Homesick
IN spite of such luxuries as Ruth had never before enjoyed, and the
fact that there was little restraint put upon her, she did not feel in
her new home a real content.
After a week it was decided that she should not go to school, Mrs.
Mayfield insisting upon a governess who could give some attention to
Bertie. One was found who suited the lady but to whom Ruth took a
dislike at first sight, and never thereafter did she feel comfortable
when Mlle. Delarme's sharp eyes were fixed upon her. Lessons in French
and music were those upon which Mademoiselle laid the most stress, the
rest amounted to little.
Mademoiselle was sly and put forth her best efforts to please Mrs.
Mayfield, and, consequently, made much of Bertie. Ruth, though well
clothed and fed, starved for those things which she craved. She longed
for her Aunt Hester's loving notice and appreciation. She sighed for
Billy's bluff companionship, and she was very, very lonely. Her uncle
was absorbed in business and she saw him seldom. He always gave her a
kind smile when they met, asked if she were well, and if she needed
anything and there the interest ended.
On several different occasions, he had given her money, telling her
to spend it on whatever she liked, but she, with a wise frugality,
had saved nearly every penny till her hoard amounted to nearly five
dollars. At Christmas she would perhaps spend it to send home gifts to
those she truly loved.
Mrs. Mayfield was fond of society and was rarely at home unless to
entertain some guest. The children had their meals in the nursery with
Mademoiselle, took their drives and walks with her, and although Bertie
would not be kept within bounds and frequented any part of the house at
will, Ruth rarely went beyond the confines of the nursery. She still
had her little hall bedroom, and Mademoiselle was now given a room upon
the same floor, though Ruth would have preferred her to be elsewhere.
"J'ai, tu as, il a," crooned Ruth one afternoon as she sat in the
nursery, studying a lesson.
"Oh dear, I don't want to study French," she sighed. "It won't be a bit
of use to me, for when I grow up I shall go back to Springdale. I may
go sooner than that. None of the girls there will learn French. Well,
perhaps Lucia will if she goes away to boarding-school, and perhaps
Nora might. I reckon after all I'd better study it, for Nora might get
ahead of me and say things to Lucia that I couldn't understand."
So she bent herself again to her task. "J'ai, tu as, il a. Nous avons,
vous avez, ils ont." Her eyes wandered from her book.
She looked out of the window to where a pair of sparrows were fussing
and quarreling on a twig near-by. There was little else to be seen but
roofs and chimneys, a church spire in the distance and a line of fence
enclosing back yards. Her eyes returned to her book.
"J'ai, tu as, il a. I think I know that. Now those horrid exercises.
Why should I care anything about the brother of his aunt? It doesn't
make any difference to me whether she has a gold shoe or not. French is
so silly. We never talk about such things."
At this moment, she heard Bertie's hurrying step upon the stair and
presently he came dancing into the room crying: "Ya! Ya! Ya! I've got
it."
Ruth looked up quickly to catch sight of Bertie jumping around the room
holding aloft her precious Hetty. She sprang to her feet in an instant
and snatched the doll away. Bertie flew at her in a transport of rage,
but she held the doll tightly though he kicked and yelled.
The commotion brought Mrs. Mayfield who chanced to be at home. "What is
it, precious?" she cried as she entered the room.
"Ruth won't let me have that old doll and I'm going to get it, I am.
I'll smash it all to pieces," cried Bertie, dancing up and down in a
fury.
"Why don't you let him have it, Ruth?" said Mrs. Mayfield. "I'll get
you a better one."
"I don't want a better one," replied Ruth, fiercely. "I don't want any
but this. There isn't another like her and you couldn't get me one that
would be half so dear."
"Well, I am sure you are very disobliging," said Mrs. Mayfield. "Never
mind, Bertie, if you want a doll to play with mother will get you one
much prettier than this."
"Don't want it. Want one to smash," cried Bertie.
"Oh, but you don't want to smash Ruth's doll, do you?" asked his mother
in a coaxing tone.
"Yes, I do, I do. It's ugly and I'm going to. Make her give it to me,
mamma."
"Do give it to him, Ruth," continued Mrs. Mayfield. "I will give you a
much handsomer one. You shall go down-town with Mademoiselle and choose
any you want."
But Ruth held steadfastly to her own. "I don't want any other and I
couldn't give this away to be broken up," she said. "She's the only one
of the family I have here to remind me of my home, and I can't give her
up."
Whereupon, Bertie burst into screams of anger and disappointment,
flinging himself upon the floor in one of his fits of temper.
"After all your uncle has done for you, I think it is a very little
thing to ask," said Mrs. Mayfield in an offended way, addressing Ruth.
Then meeting no response, she took a different tone. "You must give it
to him, Ruth. I wish you to obey me."
"Oh, Aunt Lillie, I can't." The tears came into Ruth's eyes as she held
Hetty more tightly.
"I command you," returned Mrs. Mayfield, haughtily, and then all Ruth's
defiance was aroused.
"I won't," she said. Then she started for the door. "I reckon you
wouldn't give your child either, to be torn to pieces by a—by a—wicked
Thing," she cried as she reached the door.
