MRS. VAN DORN'S WINNING HAND
Helen was sitting on an ottoman and leaning her arms lightly on Mrs. Van
Dorn's knees that had a soft wrap thrown over them. She fancied she felt
little twinges of neuralgia in them now and then; August nights were
damp.
They had been talking about the successful examination. Helen had proved
the heroine of the dinner hour. Mr. Pratt admitted that he could not
have answered half of the questions. Mrs. Disbrowe said she went into
the High School of her town on quite as good a record. Mrs. Lessing said
she did not see the need of half the tests, or of College education for
women. The most satisfying destiny for a woman was a good marriage and
she was quite sure men didn't care for learned women.
"You have been a very nice, cheerful, ready girl all summer, Helen. You
really have been a great pleasure to me," said the lady.
"I am very glad." Helen's voice was full of emotion, and she gave the
wrinkled hands a soft caress. "It has been a delightful time to me. I am
so glad Mrs. Dayton thought of me when there were so many nice girls in
the world. It seems to me as if I was brimming over with happiness."
She could feel the thrill in the young hands. Ah, if she had found Helen
just as she was now, ten years ago. But she was good for many years yet,
and she would have her sweet young life, her charming womanhood.
"Would you feel very much disappointed if you didn't go to the High
School?"
"Oh, I think now, it would break my heart."
"But if something better offered?"
"Oh, could there be anything better?"
"Can't you think of anything better?"
The girl was silent. In her narrow life there had not been much room for
dreams of real betterment.
"Think, all around the world."
"Well," with a half laugh and a sound like a sigh not going very deep,
"there would be travel all round the world. I hope some day to earn
money enough to go--well I'll take London first. Then Paris, but I do
not believe I shall want to stay there long, for you see I shall not
have a great deal of money. And then Rome, dear delightful Rome, with
all its old haunts, where its poets have lived and died. And that isn't
half, is it? Is any life long enough to see it all?"
Her face was in a glow of enthusiasm, her eyes deep and luminous.
The woman had not begun very early in life and she had seen a good deal
of it. She had heard hundreds of people wish for things, but very few
who were willing to earn them, like this girl who had so little envy in
her composition.
"Suppose someone would say to you, here is a school where you can be
taught all the higher branches as well, music, drawing, painting,
literature and all the pretty society ways that make one feel at home in
any company. Would you go?"
"Oh, that is like a fairy dream," and she laughed with charming
softness. "Why, I am afraid to look at it lest I _should_ want it."
"That isn't answering my question."
She raised her face and studied the one above her. It was wrinkled and
the eyes were a faded blue-gray. She did not guess the eyebrows were
penciled, the lips tinted, that the hair just a little sprinkled with
white had come from the hair-dresser's. The curious asking expression
transfixed her.
She drew a long breath. "Why, that would be wonderful to happen to a
poor girl who is thinking how she can work her way along. It would be
like a glimpse of heaven. I should be crazy to refuse it."
Mrs. Van Dorn took both of the warm, throbbing hands in hers. "Listen,"
she exclaimed. "I like you very much. When you first came, I thought
only of a little maid to wait upon me, and run up and down and stay with
Joanna when I wanted to be alone. I was rather curious to know whether
you understood what you were about when you recited 'Herve Riel.' You
have a great deal of natural or inherited intelligence--your father was
a scholar. If you were two or three years older, I should take you
abroad with me and finish you on the Continent, that is, if you had not
too much self-assurance that growing girls arrogate to themselves so
easily. But that is not to be thought of at present--it must be some
dream of the future. You need real education and you are capable of
assimilating the higher part of it. I should like to send you to a
school I know of where you will get the best of training. And if you
develop into the girl I think you will, there may be a future before you
better than any of your vague dreams."
"Oh! oh!" and Helen Grant buried her face in Mrs. Van Dorn's lap and
cried, overcome by a new and strange emotion. If the elder had followed
her impulse she would have lifted the face and kissed it with the
passionate tenderness that was smoldering in her soul, and had never
been satisfied. But her experience in people had been wide and varied,
she was suspicious, she could not trust easily, and here were at least
two years that would go to the shaping of this girl's character. Might
she not care largely for what the money would give her?
"My dear! my dear!" she began in a muffled sort of tone from
contradictory emotions.
Helen raised her face of her own accord, and her eyes were like the sun
shining through a shower.
"Oh, what must you think," and her voice had a broken tremulous sound,
yet was very sweet. "I didn't see how anyone could cry for joy--but I am
learning something new all the time. Are you in very earnest? Would you
take me with you if I were older and knew more? And would you like to
have me trained and made into the kind of girl that suited you?"
