A VISIT FROM MISS PRUE.
It was only a few days after sending this letter that Sara received a
proposition from Mrs. Macon which she was not slow to accept; namely,
that she should give up her room, store her furniture in the loft of
their stable, and keep the Macon house for the summer, while its master
and mistress took a long western trip. As they wished to retain their
excellent cook as well as the gardener, these were to remain, at the
Macons' expense, and assist in caring for the premises.
No need to say the Olmsteads were delighted with the plan,--especially
as Sara had begun to feel that their rooms were far too close and stuffy
to be healthy in warm weather,--so beautiful June had not yet begun to
turn her back upon the young summer, when the Olmstead family found
themselves lodged as they had never hoped to be; while the Macons,
equally content with the arrangement, took their seats in a Pullman
sleeper, unvexed by visions of tramps and fire, moths and carpet-bugs,
or precious books ruined by dampness and mice.
The first morning after their arrival Sara woke early, wooed from her
light slumbers by a charming bird-matinee in the shrubbery without, and
gazed contentedly about her.
It was such a pretty bower. Clean India matting on the floor, and airy
cane furniture, dressed up in pink and blue ribbons, scattered about;
through the sheer muslin hangings at the windows the early sunshine
glinted between the closed shutters, and danced in bars of light upon
the delicately-tinted walls.
She nestled her head into the soft pillow with a sigh of intense
satisfaction.
"One whole summer of luxury!" she mused. "Is it possible? How
wonderfully good our Father has been to us! Friends, comfort, and a
beautiful home," and with these serene thoughts, mingling with the
Pareppian carols without, she again dropped into her "beauty sleep."
Nor did this content vanish with her second waking, but seemed to grow
with every passing day; for, as once all things seemed going against
them, now all were in their favor. Morton, who had for some time given
desultory help in the college laboratory, was offered a permanent
position there at a modest salary for next year, with limited hours, so
that he might still keep on with recitations in school; and meanwhile
was to act as clerk in a drug-store until the opening in September.
As for Molly, she was as happy as a bird in these pleasant surroundings,
and danced about the house all day long; now concocting some delicate
dish in the kitchen, under the supervision of Hetty, the cook, who had
taken a great fancy to her; now taking an old dress or bonnet of Sara's,
and, by a dexterous touch here, or a perked-up bow of fresh ribbon
there, giving it an altogether new and elegant appearance; or else
feeding the birds, or lounging in the hammock, chattering with a group
of girls,--always busy, happy, and useful, if her studies were quite
forgotten.
For Molly was as domestic as Sara was bookish, and relieved the latter
now of so many little cares, that she found much more time to devote to
her writing, especially as her duties at the museum were merely nominal
during the professor's absence, chiefly attending to the specimens he
occasionally sent on, and forwarding such of his correspondence as she
was not empowered to dispose of herself.
To Sara the most attractive room in the house was the library, and she
passed some of the happiest hours of her life in its quiet recesses.
Here, every bit of wall-space, half way to the ceiling upon three sides,
was given over to books; while the fourth, that opposite the door,
contained a most artistic fireplace, above which, in lieu of the
sometime mirror, the chimney had been divided to insert a window, one
perfect sheet of plate glass, almost as clear as the ether itself
through which was a delightful vista of green mingled with the vivid
glow of blossoms.
The three other windows formed arched niches, apparently cut through the
book-shelves; and in one was a comfortable knee-hole desk, containing
all the paraphernalia of a literary worker; while in the others were the
most seductive of reading-chairs, with book-rests attached.
She had been sitting one day, smiling and crying alternately over "Bleak
House," when a sudden thought brought her to an upright position,--why
not invite Miss Prue to visit her? When would she ever again be so
fortunately situated to entertain her pleasantly?
"I'll do it at once!" she said, rising briskly; "Molly will be as
delighted as I with the idea, for she has often wished Miss Prue could
see how well off we are;" and not giving her resolution time to cool,
she seated herself before the desk and wrote the invitation.
It was promptly accepted; and a week later Morton met at the station,
and conveyed home, a rather old little figure, with the traditional
band-box and bird-cage in hand.
"Here we are!" she cried merrily to the waiting girls on the piazza.
