The cracked bell, which had done service all those long years in the
establishment of Miss Scrimp, had rung its discordant call for supper.
The hour was late, for many of her boarders worked till dark, and had
some distance to walk to reach home, and the dining-room was dimly
lighted by two hanging lamps, one over each end of the table. They
served, however, to show the scattered array of thin sliced bread,
still thinner slices of cold meat, and the small plates of very pale
butter laid along at distant intervals. Also to show dimly a few rosy
faces, but many worn and pale ones--almost all having, like Cassius, “a
lean and hungry look.”
The rosy faces were new-comers, who had left good country homes to
learn sad lessons in city life.
Little Jessie was hurrying to and fro, carrying the cups of hot
beverage, which her mistress called tea, to the boarders, and answering
the impatient cries of those not yet served as fast as she could.
Biddy Lanigan, who stood almost six feet high, was fleshy to boot, and
had a face almost as red as the coals she worked over, stood with her
arms akimbo at the door, which opened into the kitchen, ready for a
bitter answer should any fault-finder’s voice reach her ear, and also
prepared to refill the tea-urn with hot water when it ran low, on the
principle that a second cup of tea should never be as strong as the
first.
There was a murmur of many voices at first, but the clatter of knives
and forks, and cups and saucers soon drowned all this, and until the
dishes were literally emptied, little other noise could be heard.
Long before the rest were done sweet Hattie Butler had finished her
single slice of bread and butter, one cracker and a cup of tea, and
gone to her room. Grim and silent, yet keenly overlooking the appetite
of each boarder, sat Miss Scrimp, until all were through, and had gone
to their rooms, or into the old dingy room, slanderously called a
parlor, to chat awhile before retiring.
Then Biddy Lanigan came in with two extra cups of strong tea, one for
the mistress, the other for herself--a plate of baked potatoes and a
couple of nice chops.
Poor Jessie Albemarle had her supper to make from the little--the very
little the hungry boarders had left.
Miss Scrimp was not long at the table. She was burning with curiosity
about the letter in her pocket, and so she took a small lamp in her
hand and threaded her way up the steep, narrow, uncarpeted stairs to
the attic where our heroine lodged.
Knocking at the door, it was opened by Hattie quickly, who, with
her wealth of jet-black hair, glossy as silk, all let down over her
shoulders, looked, if possible, tenfold more beautiful than she had
below, with her hair neatly bound up so as not to be in the way when
she was at her work.
Hattie had been reading, for on her little stand, near the bed, was a
lamp and an open book.
There were not two chairs in the room, but Hattie proffered her only
one to Miss Scrimp, and waited to learn the cause of this unexpected
visit, for Miss Scrimp never called on a boarder without she was
behindhand in her board, and then her calls were not visits of
compliment or pleasure either.
“I do declare--only one chair here, Miss Hattie? It’s a shame--I’ll
rate Jess soundly for her neglect!” said Miss Scrimp, looking around as
if she did not know how poorly the room was furnished.
“Do not scold her, Miss Scrimp. I do not need but one chair--I never
have any company to occupy another. Sit down--I will sit on my bed as I
often do.”
“Well--thankee, I will sit down, for it is tiresome coming up those
long stairs. I came up to tell you I had a letter for you the
letter-carrier left to-day. I didn’t want to give it to you down at
table, for them giddy girls are always noticing everything, and they
might have thought it was a love-letter, and tried to tease you. Here
it is.”
“Thank you, Miss Scrimp, you were very considerate,” said
Hattie, gently, as she received the letter, looked calmly at the
superscription, and then opened it at the end of the envelope with a
dainty little pearl-handled knife.
Miss Scrimp watched every shade on Hattie’s face as the girl read the
letter. There was an eager look in her eyes as they scanned the first
few lines, then a sudden pallor, and it was followed by a tremulous
flush that suffused brow, cheeks, and even her neck.
In spite of an apparent endeavor to keep calm, Hattie was to some
extent agitated. She knew that those cross-eyes were fixed upon her,
and she did not intend, if she had a secret, to share it with the owner
of them.
In a very short time the letter was read and restored to its envelope,
and now Miss Scrimp thought it time to try the plan she had formed for
finding out who had written to her favorite boarder.
“Hope you’ve good news from your brother, Miss Hattie,” she said. “I
heard some one say you had a brother in Californy. Hope he is doin’
well. It’s an awful country for gettin’ rich in, I’ve heard say.”
“My letter brings me very pleasant news, Miss Scrimp. I thank you again
for the trouble you took to bring it up to me. You are always kind to
me.”
“I ought to be, dear. I haven’t another boarder in this house, out of
forty-three all told now, who is as punctual and so little trouble as
you. And you can tell your brother so when you write to him.”
“When I do write to my brother I will surely mention you, Miss Scrimp,”
said Hattie, with an amused smile.
For, with quick intuition, she saw the aim of the curious woman.
“You didn’t say if he was doing well?” continued Miss Scrimp,
determined to get some information.
“The letter only refers to business of mine--not to that of any one
else,” said Hattie, gently but firmly.
“You’ll not answer it now, will you? I might mail it early, you know,
when I go out for milk, for I’m first up in the house.”
“I shall not answer it to-night, Miss Scrimp. I am very tired, and am
going right to bed. I thank you for your kind offer as much as if I
accepted it.”
Beaten at every point, and so gently and graciously that she could not
take offense, Miss Scrimp took up her lamp with a sigh, and said:
“Poor, dear thing, I know you must be tired. If your brother is getting
rich, as he must be, there in that land of silver and gold, I should
think he’d send for you to go to him.”
“Good-night, kind Miss Scrimp--good-night,” was all that Hattie
answered, as she made a motion toward preparing for bed.
“Good-night, dear--good-night,” said Miss Scrimp, a little snappishly,
for she had made that long, upstair journey for nothing.
The door closed, and poor Hattie was alone.
And tears came into her eyes now, and she knelt down and prayed.
“Heavenly Father, aid me and tell me what to do.”