when she and Belle had vainly tried to persuade Edith to walk with them
over the mill-dam. "You never used to make such excuses and I consider
it a perfect waste of time myself to spend such a lovely afternoon
studying. I should think your mother'd want you to have some exercise."
"Oh, I shall have plenty this afternoon. I am going to the gymnasium for
an hour with Julia, and that will answer for to-day. We took a walk
before school this morning."
"You and Nora are too provoking, Edith," exclaimed Brenda rather
pettishly. "Ever since Julia came you seem to prefer spending your time
with her. You never used to be such a book-worm."
"Well, I'm trying to make up for lost time. I wish that I could
accomplish as much as Julia."
"Oh--Julia, Julia, I'm sick and tired of the name," exclaimed Belle.
"Why in the world does she study so much, Brenda?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"You ought to--you're her cousin. I believe myself that she's going to
be a teacher."
"Belle, it is not nice in you to say that," interposed Edith.
"Why isn't it nice to be a teacher. I thought that you liked them more
than anything else. I am sure that Julia does."
"I dare say she does, but it doesn't follow that she's going to be a
teacher herself."
"Oh, anybody can tell that she's a poor relation--isn't she, Brenda?
Just see how plainly she dresses, and working so to get into college. I
think that your mother and father are very good to give her a home."
Now all this was very presumptuous on Belle's part, but she spoke so
pleasantly and smiled so sweetly at Brenda as she talked that the
latter, though a little irritated, never thought of taking offence at
her. But Belle's words had sunk deeper even than she had intended.
Brenda had a certain kind of pride which was easily touched. She felt
that in some way it was a source of discredit to her to have a cousin
who might be a teacher. For in what other way could she interpret
Julia's intention of studying Greek.
Julia, unconscious of Brenda's feeling, went on quietly without heeding
the disagreeable little remarks that sometimes were made in her hearing
by Brenda. Belle was as polite and agreeable toward Julia as to others
whom she liked better. For it was a kind of unspoken policy of Belle's
to be apparently friendly with all girls of whom she was likely to see
much. If accused of this failing she would not have admitted that she
was two-faced. She merely liked to be popular, and if she sometimes made
ill-natured remarks about a third person, she trusted to the discretion
of those to whom she talked. She did not realize that in time she might
come to be regarded as thoroughly insincere. She had not measured the
relative advantages of "To Be" and "To Seem."
VII
VISITING MANUEL
Two or three weeks after their adventure with Manuel passed before
Brenda and Nora were able to visit him. They talked several times of
going, but something always interfered. Sometimes it was the weather,
sometimes it was another engagement, more often they could not go
because they had no one to accompany them. For it was evident that two
young girls could not go alone to the North End. At length one morning
one of the under teachers in the school offered to go with them that
very afternoon. She had overheard them at recess expressing their sorrow
that they could not go alone.
"Really," pouted Brenda, "I think that mamma is very mean. We could go
as well as not by ourselves, and why we should have to wait for her or
some older person to go with us I cannot see."
"Don't call your mother mean," Miss South said laughingly in passing,
and then as Brenda explained the cause of her rather undutiful
expression, she had added, "Your mother is perfectly right. It would
never do for you to go alone. But I have an errand down near Prince
Street this very day. If you get Mrs. Barlow's permission I shall be
happy to have you go with me." So it happened that one warm, sunny day
in early November, the girls and Miss South exchanged their Back Bay car
at Scollay Square for a Hanover Street electric car. It whizzed swiftly
down a street which neither Brenda nor Nora had ever seen before, filled
with gay shops whose windows were bright with millinery or jewelry--or,
I am sorry to say it--bottles of liquor, amber and red. There was more
display here than in the streets up town.
"Sometimes," said Miss South, "I call this the Bowery of Boston. It is
the chief shopping street of the North End, and on Saturday nights the
poor people do most of their buying. I came here one evening with my
brother. It was really very amusing."
They had been in the car but a few minutes when Miss South gave the
signal for the car to stop.
"It will interest you," she said, "to see this quaint old street. It has
an old-time name, too--'Salem Street.'"
