THORNS IN THE PATH.
IT appeared to Kathie that she had never known so long a fortnight as
the first two weeks of Uncle Robert's absence; yet everything had gone
on just the same, none of the duties were changed, only the absence and
the dreadful suspense.
Yet something else had happened, or was working itself out slowly day by
day. Among the new scholars were several quite stylish and fashionable
girls, who felt inclined to draw a line, or make some kind of a social
distinction.
Foremost among these was Isabel Hadden, a tall, showy girl, who prided
herself upon her figure and style. Her father had made a fortune as an
army contractor, and was now in Washington. He had purchased a very
pretty country residence at Brookside, and installed his family there,
though Mrs. Hadden frequently joined him for weeks at a time.
Belle had been at a second-rate boarding-school for a year before the
family had attained their present grandeur. Now a distant connection
filled the position of governess to the host of younger children; but
Belle considered herself too large to come in with "that crowd," as she
rather disdainfully termed them.
She was sent to school every morning in the carriage, and it not
infrequently came for her in the afternoon. Rather distant and haughty
at first, she had not made friends very easily. Mrs. Thorne happened to
meet Mrs. Hadden at an evening party, and it was followed by a mutual
acquaintance. Thereupon Isabel and Lottie became friends, though the
latter was somewhat younger. Lottie's mother was very ambitious for her,
and since Mr. Thorne would not consent to the expense of a
boarding-school, she sent Lottie to Mrs. Wilder, as it was so much more
genteel.
Belle became the leader of the small clique who discussed fashions
habitually. She criticised the dresses, cuffs, collars, and laces for
the edification of her youthful hearers, until Emma Lauriston said one
day, "Miss Hadden is as good as a fashion-magazine. I don't know but
she would be invaluable in a fancy goods' store."
Lottie still kept to her old habit of calling upon Kathie for assistance
when lessons were puzzling. For several days in succession she had
occupied Kathie's short intermission, and Mrs. Wilder found that she
began to depend too much upon this kindly help.
"Miss Kathie," her teacher said at length, "I have a request or a
command in my mind,--you can consider it as which ever is easiest to
obey," and Mrs. Wilder smiled.
Kathie smiled as well, in her pleasant fashion.
"I am sorry to find fault with any generous deed that school-girls do
for one another, but I think Lottie Thorne has come to depend altogether
too much upon you. It is hardly fair to occupy your few moments of
recreation when by a little closer application she could solve her own
problems and translations. This is really necessary for her own good."
"I did not like to be disobliging," Kathie answered, by way of excuse.
"Your generosity is carried almost to a fault at times. You must learn
to say 'No' occasionally."
Kathie's soft eyes were downcast. It _would_ be very hard to refuse.
"Lottie has as much time to study her lessons at home as you have, and I
am always ready to explain any difficulty. That is one of my duties
towards my pupils. I am in a measure answerable for her improvement; and
if she slips through upon the assistance of others she will be the loser
in the end. You understand what I mean?--that while I do not wish to
discourage a helpful feeling among the girls, I desire that each one
should study for herself."
"Yes," Kathie said, in a low tone.
"And, my little friend, it is necessary that one should learn to be just
as well as generous."
Kathie felt the force of the remark. Uncle Robert had explained this
occasionally to her in connection with Rob, who was rather fond of
making her extensively useful. Then she always hated to say no to
others. It was easier to sacrifice her own pleasures or desires.
To smooth the matter for her, Mrs. Wilder announced that morning that
she wished each girl's translations to be exclusively her own work, and
if there was any great difficulty she would be glad to have them apply
to her.
Kathie left the school-room the instant recess began. Lottie was still
puzzling over her algebra, and, having finished that, she took up her
imperfect French, meaning to go in search of her little helper.
Two or three girls were discussing a party.
"I helped Hattie Norman make out her list last night," said Belle
Hadden. "It is to be very select. Her mother insisted that all the
Brookside rabble should not be invited."