"A girl proud and honorable and truthful, sincere and grateful----"
"Oh, I would try to be all that. It seems almost as if I had been
deceitful to Uncle Jason, not to tell him about the High School, but I
was not sure of passing, and not sure that I could work my way through.
And sometimes I don't tell Aunt Jane things because I know she would
make such a fuss, and they are not bad in themselves, and often don't
come to pass. But I hate falsehoods. It makes me angry when they are
told to me."
Mrs. Van Dorn smiled at the impetuosity.
"But you would give up the High School for this other plan? You would be
willing to go away among strangers, and trust me for the future? I will
provide everything for you, you will not have a care, only to study and
do your very best, and take care of yourself. Even if you should decide
to teach rather than travel about with me, you would be at liberty to
choose."
"I should choose you," she said frankly. "Oh, how can I thank you for
anything so splendid! There are no words good enough."
She kissed the wrinkled hands fervently.
"The thanks will be your improvement. Westchester is a beautiful place,
with mostly educated people. Mrs. Aldred, who is a connection, is a lady
in the truest sense of the word. You will learn what the higher class
girls are like--some are fine, some under a charming and well-bred
exterior you will find full of petty meanness. I should hate to have you
mean, grudging. I want you to keep broad, unselfish; though sometimes
you will get the worst and the smallest measure in return. And you will
be quite content to leave your people?"
A serious sweetness overspread Helen's countenance.
"If I had a mother who loved me, such a mother as Mrs. Dayton would
make, I am afraid I would not want to leave her. Oh, I know I wouldn't,"
decisively. "But Aunt Jane never liked my father, and I think she didn't
care much for my mother. Their desires and ideas are so different from
mine, and they care very little for education, yet they are all good
and kindly, and Uncle Jason is really fond of me, I think. But it seems
as if when one had neither father or mother to be disappointed, one
might choose what one liked best, if there was nothing wrong in it."
How did the girl come by so much good sense and uprightness?
"Then you will accept my proffer?"
"Oh, I can hardly believe anything so good _can_ come to me. I feel as
if I were dreaming." She looked up uncertain, yet her eyes were dewy
sweet, her lips quivering.
"We will make it better than a dream. But we will have to disappoint
your Mr. Warfield."
That gave Mrs. Van Dorn a secret gratification. She was jealous of two
people who had come into Helen Grant's life, this man and Mrs. Dayton.
"Yes; he will be sorry, I know. But then he could not be my teacher, as
he was last year. And, oh, how proud he will be that I passed so
splendidly."
"And I shall be glad when you attain to other heights. I really think
you will not need any urging. But don't go too deep in the abstruse
subjects, and don't let anyone spoil your fashion of reading, for I may
want you to read to me in the years to come."
"I shall be glad to do anything for you," the girl replied with deep
feeling. "I wish I might spend years and years with you to repay all
this generosity and kindliness. Oh, why do you go away?"
She flushed with an eagerness, a glow of excitement that gave her a
frank, bewitching sweetness.
Why did she go? Mrs. Van Dorn had gone over the ground by herself. She
had been tempted to settle herself for life, but did she want to help
tone down the crudeness of the untrained nature, to prune the
enthusiasms, to find little faults here and there? She would rather
someone else would do the gardening, and she have the bloom in its first
sweetness. While she was away Helen would idealize her still more, and
be prepared to give her just the same girl-worship, but with more
discrimination. She would think of nothing but the benefits. She would
see none of the whims and queernesses that Clara Gage had grown
accustomed to. She would not note her growing old every day. And then
she had a longing for a change.
"Well, I had planned to spend the winter in the south of France. It is
supposed to be better to have an entire change every few years. I spent
one winter there. I had not been quite up to the mark, and it improved
me wonderfully. Then, I have made most of my arrangements."
"But you will come back?" beseechingly. "I may not stay the whole two
years. You think you will feel quite satisfied to go to Aldred House?
You will be among strangers, but girls soon get acquainted. Of course, I
could board you here, and have you go to the High School, but it would
not be as well, and it would not make the sort of girl out of you that I
should like as well, for two excellent reasons," smiling a little. "What
is it?" as a grave expression touched Helen's face.
"You have the right to decide. I know I should like best to go away, but
perhaps it will make some trouble for you. I think my aunt----"
"I shall have a talk with Mr. Mulford when he comes in on Saturday. A
man is generally master of his house. And I will see how the plan
appears to Mrs. Dayton. She is a very sensible person."
She had a talk with Mrs. Dayton that very evening. She would give Helen
her two years' schooling, and then she would be old enough and capable
of deciding what she would like to do for the future. If she should
prefer to take up teaching, that kind of training would be necessary
afterward. She had some fine capabilities, and it would be a pity not to
make the best of them.
So Mrs. Van Dorn very clearly defined her own position in the matter,
without betraying her full intentions.
