"Polly is learning to play beautifully," mused Phronsie, nursing one
foot contemplatively, as she curled up on the floor. "And Ben is to be
a capital business man, so Papa Fisher says, and Joel is going to buy
up this whole town sometime, and Davie knows ever so many books from
beginning to end, but what can I do?"
Down went the little foot to the floor, and the yellow head drooped
over the white apron.
"Nothing," mourned Phronsie, "just nothing at all; not even the wee-est
teeniest bit of anything do I know how to do. O, dear!"
Outside, Jasper was calling to Prince. Phronsie could hear the big dog
rushing over the lawn in response, barking furiously as he went. But
she did not move.
"And Mamsie will never be glad for me, unless I learn how to do things
too. If I don't hurry, I shall never be grown up."
"Tweet--tweet--ch-r-r-r"--Cherry in his cage over her head, chirped
vigorously by way of consolation, but Phronsie did not lift her head.
Cherry seeing all his efforts in vain, stopped his song and rolled one
black eye down at her in astonishment, and soon became quite still.
Presently the rustle of a stiff black satin gown became the chief
intruder upon the silence. It was so asserting that Phronsie lifted her
head to look into the face of Mrs. Chatterton, standing before her,
playing with the rings on her long white hands, and regarding her as if
she would soon require an explanation of such strange conduct.
"What are you doing, Phronsie?" at last demanded the lady.
"Thinking," said Phronsie; and she laid her chin in her hand, and
slowly turned her gaze upon the thin, disagreeable face before her, but
not as if in the slightest degree given up to a study of its lines and
expression.
"So I perceive," said Mrs. Chatterton harshly. "Well, and what are you
thinking of, pray tell?"
Still Phronsie looked beyond her, and it was not until the question had
been repeated, that an answer came.
"Of many things," said Phronsie, "but I do not think I ought to tell
you."
"And why not, pray?" cried the lady, with a short and most unpleasant
laugh.
"Because I do not think you would understand them," said Phronsie. And
now she looked at the face she had before overlooked, with a deliberate
scrutiny as if she would not need to repeat the attention.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton angrily, "and pray how long since
your thoughts have been so valuable?"
"My thoughts are nice ones," said Phronsie slowly, "because they are
about nice people."
"Ah!"
"And they won't tell themselves. And I ought not to make them. They
would fly away then, and I should never find them again, when I wanted
to think them."
"Your mother brought you up well, I must say," observed Mrs.
Chatterton, deliberately drawing up a chair and putting her long figure
within it, "to talk in this style to a lady as old as I am."
Phronsie allowed one foot to gently trace the pattern on the carpet
before she answered. "I know you are very old," she said at last, "but
I cannot tell my thoughts to you."
"Very old!" cried Mrs. Chatterton, her chin in the air. "Indeed! well,
I am not, I would have you know, Miss Phronsie," and she played with
the silk cord of her satin wrapper. "I hate a child that is made a
prig!" she added explosively under her breath.
Phronsie made no reply, being already deep in her own calculations once
more.
"Now, Phronsie," said Mrs. Chatterton, suddenly drawing herself out of
her angry fit, and clearing her brow, "I want you to give your
attention to me a moment, for I have something I must say to you.
That's why I came in here, to find you alone. Come, look at me, child.
It isn't polite to be staring at the carpet all the time."
Phronsie, thus admonished, took her gaze from the floor, to bestow it
on the face above her.
"It's something that nobody is to know but just you and me," began Mrs.
Chatterton, with a cautious glance at the door.
Then she got out of her chair, and going across the room, closed it
carefully. "There, that's better; Polly is always around. Now we are
quite alone," coming back to her seat.
"You see, Phronsie," she proceeded, not caring that the brown eyes were
slowly adding to their astonishment an expression that augured ill for
any plans she might be hoping to carry out toward propitiation. "It is
necessary to be careful not to be overheard, for what I am going to say
to you must be kept quite secret."
"I must tell Mamsie," said Phronsie distinctly.
"Indeed you will not," declared Mrs. Chatterton. "She is the very one
of all others who ought not to know. You can help her, Phronsie, if you
only keep quiet."
