LITTLE STEPS BY THE WAY.
BUT Kathie found that the regiment's marching off to Virginia had not
taken all the interest of life. They had left the woods behind, glowing
with rich autumnal coloring, the glorious blue heavens, the ripening
fruits, and the changeful scenes, that opened afresh every day.
Her afternoons were quite a delight. Uncle Robert always held himself in
readiness, and they had either a ride or a ramble. There were new
collections of ferns to make, and with these she often had an
entertaining lesson in botany.
October was very pleasant indeed. There was no frost to mention until
the middle of the month, and by that time the flowers were safely
housed. Hugh Morrison had built a conservatory against the south side of
the barn, and promised Kathie bouquets all winter.
Kathie began to look up her old friends as well, and she joined the
girls in several nutting expeditions, at which they had rare fun.
Withal she had a brief note from Ada, who wondered if she approved the
foolish step Uncle Edward had taken. Papa was positively angry about it!
And then the idea of going out as a private, even if it was in a "crack"
regiment. However, they really didn't mean to fight, and that was some
comfort. He would be at home by the first of January.
But General Grant evinced no desire to go into winter quarters, while at
the South and West there was unusual activity.
"It looks as if there might be considerable fighting before Christmas!"
declared Uncle Robert.
For the few who chose to find them there were duties enough. Brookside,
as well as other places, began to feel the effects of the war. There
were soldiers' widows and orphans, the sick and the wounded who were
sent home to make room for newer cases. Then the churches at Brookside
decided to give a grand Fair and Festival for this benevolent object, to
be held Thanksgiving week.
Kathie found her hands quite full. Still she found time to dust the
parlor every morning and take care of her own room, and often managed
to get half an hour for her music practice. To be sure, she did not
dawdle over her dressing, neither was there a waterfall wonderfully
constructed, and adorned with puffs and braids.
"I mean to keep my little girl simple in her tastes as long as I can,"
Mrs. Alston replied to the dressmaker. "Nothing can be prettier than her
hair as it is, and I do not feel justified in dressing her expensively
when there are so many children suffering with cold and hunger."
"But young girls feel so sensitive on these matters," was the reply.
"They all want to look like their companions."
"I hope there are some sensible mothers left," returned Mrs. Alston with
a smile.
Kathie was very much interested in getting contributions and making
fancy articles, though hers tended rather to the useful. And Aunt Ruth,
to her great amusement, made up a dozen stout gingham kitchen aprons
with bibs, a stack of kettle-holders, and knitted some dishcloths out of
soft cotton.
In the mean while Kathie was delighted with a letter from Mr. Meredith.
He was in the gayest spirits and related a host of comical episodes. He
had been in several skirmishes, but no regular battle, was well and
hearty, and brown as a berry already. Just at the last he said, "I have
not forgotten our pleasant ride, and the other fighting we talked
about."
Mr. Morrison was doing very well also. Kathie began to think that it was
not such a terrible thing to go to war, after all.
As for Rob, his record was pretty fair. He did confess to being a little
homesick at first. The Latin was "awful tough work," and some of the
rules "rather hard on a fellow who was new to them." But they had a
"jolly set of boys," and he liked it first-rate.
So Kathie had no need to worry about her soldiers. She said a little
prayer for them night and morning, and thought of them often. But she
was so busy and so happy that she was little inclined to look upon the
dark side.
The Fair was a decided success. It was held at Mason's Hall and opened
on Monday evening. Emma Lauriston, and a number of the larger girls,
were in attendance upon the tables. The band came up from Connor's Point
and discoursed patriotic music. The hall was large, well lighted, and
presented a very gay appearance.
But the most amusement was created by a "Dutch kitchen." Several ladies
had transformed a small ante-room into a very attractive place of
resort. There were great brown rafters overhead, from which depended
hams, flitches of bacon, strings of onions, bunches of herbs, and at the
edge were stowed away miscellaneous articles. A great eight-day clock,
chairs, and an old brass-handled dresser that might have come over in
the Mayflower, while four pretty young girls, in the quaint old costume
of their grand-mothers, waited upon the table with all grace and ease.
This was crowned with an immense dish of beans and pork, and a stout,
rosy Dutch woman was baking waffles. Altogether this was the place for
fun.
Kathie had been in and out half a dozen times. Her Fortunatus's purse
was full to repletion, and every time she passed the door she saw some
children standing there with wistful eyes. It was such a delightful
thing to make any one happy.
Sauntering round, she came to a rather oddly arranged table,--Miss
Weston's. She was the primmest and queerest of old maids,--a little
body with weak eyes and flaxen hair, who always looked at you sharply
through gold-bowed spectacles.
