That evening, gathered in the little sitting-room at Idlewild, were the
five people who made up the Home Circle Club which Margaret had
organized, and who, Elsie laughingly said, “represented the bone and
sinew of the ‘new aristocracy’ which was to revolutionize the world.”
“Only think,” she exclaimed before Margaret had gravely called the
meeting to order. “Only think of the greatness concentrated here! In my
grave sister I recognize the ‘Morning Star’ of the new reformation; a
second Wickliffe with the mantle of peace and gentleness bravely wrapped
about her slight form. In Gilbert another Sir Isaac Newton, who shall
discover a new law of gravitation, which shall make the gold of the
miser fall of its own volition into the outstretched hands of the
philanthropist. In Antoine a later Corelli, who shall render all these
aspirations into a new classic for the benefit of future generations;
and in ma mère an Archestratus, who shall, in verifying Voltaire’s
enthusiasm, ‘qu’un cuisinier est un mortel divin,’ solidify this band of
enthusiasts with the material offering of something good to eat.”
“And you?” asked Margaret.
“The unfortunate mortal upon whom you will all practice.”
“I should like to begin by subjecting you to the law of _gravity_,”
exclaimed Gilbert.
“Never fear,” said Margaret. “Time will bring gravity soon enough, and
Elsie can’t throw stones at us without endangering her own enthusiasms.
Her next new dish will be our opportunity, Gilbert.”
“Unless I put a guard over it.”
“Will the meeting please come to order?” said Margaret soberly. Elsie
subsided into her corner and Antoine lay back among his cushions, and
listened with interest to Margaret’s statement of the purposes of the
little home club. “The first part of our plan is to develop thought, and
we have decided that such thought must come to us in response to our
daily needs or grow out of our daily work. We therefore expect each
member to bring what we will call a blossom for the wreath of every-day
living; this blossom may be perhaps a wayside weed or a cherished bloom
of some inner chamber of the heart. Nothing is too small or simple for
this wreath, so that out of it we may extract some consolation, hope, or
purpose. Upon these thoughts that are thrown together, and which shall
be kept in a record book, will depend the evening’s reading. In this way
we think the demands of our mental and moral needs will be best
satisfied. Elsie, what have you to offer?”
The mischief had apparently died out of Elsie’s face as she answered: “A
good many things have come to me to-day; but the most pronounced thought
has been the despair of enthusiasm and the futility of the most earnest
effort. I burned with the desire of a Francatelli to achieve an
omelette; but having no eggs the earnestness of purpose failed me.”
A ripple of laughter greeted Elsie’s announcement.
“Wanted,” exclaimed Gilbert, “a new invention for making hens lay;
otherwise the foundation of our castle in Spain will not be equal to its
walls.”
“Now, Antoine,” said Margaret, “let us hear from you.”
“The day has been good to me,” replied the lad, “for in it I have
learned how sweet it is to hope.”
“And I,” said Lizzette, “haf found zat friendship haf no price.”
“While I,” asserted Gilbert, “have found a boy’s back can ache a great
deal harder at work than at play.”
“Now, Margaret,” asked Elsie, “how are you going to philosophize over
the want of eggs and a boy’s back? These incorrigible facts take the
poetry out of our plan, I am afraid.”
“Not in the least. It is the very thing we are endeavoring to do, make
our philosophy fit our material wants. It may be that the world wouldn’t
call our reasoning by so dignified a name; but we don’t care for that.
This is our world, and into it we are striving to bring as much of both
earthly and divine sustenance as will best fit us to receive the
greatest amount of happiness. Therefore, since eggs will contribute to
the mental balance and physical well-being of Elsie, to say nothing of
the rest of us, we must look up some information regarding henneries.
The garden planted, Gilbert must exercise his ingenuity in building one,
while the rest of us——”
“Devise some means of making a hen lay two eggs a day,” interposed
Elsie.
“Elsie, I am ashamed of you,” exclaimed Margaret with forced severity.
“To think that already you develop the greed of a monopolist.”
“Well, what is Eutopia good for, if it doesn’t make all doors swing back
with the ‘open sesame’ of good wishes?”
“Good to hope for,” said Gilbert dryly.
“And to work for,” added Margaret quietly.
“And ze hope and ze work keep ze world moving. But ze boy’s back, Mees
Margaret, zat is a question not yet answered.”
“A good game of base-ball would cure that, eh, Gilbert?”
“I protest,” exclaimed Elsie, “against any more nonsense this evening.
On our first grand opening to be found on such a lamentably low plane is
belittling to our great aims. There has not been a word said yet about
the crying need of our country, the deplorable condition of labor, the
injustice of our government, etc., etc. Will not our serene presidentess
inform her breathless audience how we are to strike at the roots of
these evils at once?”
“Chiefly by attending to our own business. In the breast of each
individual lies the power of bettering himself, and as we better
ourselves intellectually and morally, as well as materially, by so much
we better the world.”
