ROBERT’S HAPPY GUESS.
“Only six weeks at The Lindens and I feel as if it had been home
forever!” cried Bonny, returning from her day of service in Mr. Brook’s
study. “The old life in that Second Avenue flat seems like a dream.”
“That is the result of your busy life, my dear; and I am most sincerely
thankful that our venture here does not really lose its charm for us,
as time passes. We are all happier than Isabelle, though; and I regret
her feeling more than I can say.”
“She’s trying ever so hard to be contented, Motherkin, and I hoped she
was succeeding.”
“She will succeed. No honest effort ever failed of a certain success.
She may never be as happy here as we are, however, for her nature
is different. She craves luxuries and refinements which we could do
without. I wish I could control them for her!” And Mrs. Beckwith sighed
gently.
“Now, dearie, don’t go for to yearn for the moon. Be satisfied that so
many of your brood are doing well, and maybe Isabelle will work out her
own contentment some way. Oh! before I forget it and get bee-stung to
the exclusion of other thoughts, Miss Joanna is to give a dinner-party
to-morrow. She handed me the invitation for you and Belle yesterday,
and I didn’t think to take it out of my pocket last night. You see, the
bees were swarming, and that was all I wanted to do then.”
“My dear! and I suppose she expected an acceptance or the reverse this
morning.”
“Yes; but I assured her you would come.”
“You had no right to do that, for I cannot avail myself of her kindness
to this extent.”
“I should like to know why not?”
“Many reasons why not. I do not wish her to feel any compulsion in
social matters, regarding us. We are not rich people, and all of the
Brooks’ guests are. Our especial host and hostess would doubtless enjoy
our coming, as they always seem to do, but I should not enjoy putting
myself upon a false standing. My self-respect would not permit; though
I will write a note at once, and one of you must take it across fields
to Miss Brook.” Mrs. Beckwith rose as she spoke, and Beatrice hastened
to clasp her mother’s waist with restraining arms.
“Please, Motherkin, I haven’t finished my story; I had only begun.
You know it takes forty times as many words for me to tell a thing in
as for anybody else. Miss Joanna foresaw just this behavior on your
part, Motherkin darling, so she was forearmed. She says she shall take
it as positively unneighborly if you do not come. She wishes you to
meet these ‘old families,’ folks who have been aristocrats so long
that they have forgotten how to be snobbish, if they ever knew. You
will enjoy them, and they you. Our friends were very, very emphatic
in their urgency. But that isn’t all; she wanted to know if I thought
Isabelle would come over to-morrow early, and arrange her rooms for
her. She says she has watched Belle, and everything she touches takes
on a different look from what anybody else can give it. Of course,
the old furniture is not to be disturbed. Miss Brook would as soon
think of laying aside her own gray gown as banishing one stick of
that venerable, upholstered stuff. But it’s flowers and things; some
new pictures, and--Motherkin! such a surprise! I’m not going to tell
you--not even Miss Brook knows--but I hope with all the hope that is in
me that my sister will not refuse to go.”
“Certainly she will not refuse to do so simple a neighborly act for
Miss Brook. The dining there is another matter.”
“All right; if she’ll only go the first time, in the morning, that is
all I ask. The rest will follow; it is positively certain. Will you ask
her?”
“Yes. But are you going to the bees before supper?”
“I must. This is the time of greatest need for watching. Yet I’m tired!
Hard work isn’t all fun, is it, Motherkin? and I’ve worked awfully hard
to-day!”
“More busily than usual?”
“It seems so. Good Mr. Brook does get so interested in his catalogue,
and he is apparently so delighted with my superior merits as a
secretary, that he forgets himself and would keep me writing right
along till midnight, I believe, if it weren’t for dear Miss Joanna or
interfering Mr. Dolloway. By the way, Mother, something is wrong with
that man. He’s offended with the Beckwiths, root and branch. I fancied
it was only his normal condition to be so ‘all-fired’ cross, but Mr.
Brook informed me that he was suffering from a worse attack than
common. He also hinted that we were responsible for it, and mentioned
unappreciated kindness.”
“Why, Beatrice! I thought we had tried to express our gratitude
continually. He is, in truth, very kind, though sometimes a bit
officious, it seems to me. I do not suffer from this officiousness
personally, but it annoys the others, especially Roland. The lad is
trying so hard and is growing so manly and reliable that I can’t bear
to have him fretted. However, I will try to be even more particular in
future to express our obligation. If you are going among the hives now,
call Robert to go with you. He is out of doors somewhere.”
