THE OLMSTEADS.
MR. and Mrs. Olmstead were quiet, home people, who went regularly to
church and in pleasant weather to one evening service in a week. But
beside this, they seldom ventured into public meetings, and, except
through newspapers, knew little of what was going on in the world.
In early life, Mr. Olmstead had been a mechanic. Then by means of
industry and economy, he earned the wherewithal to set up for himself
in the lumber business, purchasing for that purpose a wharf and store
for a very reasonable sum. By the time he was sixty years old, the
price of his land had increased tenfold. A severe sickness which
occurred soon after, led him to consent to his wife's proposition, that
he should retire from active business, sell his wharf, and live quietly
on the interest of his money.
This he accomplished at length to his entire satisfaction. He sold a
quarter of the land, and with the avails erected large warehouses on
the remainder. These he let on long leases with good security for the
rent. He owned also the house in which he had lived for forty years,
and two others in the same block. These were in a part of the city
now nearly given up to business, and, had he chosen to convert them
into stores or offices, his rents from them would have been more than
trebled.
But he had enough, he said, and as their only child, a son, had died in
his twelfth year, he did not care to burden himself in order to lay up
money.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Olmstead were nearly as regular in their habits
as the rising and falling of the tide. For years, except in time of
sickness, they had not failed to sit down to breakfast at seven in
summer, and eight in winter, to eat their dinner at one, and their
supper at six.
After breakfast and family prayers, the old gentleman went out to
market, and with his own hands brought home the purchases he had made.
If it was pleasant, he extended his walk down to the wharf, and watched
the unloading of vessels into his great storehouses.
From this time till dinner, he read the morning paper to his wife if
she were at liberty to sit at her sewing, and the same from dinner till
the afternoon paper was left at his door. Mrs. Olmstead, meantime,
employed herself in those nameless household duties which every matron
can understand. Twice a week she went shopping, not for herself, but
for the asylum of which Mrs. Irvington was first directress. She also
paid frequent visits to the asylum which was her favorite object
of charity; and never once since she had undertaken the office of
treasurer had the purse been empty.
"It makes no difference," she used to say laughing, "whether I give
my part in that way or another. The little motherless creatures shall
never go without warm flannels and mittens as long as I have a plenty
and to spare."
The family consisted of the master, mistress, and two servants. The
cook was a middle-aged woman who had lived in the same place for thirty
years, and who considered the whole establishment as much her home
as if she held the right and title to it in her own hands. She was a
conscientious, warm-hearted Christian, who esteemed it both a privilege
and a duty to aid her mistress in regard to the poor orphans, or in any
other charity, to the utmost of her power.
To tell the whole truth, Hepsah was naturally hasty in temper and with
a strong love for rule. If her mistress had not been yielding, and
willing for the sake of her many redeeming qualities to overlook this,
they would have parted within the first year.
Beside Hepsah, there was a younger girl who waited on table, and did
the chamber-work. In Hepsah's time, there had been near a score of
girls, some of whom had remained quietly for years, fitting themselves,
while serving well, to have a house of their own. These had been
married from the house, receiving a handsome wedding portion from their
generous employers, and with it much good advice.
But by far, the greater number had speedily become dissatisfied under
Hepsah's vigorous, and, it must be confessed, rather tyrannical rule.
Gentle remonstrances from their mistress, with an exhortation to
patience and they would soon learn to understand that Hepsah's bark was
far worse than her bite, would in some cases prevail on them to remain,
but a year was generally the extent of their service.
Such was the family into which Mrs. Irvington had at length introduced
her protégé, and both Mr. and Mrs. Olmstead soon became as much
interested in Arthur as she had predicted. They were very fond of
children, and as he was a lovable boy, near the age of their own
deceased son, Mrs. Irvington hoped the relation to the orphan might
prove as pleasant to them as profitable to him. The only trouble to be
anticipated was with Hepsah.
Mrs. Olmstead would have been a poor scholar indeed had she not in
thirty years learned how to manage her servant. She therefore made a
confidant of her, describing first Arthur's character as she had heard
it from her friend, and then dwelling on his desolate condition.
"It is a pity some one does not take him and educate him," she added.
"If I were as young as I was once—"
"That would never do," interrupted Hepsah in a decided tone. "I never
could endure a child round under my feet, tracking dirt all over the
floors, and carrying off the silver forks to sell for filthy tobacco.
No, that would never do."
"Mrs. Irvington would take him herself," Mrs. Olmstead interposed,
"if she had not a boy near Arthur's age. She saw his mother die; and
she says it was a privilege to witness such a scene. Mrs. Irvington
certainly will have her reward. What is it that the Bible says about
those who befriend the widow and the fatherless?"
"Why don't she send the boy where a body can see him? I can't advise
till I set eyes on him. But I know just how he looks. He was a street
beggar, you say. Well, he's one of those red-headed, pug-nosed,
saucy-looking fellows that you always see at such business. Then he's
sly too, and ten to one, he's squint-eyed. I never could stand such a
boy round, never!"
So saying, Hepsah whipped away at her eggs with a vengeance. Mrs.
Olmstead left the kitchen with a smile which, however, she took care,
Hepsah should not see, and, for a week nothing more was said on the
subject.