“It sounds easy,” said Elsie dubiously.
“It _is_ easy,” said Margaret firmly. “Grind out of our hearts the
selfish love of ease that creates the unholy desire to build up
ourselves by pulling others down, and bravely resolve to shirk no plain
duty, and the battle is half-won. Now let us turn to the real business
of the evening. I have laid out a line of history work for the first
half-hour; for the second, belles-lettres and poetry; for the third,
discussion; and for the last, music.”
“From Antoine’s violin?”
“Yes, and from an organ to accompany him.”
“Has the organ materialized?” asked Elsie, gazing incredulously around
the room.
“It shall to-morrow. We can obtain one by monthly payments, and only a
little plainer living, fewer clothes, and the thing can be managed. I’ll
agree to wear calico all the time, even Sundays if need be.”
“And I won’t even _think_ of a ribbon,” exclaimed Elsie, with a
mischievous twinkle shining through eyes that were suspiciously misty.
“Amen,” said Gilbert. “I’ll wear patches and play ‘bones.’”
Lizzette and Antoine said nothing; but a look of intelligence passed
between them, which told of a purpose they did not care to mention just
then. And so the little Home Circle Club was arranged. Three evenings in
the week the programme came to be successfully carried out. Margaret
kept a record of all the proceedings, carefully noting down the doubts
and difficulties that beset them, and as carefully adding all truths
that came to help them. The music of the violin and organ was not a
startling success at first, for the empty purse prevented all thought of
tuition except that furnished by self-teaching manuals; but as
exceptional genius lay beneath Antoine’s curly locks, and Elsie was an
uncommonly bright scholar, it was not long before the two young heads
had solved the puzzling rudiments of music, and were on their way toward
a tolerable amount of proficiency. Antoine was a new being. His mother
affirmed that the music would cure him. A faint color tinged the
hitherto pale cheeks, and an unusual sparkle lit up the dark eyes. It
would have been hard to find a happier group of people than the five at
Idlewild. They were like one family in their interests and efforts.
Lizzette flitted in and out of both domiciles, intent now on Elsie’s
cooking, now on Antoine’s music, which came to her ears at all hours of
the day and night—for the violin had grown to be like a living companion
to the crippled lad—now helping Gilbert and Margaret in the garden or
gravely puzzling over some of the English books on Margaret’s table.
They were all busy, cheerful, and conscious that they were making
progress, intellectually and materially. Lizzette’s experience had been
the safeguard over Margaret’s efforts in the garden. It was prospering
finely, and already Lizzette had sold at her stall in the market at C——
enough to make Margaret feel that her hard days of work with hoe and
spade were sometimes sure to be well rewarded. As the season progressed
the work in the garden required additional help. In an old negro woman,
known to everybody in the neighborhood as “Aunt Liza,” together with her
son Eph, Margaret found the needed assistance. Often she worked beside
them, finding as acquaintance progressed a perpetual source of annoyance
in the aimless and half-hearted way in which they worked.
Irresponsibility seemed to be with them the predominating
characteristic, and strive as she would against it, she frequently found
her efforts not much more successful than so much writing in water. They
would both listen to her instructions with serious but blank faces, and
relapse at once into that indolent method which was a continual thorn in
Margaret’s New England thrift. It was her first serious stumbling-block
on the way to that high plane of achievement whereon she had made no
allowance for the thriftless, the ignorant, and the irresponsible. To
her well-regulated mind, all people _ought_ to be industrious, patient,
and ambitious, and it was a keen thrust against her composure to be
brought into contact with the unpromising side of human nature. It was
not so much that the two did not earn the wages she paid them, as that
she saw failure, suffering, misfortune before the two unthinking
mortals. She felt a moral responsibility in endeavoring to set their
feet aright, and so tried in numberless little ways to impress upon them
a faint idea of the requirements of life. She found in the little hut
where they lived a deplorable poverty, and undertook to question Liza,
who in the summer, together with Eph, earned fairly good wages, how it
happened that they were so poor.
“Dunno, Miss Margaret,” answered Liza with a grin. “Spec somehow me an’
Eph ain’t got no way of sabin’. In the summertime we has ’nough ter eat,
and we firgits about de cold, and so when de winter comes, folks ’bout
here is mighty good, and don’t let us go hungry, and that’s jes’ de way
we gits thru.”
“But wouldn’t you rather save a part of your wages in the summer and fix
up the cabin good and warm, and be able to feed yourself and have people
respect you?”
“Spec ’twould seem better to have de old cabin fixed up; but as for
folks ’spectin’ ole Aunt Liza and nigger Eph—yah! yah! I reckon, Miss
Margaret, yer ain’t lived long o’ niggers much.”
Liza’s fat sides shook with unctuous laughter as she looked up into
Margaret’s face.
“No,” said Margaret, “but I think every one is entitled to respect who
earns it, whether he is black or white.”
