MISS BIGGAR
But in spite of its beauty and spaciousness, this seemed rather a
lonely house, Bluebell thought, when she was ready for tea, and had
nothing to do but gauge her surroundings. Aunt Melissa floated about,
showing fatigue in every motion, but anxious to examine into the state
of her house. Doctor Garde’s little girl wished for Rocco, or that
Tildy would walk in, poking her toes into the pile of the carpets.
Wouldn’t Tildy be s’prised! About this time, she and Teeny were sitting
on the front steps. And the wind from around the hill was rustling
through the elders--dear elders! Rose and Pidey were standing to be
milked. There was moonlight all over the Rocky Fork--but not like this
lonesome-looking moonlight sifting through Aunt Melissa’s trees. Maybe
that big white seminary wasn’t half as nice as the log school-house
when you came to find out. And what master could be kinder or know any
more than Mr. Pitzer? O Rocky Fork, how this little heart ached for
you! Maybe father would get hurt again. Oh, this pain of homesickness
for what you love! If she could just hug the baby one blessed minute,
or feel Liza’s fostering hand tying up the ends of her auburn braids!
“Why, my dear!” exclaimed Miss Melissa moving back from a closet, “what
can be the matter? Is it possible I hear you crying?”
She stooped and put her hand under Bluebell’s chin. The child smeared
her face vigorously with her palms.
“I guess it’s only some water runnin’ out of my eyes,” she said with
heroism and a hiccup.
Miss Melissa seated herself on a sofa and drew her charge’s head to her
thin shoulder.
“You feel lonely. But plenty of nice little girls will come to call on
you; and think! your father and little Roxana will be here soon.”
“Yes’m,” struggled Bluebell, smothering down her sobs. This was no way
to show Irish pluck.
Miss Melissa trembled slightly.
“This place seems strange to you. But your mother used to play all over
this house. She sat in this very room and sewed and talked with me many
an afternoon.”
Bluebell looked about, feeling less repelled. Her mother’s presence had
touched this and that, and in some sense still lingered there for her.
“I am growing to be an elderly lady, and all my relatives are distant
or dead. The warmest friendship of my life was formed for your mother,
and I could not help wanting to bring her children into my house, that
I might do all I can for them.”
“Yes’m,” responded Bluebell, having conquered her sobs and shut them
below her throat with a large lump laid on their heads.
“And I did hope you might be happy, that maybe you would want to make
your old auntie happy--”
“Oh, Aunt Melissa, you ain’t old!”
“Old enough to feel very lonely.”
This touched Bluebell, in her present mood, more deeply than anything
said before. She put one arm around Aunt Melissa’s narrow waist; the
lady patted her.
“There, now, well try to be cheerful. I presume you are hungry and
tired, and the tea-bell has been ringing while we were talking.
When you have something to eat and are rested you will feel a great
deal better. Run and bathe your face, and then we will go into the
dining-room.”
In the dining-room a real fairy feast was set forth. As for the silver
and china, Bluebell had never imagined its like. The table was round
and cosy, and though she sat opposite Aunt Melissa, they seemed quite
near together. The neatest and plumpest of women came in to wait on
them. This was Maria, who had been with Miss Calder a dozen years.
Maria looked pleased and rosy as she exchanged greetings with the lady
of the house.
“I hope you found everything right when you came in, ma’am. I had some
cake in that I daren’t leave a minute.”
“Everything seems in excellent order, Maria. Were there any letters?”
“A good many papers. I put them on the libr’y table.”
“That was right.”
Maria went out, and Bluebell went on carefully with her supper. Eating
and drinking were made beautiful. It was a joy to sip her milk--with a
little hot tea poured into it as a tonic for her spirits, which Miss
Calder approved of--from a cup so transparent that it seemed too strong
a breath must blow it away; to watch the tall, shining urn and chased
tray, and even the carved wooden clock on the wall, from which, while
Bluebell watched it, there suddenly dipped out a little bird, calling,
“Cuckoo!” eight distinct times.
Before his last note quite ceased, a sharp pat of slipper-heels came
flying through the hall, and a small person appeared at the dining-room
door.
“Oh, that’s you, is it, Libbie? I was just hoping you would come in.”
“When did you get home?” cried Libbie in a clear, high voice.
“About a half-hour ago. Is your grandmamma well?”
“She is very well, I thank you.”
Libbie was taking an inventory of the little girl opposite Miss Calder.
“Melissa,” said Miss Calder, in the formal manner which she considered
it requisite to use even towards children, “let me present Miss Libbie
Biggar. Miss Libbie, my namesake, Melissa Garde.”
Miss Libbie stepped back, placing the toe of her right foot across the
heel of her left, and made a graceful bow. She did it evidently without
thought. Her manner was perfectly easy. Bluebell struggled to get up,
and dropped a poor little half-curtsy.
“I hope you are well,” said Miss Biggar.
Bluebell replied that she was _tolerably_ well. This young lady, no
older than herself, confused and humbled her. She admired Miss Libbie’s
air and composure, her low-necked and short-sleeved white dress, her
small slippers, the ribbon around her waist, and the tiny ring on
her hand. But her head--it was the most wonderful head Bluebell had
ever seen. Its heavy dark hair was shingled close, “like a boy’s,
only cut shorter!” The effect was fine. Bluebell despised her own
auburn braids. And Miss Libbie had black eyes, a short nose, and a
few charming dots of freckles sprinkled over her altogether piquant
face. She came towards Miss Calder, and took that lady’s hand within
her dimpled fingers, and on invitation sat down to have a bit of cake.
Every motion was watched by Doctor Garde’s little girl. How hopeless
her own bashful awkwardness seemed! Wouldn’t Tildy be s’prised to see a
little girl act so much like a grown-up lady!