Hattie Norman was one of the new-comers. Lottie's heart beat a little
faster as she wondered whether she would be classed among the rabble.
"The Norman boys are elegant," pursued Belle. "They have all been to
dancing-school; and there will be two of Hattie's cousins from the
city,--five young gentlemen of one's own."
"You might tell us who the lucky ones are," pleaded a voice.
"That is _my_ secret. The invitations are to be sent out to-day. I
wouldn't miss it for anything. Mamma brought me an elegant tarlatan
overskirt the last time she came from New York. It is just a mass of
fluted ruffling. I shall wear it over my blue silk, I think; blue is so
becoming to me."
Lottie lingered, talking and listening, and before she imagined the
moments were half gone the bell on Mrs. Wilder's table rang.
"O Kathie, just stop an instant!" she cried; but the girls were hurrying
in, and somehow Kathie passed on with them. Fifteen minutes after, the
French class was summoned.
"You must write your translation over for to-morrow, Miss Thorne; and
yours, Miss Hadden, is not very perfect; a little revision would improve
it."
Much as she disdained the patient governess at home, Belle found her
very useful.
Kathie kept out of Lottie's way. It looked rather mean to her, but it
was better than an open refusal.
The trial came the next day, however. To Lottie's great delight, she was
invited to the party, and her head had been so full of it that all the
lessons suffered. She was casting about in her mind what she could have
new, or what could be altered to look like new.
"O Kathie!" she exclaimed at recess, "just help me out with these few
lines. I made so many blunders yesterday, and I was so busy last
evening."
"You remember what Mrs. Wilder said on Tuesday." Kathie's heart beat
rapidly with the effort, and she felt quite inclined to run away like a
little coward.
"What?--O, about asking _her_! but then she never tells one anything.
You might, I am sure; or if you will just let me read over your
translation."
"It would not be quite fair." Kathie's tone was rather slow and
hesitating.
"You needn't be so afraid! I should not copy," was the sharp answer.
"Just tell me this case."
One answer surely would not be a crime.
"And this line; I can't make beginning nor end of it."
"I am sorry, Lottie; but Mrs. Wilder said the girls were not to help
each other so much,--that each one was to get her own translation--"
"Well, I mean to get my own; I just asked you a question. You are very
short and hateful about it!"
"O Lottie, I do not want to disobey Mrs. Wilder! I would help you if I
could--if it was right." Kathie uttered the words hurriedly, as if after
a moment she should not have the courage to say them at all.
"You are setting up for a saint, we all know; and it is very convenient
to talk about right when one means to be cross and disobliging! I would
do anything _I_ could for a friend, I am sure."
Kathie was silent. She knew by experience that Lottie had a habit of
teasing until she accomplished her purpose.
"So you really won't do that little favor?"
"Miss Alston!" called one of the girls; and Kathie was glad to go.
Lottie dropped two or three tears of mortification and disappointment.
She had come to depend a great deal upon Kathie, and it was hard doing
without the help. "She is a hateful little thing, after all," was her
internal comment.
Belle Hadden let her look over her translation "just a moment." Lottie
had a quick eye and a good memory; but the lesson was not so perfect
that it could escape Mrs. Wilder's attention.
"Please take a little more pains, Miss Thorne," she said; "I shall have
to mark you for both days."
Coming out of school, they paused, in girl fashion, to say a few last
words. A rather rusty-looking rockaway wagon passed by, in which were
two females, one of whom was driving. The other leaned out suddenly,
with a cry of joy: "O Miss Kathie! Mother, stop,--do!"
Kathie colored a little. There was the identical purple bonnet and red
roses, and Sarah Ann had two long rooster-feathers stuck in her jockey
hat, which certainly were waving in the breeze rather ungracefully; but
the child went straight up to the wagon, thrusting aside the cowardly
shame.
"I'm so glad to see you! Do you go to school there? O my! what a lot
of--young ladies!" and Sarah blushed. "There's the one that laughed at
mother when we were at the Fair! Do you like her?"
