_AT MEETING._
FOR a good many days Fanny saw nothing more of Sarah Leyman. She was
not at the spring or down by the river, nor did she come to the house,
as Fanny had feared she would.
One day, however, Willy came in, bringing a pretty little birch bark
basket filled with beautiful wild raspberries. He said Sarah Leyman had
met him in the lane and handed him the basket, asking him to give it to
Mrs. Lilly.
"What beautiful berries, and what a nice little basket the poor girl
has made!" said Mrs. Lilly, admiring the basket, which was indeed most
ingeniously made, and lined with fresh green leaves. "I wonder where
she found the berries? I thought they were all over."
"Up on the mountains somewhere, I dare say," replied Oney. "They always
ripen ten days later up there. I wonder she dares run about as she
does, but she seems to have no more fear than a wild creature. They say
she is often gone whole days and nights together."
"Grandma, why is it so dangerous to go on the mountain without a
guide?" asked Fanny. "Are there wild beasts to hurt anybody?"
"It is dangerous for several reasons," replied Mrs. Lilly. "In the
first place, it is very easy for inexperienced persons to lose
themselves, and there are many dangerous places."
"Such as what?" asked Fanny.
"Such as precipices and deep cracks between the rocks into which one
might fall and never be found again, and bogs in which you might be
smothered and swallowed up in the mud. Then, in the upper part of the
mountain, there are often sudden fogs and showers and cold winds which
would chill you to the bone in five minutes."
"Are there any wild beasts?"
"Not on this side, though even here, I suppose, one might meet a bear
or a wildcat now and then. But on the other side they say there are
both bears and panthers, besides plenty of rattlesnakes, though I have
not heard of any being killed very lately. But the mountain is a very
dangerous place, and you must never go up alone as Sarah does. It is a
thousand pities the poor child has not a better home."
"What is the matter with her home?" asked Fanny.
"Well, her father is a bad man, to begin with. He drinks very hard at
times; and though he is a skilful workman, he will never do a day's
work as long as he can help it. His mother is—well, I don't mean to
be hard upon her," said Mrs. Lilly, "but the truth is, she is nothing
but a nuisance—an idle, gossiping, tale-bearing, mischief-making
slattern. If she spent half the time in taking care of her house and
family that she does in running about the village, picking up and
repeating slanders and gossiping with old Miss Clarke, she might keep
things going on well enough. But as it is, they never have anything
comfortable or decent from one year's end to another."
"Who was Sarah's aunt Sally?" asked Fanny.
"She was Mr. Leyman's sister, but as different from him as light from
darkness. A better woman never breathed, and while she lived the family
were somewhat respectable. She used to do tailoring and dressmaking,
and sometimes she went out nursing. She was one of the best hands in a
sick-room that ever I saw."
"What did she die of?" asked Fanny.
"Of hard work principally—of toiling night and day to support her great
lazy brother and his family. I never saw a child grieve so at a death
as Sarah did for her aunt. She was only eight years old, poor little
wild thing! But when they came to screw down the coffin, she screamed,
and threw herself upon it and would not let anybody touch it, and they
had to take her away by force. Does Sarah ever say anything about her
aunt?"
"I don't know," answered Fanny, coolly. "I never see Sarah nowadays.
You told me not to play with her, so I don't."
Willy's black eyes shot a glance at Fanny which said a great deal, but
he spoke not a word.
Fanny felt the look, however, and wondered how much Willy knew, and
whether he would be likely to tell of her.
The next Sunday, as they were coming home from church in the village,
Mrs. Lilly said to Fanny, "We are going to have some company this week,
Fanny. Mrs. Cassell and Mr. and Mrs. Brandon and Annie are coming up
here to spend the day on Wednesday, and perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Brandon
may stay a few days."
"Oh how nice!" said Willy.
And Oney added, "It will seem like old times to have Mr. Brandon about
the house again. But I must be careful, now that he has grown such a
great man. As likely as not, I shall be calling him Hugh, the first
thing."
"I dare say it wouldn't do any harm if you did," said Mrs. Lilly.
"Where in the world did 'you' ever know Mr. Brandon?" asked Fanny, with
an emphasis on the "you" which was not very polite, to say the least.
"He used to live with us once," replied Oney. "He was rather a delicate
boy, and his father used to send him to the mountains in summer, and he
spent all his college vacations with us after his father died. Don't
you remember the description of our house in his book—I don't remember
the name, but that story about the war?"
"I never read any of Mr. Brandon's books," said Fanny.
"Why, Fanny!" exclaimed Willy, who had an untamable appetite for books,
and who was perpetually astonished by Fanny's indifference to them.