Brenda and Nora glanced around them in surprise. It was a narrow street,
winding along almost in a curve. Though most of the houses were brick, a
number were of wood. Some of them had gable-roofs, and nearly all of
them looked old. Shops occupied the lower part of most of these houses,
and many of them were pawn-shops. As they entered the street it seemed
as if they could hardly pass through. Hooks and poles laden with old
clothes projected from many of these shops, and the sidewalks themselves
held numerous loungers and children. Nora looked interested, Brenda, a
trifle disgusted, as they saw a woman chattering with a hand-cart man
who sold fish.
"Ugh, I wouldn't want to eat it," said the latter.
"Oh, it's probably perfectly good fish," responded Miss South with a
smile. "Only it does not look quite as inviting as it would if shown on
a marble slab in an up-town fish market."
"Are these people _dreadfully_ poor?" asked Nora.
"No," replied Miss South. "This is the Jewish section, and most of the
men here make a pretty good living. They are peddlers, and go out into
the country selling tins or fruit, or they have little shops."
"But these children look so poor!"
"If you will notice more carefully you will see that their clothes are
dingy rather than poor. Nearly all wear good shoes, and there are not
many rags. Many of these Russian and Polish Jews when they first come to
Boston have very little money, and are supported by their friends. But
they soon find a chance to earn their living, and a man coming here
without a cent, in five years sometimes owns a house. I speak of this,
girls, because I have known people to think that dirt and dinginess mean
great poverty."
Nora and Brenda made many exclamations of surprise as they looked down
some of the narrow lanes leading from Salem Street.
"It's just like pictures of Europe, isn't it?" cried Nora; "and then
these people--and the queer signs--Oh! really I think it's _too_
interesting for anything."
The signboards of which Nora spoke certainly did look strange.
Some of them had Russian names, others were in odd Hebrew characters.
Those which were English were peculiarly worded. The owner of a tiny
shop with one little window described himself as a "Wholesale and retail
dealer in dry goods," a corner groceryman called himself an "importer."
The English spelling was not always correct, and the names of the
shop-people were long and odd.
Miss South's errand took her to a large building occupied as an
industrial school. On their way upstairs they saw some boys at work at a
printing press, and Miss South told the girls a little about the boys'
and girls' clubs, which met in this building certain evenings in the
week. Miss South wished to speak to the kindergarten teacher whose
school was on the top floor. Most of the little children had gone home
for the day, and only a few remained whose mothers were out working and
had no one with whom to leave the children. Nora and Brenda exclaimed
with delight at sight of five or six little boys and girls seated in
small chairs around a low table. Nearly all had dark hair and eyes,
although there was one little blonde girl with long, light curls. They
looked at the visitors with small wonder, for they were used to seeing
strangers. Nora at once began to play with the light-haired girl, but
Brenda, after a glance or two, preferred to look out of the window.
Unlike Nora, she was not very fond of children. They did not remain long
in the building, and were soon in the street again.
"Just one block below," said Miss South, "is Prince Street, but before
we go there let us look at Christ Church. Do you realize that you are
under the very shadow of the spire where Paul Revere hung his lantern?"
The girls fairly jumped with surprise.
"Of course I knew it was somewhere down here, but I hadn't an idea it
was so near," said Brenda, while Nora began to recite,
"Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere."
They had turned the corner again into Salem Street, and following Miss
South, had crossed the street. There before them loomed the gray front
of the old church with its tall spire on which they could read the
inscription:
"The signal lanterns of Paul Revere displayed in the steeple of this
church April 18, 1775, warned the country of the march of the British
troops to Concord and Lexington."
"This is the oldest church building in the city," said Miss South, "and
some Sunday you would find it worth while to come down here to a
service, for the interior has been restored to look just as it did in
its earliest days."
"Oh, how Julia would enjoy that!" exclaimed Nora. "You know that she
just loves old things."
"Yes," continued Miss South, "you must take her, too, to see Copp's Hill
Burying Ground, up this street. We haven't time to go to-day, but if you
do not make other arrangements I shall be very glad to come with you
some Sunday."
"You're awfully good, Miss South," said Brenda. "I don't care so much
for old things myself, but still I'd like to come again."
"I know, Brenda, you like new things--Manuel for instance. Well, you
shall see him in less than five minutes--that is, if he is at home."
They had reached the corner of Prince Street. Like Salem Street this
too, was narrow with quaint old houses. One wooden house which looked as
if it might fall down at any minute bore a placard which warned
passers-by of possible danger. The placard stated that it had been built
in 1723.