“P’raps that’s so,” assented Liza, “but niggers ain’t white folks,
nohow. They’s a pore down-trodden race fo’ suah,” she added, catching
the whine of some claptrap orator. “Dey jes’ don’t know how to be any
better.”
“They can learn.”
“Mighty hard work teach a nigger; dey’s got dreffel thick skulls.
Niggers is the comicalest folks too; jes’ gib ’em a chicken bone and a
watermillion and dey don’t care fo’ nuffin’ else,” and Aunt Liza stopped
work long enough to chuckle over her own wit.
“But they ought to; because chicken bones and watermelons don’t grow on
every bush. They ought to learn how to take care of their money, and buy
little homes of their own, and grow into citizens that are honest and
self-respecting.”
“Specs it take mighty long while to do dat, Miss Margaret. Niggers don’t
have nuffin’ mo’n a few pennies at a time, and dey’s sartin suah to git
away jes’ soon as dey turns roun’.”
“Did you ever count up how much money there would be in saving five
cents a day for a year, or even a summer?”
“No, don’t know ’nuff; but Eph hyah’s been to school. Eph, you jes’
count ’em up.”
“Cain’t do it. Hain’t got that fur. Ye see,” said he, glad of a chance
to rise from his cramped position, with the ostensible object of
explaining himself, “I’s only jes’ larned de A B abs and hain’t got no
time to go no mo’. I’s got to hire out all de time.”
“Well, five cents a day for six days in a week make thirty cents; that
sum for fifty-two weeks in a year makes the sum of $15.60.”
“Ooeeh!” exclaimed Eph. “Dat’s mo’ money ’n I ever seed at a time. Jes’
five cents’ yer say? How much ef it’s only thru de summer dat we sabes
it?”
“That depends upon how many months you work. If you work from April to
November, say a period of twenty-six weeks, there will be seven dollars
and eighty cents. Would not that go a good way in helping to clothe and
feed you in the winter?”
“Golly, yes,” exclaimed Eph. “I never has no clothes when the col’
spells come on. I’s allus shiverin’ ’roun’ in de winter and hopin’ fo’
spring.”
“Eph,” said Aunt Liza, roused by Margaret’s arithmetic into an unusual
interest, “jes’ s’posin’ we ’uns tries dat little speculation. Five
cents hain’t a drefful sight ter sabe a day, but it do heap up ’mazin’
fast, dat’s so. Jes’ let’s make Miss Margaret hold de money fo’ us; fo’
dar ain’t no use o’ us tryin’ ter sabe it. It jes’ burn holes in our
pockets fo’ shuah.”
“I’s agreed,” answered Eph, getting up again and making an elaborate bow
to Margaret. “Specs Miss Margaret tryin’ a little mission on us; but
lawsee! reckon dar’s need ’nuff of it, and I’s putty shuah dar ain’t
nobody nicerer to be banker fo’ us.”
Having delivered this speech, Eph leaned up against the fence with the
air of having supplied a long-felt want. Margaret smiled and began, “I
am afraid——”
“Heah, you Eph!” interrupted Aunt Liza, picking up a clod and hurling it
at Eph’s head, “you lazy nigger! go to work, or yer don’t git no five
cents to sabe.”
Eph cleverly dodged the clod and leisurely sank to his knees. “Specs
Miss Margaret hain’t no ’bjections ter actin’ as ouah banker,” he
resumed with the utmost complacency.
“I don’t believe that’s the best plan. Can’t you lay it up yourselves,
and resolve not to touch it till cold weather comes?”
“Shuah fo’ sartin, Miss Margaret, a nigger don’t know how to sabe a
cent. It jes’ gits away, dat’s all. Onless you’s our banker, like Eph
say, we don’t git rich by time col’ weather’s settlin’ down.”
Aunt Liza, unmindful of the reproof she had just administered to Eph,
sat up in the path, and with numerous gesticulations proceeded to
emphasize her statement. “It’s mighty good o’ yer, Miss Margaret, to
take a likin’ to us no-’count niggers, and I’s jes’ goin’ to try and see
ef dar ain’t some good in ouah ole bones aftah all. Ef you’ll jes’ keep
ouah sabin’s I’ll make dat Eph work every day in de week and go huntin’
Sundays.”
“Well,” said Margaret, with difficulty repressing a smile, “I’ll try it.
Now let’s see if these two rows can’t be finished by noon.”
“Meg,” said Elsie, as Margaret came wearily into the house at the noon
hour, “what have you been trying to do with those good-for-nothing
‘cullud pussons’ out there?”
“Teach them a little responsibility, that is all.”
“My sweet sister,” said Elsie, rapturously kissing the pale face as she
drew Margaret down into a rocking-chair, “you will kill yourself with
trying to be the world’s keeper.”
“It is only a little thing, Elsie; the cup of cold water and no more.”