She hurried up-stairs feeling that here was an occasion which did
not demand obedience, yet frightened at her speech. There was not a
day when she was not called upon to give up something to Bertie, to
sacrifice her pleasures, her time, her possessions to his whims.
"He is younger than you," was always the plea, and Ruth, though not
always with a good grace, yielded the point. But here was an issue
which she felt was a different one from any that she had been called
upon to meet.
"It isn't right; it isn't," she said over and over to herself as she
climbed the stairs. "Aunt Hester wouldn't make me do it. I know she
wouldn't. Why Aunt Hester loves Hetty and Dr. Peaslee does and Billy,
and—why they would think it as bad as throwing a baby to the crocodiles
like a heathen mother. I'll have to hide you, Hetty darling, like Moses
in the bulrushes or like they had to hide the babies from wicked old
Herod. Bertie is just like Herod, so he is. I don't love him one bit,
and I am going to write to Aunt Hester, and tell her all about it. Oh,
where can I hide you, my darling Hetty, so the wicked evil foe will not
seek you?"
Bertie's screams still ascended from the floor below and Ruth could
hear his mother trying to comfort him.
"Did that naughty Ruth tease my baby? Wouldn't she let him have the
ugly old doll? Never mind, mamma will let Katie take him down-town and
get him something nice. What does baby want?"
"Want Ruth's doll," persisted Bertie.
"Oh, but wouldn't you like some nice candy and a pretty toy? Let Katie
dress you and take you out to get you something nice? We won't get Ruth
anything, will we? She shall not go with you and Katie."
Ruth's lip curled as she heard this. "Silly talk," she murmured. She
had no great respect for her Aunt Lillie.
At last Bertie was pacified and was led away by the long-suffering
nurse while Ruth remained in her room.
Mademoiselle was out for the afternoon, and when she had completed the
task the governess had set her to do, she would be free to do as she
chose.
Bertie seldom descended upon Ruth, and indeed, she was careful to have
nothing within reach of his mischievous fingers, but to-day she had
left Hetty sitting upon the bed and Bertie had discovered her. It would
never do to leave her anywhere in sight again, nor could she keep her
where an older person than Bertie might find her. Ruth did not trust
Mademoiselle, and believed if Bertie persisted in wanting the doll, as
he was very likely to do, that Mademoiselle would not hesitate to find
Hetty and give her into the little boy's ruthless hands.
She closed her door softly and looked around the room for a
hiding-place. None seemed possible at first, but at last Ruth
discovered a safe one. A small window seat had been placed before the
one window. It opened and shut like a box. Between the back of this
box and the wall under the window there was a space over which a small
board had been placed to cover the space which was caused by a slight
jutting out of the window, making an irregular opening. Ruth found that
she could lift the board, shove it back in place and cover it again
with the cushion of the seat. She gave Hetty a loving kiss and stowed
her away in this retreat.
"You mustn't be afraid, dearest," she said. "Nothing shall hurt you. I
shall not let anything smite you by day nor by night. I'll pray that
the angels will watch over you just as much as if they could see you
in bed with me. I shall take you out every day and lock my door so we
won't be disturbed."
And she went back to her French exercises with a cheerful face. When
she had completed them, she heard the clamor of Bertie's return and ran
back to her room.
Her aunt treated her with cold disdain when they next met and Ruth gave
her head a little defiant toss.
"If she 'spises me, I reckon I can 'spise her," she told herself, and
more than ever she kept out of the way.
She had been in her aunt's rooms but seldom, though the magnificence
of them charmed her. On the dressing-table were such beautiful shining
things; the soft couch was piled high with wonderfully embroidered
cushions, and the whole place was always redolent with some faint sweet
odor. The costumes which Mrs. Mayfield wore, too, were such as Ruth
thought fit for a queen. Once or twice she had seen her sweeping down
the stairway in exquisite evening dress and she wondered what Nora
Petty would say if she knew Ruth were living in the same house as such
a fairylike being.
Although she gave a wondering admiration to all the beautiful things
with which her Aunt Lillie surrounded herself, Ruth gave her aunt
no affection, for she did not demand it. She treated the child with
tolerance but that was all. Bertie occupied the only place which she
had in her heart for children, and him she spoiled and petted till all
natural good in his nature was smothered by indulgence.
Bertie did not forgot the doll in spite of the candy and the new toy
with which his mother had provided him, and the very next day he
climbed the stairs to the top floor bent on finding Hetty. It was
sufficient for Bertie to be denied a thing for him to want it beyond
anything else. He looked around the room. No doll was in sight, but on
Ruth's washstand stood the little flowery mug, Billy's parting gift.
Possessing himself of this, he went down to the nursery where Ruth was
reciting her "J'ai, tu as, il a."
"I want Ruth's doll," he said to Mademoiselle.
"He can't have it," returned Ruth quickly.
Mademoiselle looked sharply at her. "Vy not, mees?"
"Because he only wants it to break up and I can't have her smashed all
to pieces."
"I want to play wif her. Mayn't I play wif her?" whined Bertie.
"You may play wis har, of course. Go get zis doll, zis poupée but say
first what is doll. It is poupée, poupée. Repeat."