"If she doesn't get spoiled," commented the listener with an odd smile.
"It is a very generous proffer, and I believe Helen is capable of
appreciating it to the full. It would be a hard thing for her to remain
here and work her way through school, though I had a plan for easing it
up somewhat. She is above the ordinary run of girls, though I didn't
think of that so much when I asked her to come here. The qualities that
decided me then were her cheerfulness and her readiness. I do not
believe her aunt half appreciates her."
"She is of a little different kind," returned Mrs. Van Dorn. That lady
possessed much cynical enlightenment as to the kinds. "There is a deal
of talk about goodness in this world, and even an east wind may be good
for something, but it isn't pleasant. You find an immense deal of
narrowness in these old country places. Saturday when Mr. Mulford comes
I want to have a talk with him."
Mrs. Dayton was really glad that the first explanation was not to come
from her.
Miss Gage arrived the next day at noon. She was a quiet,
sensible-looking girl, who might have posed for a very attractive one,
if she had known how to make the best of herself. She had a fine clear
complexion, quite regular features, an abundance of soft, light brown
hair, and a slim, graceful figure. But she had begun life weighting
herself up with care, and made many little things a matter of conscience
that were merely matters of choice. She was honest to a fault, obliging,
and with that rare gift of being serviceable. At first Mrs. Van Dorn had
been much pleased with her, but she was too proud to accept many favors,
and her heart was centered in her own family; perhaps selfishly so.
Helen seemed released from almost every duty, and was glad to devote her
time to Mrs. Dayton.
"I should like to know what Mr. Warfield will think of the plan,"
commented the lady.
"Oh, he will hold up both hands for me to go," laughed Helen. "Everybody
will, but Aunt Jane."
The boarders were all out Saturday afternoon; a party had gone
picnicking to a pretty, shady nook on the Piqua River, where a little
decline and a bed of rock made a dainty waterfall. So Mrs. Van Dorn and
Mr. Mulford had the end of the porch to themselves.
She stated her plan in a very straightforward manner. For two years she
would send Helen to school, assuming all the expense. After that the
girl might take her choice as to what she would like to follow, and she
would be willing to assist her in any pursuit for which she was best
fitted.
Mr. Mulford gave a long whistle, and stared at Mrs. Van Dorn. There was
something so amusing in his surprise that she could hardly refrain from
smiling.
"Well, I swow! You must think a mighty sight of her, ma'am, to be
willing to spend that money out and out, when she could get her
schoolin' right here for nothin'."
"I think of her capabilities. She is ambitious, and can fill an
excellent place in the world."
"She's a smart girl in everything, but the book learnin' she takes from
her father. Mother's missed her quick handy ways about the house, and
I'm afraid she won't agree to givin' her up. And back there, ma'am, I
used a word not strictly orthodox, and I'm a deacon of the church. But I
was so took aback."
Mrs. Van Dorn nodded her pardon. "You see," she said quietly, "that it
isn't quite as if she had been given to you. Her father might have
returned and taken her. Then, when a child is fourteen she is allowed to
choose her guardians. I shall stand in that capacity for the next two
years. I shall arrange matters with my legal man in New York, so that,
even if anything should happen to me she would have her two years at
school. People lose their wits, sometimes."
"I don't believe you will lose yours. You're wonderfully well kept," he
said with blunt admiration. "Well, I d'know as we could do anything if
we wanted to. Mother's had other plans for her, but the child didn't
fall in with them. She was mighty glad to come over here. There isn't
much Mulford about her," with an abrupt sort of laugh. "We never just
got along with her father, but he was a good enough sort of man. We've
tried to do by Helen as one of our own, and Mother would now. But I
can't think it would be quite right to stand in the child's way."
"No, it would not," decisively. "She has her life to live, and you can't
do that for her. She has some fine natural gifts which it would be a sin
to traverse. I will have my lawyer draw up an agreement that you will
not interfere during the next two years----"
"But are we not to see her?" he interrupted, quite aghast at the
prospect.
"Yes; you may visit her, and she can spend her vacations at home, and
write as often as she has time. I should change my opinion of her if she
was glad to go away, and forget you altogether. I am sure, then, I could
not trust her gratitude to me," she said decisively.
"No, ma'am, that you couldn't," he subjoined earnestly. "Helen isn't
that kind, I'm sure. And we wouldn't like to have her go out of our
lives altogether."
"I should not desire her to."
"But, ma'am, after she's had all this fine living and everything, I'm
afraid we'll seem very common. You don't think she'd better go to
school here, and keep nearer her own folks?"
"Well, the other plan seems best to me. But after she has tried it a
year, if she doesn't like it she shall be at liberty to come back to
Hope."