"We are all schoolmates, you know," said Kathie, in a peculiar, but
gentle tone. "Are you well? This is quite a surprise!"
"You are a good, sensible gal," remarked Mrs. Strong, with a meaning
look, which showed Kathie that she was not so deficient in perception,
after all.
"O yes! How is your uncle? Jim thinks he's just splendid! We did have
such a nice time that day! I've commenced a long letter to you, and
I've read both books aloud. We liked the story so much! and I cried over
the Evangeline,--I couldn't help it. I'm so glad to have the picture!
Wasn't it sad?" and the ready tears came into Sarah's eyes.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you"; and Mrs. Strong's face softened to a
motherly glow. "I've come down to get a cousin whose husband was killed
in Tennessee fightin', and the poor thing's a'most begged her way back
with one little child, so I want her to come up and make a good visit
while she's gettin' over the worst. Sez I to father, 'We ain't suffered
any from the war, and gettin' good prices all the time for farmin'
truck, and it's a pity if we can't make it a little easier for them who
have.' She was such a nice young gal, and used to teach school there at
Middleville; but she's seen sights o' trouble sence. And then Sary Ann
begged to come, 'cause her father give her money to buy a new gown."
"And I coaxed mother to go to your house, but she wouldn't," said Sarah,
shyly. "I wanted to hear something about you so much! I'm so glad!"
"And so am I," returned Kathie, warmly.
Plain and unrefined as Mrs. Strong was, she had a good, generous heart.
"We must not keep Miss Kathie standin' here in the cold," she said.
"Which way you goin'?"
"Straight on to Crosby Street."
"I wish you'd jump in and ride."
"O do!" pleaded Sarah.
The girls had pretty well dispersed. Even Emma Lauriston was walking
slowly down the street. Kathie declined at first, but they urged so
strongly that finally she acceded; and, driving slowly, they had quite a
nice talk, though Mrs. Strong insisted upon taking her nearly home, as
their shopping was all done.
But the episode had not been suffered to pass unremarked.
"What an elegant turnout!" sneered Belle Hadden. "Some of Kathie
Alston's country relations, I suppose."
"No," answered Lottie, "it is some people she met at the Fair."
"What horrid taste,--and what coarse, uncouth creatures! Who _is_ Kathie
Alston, anyhow? A decided _parvenu_, to my thinking. Are they really
rich,--the Alstons?"
"No, it is Kathie's uncle, Mr. Conover. He made a fortune off in
Australia, I believe. They were poor enough before!" Lottie uttered this
rather spitefully. Kathie's refusal to assist her that noon still
rankled in her mind.
"Did they live here then?"
"O yes! in one of a row of little cottages; and Mrs. Alston had to sew
for a living."
The murder was out. Lottie had a misgiving that this was decidedly mean
and treacherous; and yet, she said to herself, it was every word true.
Why should the Alstons be ashamed of it? Only it did seem mortifying.
"This is just about what I thought. Kathie Alston hasn't a bit of style
or dignity; and how they _do_ dress her! There was some common linen
edging on that ruffle she wore to-day, and I don't believe she ever has
more than two dresses at the same time. Plebeian blood will tell. Hattie
Norman asked me about them, but I told her Kathie was only a little chit
that she wouldn't care to invite. I don't suppose they let her go to
parties, or that she knows how to dance. What is the inside of their
house like?"
"It is very beautiful."
"Tawdry and cheap, I fancy. Such people have no taste. There is a great
deal in birth. My mother was one of the Van Cortlands, of New
York,--real old blue blood; and I can always tell commoners. I wish
there could be some distinction here."
"Mrs. Alston is considered very ladylike," said Lottie, with a touch of
remorse.
