve Hall," said Bea, with a little
sigh. "How grand it would seem to live in a magnificent place that had a
name to it. I suppose you'll stay a long time, Olive?"
"I wish he wanted any of you," said Olive, "and I believe he does. It's
all Jeanie's notion, his wanting me. Fix Bea up, mama, and let her go. I
have something else on my mind."
But Mrs. Dering shook her head. "I think Jean is right," she said.
"Uncle Ridley is a peculiar old man and he thinks Olive is much like the
Congreves; he told me so himself, and I think he wants you for that
reason."
So great was Olive's consternation, that she sprang right up from her
seat in dismay.
"Oh, mama! I want to see Jean; you know I do, but I can't give up my
plan any longer; I can't. You don't think I ought to, do you?"
"What do you think about it, Olive?"
"I don't know; I think it's too bad," cried Olive; then fled from the
room, as she always did when she found her emotions getting the mastery
over her.
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Kat, in sympathy. "It is too bad when her
heart is so set on her studies. That's the disadvantage of having a
talent. Don't you suppose Uncle Ridley would be satisfied with me? I'd
do my level best to be like the Congreves, if that is such an attraction
to him."
"He'd go crazy with such a whirligig about as you," said Bea, a little
envious of Olive's good luck. "I think I might go. I'm the oldest, and
dear me, how I would enjoy it!"
"I would love to have you all go," said Mrs. Dering, thoughtfully
creasing the letter in her fingers. "Congreve Hall was papa's home, and
I would enjoy having you see it, would love to go myself, in fact, and
when I think of my dear precious little girl, it seems as though I must
go. But that cannot be, so it need not be thought of. As to Olive, Uncle
Ridley is peculiar and quick, and he took a fancy to her, and if her
going to see them would give him any pleasure, I am only too glad and
willing to have her go. I am sorry the invitation came just now for the
child has waited so patiently to study and work on her art, that delay
will be a sore disappointment to her. But she will see through it
rightly I am sure and be willing to wait a little longer."
"Mama," said Kat, reflectively, "don't you think Olive has changed very,
very much?"
"Yes, dear."
"And especially since Ernestine went away. Why?" asked Kittie.
Mrs. Dering sighed and looked sad; she always did when Ernestine's name
was mentioned.
"Olive's was a very unhappy disposition then, a great deal more so than
she is now," she said. "What attractions she possessed, she hid by her
faults; she did not try to please any one, but took her time in envying
Ernestine's natural beauty and power to please. She made herself bitter,
morose, and unattractive, then blamed others for showing any preference
for her sisters. I think the lesson poor Ernestine taught was one that
she took to heart deeply, and has profited much by."
"I notice she does not dislike Uncle Ridley as much as she used to,"
said Bea, smiling and looking very happy all at once as she caught sight
of a gentleman coming up the shady walk. "Mama, here comes Dr. Barnett.
I promised him some more flowers to take to little Katie Gregg. If he is
not in a hurry I shall ask him in; and, Kat, I advise you to put up your
hair. It looks like an Indian's that way."
"Who cares for old Barnett?" said Kat, as Bea flitted out. "My hair
suits myself, and if he don't like it, he can look at Kittie's. Hers is
as proper as ten commandments, with a killing bow fastened right on an
angle with her ear. Now here comes Ralph, and I'm off. Kittie come down
to the pond, and let's take a row."
"I will in a little while," said Kittie, putting her sewing aside; "but
Ralph is going to help me with that example I couldn't get, and I'll do
that first, then I'll be down."
"Well, I'll not look for you," said Kat discontentedly. "After you get
your old example, there'll be something else, and then it'll be time to
get dinner. I just abominate cousins!" and Kat slammed out of one door,
just as Ralph came in at the other.
No one saw Olive again during the day, but just before supper she came
down stairs and asked for mother.
"I don't know," said Kittie, flying about the kitchen with her big apron
on. "She and Bea went down town this afternoon; I don't know whether
they're back or not. If you're going in the sitting-room, tell Ralph to
come; he said he'd beat the eggs, if I'd make a puff-cake."
So Olive went into the sitting-room, and sent Ralph out to the feminine
employment of egg-beating, then she stood by the window and looked
absently out at the shadowy yard. She was going to Virginia; she had
decided on that, though the decision had cost some bitter tears and some
stern reasoning; for her new plans, long held in check, were doubly
precious in the sudden promise of fulfillment, and her whole soul,
starved out on book-keeping and dusty offices, begged for a revel in the
art she loved so well.
"After all," she mused, deciding grimly to look at the best side of
things, "Jean says there is a gallery of grand pictures at Congreve
Hall, and I suppose I can study and make copies of the ones that I like;
and then"--the thought was a little distasteful to her--"I suppose I was
unjust to Mr. Congreve, and ought to make amends if I can. We do owe him
more than any amount of gratitude can ever repay, for all he's done for
Jean, and I suppose I ought to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the dress
made that he sent me; perhaps he'll recognize it;" then she laughed a
little, to think what he would say at discovering her just accepting the
present made two years ago.
"A laugh sounds encouraging; what brings it Olive?" asked Mrs. Dering,
having entered noiselessly.
"Nothing, I was just thinking," answered Olive. "I will go, mama,
because I cannot help but think that I ought to, I was just deciding in
my mind to call him Uncle Ridley, and have the black dress made. How
soon shall I go?"
"I cannot tell yet; there is much that you will need done. I am very
glad that you have decided in this way, Olive dear, though I know it was
a sacrifice; but your art will become none the less precious through
delay, and your decision shows a desire to retract some hasty judgments,
and do justice to a peculiar old man, who, with all his faults and
vagaries, has a heart as true as gold."