"That's fair, I'm sure. Thank you, ma'am. And I don't just know what to
say, only that I think it's mighty generous of you, though she's welcome
to my home and all I have. I've never grudged her a penny."
"I am sure of that. Will you explain the matter to your wife? The
agreement will come next week. And at the last I shall take her to New
York to be fitted out with clothes. If there is any point you do not
quite understand I shall be very willing to explain."
He rose in a dazed kind of fashion, and made an awkward bow, then went
round to the kitchen end, where Helen had been sorting over
blackberries.
"Oh, my child," he cried with a new tenderness. "I can't bear to think
of your going away!"
Helen gave a long, sighing breath, then smiled.
"Miss Gage is to be taken to Europe, and her folks are willing," she
subjoined.
"And this place isn't so far away. You can write and come home in
vacation."
Then he would consent. She felt relieved that there was to be no
argument.
"What do you think Aunt Jane will say?" she inquired, clasping his arm.
"Well, she'll be mighty set against it. I'll have a hard row to hoe when
I go home. There'll be weeds of last year and year before," laughing
brusquely. "I wish the old lady had to tackle her."
"But I don't. Aunt Jane says a good many things at first that she
doesn't mean. It's the wrong side of something full of seams and knots,
but when you get it turned out it is ever so much smoother."
"You're right. You're just right. You've quick sight in a good many
things, Helen, and I should hate awfully to have you spoiled, and get so
grand you'd look down on us. Mother aint much for book learnin', and
Jen's as smart as a steel trap, if she is ours. Oh, and there's the
wedding. Why I don't see how we can do without you," and he looked
really alarmed.
"Perhaps I won't have to go so soon." Somehow she was almost afraid she
wouldn't go at all. It was one of the happenings that seemed too good to
be true, too wonderful for her.
"Well, I must get along. Mother'll wonder what kept me."
"And, oh, Uncle Jason, don't ever feel afraid that I shall forget you,
and all your goodness."
Helen flung her arms around his neck and kissed his rough cheek
tenderly.
"No, my girl, no. I should hope not. We'll hear soon, I suppose. And you
will come over."
"Yes." Helen felt a little conscience smitten. She could go over and
spend Sunday, but he did not ask it, and she did not proffer. She could
imagine the time there would be, and oh, she would so much rather be out
of it.
Mrs. Van Dorn said he was much more amenable to reason than she had
feared. She explained about the agreement, and her plans to go the last
of next week. Helen was transfixed with amazement.
Monday afternoon Mr. Warfield made his appearance. Miss Gage had gone
out with Mrs. Van Dorn. Helen was very glad to have Mrs. Dayton explain
the proposal, and point out its advantages.
"I don't like it," he exclaimed brusquely. "And you didn't take the
examination?"
"Oh, yes, I did, and it was splendid! I'll show you the papers. But why
don't you like it?" apprehensively.
"If you are going to teach in a public school, the discipline and
advantages of the public school education are immeasurably the best. I
don't like boarding schools except for the high up people who care most
for accomplishments. And I have been thinking it over, and had a plan to
propose to Mrs. Dayton."
"My schooldays seem a great perplexity all around," said Helen with a
dubious sort of laugh.
"I do suppose Helen could have worked her way through. I had decided to
give her a home, or her other expenses if a pleasant home offered. I
would much rather not have her put on the level of a domestic. We may
have some very fine theories on this subject, but Helen would have many
snubs to endure. And if she resolves to learn what is useful, she will
learn it as well there."
"But the experience will be so different. And two years will fit her
for just nothing at all. Every year more real education is demanded. I
am studying up for a college degree myself."
"Oh, dear!" Helen sighed lugubriously.
"Then, here, I should have had an oversight of your studies, and kept
you up to the mark."
"I am resolved I won't fall below anywhere," she replied resolutely; yet
there were tears in her eyes.
"But you don't know what the standard will be."
"Don't be discouraging, Mr. Warfield. Helen, go and get your papers,"
interposed Mrs. Dayton.
"Is that old body going to have Helen trained for a lady's maid?" Mr.
Warfield asked in an imperious manner; his lips touched with a bit of
scorn.
"You don't do her justice. At the end of two years Helen will be free to
choose her future course. She will be only sixteen then."
"And spoiled utterly. Full of airs and graces. She is too fine a girl to
be made a sort of puppet. There wasn't a girl in my class equal to her,
and some had had much better advantages. I should not want her to go on
living with the Mulfords."
Helen returned bright and eager, proud of her success as she handed him
her examination papers. But Mr. Warfield would not be reconciled to the
boarding school plan, and when he saw Mrs. Van Dorn step out of the
carriage in her fine attire, he felt that he hated her; that she was an
officious old body.