"Why, it has lain on the table all summer."
"Well, what of that?" returned Fanny, tartly. "Is that any reason why I
should read it?"
"It would be a reason with me," said Willy; "besides, it is so
interesting."
"There's an odds in folks, you see, Willy," said Oney. "But hadn't you
better study it up, Fanny? Mr. Brandon might ask you some questions
about it."
"Dear me! I hope not," said Fanny, in alarm. "Do you think he will,
grandma?"
"No, my dear. Authors are not very apt to talk about their own books."
"Do you think he would be offended if I were to ask him about some
things in his other book—I mean the one about South America?" asked
Willy.
"No; I dare say he would be pleased to find that you had read his book
so carefully."
"I am glad of that, because there are ever so many things that I want
to know more about," said Willy. "I mean to get the book and look it
over again."
"Well, I shouldn't think you would want to, Willy," said Fanny, who
had her private reasons for being alarmed at Willy's announcement. "It
would look like putting yourself forward, and I am sure Mr. Brandon
would not like it. He isn't used to associating with all sorts of
people," said Fanny, with a grand air. "He associates with the best
families in Boston."
"Oh!" said Willy. "Well, I don't know about the first families in
Boston, but I don't mean to keep any company I am ashamed to own,
Fanny."
This hint alarmed Fanny, and she did not speak another word all the way
home; she was afraid Willy knew too much.
That evening Fanny went with the rest to the five-o'clock meeting in
the schoolhouse down the road. They were rather early, and took their
usual seats on the side of the room. Fanny liked this, because she
could watch all who came in, and make her remarks on their dress and
manners. The room was pretty full at last, for it was a cool, pleasant
evening, and quite a number of people walked up from the village to
attend the service.
Just as the first hymn was being sung, Sarah Leyman came in and slipped
into a seat near the door. She had made herself as neat as she knew
how, and looked very handsome, for in spite of her dark skin, made
darker by exposure to all sorts of weather, Sarah was a beautiful girl.
She behaved with perfect propriety; and when she raised her head after
the first prayer, Fanny felt sure that she had been crying.
"Well, I declare!" said Fanny to herself. "I wonder what she will do
next? I wonder if she really means to do as she said! Oh dear! I am
sure I hope not, for then she will go and tell grandma."
And then for one moment Fanny saw how utterly mean and selfish she
was, and what a wicked and false life she was leading. That momentary
glimpse of herself might have done Fanny a great deal of good and saved
herself and others a great deal of distress if she had profited by
it. But she did not. She only went on thinking how she could possibly
manage to keep Sarah and her grandmother apart.
"Were you not surprised at seeing Sarah Leyman at meeting?" asked Oney
of Mrs. Lilly as they walked home together. "I should as soon have
expected to see one of the wild eagles off the mountain. But she looked
and behaved very well, didn't she?"
"Very well; and I was glad to see her there," replied Mrs. Lilly. "I
hope it is a good sign. I must try to have a talk with her some time. I
have a Testament that her aunt gave to my Eunice when they were girls
together; I think I will give it to Sarah. Perhaps she would read it
because it was her aunt's."
"I wouldn't, grandma," said Fanny; "she would only make all sorts of
fun of it, as she does of everything about religion. That's one reason
why I didn't want to play with her any more. She talked so she scared
me."
"I am sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Lilly.
"That's all she went to meeting for, I know," continued Fanny, growing
bolder, and determined at all hazards to prevent any chance of an
understanding between her grandmother and Sarah. "She will go home and
mimic the minister and deacon and poor Mr. Willson, and make all sorts
of fun of them. She has listened under the window on purpose before
now."
"Who told you?" asked Oney.
"She told me herself," returned Fanny, boldly. "I used to play with
her when I first came here, and I did play with her two or three times
after grandma forbade me, but I have not done it this long time—not
since I have been trying to be a good girl. If you talked to her ever
so kindly, she would only go away and make fun of you."
"Well, that wouldn't hurt me," said Mrs. Lilly, "and we can never know
what words will do good. I don't like to think that any girl can be a
hardened sinner at fifteen, and especially one who was the child of so
many prayers as Sarah."
"Mrs. Lilly," said Willy, "don't you think that a person who pretended
to be good and religious all the time that he knew he was wicked would
be a great deal harder to convert than one like Sarah Leyman?"
"No doubt," returned Mrs. Lilly. "Especially if the hypocrite were
self-deceived."
"I suppose hypocrites usually do impose on themselves more or less,"
remarked Oney.