"Poupée, poupée," repeated Ruth obediently.
"Say, zen to your cousin, 'I give you my doll—Je vous donne ma poupée.'
Repeat."
But Ruth did not repeat. Instead she stood silent.
Mademoiselle's little eyes snapped. "Repeat, I say. At once; toute de
suite. Je vous donne ma poupée."
"I can't," replied Ruth in a low tone. "I would be telling a story,
because I am not going to give him my doll."
"You are not when I say?" Mademoiselle sprang to her feet. "You sall,
you mees, I make you."
Ruth faced her, very pale. "What will you do?" she asked slowly.
"I punish you."
"Then I will tell my uncle and I will ask him, too, if I must give my
precious doll to Bertie to break up. I will tell him all about my Hetty
and I know he will not make me give her up."
"You meeserable leetle mouse, you souris which pretend so shy and meek
and have the viciousness of a rat, you sall not defy me, Antoinette
Delarme."
Just at this moment, Bertie entered, having taken his cause into his
own hands. "You'd better give me your old doll," he threatened, holding
behind him the mug which he had brought from Ruth's room. "You'd just
better or you'll be sorry."
"I shall not do it," said Ruth steadily.
For answer Bertie dashed out in the hall, held aloft the mug for a
moment and then flung it down over the baluster. It went crashing
into a hundred bits upon the marble tiling in the hall below. Having
thus spent his fury, Bertie dashed away with an impish look over his
shoulder.
Ruth flew down-stairs without a word from Mademoiselle. The butler was
sweeping up the broken pieces.
"Oh, Martin," said Ruth, "it is my dear little mug. Bertie got it from
my room and threw it down here. Can it be mended, do you think?"
With a grim smile Martin showed the pieces.
The tears came to Ruth's eyes. "And Billy bought it for me with his own
money," she said, her lips quivering at the remembrance. "Oh, Martin,
please let me have one little flowery piece to keep," she said.
The man held out the dust-pan and Ruth selected a piece upon which a
rose still showed entire. "I'll keep this forever," she said. "Thank
you, Martin."
The man shook his head as he looked after her making her way to the
upper floor. "That spoiled young un," he muttered. "I'd just like to
see him get one good spanking."
Mademoiselle sat up stiff and uncompromising when Ruth returned to the
nursery. "Babee," she said contemptuously, as she perceived Ruth's
tears. "What is it to weep for, a leetle cheap sumpsin as zat?"
"It wasn't because I thought it was very fine," said Ruth, "but it was
because Billy gave it to me. I was going to drink my milk from it at
the table, but I saw it looked funny with the other things and so I
kept it in my room. Bertie knew I loved it."
"He is but an infant," returned Mademoiselle, "but because he have
bestowed upon you a punishment, I will not more punish you for the
disobeying me except that I make you a longer lesson to-morrow. You are
repeat all the verb To Have, all, all."
"Oh, Mademoiselle, it will take me every minute to learn it."
"All, all," repeated Mademoiselle with a wave of her hand as dismissing
the subject.
And Ruth, with a rebellious feeling in her heart, went to her task.
She listened that evening for her uncle's latchkey, hiding herself
behind the heavy curtains of the library.
As his step rang upon the tiled floor, she went to meet him.
"Well, Ruthie," he said kindly, "are you the only one at home?"
"Aunt Lillie has gone to a tea," she replied, "and I don't know where
Bertie is. Uncle Sidney, do I have to give him my doll?"
"Your doll? Bertie doesn't play with dolls, does he?"
"He wants mine."
And then Ruth told him how she came into possession of Hetty, of how
Henrietta had come to grief, ending with, "And there isn't another one
like Hetty in all the world, Uncle Sidney. I love her so dearly."
He put his hand on her head. "No," he said, "of course, you don't have
to give her up. Lillian certainly spoils that boy," he added half to
himself.
Then to Ruth. "If anybody wants to interfere with your belongings,
little girl, just send them to me. I'll speak to your Aunt Lillie about
this."
And Ruth was going away satisfied, leaving her uncle to his newspaper
and the comfort of the library fire, when he called her back. "Here are
some picture papers," he said, "don't you want to look at them?"
He produced a bundle of papers, unrolled them upon the table before
her, and she felt a warmth of heart at the unwonted attention.
Mrs. Mayfield coming a few minutes later, looked with surprise at the
child absorbed in the pictures. Ruth was rarely seen at that hour.
Mr. Mayfield glanced up from his paper. "See here, Lillie," he said,
"don't insist upon Ruth's giving up her toys to Bertie. I won't have
it. You spoil that boy."
"Oh," said Mrs. Mayfield giving Ruth a little contemptuous glance, "she
has been telling tales, has she?"
"She has been defending her rights," returned Mr. Mayfield, "and I
don't want the occasion for it to come again."
Mrs. Mayfield raised her eyebrows. "Such a tempest in a tea-pot," she
said walking out of the room.
Ruth shot her a glance from under long lashes as the trailing velvet
robes disappeared, a glance that was quite as scornful as Mrs. Mayfield
could summon to her own face.