"O dear!" she exclaimed, "how you young things do go flyin' round! As
for me, I'm that tired I'm just ready to drop. I've been here ever sence
two o'clock and never set down a minnit. I fixed all my table myself,
and I made nigh onto all the things. Cousin Hitty, she sent me them
there child's aperns; but land! what a sight of folly it is to do all
that braidin' and nonsense! I never had no sech thing when I was little!
Been in the Dutch kitchen?"
"O yes, time and again."
"I'd like to go, I'm sure. I've been standin' stiddy on my feet sence
two o'clock. If some one would come along and take my table!"
"Couldn't I?" asked Kathie.
"O, you're so flighty! All gals are nowadays. Why, when I was no older
'n you I had seven bed-quilts pieced, and had begun to lay by sheets and
pillow-slips, and had a dozen pairs of as han'some hum-knit stockings as
you'd find in a day's walk!"
Miss Weston really did look tired. Kathie was debating whether she
should not insist, though this was an out-of-the-way corner, and rather
dull.
"Well, I guess I'll go. You won't be likely to sell anything; nothing
much sells the first night, and I hain't no nonsense and flummery. Good
useful articles, but nobody can see their virtue nowadays. It's the way
of the world!"--a little spitefully. "All the prices are marked in plain
figgers, and I won't have a thing undersold. O dear, I am a'most beat
out."
"I'll do my best," said Kathie, sweetly.
After giving about a dozen more orders Miss Weston moved slowly away,
though, truth to tell, she was more anxious to go than she appeared; and
whom should she meet just at the entrance but Mr. Denslow, who paid the
ten cents' admittance fee. Mr. Denslow, moreover, was a widower, and
Miss Weston had not quite given up the hope that the bed-quilts and the
stores of linen might some day be called into use.
Kathie took her place behind the table, and, when the moments began to
hang heavy, ventured upon a few improvements. The passers-by just gave
the place a glance, and preferred to go where there were some pretty
girls or some fun. Kathie found it exceedingly dull.
At last Mary Cox spied her out. Charlie Darrell was escorting her round.
"Why, Miss Weston," he said, softly, "where's your specs? And why isn't
your hair done up in queer little puffs?"
"What an ugly table!" exclaimed Mary. "How did you come to take it?"
"Miss Weston was so tired."
"She is in the Dutch kitchen, desperately sweet upon Mr. Denslow. It's
so seldom that she gets a beau that you needn't expect her for the next
hour. What a lovely time you will have waiting!"
Charlie would have been very well satisfied to stay and talk to Kathie,
but Mary wanted the amusement of rambling round and laughing with every
one; and though Kathie said, beseechingly, "Don't go!" Mary replied, "O,
we must!" and the child was left alone again.
Down at the end of the hall they were having a merry time. She saw grave
Emma Lauriston laughing, and Aunt Ruth was talking and smiling. Why
didn't some one think of her?
"How much fur these caliker aperns?" asked a country woman.
Kathie roused a little at the question, and took her eyes from the
entertaining circle.
"Half a dollar!"
"Half a dollar!"--in the utmost surprise. "Why, they ain't wuth it!
Ain't more 'n two yards of caliker in 'em, and I kin buy jest sich for
fifteen cents a yard."
"But the making," suggested Kathie.
"O, that was throwed in! Always is in char'table objects. Tell you what
I'll do,--give three shillin's apiece for two of 'em. It's a good
object."
Now Kathie knew that the calico could not be bought for less than
eighteen cents a yard, which would give just one cent profit; besides,
Miss Weston had charged her particularly not to undersell. "The table is
not mine," she answered; "I am keeping it for a friend."
Perhaps the woman considered there was a better chance of
bargain-making; at all events she lingered and haggled until Kathie grew
nervous, and wished Miss Weston would come.
"Well, you're dreadful dear,--that's all I've got to say"; and the
woman flounced off angrily. "It's just the way at these fairs and
things; but you can't cheat me out of my eyes, char'ty or not." Then
Kathie was left alone again.
Presently Harry Cox ran over. "We're having such fun, and Charlie sent
me for you. There's no one here, so why can't you shut up shop?"
Kathie longed to very much. She might keep an eye on the table and have
a little fun besides; but it would be deserting her post. No true
soldier would do that. "I'm obliged to you, but I think I had better
stay; Miss Weston will soon be here."
"She's an old humbug!"
The sights and sounds were so tantalizing! What _was_ Miss Weston doing
in the Dutch kitchen all this while?
At last a bit of good-fortune befell Kathie. Mr. and Mrs. Adams and Mr.
Langdon came along. Mr. Langdon had been away from Brookside for several
weeks, and had a host of questions to ask.