Robert called himself, though, for he appeared at the open doorway with
a very red face and an excited manner. “At it again, Bon! Hurry up an’
get your bee clothes on! I’ve got mine here! I do hope they ain’t a
goin’ to swarm on top of no more trees, anyhow!”
“I thought you liked the danger of climbing to the top, Lieutenant!”
returned Bonny, hastily donning her veil and gloves, and taking her
long-handled net in her hand.
Robert also put on his protectors, in his haste getting the hat wrong
side to the fore, and trying to wear the thumb of his glove on the back
of his hand; but such trifling irregularities as these were nothing to
him, and he followed his sister hastily.
“Alas! They aren’t going to light! And we’ve nothing to do but walk
around after them and await their good pleasure!” cried Bonny, in
disgust, after a half-hour’s loss of time.
“Pooh! I hate bees, anyway! An’ I guess I’ll give up the business!”
“‘Humpty-Dumpty’! Leave poor Bonny all alone?”
“Wull, wull, a body can’t work hisself to death, can he? Here I have
to go ridin’ round all every other day with the ’spress wagon. Roland
thinks he can’t get nothin’ done if I don’t go to hold the horse an’
pick up parcels, an’--an’--I’ll quit.”
“Pooh! your own self. You couldn’t be hired to let that cart go out of
the grounds without your small highness perched up in front. And if I
had nothing to do but drive around the country three times a week and
a little studying on the off days, I should think I was a lucky boy.
Besides-- There they go! Up with you! Softly, now! Oh dear! I wish
I could climb as fast as you, and had as great a gift with bugs and
things!” cried the sister, enviously.
Robert paused half-way up the trunk of the tree he was ascending, and
cast an inquiring glance Bonnyward, but, seeing that she was really
sincere in her admiration, he condescended to proceed on his way. At
last, in the “bee business” there did appear to be a fitting field for
the restless boy’s energy. Thus far he had been very faithful to his
part of the work, the watching over the apiary--as they called their
few hives of bees--during Beatrice’s absence at Mr. Brook’s; and the
lesson he had learned by having his poultry taken away from him seemed
fruitful of good results.
It was an hour later that the two young apiarists entered the
dining-room and sat down to the delayed supper for which their
appetites had been ready long before.
“Why, Motherkin! Strawberries? Where did you get them?”
“A gift, my dears! I saved them till you two came in, that we might eat
them all together. Another gift from the generous, gruff Mr. Dolloway.
He offered them in the oddest way. Said he had been to Newburgh to
order some things for Miss Joanna, which could not be left for Roland’s
trip to-morrow, and saw these early berries in the market. He ‘didn’t
know why we shouldn’t eat strawberries early in the season as well as
anybody else!’ and more to the same point. I wish I knew what was the
matter with him, and he must indeed be very fond of some of us, if he
continues to lavish kindnesses upon us, even while he believes he has
reason to be offended. The strange, poor old man!”
They had none of them perceived a face looking in at the open window,
for the lighted lamp upon their table left them illuminated while
causing the world outside the window to remain in darkness; but,
finally, a scraping Ahem! brought every glance about, and Robert paused
with a spoonful of berries half raised toward his mouth.
“Hello! Who’s there? Oh! Dolloway--Mr. Dolloway, I mean--what you doin’
scarin’ folks that way?”
“Hearin’ my neighbors’ honest opinion of me.”
There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Beckwith broke by saying
gently: “You could not have heard anything inimical to you, Mr.
Dolloway, though you must have learned our perplexity. Please come in,
and share the feast you have so generously provided us. But, what is
far more my desire, please explain frankly in what we have hurt your
feelings or seemed ungrateful for all your neighborliness. Will you
not?”
The old servant--for such he considered himself still, though he was
treated quite as an equal by nearly all who knew him--rarely refused
a request of Mrs. Beckwith. He had come intending to sit an hour in
that cheery “peace-room,” and though he had been momentarily angered by
hearing himself the subject of discussion, he now swallowed his pique
and entered.
Robert jumped down from the table and ran with a dish of the fragrant
fruit to the visitor, but was waved grimly away. “No, I don’t give
things an’ then come an’ eat ’em up.” Nor could any persuasions prevail
upon him to change his mind.
In almost any other household the situation would have been highly
uncomfortable; for, as Belle fancied, Mr. Dolloway sat jealously
watching every morsel vanish, and looking as if he had conferred an
everlasting obligation upon them all; but they were too really sincere
in their liking for the odd old man and too busily occupied with their
own interests to pay really much attention to this.