Phronsie's eyes now became so very large that Mrs. Chatterton hastened
to add:
"You know Polly is learning to be a music teacher when she grows up."
Phronsie made no reply.
"And a very creditable one she will be, from all acounts I can gather,"
contributed Mrs. Chatterton carelessly. "Well, Ben is doing well in
Cabot & Van Meter's, so he's no trouble to your mother. As for the two
boys, I know nothing about them, one way or the other. But you, as you
are a girl, and the only one not provided for, why, I shall show a
little kindness in your direction. It's wholly disinterested and
quixotic, I know," added Mrs. Chatterton, with a sweeping gaze at the
walls and ceilings, "for me to give myself a thought about you or your
future. And I shall never receive so much as a thank you for it. But
I've passed all my life in thinking of others, Phronsie," here she
brought down her attention to the absorbed little countenance, "and I
cannot change now," she finished pensively.
A silence fell upon them, so great that Mrs. Chatterton broke it
nervously. "Goodness me, Phronsie, you are not like a child; you are
too uncanny for anything. Why don't you ask questions about my secret?"
"Because I ought not to know it," said Phronsie, finding her tongue.
"Haven't I told you that you will help your mother only by not telling
her?" said Mrs. Chatterton. "How would you like to learn how to take
care of yourself when you are a big girl?"
A light slowly gathered in the brown eyes, becoming at last so joyous
and assured, that Mrs. Chatterton's face dropped its hard lines, to
lose itself in a gratified smile.
"Now you make me see some real hope that my scheme won't be wholly a
wild piece of philanthropy," she exclaimed. "Only look like that,
Phronsie, and I'll do anything for you."
"If I can do anything for Mamsie," cried Phronsie, clasping her hands
in rapture. "Oh! do tell me, dear Mrs. Chatterton," she pleaded.
"Oh! now I am dear Mrs. Chatterton," cried that lady, with a hard,
ill-favored smile. But she lowered her tone to a gentler one, and
extending one jeweled hand, took the little folded ones in her clasp.
"I will be a good friend to you, and show you how you can learn to do
something so that when you grow up, you can take care of yourself, just
as Polly will. Just think, Phronsie, just as Polly will," cried Mrs.
Chatterton artfully.
"How--how?" demanded Phronsie, scarcely breathing.
"Listen, Phronsie. Now you know I haven't any little girl."
Phronsie drew a long breath.
"Well, I have been looking for one for a long time. I want one who will
be a daughter to me; who will grow up under my direction, and who will
appreciate what I sacrifice in taking her. She must be nice-looking,
for I couldn't stand an ill-favored child. I have found several who
were much better looking than you, Phronsie; in fact, they were
beauties; but I don't like the attitude of their families. The poor
things actually thought they were doing me a favor by accepting my
proposition for the children."
As this statement required no remark on the part of the hearer,
Phronsie was silent, not removing her eyes from Mrs. Chatterton's face.
"Now, although you haven't as much to recommend you as many other
children that I have fancied, I hope to make you serve my purpose. I am
going to try you, at least. Every day, Phronsie, you can come to my
room. It's lucky that you don't go to school, but do pretty much as you
like in this house, so no questions will be asked."
"I go to Grandpapa's room every day," said Phronsie, in a distressed
tone, "to my lessons."
"Of course. I know that; a very silly thing it is too. There's no use
in trying to break it up now, I suppose, or I'd put my hand to the
attempt. But you can come to me after you've got through toadying Mr.
King."
"What is toding?" asked Phronsie.
"Never mind; that hasn't anything to do with the business in hand,"
replied Mrs. Chatterton impatiently. "Now if you come to me every day,
and give me as much time as you can, why, I'll show you what I want of
you, and teach you many things. Then after a while, Phronsie, when you
learn to appreciate it, I shall tell you what I am going to do. The
adoption will be an easy matter, I fancy, when the child is
interested," she added, taking the precaution to mutter it.