"By people who are no judges, I suppose. And Mrs. Wilder treats Kathie
as if she were the greatest lady in the land! I think we ought to put
her down. Where I went to boarding-school we had two parties,--patricians
and plebeians,--and the plebeians were made to keep their places. There
ought to be just such a distinction here. The idea of being intimate
with a girl whose mother has worked for a living! Why, we shouldn't
think of recognizing our dressmaker in society!"
This sounded quite grand to foolish Lottie. That _she_ was considered
good enough to go to the Normans' to a party was a great thing. And then
Lottie remembered about some great-grandmother of hers, who had belonged
to the French nobility, and escaped during one of the revolutions.
Didn't that make her blood a little blue? If it would only make the
French exercises come easy as well!
Lottie scarcely noticed Kathie the next day. It was rainy, and the
"patricians" lingered about the stove, discussing the Norman party.
Eight or ten played blind-man's-buff in the walk, and had a gay time,
bringing the roses to their cheeks.
Two or three of them had bantered Kathie a little about her "friends,"
but she accepted it in a very good-natured way.
A day or two after, Emma Lauriston took her drawing over to the window
where it was lighter, and still lingered at the table when school
closed. Afterward they all fell into a pleasant talk.
"So you have come over to our side," exclaimed Miss Hadden.
"Your side?"--with a look of surprise.
"Yes, the patricians."
Emma Lauriston had always been called proud, and it was well known that
she was to be quite an heiress by and by, her grandmother having left
her a considerable fortune.
"I think there can be no question about my tastes or sympathies," she
said, rather haughtily. "Refinement, truth, and honor make my
nobility."
"Refinement is absolutely necessary to me," remarked Belle, with an
elegant air. "Sometimes I am teased about it, but all kinds of
coarseness and vulgarity are odious to me, whether it is in dress or
behavior. And loud voices or loud manners are equally my detestation."
Emma did not dissent. One or two thoughts of her own took up her
attention, and the rest of the talk seemed to float around her like the
waves of a distant sea.
Kathie remarked the change very quickly, for she was keenly sensitive.
That Lottie should be vexed with her she did not so much wonder at, but
why should the other girls shun her? She certainly had done nothing to
them. And it gave her a pang to see some small circle fall apart when
she joined it, each girl giving knowing glances to the others. Then,
too, she was left out of the plays and talks, and though they did
nothing absolutely rude, she seemed to understand that there was a kind
of social ostracism, and she was being pushed over to the side she did
not admire,--to the half-dozen rather coarse girls.
Belle was not slow in spreading abroad the report. The Alstons were
mushroom aristocracy. Nobody knew _how_ the uncle had made his fortune.
People did everything in Australia,--robbed, cheated, even murdered. And
Mrs. Alston had actually sewed for a living!
Yet it must be confessed that these very girls fairly envied her the
pony phaeton and the elegant house.
"Uncle Robert is coming home," said her mother, one afternoon. "We have
received a good long letter from him, and some news that will surprise
you."
Kathie's face was aglow with interest.
"You may read it all yourself. He had not time to write any more than
one letter."
Kathie sat down to her treasure.
"O mamma! And Miss Jessie is married to--Mr. Meredith! What will Ada
say? But O, will he never get well? It would be harder than ever to have
him die. How strange it seems! Dear Miss Jessie!"
The doctors had conquered the fever, but there were some serious
complications with his wound, and he was so reduced that it appeared
almost impossible for him to rally. Kathie could see that Uncle Robert
had very little hope.
"Still he is very happy and resigned," the letter said. "Since his
marriage he seems to have not a wish left ungratified. Mr. and Mrs.
George Meredith were present, and the lady was considerably surprised by
this unlooked-for termination; still, she was very gracious to Jessie.
But the best of all is his perfect peace and trust. A precious hope the
Saviour's love has been, and in his mind his whole brief religious life
seems connected with our darling little Kathie. Every day he speaks of
her. It is true that God has ordained praise out of the mouths of
babes."
The loving messages brought the tears to Kathie's eyes. And most
delightful of all was the hope of seeing dear Uncle Robert again. So for
two days satirical school shafts fell harmless.