"In the time of George II.,--just think of it!" exclaimed Brenda, who
when she wished, could remember dates.
"Rear of No. 11," said Miss South, and they turned down a short alley.
They had not to ask the way, however, for there, in front of the second
house, stood Manuel himself. He looked at them at first without
recognizing them, but when Nora called his name, he took his finger from
his mouth, and in a moment began to smile very broadly. But instead of
running to the girls he turned toward the house.
"Come, come," he said, and almost at the same moment Mrs. Rosa appeared
at the door. She looked very pale and thin and she had an old black
shawl drawn over her head. Nora and Brenda now found that they had lost
their tongues. They really did not know what to say, and they were very
glad that Miss South had come with them. The alley, too, was so dirty,
so different from any place they had ever seen, that they willingly
followed Mrs. Rosa into the house when she asked them to do so.
Mrs. Rosa talked very poor English, but Miss South was able to gather
from what she said that she had been ill for two or three weeks. She had
not been able to go to her fruit stand. Her eldest daughter had been
attending to it for her, a girl twelve years old.
"But why isn't Manuel at school?" asked Miss South.
"Him home for company," smiled Mrs. Rosa, showing both rows of white
teeth.
Miss South shook her head. "He ought to go every day to the
kindergarten."
"His shoes so bad," apologized Mrs. Rosa, and as they all looked at the
little boy they saw a red toe peeping out from one shoe. Nora nudged
Brenda--Brenda smiled assent. The nudge and the smile meant that in
Manuel they were surely going to have a field for their charitable
efforts.
The little room in which they sat looked very poor and bare. It had no
carpet, and the table and the two or three chairs were of unpainted
wood. The most important piece of furniture was the large cook-stove. On
the mantelpiece were various dishes, several of which were broken, and
there were the remains of a meal on the table. Altogether the room did
not look very neat. Although it was not a cold day there was a large
fire burning in the stove where something rather savory was boiling in a
pot.
While Miss South was talking the two girls realized that they had come
rather aimlessly to Mrs. Rosa's. They managed to ask her if Manuel had
run away again, and she smiled as she answered, "Every day," and shook
her head at the little boy.
"Well, he must be careful not to run under the horses' feet," said Nora.
"He won't find some one ready to pull him back every day," chimed in
Brenda, while Manuel and his mother both smiled, though I am sure that
the little boy hardly understood a word of what was said.
"Oh, them 'lectrics," said Mrs. Rosa, "they're awful bad. I whip Manuel
all the time so he won't run in front of them 'lectrics."
"Aren't you afraid whipping will make him run away more often?" asked
Miss South. But Mrs. Rosa looked as if she did not quite understand the
meaning of this question, and after a few more inquiries about the other
children who were still in school, Miss South said it was time to return
home. Before going, Nora gave Manuel a picture-book, and Brenda gave him
a top which they had bought for him.
"Come again," called Mrs. Rosa, waving an end of her shawl at them, and
"Come again" shouted Manuel as they turned from the narrow alley into
the broader street.
"Isn't it perfectly dreadful," exclaimed Nora, "for people to be so
poor."
Miss South was silent for a moment. Then she responded, "There are
different kinds of poverty. Mrs. Rosa seems very poor to you, and it is
true that she has not much money, but if you were to ask her I dare say
that she would tell you that she is better off than when she lived in
the Azores," and then, as she saw that the girls were interested, Miss
South continued, "in Boston she can send her children to good schools,
knowing that when they are old enough, they will find a way to earn a
living. When she herself is out of work, or ill, she is not likely to
suffer, for there are many people and institutions in Boston looking out
for the poor."
"But they look so awfully poor now," said Brenda. Miss South smiled. "I
would not try to make you less sympathetic, Brenda, but you must
remember that a plain uncarpeted room when properly warmed is not so
uncomfortable as it looks. The worst thing about Mrs. Rosa's way of
living is the fact that she and her children are crowded into two small
rooms. At night they bring a mattress from the little bedroom and spread
on the kitchen floor. Three of the children sleep there, while Mrs. Rosa
and the others sleep in the bedroom."
"How can they possibly live that way!" said Nora, who, as a doctor's
daughter, had pretty definite ideas on the subject of ventilation and
hygiene.
