THE HOME-COMING
"I say, mother, they've come!"
"Well, let them. What do I care?"
"Oh, but just come and look a minute. See how carefully he is helping
her out of the cab. She's a sight too good for him. There! I've got a
brilliant idea. I'll go and give them a tune. She shall enter her bridal
home to the strains of music," and away downstairs Miss Bessie Marchant
rushed. She was the daughter of Mr. Marchant, chemist, Ralph Waring's
neighbour.
"What is that girl playing?" exclaimed Mrs. Marchant a few minutes
afterwards, as she was preparing supper in the kitchen.
Phill Marchant was sitting at the table working out a sum on his slate.
"Why, it's the 'Dead March.' Is her kitten dead?"
"That girl will be the death of me. Bessie, do you hear, stop that
noise, will you? Haven't you one spark of human kindness left?"
"No, mother," still going on playing, "I gave all the sparks to Phill."
"Stop playing, will you? or I'll box your ears! It's perfectly cruel.
The poor thing will have enough to put up with, without you worrying her
with that bad omen."
Bessie suddenly stopped, not because she was afraid of her ears being
boxed, but deep down in her heart, where a good big piece of human
kindness was thriving splendidly, in spite of her mother's fears,
questionings had arisen lest she might not be defeating her own object.
"I don't want to worry her; you know that. It is a funny world to live
in if you cannot play the 'Dead March' when you like!"
"You just march off and water the plants in the greenhouse, and don't
interfere with what isn't your business."
"All right, but I'll----" What exactly Miss Bessie was going still
further to do, her mother did not catch, and it was not Miss Bessie's
intention that she should.
It was a drizzling wet night when Phebe Waring arrived at her new home.
According to strict economical household arrangements, there was no
bright fire in the back parlour to make the room look cosy, because it
was near the end of June. The floor was covered with oil-cloth, no rug
anywhere, and a table, small sideboard, and six small chairs with
American leather cushions made up the whole of the furniture.
"Not very homelike," Phebe thought, "but there, how could I expect
bachelor's quarters to look anything different?"
For supper the little maid had placed on the table a large white jug of
lemon water, a piece of cheese, and some bread and butter.
"There's a hamper for you, ma'am, from your father's: came about an hour
ago."
Quickly taking off her hat and jacket Phebe opened the hamper, and when
she looked inside the tears came into her eyes; it was the first glimpse
of anything homelike she had seen for a fortnight.
A bunch of wallflowers came first, then a large pat of butter, a
home-made cake, a roasted chicken, a piece of ham, and a large box of
little gooseberry pies. "Dear old Sis, how thoughtful of her!" Soon the
table was spread with the feast the loving sister in the old home had
prepared, and to make the room look still further homelike Phebe got
Janie, the maid, to light a fire in the empty, rusty grate.
"It was quite fortunate I did not order anything further into the
house," said Ralph.
In the morning the room looked as cheerless as it did the night before,
and Phebe's heart seemed to shrink as she noticed that the window looked
into a yard, surrounded with high walls, and that nothing was growing
in it but grass and dandelions. How different from the outlook over the
well-kept garden at home! "But I'll soon make it look different," said
the hopeful Phebe to herself.
The only bright spot in the room was a bunch of beautiful pansies lying
on the table; the wallflowers had been taken upstairs. As Phebe picked
them up she noticed a slip of paper pushed beneath the string with which
they were tied, and on it was written:
"From Neighbour Bessie. I do hope you will be my friend."
"Ah, that must be Mrs. Marchant's daughter, next door," thought Phebe,
"I have heard Ralph speak of her. Of course we shall be friends. What
beautiful flowers! Pansies--see, they mean 'heart's ease.' Did Bessie
think--but of course she did not. She would not know their meaning."
During breakfast Ralph put into her hand a black-edged envelope, saying,
"See what I have had sent me. A funny sort of congratulation!"
Inside the envelope was a card, bordered with ink lines, and in the
centre, in letters to imitate printing, were the words:
"Sacred to the Memory of
SWEET LIBERTY,
Who ceased to be on June 10th, 18--,
And was interred in the residence of
RALPH WARING, Draper, etc., Hadley."
"Somebody thinks I'm going to be a poor martyr," said Ralph, putting on
a very solemn look. Phebe also looked solemn, but her solemnity seemed
real.
"I don't know about that," she replied, "it seems to me it is my liberty
which is referred to. If your liberty is interred in your house it is
still yours."
"Oh, dear, no; everybody knows women always have their own way--they
never lose their liberty," and a slight tone of anger was in the voice,
which made Phebe look up in surprise. "But there, it is only somebody's
stupid joke; not worth thinking about," and he tore the card into
shreds, feeling a trifle sorry he had spoken in the way he had done.
Breakfast over, Ralph said: "And now, dearest, I should like a little
business talk with you, if you can spare the time. You know we have had
so much lovemaking to do we have had no opportunity of talking together
about our business."