"Both the spinsters, you see, for Polly and I are too old to be
separated!" and, setting down the cage, she proceeded to embrace each
pretty young creature with motherly warmth, Polly meanwhile remarking
hoarsely,--
"How d'ye do? Go 'long! Come again! Oh, you fools!" at which Sam, the
gardener, appeared wonderingly around the corner of the house.
"Beg parding, Miss," jerking off his ragged straw hat, "but I thought as
how you might be havin' trouble with a tramp," glaring savagely at Miss
Prue; "thought I heered a strange voice."
"Oh, it's nothing, Sam, nothing but a bird," laughed Molly.
"A burrd!" he cried, with an amazed look. "A burrd a-talkin' the likes
o' thot? May all the saints defend us!"
While the laughing group stood by, Molly introduced the fowl, with
proper explanations, at which Polly, probably thinking it necessary to
vindicate her powers, broke out with,--
"Hold yer jaw! Get out! Shiver my timbers! What the"--
"You disgraceful old thing!" cried Miss Prue, snatching up the cage and
rushing indoors, where she set it down with a thump on the hall-table;
and, dragging off her black silk wrap, proceeded to muffle the profane
creature in its shiny folds; then, turning to Sara with a distressed
look, she implored,--
"_Will_ you tell me what makes her so wicked? I've tried my best to
teach her nice little moral axioms from Ben Franklin and Socrates, and
bits of poetry from Tupper, but whenever she wants to show off, she goes
back to that dreadful old sailor-talk she learned on shipboard, nobody
knows how many years ago; it's discouraging!"
"It is, indeed!" laughed Sara, while Molly furtively lifted a corner of
the wrap, in hopes to start Polly off again. "But never mind Polly's
capers, dear Miss Prue, we know what a respectable old bird she is, in
spite of her lapses. Come into the library, where it's nice and cool,
and tell me everything you can think of about dear old Killamet. Oh, how
good, how good, it is to see you again, you blessed woman!" throwing an
arm about her, and hugging her up rapturously, as they passed into the
opposite apartment.
"What a paradise!" cried the elder maiden, stopping short on the
threshold. "Do you tell me that is a window, in the middle of the
chimney, or only some wonderful picture? I didn't know a room could be
made so beautiful, could express so perfectly the refinement of work"--
then breaking loose from Sara's embrace, she faced the young girl, and,
taking her by the shoulders, held her at arm's length, and gazed at her
critically. "Let me look at you," she said, sweeping her glance slowly
from the proud little head, with its earnest, refined face, down over
the lissome figure in its sheer, white gown, even to the daintily-shod
feet peeping from beneath it, "let me see whether this is the niche you
were intended for. Yes," slowly and reverently, "yes, I see. You fit in
here; you are content, satisfied. It isn't the luxury, either, Sara;
that you could do without; it is that better part one can hardly name,
only feel; and your Maker has been slow in shaping you that you might
fit the more perfectly. Kiss me, dear, I am glad you are _my_
daughter!"
Sara kissed her tenderly, her eyes wet with tears of happiness; and
Molly and Morton entering just then, with questions as to where Polly
should be suspended, turned the talk into lighter channels.
The latter soon found herself chained to a perch of Sam's contriving,
out on the deep veranda, and for the rest of her stay had a string of
admirers ranged along the sidewalk at nearly all hours of the day,
bandying words with her ladyship. As for Sam, he furtively admired her
as much as the street-boys, and would be seen to slap his thighs and
double over with silent merriment, when she was a little more wicked
than usual; not that Sam was an encourager of vice; by no means; but as
he confided to Hetty,--
"It do beat all nater to see that pious old gurrl so fond of a haythen
creetur that's enough to disgrace a pirate hisself; an' the quareness of
it just gets me, it do."
As to the "pious old girl," (according to Sam's disrespectful
characterization of Miss Prue) she had quite given up in despair.
"Really, Sara," she remarked with deep melancholy, "it must be the city
atmosphere" (Dartmoor was a town of perhaps fifteen thousand
inhabitants), "for, you know, she never was so perverse in Killamet. I'm
afraid she'll disgrace us all!" Upon which Sara would comfort her by
saying that, as most parrots were trained by rough people, nothing
better could be expected, and she was sure nobody would blame them;
while Molly, the naughty little elf, would shake her curls with a solemn
air, and exclaim,--
"It's a mercy the students and faculty are mostly away, Miss Prue; I'm
afraid she'd have to be expelled if college was in session, in
consideration of the morals of the institution!"