Suddenly the guest demanded, “Goin’ parcellin’ to-morrow, young man?”
“Yes, sir; I expect to do so.”
“H’m-m! Like the wagon, I s’pose?”
“I do like it very much. It is perfect for my business, so light and
yet so strong; and the canvas cover makes such a good shelter from
rain in case of these sudden showers.”
“H’m-m!” said Mr. Dolloway, gruffly, “h’m-m!”
Robert, having devoured all that he could find, now concluded that he
was satisfied with his supper, and leaving his place crossed over to
the lounge and perched himself beside Mr. Dolloway. “Say, I bet _you_
know who give us that wagon!”
The old fellow fairly jumped. “What’s that you say? What’s that?”
“I said I just bet a sixpence you know who give it to us! I--Ginger!
I--Mr. Dolloway--didn’t _you_ do it yourself?”
One could certainly have heard a pin drop, in the silence which
succeeded this question. Then the guest cried sharply, “What makes you
so much quicker witted than the rest o’ your folks?”
“Mr. Dolloway! Is it possible? Has Robert really guessed the truth?”
asked Roland, hurrying to the old man’s side.
“I hain’t nothin’ to say. I hain’t a single thing to say.”
“Just yes or no? Please, just yes or no!”
“Well, s’posin’ I do. What better off will you all be then?”
“This much better, that we shall at length have a chance to thank the
real donor. I have tried again and again to make Mr. Brook acknowledge
that he was our benefactor, but in that respect he has as steadily
denied the charge. But he, too, has intimated that we ought to know who
had been good to us. And--I never thought of you! I-- _Is_ it you, Mr.
Dolloway?”
Queer old man! All the anger and gruffness disappeared from his manner
instantly. His spare face softened and grew genial, his eyes beamed,
his smile became cheery. Still, not until Robert had climbed upon his
lap and with eager arms clasped about his neck had declared positively,
“I know it’s you just the same’s if I saw you, you can’t fool me any
longer!” did the truth out.
“Well, I thought it was a pity, seein’ you young folks so smart and
ambitious, that you didn’t have more of a lift. I know it ain’t my
master’s way to give things outright. He says folks don’t gen’ally like
it; but if I give I give, an’ that’s all they is to it.”
“But, dear Mr. Dolloway, why did you so mislead us? You said you had
never seen that wagon before you came over here the morning when we
found it!”
“An’ I told you the gospel truth. I never had.”
“But you did give it to us?”
“I--I--s’pose I did, seein’ as you ask me square.”
The delayed thanks were now offered with double earnestness, and each
word of gratitude was balm to the wounded spirit of the lonely old man.
“I s’pose you think it queer o’ me, ma’am, to have showed so much
feelin’ ’bout a trifle like that. But I don’t lay no claim to
perfection. I like to give things, but--I like to be thanked for ’em
when I do. I s’pose that’s carnal human natur’, but it’s the truth. An’
I did enjoy the surprise of you all, a plaguy sight; but when you got
to thinkin’, an’ nothin’ didn’t seem to alter the notion ’at nobody
’ceptin’ Mr. Brook or his sister could do a generous action, I was mad.
I ain’t nobody but a servin’-man, an’ I don’t make no pretence. But
I am what I am, in the right place, or the Lord wouldn’t ’a’ put me
there. An’ ’cause I am a servant don’t hender my givin’ a present, now
and again, if I want to, does it?”
“In one way--no. But, my dear sir, I feel as if this were too rich a
gift. You may have let your generosity silence your prudence. Ought
you to do so much for us? I hope you understand I mean this just as
gratefully.”
“I do understand you, ma’am. An’ I will say that I never met a lady
as was as considerate of the feelin’s of others as you be. Not even
exceptin’ Miss Brook, as is a lady every inch of her. But you needn’t
worry about the cost of that wagon. It didn’t take but one month’s
wages to pay for it. A pity I couldn’t do that much for old Mr.
Conrad’s sake. Though he was young Mr. Conrad when I knew him; and
many’s the bout we all have had together,--Master and him an’ me.
‘Waive formality for once,’ Master’d say; an’ down we’d sit to as big
a dinner as the city of New York could furnish. You see fellows that
was Forty-Niners together did get a little mixed up as to who was boss
and who wasn’t when they got to talkin’ over old times. Nothin’ like a
‘Vigilance Committee’ to take the nonsense out o’ folks, I tell you!”