"But what are you doing over here? You look as if you had quarrelled
with your neighbors, and gone off in disdain."
Kathie explained that it was not her table.
"Have you sold anything?"
"Not a penny's worth!"
"Then I must patronize you a little," declared Mrs. Adams.
She found a number of useful articles, and some that she could give away
to her poor parishioners. Kathie was quite proud of the four dollars in
the small cash-box.
At last she was relieved, and gave a great breath of thankfulness.
"Is that _all_ you've taken in?" asked Miss Weston, rather sharply. "Are
you sure you've been here all the time? But you never can find any one
who will do for you as you do yourself."
"I did not have but one customer," returned Kathie, in justification;
and she felt that Mrs. Adams had made her purchases from a sense of
personal friendship.
"I might better 'a' stayed with my table," was the ungracious answer;
and that was all the thanks Kathie received for her kind deed and the
discomfort. But she solaced herself with the consciousness that a great
many good deeds meet with no reward in this world. Miss Weston must
certainly have had some pleasure, or she would not have stayed so long.
Kathie was glad to get back to her mother and Aunt Ruth. The great
source of amusement over here was the confectionery table with packages
of "gift" candy, each parcel of which contained a present, and some of
them were exceedingly comical.
"We have had such fun!" exclaimed Mary. "You don't know what you have
missed!"
But Charlie glanced up and met Kathie's eyes with a look that seemed to
understand it all; and Miss Jessie said afterward, "I think you were
very good to keep Miss Weston's table such a long while. I didn't know
but she meant to spend the whole evening in the kitchen."
At ten o'clock they began to put everything in order for closing up. The
evening had been a wonderful success, considering that it was the first.
Kathie was full of delight and excitement, and declared that she did not
feel a bit sleepy, though it was after eleven when she went to her room.
The sleepiness came the next morning. Lessons were rather dull work, and
she counted the moments eagerly until school closed. At first she had
half a mind to run over to the hall to see how matters were progressing.
"But then it will be so much gayer this evening," she thought to
herself, "and I must study my lessons a little."
She had sufficient courage to refuse all entreaties, and walked home by
herself, trying to recall several subjects on which she had not been
very perfect to-day. Mrs. Wilder was a little indulgent, for she knew
how much the Fair had engrossed their attention.
The house was very quiet, so Kathie studied and had a good long music
practice before mamma and Aunt Ruth returned. But as they were planning
at the supper-table Mrs. Alston said, "I would rather not have you go
to-night, Kathie."
"O mamma, why?"--with a touch of entreaty in her voice.
"You were up late last night, and you will want to be there again on
Wednesday evening. You certainly need a little rest between."
"But last evening was like--lost time to me, or pretty nearly. I stayed
at Miss Weston's table in that dull corner for more than an hour, while
the other girls were enjoying themselves."
"Was it really lost time?" and a half-smile crossed Mrs. Alston's face.
Kathie bethought herself. "I suppose it ought not to have been, but it
was very dull."
"Are you sorry that you did it?"
"Why, no,"--in a tone of faint surprise. "And yet she did not seem very
much obliged to me. Not that I cared so much for the thanks,"--rather
hastily.
"I was glad to see you willing to give up that much of your pleasure.
Miss Weston is peculiar, but she was very ready to help everybody all
the afternoon, and had her pins, scissors, strings, tacks, and hammer
always ready. She did a great deal of work."
"But what a pity she cannot be--"
"Well," said Uncle Robert, filling the long pause.
"A little more gracious, I believe I was going to say, or not quite so
'queer.'"
"It is unfortunate, when Miss Weston is so good-hearted in the main. But
then she always talks about the trouble she has taken, the hard work she
has done, and really dims the grace of her kind deeds."
"I came very near doing it myself," admitted Kathie, quite soberly.
"I do not believe Kathie desired any extra indulgence to-night because
she gave up hers last evening," exclaimed Uncle Robert, with that
namelessly appreciative light in his eyes.
"O no, do not think that of me, mamma, only I should like to go
to-night. All the girls are to be there."
"Three nights' dissipation in succession is rather too much for a little
girl, unless there was an urgent necessity. You will enjoy Wednesday
evening all the better for having had a rest."
Kathie entreated no further, but it was a great disappointment, the more
so because it had come so unexpectedly. And it seemed to her that she
felt rested and bright enough to keep awake until midnight. She had
studied all her lessons too.
However, she kissed her mother cheerfully. Aunt Ruth was tired, and did
not mean to go either.
"You might put me to bed," exclaimed Freddy, lingering in the
sitting-room.
Kathie somehow could not feel generous all at once. The idea of nursing
her disappointment awhile looked rather tempting.