But, in spite of Polly's harrowing performances, it was a delightful
visit; yet, as often happens with delightful things, it brought to Sara
a new worry and a great temptation. There were several of the young
people present one evening; and Miss Prue, enjoying the moonlighted
veranda and the music from the gas-lighted drawing-room, as well as
anybody, watched the little by-plays with keen, interested eyes. Among
the group was Mr. Preston Garth, a tall, shapely young fellow, whose
face was redeemed from plainness by a pair of large intelligent gray
eyes, and a ready smile, accented by the whitest of teeth.
Miss Prue was attracted by his looks; and, being a close observer, she
soon noted that, though he talked about laboratory matters with Morton,
and was ready to joke or sing with Molly and the two older young ladies
present, yet every time Sara addressed him, he turned to answer with an
eagerly respectful air, different from the rather careless manner usual
with the others.
The next day, as she sat with her favorite in the cool library, Molly
being away on an errand, she asked, apropos of nothing,--
"Who is that Mr. Garth, Sara?"
The young girl smiled.
"Just what you see, Miss Prue; a college student, and seemingly a fine
young man."
"But where does he live?"
"I believe in Trenton."
"Know anything about his family?"
"No, except that there are not many of them, I believe. At any rate, he
has no parents. He's helping himself through college partly, though I
understand he has a small property; that's why he works in the
laboratory."
"H'm," Miss Prue bent towards the light to pick up a dropped stitch in
her knitting. "He looks like a fine fellow; does he come here often?"
"Yes, rather," Sara answered carelessly, just then engaged in digging
about the roots of a palm in the window with one of her hairpins; "he
likes to sing with Molly."
Miss Prue did not answer, except by an expressive little grunt, and
then, apparently, changed the subject.
"Do you ever hear from Cousin Jane nowadays?" ("Cousin Jane" was Mrs.
Norris, Jasper's mother.)
"I haven't lately. She did write me a few times, and I answered; but the
last letter came in cold weather,--I should say, before February."
"Yes. Jasper has a schooner of his own now, did you know it?"
"No; has he? That's fine!"
"Yes; Jasper always was forehanded, and he has laid by quite a snug
little sum; then of course his father helps him; you never hear from
him?"
"No; that is, he did write a postscript in one of his mother's letters."
"Did you answer it?"
"Not directly. I expressed my thanks, etc., to Mrs. Norris when I next
wrote."
Sara had resumed her chair and sewing; but at this she laid it in her
lap, and looked curiously at her old friend, wondering what categorical
fiend possessed her this morning. Miss Prue knitted two or three rounds
in silence, then remarked, with elaborate carelessness,--
"You and Jasper have always been good friends?"
As she ended with the rising inflection, Sara answered,--
"Oh, yes, always," and picked up her sewing.
"I've about made up my mind," added Miss Prue, lowering her voice to a
more confidential tone, "to make Jasper my heir. His mother has been for
years my nearest of kin, and Jasper's a fine lad, honest and
trustworthy. But I have some notions about woman's rights in property
matters; and if I knew just the girl he would marry, I should leave it
to both, share and share alike. I know whom he _wants_ to marry,"
she finished decisively. "Is it Dolly Lee?" asked Sara, all interest.
"No, it isn't Dolly Lee," dryly; "it's Sara Olmstead."
The sewing dropped again.
"Miss Prue!"
"Well, it is, and you needn't speak as if I'd told a falsehood; for I
_know!_"
Sara's cheeks had crimsoned warmly, and her voice faltered a little, as
she asked,--
"Did he tell you himself?"
"Not in so many words; but I've known it, so has his mother, for a long
time. He has cared for you ever since he was a little boy. And Sara,"
earnestly, "where would you find a better husband, a truer heart? I'm an
old goose, I suppose, to speak out so plainly; but the fact is, Jasper's
a bit afraid of you, and doesn't dare to speak, I imagine."