"It is indeed a very bad way of doing," said Miss South. "The best way
to help Mrs. Rosa would be to persuade her to take her family to some
country town where they could have plenty of light and air."
VIII
PLANNING THE BAZAAR
Brenda at the dinner-table that evening had much to say about the
expedition of the afternoon. Or rather, she had much to tell about
Manuel and his cunning little ways, about his mother and the poverty of
the family and what she intended to do for them. Her mother smiled, her
father looked interested and said,
"Well, I'm glad that you have found a use for your pocket money. I won't
begrudge it to you as long as it does not all go into Schuyler's candy."
Julia cried, "Oh, Brenda, how I should love to have gone with you," when
Brenda spoke of the old church and the old streets. "Do tell just what
the church was like."
But Brenda's ideas were less definite on these points. She wasn't
exactly sure what Paul Revere had done--for history was not her strong
point--and she was a little annoyed at Julia's surprise at her lack of
interest. Julia did not mean to show any surprise, but it did seem
strange to hear Brenda say rather impatiently in answer to a question
about the church,
"Oh, well, it was a brown church,--no, I think it was gray, with a
steeple, but I didn't notice much. Nora quoted some poetry, but I was in
a hurry to go on to see Manuel, and I think that it's very tiresome to
have to dig up history and things like that out of school."
Mr. Barlow frowned at this. "Before you go to the North End again I hope
you will have your history and your Longfellow fresh in mind. It is
rather a shame for a Boston girl to be ignorant of historic places in
her own city."
"Julia must go with you next time," said Mrs. Barlow, wishing to divert
the conversation from Brenda's shortcomings.
"You'll let me know, won't you," interposed Julia pleasantly, and Brenda
gave a careless "Yes" as she turned to her father and said,
"Oh, papa, I wish that you would let me buy a carpet and a lot of things
for Manuel's mother. You have no idea how poor they seem. Do give me the
money, that's a dear. You never will miss it in the world."
"How much, Brenda, does your modesty lead you to think you need?" asked
Mr. Barlow.
"Oh, I don't know," answered Brenda, whose ideas of the value of money
were very vague indeed. "You might let me buy the things and have them
charged."
"Dear me! that would be worse than giving you the money--worse for my
pocket. I suppose you'd want to do your shopping in some really
fashionable Boylston Street establishment?"
"Now, papa, you're laughing at me!"
"Perhaps I am," replied her father. "But really, Brenda, I don't believe
that Manuel's mother would thank you for a carpet. Didn't you say they
all lived in one room? A bare floor is easier to keep clean."
"Oh, well, I must buy them something, and my pocket money won't go far.
Besides, I've spent all you gave me this month."
"Well, Manuel and his mother and all those brothers and sisters have
lived in Boston very comfortably for several years without any help from
you. If you should give them a carpet they might grow discontented. The
next thing they would want might be a piano, and from what you say I
hardly think that room would hold a piano as well as the whole family
and the cook-stove."
"Oh, papa, I believe that you are making fun of me."
"No, indeed, I am not, but I wish you to be reasonable."
"If there's anything in the world I hate it's that word reasonable. It
always means that I'm not to have what I want."
"There you are _un_-reasonable," answered Mr. Barlow. "We will talk no
more about it now, but some day perhaps your mother will go down with
you to see Manuel, and then you can both tell me whether the Rosas ought
to have a piano as well as a carpet."
With this Brenda had to be content, but the next afternoon when the Four
Club had its regular weekly meeting she and Nora grew excited as they
described the poverty of the Rosas to the other two.
"At any rate we can do a lot of fancy-work this winter," said Brenda,
"and I shouldn't wonder if we were to have a very successful Fair."
"Oh, don't call it a 'Fair,'" said Belle, "that sounds so awfully
common. Bazaar, or Sale--no, Bazaar is best. Let's always speak of it as
a Bazaar."
The others assented, for really they hardly ever dared dissent from
Belle when she laid down the law in this way.
"Well, what else shall we call it, The Busy Bees' Bazaar?" asked Nora.
"Oh, no, that would be dreadful! We needn't decide about the rest of the
name just yet."
"No, I think that it would be better to wait until we have something
ready," said Edith, at which the other three looked up somewhat
surprised. They had never heard Edith make a remark that sounded so
nearly sarcastic.