"Why, I never do it now," she answered.
"No, you don't,"--considerably aggrieved. "Nor ever tell me stories,
either! And it's so lonesome since Rob went to school."
Kathie had a faint consciousness that _not_ to think of herself would be
the best thing she could do.
"And you never told me about the Fair, either!"
"Well, run up to bed, and I will come presently," she said, in her
bright, pleasant way.
Freddy kissed Aunt Ruth and went off in high feather. It was quite like
old times to sit beside him and talk, and Kathie was not a little amused
by his questions, some of which were very wise for a little head, and
others utterly absurd. Then came some very slow, wandering sentences,
and Kathie knew then that dusky-robed Sleep was hovering about the
wondering brain until it could wonder no more.
"Good night,"--with a soft kiss.
Aunt Ruth was lying on the lounge, so she ran down to the drawing-room
and had half an hour's study over some "accidentals," that had tried her
patience sorely in the afternoon. Delightful and all as music was, how
much hard labor and persistence it required!
But by and by she could play the troublesome part with her eyes shut,
counting the time to every note.
"Mr. Lawrence cannot find any fault with that!" she commented inwardly.
So she went back to Aunt Ruth in a very sweet humor, and, drawing an
ottoman to the side of the lounge, sat down with Aunt Ruth's arm around
her neck.
The room looked so lovely in its soft light. The shadowy flowers and
baskets of trailing vines in the great bay-window, the dusky pictures on
the wall, and the crimson tint given by the furniture. It was so sweet
and restful that Kathie felt like having a good talk, so she drew a long
breath by way of inspiration.
"Aunt Ruth," she said, in a little perplexity, "why is it that a person
is not always willing to try to do right first of all? One wishes to and
does not in the same breath."
"I suppose that is the result of our imperfect natures; but it is good
to have the desire even."
"Yet when one means to try--is trying--will it never come easy?"
"Do you not find it easier than you did two years ago?"
"But I am older, and have more judgment."
"And a stronger will on the wrong side as well as on the right, beside
many more temptations."
"You conquer some of them, though."
"Yet with every new state of life others spring up. Life is a continual
warfare."
"And you never get perfect!"
"Never in this life."
"It is discouraging,--isn't it, Aunt Ruth?"
"Is it discouraging to eat when you are hungry?"
"Why, no!"--with a little laugh.
"It seems to me the conditions of spiritual life are not so very unlike
the conditions of physical life. It is step by step in both. The food
and the grace are sufficient for the day, but they will not last
to-morrow, or for a month to come."
"Yet the grace was to be sufficient always," Kathie said, with some
hesitation.
"And have you proved it otherwise?" The voice was very sweet, and Aunt
Ruth's tone almost insensibly lured to confidence.
"But what troubles me is--that little things--" and Kathie's voice
seemed to get tangled up with emotion, "should be such a trial
sometimes. Now I can understand how any great sacrifice may call for a
great effort; but after we have been used to doing these little things
over and over again--"
"One becomes rather tired of making the effort; and it is just here
where so many people who mean to be good go astray. They leave the small
matters to take care of themselves, and aspire to something greater; so,
without being really aware of it, they are impatient, selfish,
thoughtless for others, and fall into many careless ways. Would one
really grand action make amends for all?"
"No, it would not," Kathie answered, reflectively.
"So we have to keep a watch every moment, be fed every day and hour, or
we shall hunger."
Kathie sighed a little. Why had it not been as easy to be good and
pleasant to-night as some other times when mamma did not think a coveted
indulgence necessary? Yet her perplexity appeared so trivial that she
hardly had the courage to confess it even to this kind listener.
"You took the right step to-night, Kathie," said Aunt Ruth, presently.
"I was glad to see you do it. Brooding over any real or fancied burden
never lightens it. And though it seems a rather sharp remedy in the
midst of one's pain to think of or help some other person, it works the
speediest cure."
She saw that. So little a thing as entertaining Freddy had soothed her
own disappointment.
"But I ought not--" and Kathie's voice trembled.
"Stoicism is not the highest courage, little one. And God doesn't take
away our natural feelings when he forgives sin. There is a good deal of
sifting and winnowing left for us to do. And I believe God is better
pleased with us when we have seen the danger, and struggled against it,
than if it had not touched us at all. The rustle of the leaves seems to
give promise of fruit."
"I think I see," Kathie answered, slowly. "There is some marching as
well as all battle."
"Yes"; and Aunt Ruth kissed the tremulous scarlet lips.
Kathie was so soundly asleep that she did not hear mamma and Uncle
Robert come home. But she was bright and winsome as a bird the next
morning.