"I guess that's it," said Olive, with a little sigh; and then the
supper-bell rang.
At the end of three weeks Olive was ready to go, and it was hard to tell
whether she was any more enthusiastic with the idea or not. After the
fashion of all young girls, she could not help but be pleased to see the
accumulating pile of pretty things; to feel all the time that something,
which might prove very pleasant, was going to happen; and that she was
the cause of all the little bustle of preparation that filled the house,
and engrossed the mind and hands of mother and sisters. There is always
something, more or less exciting in the appearance of a trunk, and when
packing time actually came, Olive found that she was beginning to
indulge in some very pleasing anticipations.
"I expect Jean has grown very tall," said Bea one afternoon, as the
girls were all gathered in Olive's room, and the big trunk stood open in
the middle of the floor.
"Probably wears long dresses, and does her hair in a chignogger," said
Kat, from a perch on the foot-board of the bed, where she rested in idle
moments.
"'Tisn't to be supposed that she can be treated so like a young lady,
and not get stuck up. Just to think of having a maid, and being called
Miss Dering, when you are only twelve. Hollo, Kittie! hand me that pile
of skirts, and I'll fold them."
"Dear me," said Kittie, handing over the snowy starched heap. "You have
six white skirts, Olive, and three of them trimmed. I'd feel terribly
fixed up, and lady-like with so many."
"Pooh! some girls have six dozen, with tucks, and ruffles and puffles on
every blessed one of them," said Kat, making the starched cloth rattle
with her vigorous folding.
"All nonsense," assented Kittie, down on her knees before the trunk.
"Now hand me the things and I'll pack. Kat, you're knocking everything
off the table, the way you whisk those skirts around. Hand me the black
dress; that's the heaviest and must go in first."
"Where's the other black tip?" asked Bea, who was trimming the
travelling hat. "There it is, you blew it behind the table with your
whirlwind of skirts; hand it to me, Kat."
"What fun it is to pack and go away," said Kat, fishing out the desired
feather with Olive's parasol. "You pack like a captain, Kittie. I'd most
likely have put her best hat in the first thing, shoe polish next, and
then tumbled in anything that I happened to lay my hands on. Dear me, I
wish I was going."
"I really think it's too bad that you haven't a party dress, Olive,"
said Kittie, with some disapproval.
"Whatever would she do with a party dress," cried Kat, once more
enthroned on the foot-board. "Who'd give a party, I'd like to know? One
old man, a little girl, and a pile of servants!"
"Young Mr. Congreve is there," corrected Bea.
"S'pose he is; and anyhow, I hope you'll snub him, Olive; he's going to
own Congreve Hall, and it ought to have been papa's. If he was a decent
man he wouldn't take it. How are you going to treat him?"
"I don't know;--yes, I like the feather that way; you ought to see how
nicely my dress hangs," said Olive, in a little flutter of pleasing
excitement. "Really, it's quite nice getting ready to go away. I only
wish the visit was over and done with, and all this preparation was for
sending me off to study."
"Don't worry about your studying, you're twice as smart now as any of
us," said Bea, surveying her work, from its perch on her finger. "Now
try this on, Olive, I've tipped the feather a little more to one side,
and it looks more jaunty--just the thing too; isn't that becoming
girls?"
"Perfectly mag!" exclaimed Kat, making an eye-glass of her hands, and
falling into a rapture of admiration that pretty near upset her from the
foot-board.
"I declare, you're going to be very distinguished looking, Olive," said
Kittie, resting from her packing to survey, and pass an opinion. "And a
cocked hat is very becoming. The next thing we hear, you will be
creating a sensation in Staunton that will shake the whole of Virginia."
"Very likely," laughed Olive; but she looked pleased, for there was
honest admiration in each sister's voice; and, after all, it is no small
thing to be going off alone, with a trunk filled by loving hands, a new
cocked hat that is becoming, and the pleasing thought of looking well in
all respects, and perhaps "distinguished."
The day for departure came at last; and in the afternoon sunshine,
Olive, trunk and satchel stood on the porch, waiting for the express
wagon; and the front door stood open, and there was a great deal of
laughing and talking going on within, that sounded very gay and happy.
Dr. Barnett had taken advantage of the little excitement to drop in,
though he had been around only the evening before, and bid Olive
good-bye, with much ceremony and many good wishes; but no one seemed to
object to his being on hand again, for Bea looked her unconscious
happiness, and Mrs. Dering was cordial and kind, and the young doctor
was in a dream of bliss.
"Where's Ralph?" exclaimed Olive, suddenly, when the real good-bye
moment had fairly come; if such it could be called, when the whole
family were going to the depot with the young traveller.
"He's gone, sure enough!" said Kittie, after some hasty and lusty
calling had taken place. "I suppose he's gone on down to the train; but
it's funny the wagon don't come."
"I'll trot down to the gate and see if it is in sight," volunteered Kat,
who was obliged to keep moving as a vent to excitement; but just as she
started, there rattled up to the gate, in great style, the handsomest of
Canfield's two hacks, and out of it sprang Ralph.
"I wanted you to go off in style," he said, well pleased with himself
when he saw Olive's delighted look. "Here cabby, is the trunk! Now,
ladies--hollo, doctor! you going to the train?"
"Well, really," said Dr. Barnett, hesitating, "I hadn't thought, but, if
Miss Olive will allow me, I'll be happy."
He said Miss Olive, but, bless you! he looked right straight at Miss
Beatrice, and she smiled; and after that, neither ever knew whether
Olive was willing or not.
"This is putting on style with a vengeance," said Kat, as the ladies
seated themselves in the back, after the trunk had been tossed aloft.
"People will think the whole family is departing for Europe."