"'Our business,'" thought Phebe, "that sounds nice."
"The fact is," said Ralph, when the breakfast table had been cleared and
they were alone, "I want to enlarge the business. I want to throw this
room into the shop, take the house next door, which is to let, and start
a grocery trade, too. Then my idea is to have a horse and cart and go
into the villages for orders--many of them are growing considerably, and
I think I could work up a splendid connection. Later on I should try to
sell the whole affair, and start somewhere different from this sleepy
place."
"Somewhere different! I should never like to leave Hadley."
"Of course not, women are never ambitious."
"But I am very ambitious, and should like you to have a large business.
How could you possibly leave all your public work here? and I could
never leave Hadley while my poor old sick father lives."
"We'll not worry about that," said Ralph, fearing he had gone too far.
"We need not discuss that for years. I am glad to hear you say you would
like me to have a big business; but how, without more capital, am I
going to manage it?"
"That certainly is a very difficult question."
There was silence for a minute, and then Ralph, evidently disappointed
she had not said more, asked: "Can you not suggest anything?"
"No, I cannot; but if it is God's will He will show you how it can be
done."
"God won't do for us what we can do for ourselves," he answered a little
impatiently. "I hardly like mentioning it, but haven't you some money in
the bank?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Three hundred pounds. It was my mother's money; and the interest has
helped to buy my clothes, because father could not afford to give us
much pocket-money."
"Couldn't I have that money? Of course, I shall give you pocket-money
enough."
"You can have some of it, most certainly."
"Not all?"
"Wouldn't half do?"
Ralph got up from his chair, went to the window, and then said slowly,
"Yes, that will do."
"We will go and draw it out next week," said Phebe, "if you like."
"Yes; and of course you had better change the name, had you not? And it
will seem more businesslike if you draw the whole of it and then put the
half of it back in my name. It will be yours all the same."
"I don't mind," said Phebe, "if that will please you."
"Please me! I'm not a child." Fortunately, just then he was called into
the shop.
"Am I selfish?" questioned Phebe anxiously to herself. "Have I done
wrong? Ought I to let him have the whole? But I am sure father would be
cross if I did."
All that day there was sunshine without, but very little within. Phebe
worked hard to make the house more homelike; some rugs were laid on the
parlour floor, two arm-chairs established each side the table, ferns
arranged in the grate, vases of flowers put on the chimney-piece,
pictures hung up, curtains placed at the window--and yet it seemed
dreary. But how can there be sunshine in a room when there's a shadow on
the spirit?
After tea Ralph said: "I am going to Sunbury to a meeting this evening."
"Oh, I am glad; I shall enjoy that."
"But, dearest, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have promised to walk
with old Mr. Cope, and it is too far for you. Besides, if you don't
mind, I should like you to attend to the shop a little, just to check
bills and take cash, for I am a young man short to-day. Will you?"
"Oh, yes," replied Phebe gaily, trying hard to let the feeling of pride
that Ralph thought her capable of doing this conquer the feeling of
disappointment. "I shall be delighted to do it for your sake." And after
that sweet little speech Ralph kissed her.
The young man who was left in charge of the shop, being of a rather
fiery disposition, and having resented somewhat Phebe's advent into the
establishment, thought he would take this opportunity of having a little
revenge.
"Do you like business, Mrs. Waring?" he asked, when they were alone.
"I hardly know, having had no experience."
"Well, I suppose it is with you as with me, it is all the same whether
we like it or not--we have got to do it."
"I don't think the cases are quite parallel," she said, with a smile.
"Oh, I thought they were, for when the governor gave Dick Forbes
notice--he left to-day, you know--he said he should not require his
services any longer, for when you came you would see after the business
when he was away. It must be nice to have a wife to look after things
while you are away enjoying yourself."
"Your master is away doing God's business," she replied with dignity,
and straightway walked into the parlour.
The dignity all vanished when she laid her head on her hands on the
table and had a little cry to herself. Things were all so different from
what she had expected, and such a loneliness seemed to have crept into
her heart! When she lifted up her tearful face she saw the bunch of
pansies quite close to her, and their faces seemed to look into hers and
whisper, "Heart's ease!" "What a comfort!" she whispered to herself.
"'Heart's ease,' yes, I know where to get it from. I know I feel
disappointed, but ought I not to ask: Is Ralph disappointed in me? and
is Jesus disappointed in me?"
"What a mean hound I've been!" thought the young shopman, as he caught
sight afterwards of her swollen eyes. "It would have served me right if
she had boxed my ears. She'll have enough to put up with without me
adding to it." And that same night he walked two miles to beg a bunch of
roses for her, saying as he gave them to her: "Please forgive me for
having been rude to you."
* * * * *
When a king had chosen the design for the gold work of his signet and
selected the stone, carefully studying its hue and markings, then came
the _making_ of the signet: the gold was put in the fire, and the gem
under the lapidary's hammer.