Not the least difficult part of a clergyman's duty is his round of
parochial calls. They must be rightly timed with regard to the domestic
arrangements of each family. This he is supposed to know by a sort of
intuition. They must not be too infrequent. He must remember the number
of the inmates, and be sure to inquire after the new baby. He must stay
no longer at Mrs. Wheeler's than he did at Mrs. Brown's. He must
swallow, at any physical cost, whatever is set before him in the way of
eating or drinking.
Mr. Clifton was fully aware of all these parochial shoals, and, as far
as mortal man could do it, steered clear of shipwreck; but "offenses
will come," and Dolly was at the wash-tub, up to her elbows in soapsuds,
when "the minister" was announced by the breathless Daffy, who was
unaware that Monday is generally the day when all clergymen turn their
backs upon the study and recruit their exhausted energies by locomotion.
"Why, in the name of common sense, couldn't he have called Saturday?"
asked Dolly, hastily, wiping the suds from her parboiled fingers; "then
I had on my green silk, and should as lief have seen him as not; but
ministers never have any consideration. Daffy--Daffy, here--where's my
scalloped petticoat and under-sleeves? I dare say now that the
sitting-room center-table is all awry. Daffy, is the Bible on the light
stand? and the hymn-book too? Hand me my silk apron trimmed with the
pink bows, and get my breast-pin quick, for goodness' sake; men prink
forever themselves, but they never can wait a minute for a woman to
dress; how do I look, Daffy? I do wish people had sense enough to stay
away of a Monday morning. Don't let these calicos lay soaking in the
tub, now, till I come back; give 'em a wring and hang 'em out."
"Good morning, Mr. Clifton," said Dolly, dropping a bobbing courtesy;
"it is quite a pleasure to see you."
"Thank you, Miss Dolly," replied the minister, with a gravity truly
commendable, when the fact is taken into consideration that he had heard
every syllable of the foregoing conversation, through the thin
partition; "thank you, Miss Dolly."
"Yes, I was just saying to Daffy," resumed Dolly, "how long it was since
you called here, and how welcome you were at any time, when you felt
_inclined_ to come. I don't think it at all strange that you should
prefer calling oftener at Lawyer Briggs's and Squire Beadle's, than at
my poor place. I know it is hardly fit to ask a clergyman into."
"Lawyer Briggs and Squire Beadle are my wife's relatives, you know, Miss
Dolly."
"Oh, I wasn't complaining, at all," said Dolly; "they are eddicated
people, it isn't at all strange; how's your folks?"
"Very well, I thank you; the baby is getting through his teeth bravely."
"I saw Mrs. Clifton go into Mrs. Messenger's the other day," said Dolly.
"I see she has her _favorites_ in the parish."
"Mrs. Messenger's little boy was taken in a fit," said Mr. Clifton, "and
they sent over in great haste for my wife."
"Ah," said Dolly, "well, I didn't blame her, of course not; I wouldn't
have you think so. Mrs. Messenger is considered very genteel here in the
village; Mrs. Messenger and I are two very different persons."
"I see you brought me a new parishioner last Sunday," said Mr. Clifton,
glad to change the conversation.
"Yes; she is a poor child whom I took out of pity to bring up; her
mother is dead, and so I offered her a home."
"That's right," said Mr. Clifton, who had his own views about Dolly's
motives. "I hope she will attend the Sabbath-school; Mrs. Clifton, I
know, would like her to be in her class."
Dolly's countenance fell. "Well, I don't know about that, though I'm
obleeged to Mrs. Clifton. I don't think Rose would be willing to go."
"She might be shy at first," said the minister, "but my wife has quite a
gift at drawing out children's hearts. I think little Rose would soon
love her."
"I don't think she will be able to go," said Dolly, coldly; "but I'll
think of it."
"Do," replied Mr. Clifton, "and perhaps you would allow her sometimes to
run over and see the baby and the garden. Children are sociable little
creatures, you know. Is she fond of flowers?"
"I guess not," said Dolly. "I am sure I never could see any use in them,
except to make artificial ones by, to trim bonnets."
Mr. Clifton smiled, in spite of himself, at this professional view of
the subject. "Well, the baby then," he added; "it is just beginning to
be interesting. I think she would like the baby."
"She don't seem to have much inclination to go about," answered Dolly,
"and it is not best to put her up to it; home is the best place for
children."
Ay, _home_, thought Mr. Clifton, as Rose's sweet sad eyes and pale face
passed before him.
"Well, good morning, Miss Dolly; perhaps, after all, you will change
your mind about the little girl."
"Good morning, Mr. Clifton," and Dolly bobbed a succession of little
courtesys, and avoided answering his last remark. "Good morning, Mr.
Clifton; thank you even for a _short_ visit, but I don't complain. It is
a poor place, after all, to invite a clergyman into."
"I think I see Rose going to Sabbath-school," said Dolly, as she folded
up her finery, put it away, rolled up her sleeves and went back to the
wash-tub; "I think I see _her_ going off to Sunday-school and me doing
up the work; visiting at the minister's house too; 'baby and flowers,'
and all that: she'd be so set up in a fortnight that there would be no
getting along with her: all sorts of notions put in her head, instead of
thinking herself well off here as she is, with her head under shelter,
ten to one she would imagine she was terribly abused. No--Rose don't
make any acquaintances if I can help it, and as to Sunday-school,
there's the Bible, she might as well study it in one place as another;
there's something behind all this; I verily believe that child is going
to bewitch folks, just as her mother did before her; the amount of it
is, they took a fancy to her, Sunday, in meetin'; Rose is just like her
mother exactly; _she_ always looked just so innocent, as if she didn't
know that she was--(Dolly couldn't say _pretty_ even to herself, so she
added--artful). No, that child shan't go any where, nor see any body,
nor do any thing, but work for me;" and Dolly gave the towel she was
wringing out, as vigorous a twist as if it had been Rose's neck.
The kind-hearted clergyman and his wife made many after attempts to show
Rose some little kindness, but Dolly was always sure to out-general
them, and fearing at last that the situation of the child might be made
still more irksome by their persistence, they reluctantly confined
themselves to sympathetic glances, and nods, when they met her; and this
was much to poor Rose, for Dolly's voice grew each day harsher and
colder, and Rose's future, hour by hour, looked more dark and rayless.