"There he comes!" and Hope ran forward out of the little garden to meet
her father, as he came down the street, while her mother turned from the
door where she had been waiting and watching with Hope, and went back
into the tiny dining-room to put a few finishing-touches to the
supper-table. Mr. Benham nodded as he caught sight of Hope. Then he
called out,--
"How's business?"
"Two dollars more!"
"Well, well, you'll be a big capitalist soon at this rate, and grind the
poor."
"Poor engineers like John Benham!" and Hope laughed gleefully at their
joint joke.
"Yes, poor engineers like John Benham, who have extravagant daughters
who want to buy violins. But, Hope, you mustn't get your thoughts so
fixed on this violin business that you can't think of anything else.
Your school, you know, begins next week."
"Yes, I know. I sha'n't neglect that. I wouldn't get marked down for
anything."
"You're going to learn to be a teacher, you know; keep that in mind."
"I do; I do. Oh, father dear, don't worry about the music! 'All work and
no play makes Jack a dull boy,' you said the other day. Now, music is my
play. Some of the girls in my classes go to dancing-school, and do lots
of things to amuse themselves. They don't seem to neglect their lessons,
and why should I, with just this one thing outside, that I like to do?"
There was a twinkle in John Benham's eyes, as he looked down at his
daughter.
"Who taught you to argue, Hope?"
"A poor engineer named John Benham," answered Hope, as quick as a flash.
John Benham laughed outright at this quick retort; and as he opened the
gate that led into the little garden in front of his house, he put his
arm over his daughter's shoulder, and thus affectionately side by side
they walked along the narrow pathway. They were great friends, he and
Hope. He used to tell her that as she was an only child, she must be son
and daughter too, and he had very early got into the habit of talking to
her in a confidential fashion that had the effect of making her a sort
of little comrade from the first.
The young lady who had wondered at the little flower-seller's looking
and speaking just like any other well-brought-up little girl would have
had further cause for wonder if she could have followed the engineer and
his daughter into their home, and seen the good taste of its pretty
though inexpensive furnishing and arrangements. Locomotive engineers
were unknown persons to this young lady. They belonged to the
laboring-class; and that in her mind included all mechanical workers,
from the skilled artisan to the ignorant hod-carrier and wielder of pick
and shovel. She knew that the latter lived poorly, in poor quarters,
crowded tenement houses, or shabby little frame cottages or cabins of
two or three rooms. As the difference in the different work did not
occur to her, neither did the possible difference in the manner of
living.
There are older people than this young lady, this pretty Mary Dering,
who are almost as unintelligent about the workers of the world, and they
would have been almost as astonished as she, not only at the good taste
of the simple furnishings, but at the signs of intelligent thought in
the collection of books and magazines on the table. If pretty Mary
Dering, however, could have seen all these things, she would not have
wondered so much at Hope's speaking and looking like any well-brought-up
little girl.
Hope _was_ a well-brought-up little girl, as you will see,--as well
brought up as Mary herself, or Mary's sister Dolly, who was just Hope's
age. If you had said this to Mary Dering, she would have told you that
she could not imagine a well-brought-up child selling things on the
street. Dolly would never have been allowed to stand in public places
and cry, "Ten cents a bunch! ten cents a bunch!" under any
circumstances. But Mary did not know how much circumstances altered
cases; and for one thing, if she _could_ have seen Dolly in Hope's place
for one half-hour, she would have had to own that Hope was much the
better behaved of the two, for in spite of Dolly's bringing up, she was
the greatest little rattler in public places, calling down upon herself
this constant remonstrance from each one of her family, "Now, Dolly, do
try to be quiet, like a lady!"
"But why, why, _why_," you ask, "did Hope, with such a nice, intelligent
father, who could buy all those magazines and books,--why did she need
to earn the money herself, to buy a violin?"
I'll tell you. To begin with, all those books and magazines were not
bought by Mr. Benham; they were, with one or two exceptions, taken from
the Boston Public Library. Mr. Benham's salary was only fifteen hundred
dollars a year, and it took every cent of this to keep up that simple
little home, and put by a sum every week for a rainy day.
Hope loved music, and she loved the music of a violin beyond any other
kind. One day when she was in Boston, she saw the dearest little violin
in a shop-window. What possessed her I don't know, for she knew she
hadn't a penny in the world; but she went in and asked the price of it
with the easiest air imaginable.
"Twenty-five dollars," the shopkeeper told her.
"Oh!" and Hope drew in her breath. Twenty-five dollars! It might as well
have been twenty-five thousand dollars, for all the possibility of her
possessing it.
"Don't--don't they have cheaper ones?" she asked timidly.
"They have things they _call_ violins for ten, fifteen, twenty dollars,
but they'd crack your ears. If you're going to learn to play, this is a
good little fiddle for you to begin with, for it's true and sweet;" and
the shopkeeper lifted it up and drew the bow across the strings, in a
melodious, rippling strain that went to Hope's heart.
The man thought that she was going to take lessons; and she could, if
she only had an instrument, for Mr. Kolb, an old German neighbor of
theirs, who had once been the first violin in a famous orchestra, had
said to her more than once when she had listened to his playing with
delight: "Some day your fader will puy you a little violin, and I will
teach you for notting, Maedchen; you have such true lofe for music."
But twenty-five dollars! Oh, no! it could never be! and Hope went out of
the shop with her plans laid low.
A few minutes later, as she was walking to the station, she heard a
boy's voice, crying, "Ten cents a bunch! ten cents a bunch!"
She looked up, and saw that he held some very meagre little nosegays of
arbutus,--meagre, that is, as to the arbutus, but made sizable by the
border of stiff arbor-vitae. Then, all at once, the thought flashed into
her mind. Why shouldn't she turn flower-seller? She knew where the
arbutus grew thick, thick; and why, why--There was no putting the rest
of her thoughts into words; but right there on the street she gave a
little jump, and hummed the rippling strain she had just heard drawn
from the good little fiddle.
Twenty-five dollars! What was that now with "Ten cents a bunch! ten
cents a bunch!" ringing in her ears with such alluring possibilities?
Mr. Benham at first would not hear to the flower-selling plan; but when
he saw that Hope's heart was set upon that "good little fiddle," when he
heard her say to her mother, "If father can't buy the fiddle for me, it
seems to me he might let me try to buy it for myself," he began to
relent; and when the mother and he had a talk, and the mother said, "Of
course you can't afford to buy it, John, for we are a little behind now,
with your and my winter suits, and the new range to pay for yet; but as
I really think it will be a good thing for Hope to learn to play the
violin, I don't see why it wouldn't be a good thing for her to earn it
herself," he relented still more, and when the mother said further, in
answer to his objections to having Hope hanging around in public places,
as a little peddler, "John, you can trust Hope; she is a sensible
child," he relented entirely; and the next week after, Hope entered upon
her business as a flower-seller.
The success of that first day was a surprise to her father, and he
warned her not to expect anything like it on the succeeding days,
telling her that the weather would very likely turn chilly and rainy,
that fewer people might be going and coming from town, and that even
these might not stop to buy flowers. He did not want to discourage her;
he simply wanted to prepare her for disappointment. But Hope was not
doomed to disappointment in this direction. The succeeding days proved
both pleasant and profitable; especially profitable were Wednesday and
Saturday afternoons, when so many ladies went in to the matinee
performances. Yet with all this success, this pleasantness of weather,
and steady increase in her sales, there was something very _un_pleasant
for Hope to bear,--something that she had not in the least looked for,
because she had never before met with anything like it.