Rob had a flying visit first of all, but the joy at Cedarwood was
delightful. Uncle Robert reached home just at dusk, and Kathie could do
nothing all the evening but watch him and talk. All the story had to be
told over again, and with it many incidents that could not be
written,--the heroic bravery, the patient endurance and sweet faith.
"Then he is not sorry that he re-enlisted?" Kathie asked, anxiously.
"No, my darling. He thinks that his country needed him, and his last act
was to procure some very valuable information. He would like to live if
it is God's will, but it will be well with him either way."
Uncle Robert held the little hand in his and gave it a fond pressure.
Kathie knew what it said, but her heart felt very humble.
The next morning she had to tell him about Sarah Strong.
"And how kind it is in Mrs. Strong to take home this poor cousin!"
Kathie said. "I liked her manner of speaking of it so much. But I
think--"
Kathie made a long pause.
"A remarkable thought it must be!" said her uncle, smiling.
Fred ran in to have his pencil sharpened, and also to announce that one
of the cunning little guinea-pigs was dead. So Kathie's school
discomfort passed out of her mind.
But it met her on the threshold again. She was rather early at school,
as Uncle Robert wished to drive about the village to do several errands.
Half a dozen girls were discussing tableaux. Kathie joined them with a
face full of interest.
"O," she exclaimed, "I do love to hear about tableaux! Are you really
going to have them?"
There was a coolness and silence in the small circle.
"It was a little matter of our own that we were discussing," said Belle
Hadden, loftily.
Kathie turned. She had been in such a happy mood that she was ready for
anything. And the two or three experiences in tableaux had left such a
delightful memory that she was fain to try it again.
She went to her seat quietly. The voices floated dimly over to her.
"It is mean not to ask her!"
"Girls, I know Mrs. Wilder will notice it, and speak of it."
"You can all do as you like, but if you want Tom, Dick, and Harry, and
everybody in them, I beg leave to be excused," said a rather sharp,
haughty voice.
"But Kathie Alston isn't--"
"I would as soon have Mary Carson, or any one of that class. They are
all alike."
Mary Carson's father had made a fortune in buying and selling iron. She
was as coarse as Sarah Strong, without her ambition or good, tender
heart.
Somehow Kathie rebelled at being placed in the same category. She took
up her book and tried to study, but her heart was swelling with a sense
of injustice. What had she done to these girls? She was not coarse, or
vulgar, or mean.
"Plebeian and patrician," some one said with a laugh, as they dispersed
at Mrs. Wilder's entrance.
Kathie heard of the plan through the course of the day. Some of the
larger girls had proposed that they should give a little entertainment
for the benefit of the wife and children of a Captain Duncan who had
been killed in one of the recent battles. Mrs. Duncan was staying at
Brookside, quite prostrated by her misfortunes.
Thirteen of the school-girls had been asked. Mrs. Coleman, Mrs. Duncan's
warmest friend, had offered her parlor and dining-room. Sue Coleman was
hand and glove with Belle Hadden.
Now and then Kathie glanced over to Mary Carson. Vulgarity was written
in every line of her broad, freckled face. Something beside
plainness,--snub nose, wiry brown hair, and the irregular teeth, which
looked as if they were never brushed,--an air of self-sufficiency, as if
she considered herself as good as the best. She was continually talking
of what they had at home, and made the most absurd blunders, which Mrs.
Wilder patiently corrected. The small satires of the other girls never
pierced the armor of her complacency. "And they think me like her!"
Kathie mused, with a sad, sore heart. "I suppose because our fortune
came so suddenly; and yet mamma always was a lady. However, I must bear
it patiently."
Uncle Robert, seeing her so grave, fancied that it was on account of Mr.
Meredith; and he was so busy that for a few days they had no
confidential talks.
It was very hard to feel so entirely alone. Even Emma Lauriston was at
home sick with a sore throat.