"Almost always to some degree, I presume. A man who is destroying his
neighbour's body and soul by selling liquor, may very likely make
himself think that he is quite a good man because he gives away money
liberally; and another, who will cheat half an ounce in every pound he
sells, comforts himself by thinking that he keeps Sunday carefully,
and always has family prayers; and so of other things. I would rather
undertake to make an impression on poor Sarah, or even on Sam Leyman
himself, than on such a person. But I will certainly speak to Sarah if
I have a chance. It can at least do no harm. Oney, there is Squire Howe
before us, and I want to speak to him about drawing Mrs. Merrill some
wood. He said he would give her a load any time, and I dare say it will
be more convenient for him to do it before harvest."
Mrs. Lilly and Oney walked on quickly, and no sooner were the children
alone together than Willy broke out with more than his usual vehemence.
"Fanny Lilly, I do think that you are the very meanest creature that
ever lived in this world. Nobody but a girl could be so mean as
you are. You are as much worse than Sarah Leyman than she is worse
than—than Grandma Lilly," said Willy, finishing up with a grand climax.
"Why, Willy, what is the matter now?" asked Fanny. "What have I done to
you?"
"To me! You haven't done anything to me, only you are always hinting
about my being a hired boy and coming from the poorhouse, and Mr.
Brandon said himself that nobody but a snob would throw such a thing in
a fellow's face. But I don't care so much about that. It is the way you
treat Sarah Leyman that makes me despise you. As if I didn't know how
you have been with her day after day, going over to the Corners with
her, and all! As if I didn't know how she saved you from the bull! And
you never said one word about her, though it is the greatest wonder in
the world she wasn't killed."
"I should like to know how you found out anything about it," said
Fanny, trying to speak in an unconcerned manner.
"Because I saw it; that's all."
"I think you might have come to help us, than, instead of watching and
spying," said Fanny.
"I did come, but I was too late. I was up in the barn-loft and saw the
whole performance, but before I could get to you, it was all over. So I
went to find Mr. Wye and tell him about the bull. And after that, you
abuse her behind her back, and don't want your grandma to show her the
least kindness or even speak a good word to the poor girl. I suppose
you are afraid she will find out some of your secrets. I always thought
you knew more about that pie than you chose to tell."
Fanny was very angry, but she controlled herself; and answered,
quickly, "You are very much mistaken, Willy, as you will see when you
know all about it. I only met Sarah by accident that day. The only
reason that I didn't tell grandma and Oney how she saved me from the
bull was that she made me promise not to say a word about it, because
she said she left the bars down, and let out the bull herself. All
I said about her making fun of religion was every word true, only I
didn't tell it half as bad as it was, because I didn't like to repeat
such stuff, and because I didn't want to tell grandma how Sarah made
fun of her for praying in the meeting Thursday evening, and for sitting
at the table with a dirty nigger, like Oney. Those were her very words."
"Oney isn't a nigger, and if she was, she couldn't help it; and I don't
think nigger is a very pretty name to call any one," said Willy.
"Nor I; and that wasn't the worst she said, by a great deal. As for
the pie," continued Fanny, feeling that she was "in for it," and that
a few more lies would not make much difference—"as for the pie, you
are right, Willy. I do know—or at least I have a very good guess—where
it went, but I wasn't going to say what I thought when Sarah and I had
played together. I would like to have Sarah a good girl as well as
anybody, and I have talked to her myself, but there is no use in it.
She only makes fun of me, and I don't want her to make fun of grandma.
"I know I have hurt your feelings, sometimes, Willy, but I never meant
to do it, and I beg your pardon. You see things are very different here
from what they are in Boston. There were two girls who came to our
school last winter, and everybody liked them at first, but by and by
the girls found out that their mother was a dressmaker, and after that
a good many of the scholars would not speak to them. I heard Cousin
Emma tell of a gentleman who refused to be introduced to a young girl
at her house because he thought she was not genteel enough."
"If I had been master of the house, he would have seen the outside of
it pretty suddenly," said Willy, who had the instincts of a gentleman.
"Besides, I know all Boston people are not like that. Those gentlemen
who came up and camped out on the mountain last summer were as polite
and pleasant to everybody as they could be."
"Well, anyhow, that was the reason I didn't like to see Sarah at
meeting, because I knew why she had come," persisted Fanny, returning
to the first subject. "Of course I am thankful to her for saving me
from the bull, though she got me into the scrape in the first place,
but that doesn't prevent me from seeing her faults."
"Humph!" said Willy, not more than half satisfied. "Well, anyhow, I
hope Grandma Lilly will have a real good talk with her."
"And so do I, because, after all, it won't hurt grandma if Sarah does
make fun of her, and perhaps grandma may do her some good," said Fanny.
But in her heart she was determined that this talk should never take
place if she could help it.