"You must do everything as I tell you," Mrs. Chatterton leaned forward,
and said with great deliberateness, "else you will lose this chance to
help your mother. And you will never have another like it, but will
grow up to be a good-for-nothing little thing when Polly and all the
rest are earning money for your Mamsie, as you call her."
"I shall earn money too," declared Phronsie on a high note, and nodding
her yellow head with great decision.
"Never!" Mrs. Chatterton brought her foot, incased in its black satin
slipper, down with force on the carpet. "You will never earn a cent of
money in all this world, unless you do exactly as I say; for you are a
child who hasn't it in her to learn anything. But you can help me, and
I shall teach you many things, and do well by you."
"When I grow a big girl, will anybody want me to do those things that
you are going to teach me?" asked Phronsie, drawing near to lay her
hand on the stiff black gown, and speaking earnestly. "Then if they
will, I'll try to do them just exactly as you tell me."
"Of course they will," declared Mrs. Chatterton carefully, edging off
from the little fingers; "ever so many people will want you, Phronsie.
And I shall give you a great deal of money."
"I shall give it all to Mamsie," interrupted Phronsie, her brown eyes
dilating quickly, "every single twenty-five cents you give me. Then I
guess she will be glad, don't you?" she cried, clasping her hands in
sudden rapture, while she began to dance up and down.
"I shall give you so many twenty-five cents," cried Mrs. Chatterton,
beginning to feel her old heart beat with more enthusiasm than she had
known for many a day, "that you will be very rich, Phronsie."
"Oh-oh!" cried Phronsie, coming to an abrupt pause in the middle of the
floor, her cheek paling in excitement. And then she could say no more.
"But you must do exactly as I tell you." Mrs. Chatterton leaned forward
suddenly, and seized the little hands, now so still in their delight.
"Remember, it is only when you follow my commands in every single thing
that you will have any chance of earning all this money for your
mother, and helping her just at Polly is going to do. Remember now,
Phronsie!"
"I will remember," said Phronsie slowly, as her hands were released.
"Very good. We will begin now then." Mrs. Chatterton threw herself back
in her chair, and drew a long breath. "Lucky I found the child alone,
and so tractable. It's singularly good fortune," she muttered. "Well,"
aloud, with a light laugh, "now, Phronsie, if you are going to be your
mother's helper, why, this is your first duty. Let us see how well you
perform it. Run upstairs to the closet out of the lumber-room, and open
the little black box on the shelf in front of the door--the box isn't
locked--and bring me the roll of black velvet ribbon you will find
there."
Phronsie was about to ask, "Why does not Hortense go up for it?" but
Mrs. Chatterton forestalled the question by saying with a frown,
"Hortense has gone down to the dressmaker's. No child who calls me to
account for anything I ask of her can be helped by me. Do as you like,
Phronsie. No one will compel you to learn how to do things so that you
can be a comfort to your mother. Only remember, if you don't obey me,
you will lose your only chance." After this speech, Mrs. Chatterton sat
back and played with her rings, looking with oblique glances of cold
consideration at the child.
"I'll go," said Phronsie with a long sigh, "and do every thing you say."
"I do really believe I can bend one of those dreadful Pepper children
to my will," thought Mrs. Chatterton exultingly. "She is my only hope.
Polly does better than she did, but she is too old to be tractable, and
she has a shrewd head on her practical body, and the others are just
horrible!" She gave a shiver. "But Phronsie will grow up to fit my
purpose, I think. Three purposes, I may say--to get the Peppers
gradually out from under Horatio King's influence, and to train up a
girl to wait on me so that I can get away from these French villains of
maids, and to spite Alexander's daughter by finally adopting this
Phronsie if she suits me. But I must move carefully. The first thing is
to get the child fastened to me by her own will."
Phronsie, ascending the stairs to the lumber-room, with careful
deliberateness, found no hint of joy at the prospect before her,
reaching into the dim distance to that enchanted time when she should
be grown up. But there was a strangely new sense of responsibility,
born in an hour; and an acceptance of life's burdens, that made her
feel very old and wise.
"I shall be a comfort to my mother," she said confidently, and mounted
on.