Once started on his Californian reminiscences, experience had taught
them that Mr. Dolloway rarely left the theme till actually forced to
do so; and Bonny, foreseeing an extra dose of “California” coming now,
interrupted the discussion promptly. “Who did buy the wagon if you did
not?”
“Mr. Brook, Mr. Brook himself. I didn’t like to trust his judgment in
the matter, but I had to. I had the rheumatiz that day, an’ he was
goin’ into town, so he selected it. Then the wagon-makers fixed it up
fresh and sent it down. It was a brand-new one, though. It wasn’t none
of your ‘second hands.’ Was you a-thinkin’ it was?”
“We did not think so for a minute. We knew it must be a new one.”
“An’ business is fa’rly successful, ain’t it?”
“I think it is splendid. I am earning about three dollars a trip now,
clear profit; and I think I shall do still better later in the season,
when more of the city people get out here to their country homes.
You see, I flatter myself that I know how to do an errand well. I
try to be exact, and I know--of two things--which seems the newer or
better. I owe that to my late city training. Yes, I shall build up
a really profitable business, soon. Then I sell already a good many
early vegetables. I have sold all of one crop of pease, and have the
second one coming on. It is ‘the early bird catches the worm’ in the
green-grocer or market-gardener business, in truth. By and by, when the
people get their own gardens growing, my stock may have to go begging
for a purchaser.”
“Humph! Then I suppose you’ll let us have at least a smell of the
pease-pods!” exclaimed Bonny, laughing. “So far, I assure you, Mr.
Dolloway, the enjoyment _we_ have had in our ‘early vegetables’ has
been the satisfaction of seeing them grow. But I have been more
generous. I have given the family enough honey to make each member of
it sick!”
“Which was a long look ahead, my friend! Because the family appetite is
now cloyed, and honey may be left safely anywhere about without fear of
its diminishing in quantity.”
Mr. Dolloway laughed as heartily as the others, and, having stayed long
enough to “beat that young whipper-snapper of a Robert terribly” over
a game of checkers, departed homeward, in high good humor with himself
and all the world.
“How funny! If I had given anybody a surprise gift I don’t believe I’d
be angry if it proved the surprise!” exclaimed Roland, as he closed the
windows for the night.
“Don’t be too sure, my son. Almost everybody likes to be thanked for
kindnesses conferred, and Mr. Dolloway is an old man, to whom all
events are now great ones. The thing which worries me is his using his
money, he a wage-earner himself, for us. It doesn’t seem right.”
“Don’t worry about that, Motherkin. I have heard Mr. Brook say
that his ‘man’ has several thousand dollars in the bank. You see he
gets forty dollars a month, and his ‘keep.’ Besides that he has his
clothing given him, and he has no relatives of whom he knows. I think
my employer told me these facts, in view of our feeling just this way
about the wagon. It really will not hurt Mr. Dolloway to use some of
his money, for they will always take care of him, anyway.”
“Well, it must rest as it is for the present. Only let each be
carefully polite and attentive to the poor old fellow, that he may
fully understand we do appreciate our obligations to him.”
“Yes, Motherkin. But there’s somebody else who, I fancy, is deserving
of some gratitude,--Mr. ‘Humpty-Dumpty’! But for his brightness we
should still be at odds with our humble patron! All in favor of
thanking the Lieutenant of the Bee Squad, say, Aye!”
“Aye!” “Aye!”
“Yes, really, thank you, my little boy.”
“Don’t mention it!” returned Robert, with a complete imitation of
grown-ups and with his own inimitable little swagger.
Whereupon everybody laughed again, and Bonny moved the piano-stool into
place for her mother’s use.
“Belle, I always like to have something nice to go to sleep on,--to
think of, I mean, the last thing at night; so I want you to hear. You
are to go over to Miss Brook’s in the morning; and you are going to be
the very proudest, most delighted young woman in Orange County!”
So cried Bonny, tiptoeing into her sister’s room late that night, and
rousing that tired maiden from her first nap.
“Why, Beatrice! I was asleep. Haven’t you been in bed yet?”
“No; I was doing some bee sums. If one hive of bees--”
“Oh! I protest!”
“If all the other members of the family are happy bread-winners and
money-getters, why shouldn’t the ‘belle’ of the family be one, too?
Answer to that conundrum in the morning at the residence of Miss Joanna
Brook, spinster.”