"Now, Edith, you know very well that we shall have plenty to sell. Just
think how much we'll do if we meet every week ourselves. Then every girl
in school ought to make at least one thing, and we can get any amount
from older people. Really it's the duty of older people to help us all
they can. I should think we might have four large tables just loaded
with fancy-work, besides refreshments and flowers--and--oh, dear me--I
feel quite dizzy when I think of it," cried the sanguine Brenda.
"Aren't you going to ask Julia to join the Four Club?" queried Edith,
turning to Brenda.
"How silly," said the latter. "Of course not. It wouldn't be a Four Club
then."
"But don't you think it must seem a little strange to Julia. We run
upstairs past her room every Thursday, and no one asks her to come."
"Oh, she doesn't care," interposed Belle. "I don't believe that she
cares for anything but study and music."
"Yes," added Brenda, "it drives me half crazy to hear her piano going
half the time."
"Ah, _that's_ what drives you crazy," said Nora, mischievously. "I
thought you had seemed a little queer lately."
Brenda tossed her head, but before she had time to answer this, Edith
returned to the question of Julia.
"Really and honestly, Brenda, I feel very uncomfortable about Julia. We
ought at least to invite her to join us. I dare say she wouldn't come
every week, but I _do_ think that she ought to be asked. It doesn't seem
to me polite to leave her out--or kind."
Again Belle spoke for Brenda. "Really, Edith, you're awfully Puritanic;
that's what everybody says: you're always thinking about the wrong and
right of things."
"Well, why shouldn't I? I'm sure we all intend to do what is right."
"Yes, of course, in a way. But you don't have to keep thinking about it
always. People have to enjoy themselves sometimes, and if we can't enjoy
ourselves in this Four Club we might as well give it up at once."
"Do you mean that Julia would prevent our enjoying ourselves if she
came?" Nora's voice sounded ominously severe.
"I didn't say that, but--well what's the good of talking?" cried Belle,
who saw that she was getting into deep water.
"Yes," chimed in Brenda, "that's what I say too." But Edith continued in
a rather grave voice,
"Of course it's your house, Brenda, and you and Belle started the Club,
and no one can compel you to invite any one you don't want. But I'm sure
if I had my way Julia should be here this minute, and I'm not sure that
I'll stay in the Club if she isn't asked."
"Do you mean you won't work for the Bazaar?" exclaimed Nora in surprise,
thinking of Manuel, and of the dainty needlework at which Edith was so
skilful.
"I haven't said exactly what I'll do," replied the quiet Edith, with
more spirit than she generally displayed. "Only I can tell you that I'm
not going to see Julia left out of things the way she has been."
"Oh, Julia's all right," said Brenda scornfully. "She doesn't know how
to do fancy-work, and she'd just feel bored if she came to the Club. If
you want a 'cause' Edith, you'd better adopt a smaller orphan than
Julia."
"Like Manuel," said Edith, with a bright smile, for, determined though
she was when she had made up her mind about a thing, she was also a
peacemaker. Even when Brenda and Belle most annoyed her, she hesitated
to say sharp things to them, remembering that "A soft answer turneth
away wrath."
"Yes, like Manuel," said Nora, taking up Edith's words. "I won't give
Manuel up to you, for you know that I mean to adopt him myself, but he
has a sister, or two of them for that matter, and I shouldn't wonder if
either of them would give you enough to do."
"Oh, yes," said Brenda, "they both looked as if they needed lots of
clothes. But they have the _sweetest_ black eyes."
"Well, then, why shouldn't we make dresses or aprons or something like
that, before we get started on our work for the Bazaar?" asked Edith.
"Oh, how can you?" cried Belle. "Horrid calico dresses and things like
that--I should just hate them."
"There, don't get excited," said Nora. "I've thought of that myself. But
my mother says there are plenty of Societies and Sewing Circles we can
get clothes from, if the Rosas really need clothes. She says it would be
bad to begin giving them things."
"Well, then, what are we going to have a Bazaar for?" asked Brenda.
"For fun," responded Belle, so promptly that Nora looked at her a little
suspiciously.
"No," replied Nora, "not for fun, but we've got to have an object in a
Club of this kind, and besides there'll probably be other things we can
do for the Rosas."
"Send them to the country in the summer, perhaps," said Edith.