"Afraid of _me?_"
"Yes, he thinks you some kind of a goddess probably; most men do till
they are married, and then they're too apt to think their wives are
kitchen-maids; but I don't think Jasper'll be like that!" she added
hastily.
Sara smiled.
"I've no doubt, Miss Prue, that Jasper would be all that is good and
noble; ah! there is Molly coming back; I wonder if she succeeded in
matching your yarn," and rising with a relieved air, she hurried out to
meet her sister.
But the conversation lingered in her memory, and was often brought to
mind by trivial events. During all of her visit, Miss Prue had an air of
taking possession of Sara, which was, if not new, at least accented
greatly, and occasionally would drop such expressions as,--
"If you should ever live in Killamet again," or "When you come back to
us, Sara," which gave the girl an uneasy feeling that her future was
being settled for her, leaving no alternative. Even her very last day,
during the packing, there was an instance of this.
Sara and Molly, revelling in the midst of bags and boxes, while
pretending to help, came upon a little morocco case of antique
appearance.
"May I look at this, Miss Prue?" cried Molly, holding it up.
"Of course, child; just hand me that bundle, Sara; it's bandages I
brought along in case of accidents; I always carry some in my hand-bag,
besides my old Indian ointment."
"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Molly, as the cover of the case flew back,
discovering a set of coral ornaments of exquisite workmanship, outlined
against the faded blue satin lining. "Coral's all out of style now, but
it's wonderfully pretty, just the same; and what an odd design; see
Sara!"
She held them out towards the latter, then by a sudden impulse took the
ear-rings and placed them against her sister's shell-like ears.
"Oh! look Miss Prue. Aren't they becoming?" "Exceedingly," said that
lady, looking around with a critical air: "coral always becomes such a
complexion and hair. I've always intended those for Jasper's wife."
Her accent and tone were so peculiar as she said this that even Molly
noticed it.
"Jap's wife?" she cried gayly. "There's your chance, Sara. Why don't you
set your cap for him, and the corals?"
"Molly!"
Sara drew back her head sharply, and thrust the jewels from her, but her
face crimsoned as she did so; and though Molly dared say nothing
further, her eyes danced with teasing merriment, while Miss Prue,
pretending not to notice at all, took in every detail.
"Either she likes him so much she can't bear to have the subject made
light of, or else the whole thing is distasteful to her; I wish I knew
which it is," was her thought as she bustled about, apparently intent
only on getting as many garments as possible into a given space.
She ruminated all the way home next day, making up her mind that she
would not be quite happy now until this affair was arranged, and
resolved that if Jasper happened to be at home when she reached there,
she would have a word to say to him.
Meanwhile, Sara's tranquillity, having been invaded by this new idea,
was effectually destroyed. It had been her life-long habit to reverence
and obey Miss Prue; if she went against her in this matter it would be
an unprecedented event. Then she could not but realize what a fine match
it would be in a worldly point of view, allying her with those families
she had, all her life, been taught to consider as first in her little
world. It would give her dear ones certain comfort and herself rest from
care and anxiety; she knew well what a warm nest Jasper's wife would
step into, admired, petted, and cousined by relatives innumerable. Last
of all, it would ally her to a young man she had always liked, and could
thoroughly respect as well; one too, who would, she felt certain, be a
tender, loyal mate. What was there against it? Why--as Molly would say--
didn't she "jump at the chance"?
She felt really indignant at herself for her own perverseness; but,
though she would not tell herself the reason why, she felt this thing to
be impossible.
Better struggle along under her burdens as she had been doing, rather
than go so reluctantly to that true and tender heart.
"Oh, I wish she had not spoken!" she whispered to herself passionately
one day as these thoughts kept tormenting her. "I never knew Miss Prue
to do so unkind a thing before! But why do I think about it? It's time
enough to worry when Jasper speaks. Perhaps she's mistaken after all!"
and she tried to content herself in this belief.
When a letter came from her old friend, giving a lively description of
her journey home, and of a disgraceful squabble between Polly and a tiny
pug, in which the former blasphemed, and the latter barked bravely from
the arms of his mistress, until the wrathful conductor bundled both off
into the baggage-car, but saying nothing of Jasper, except a casual
remark that his schooner was expected in soon, she felt relieved.
"I have been making too much of nothing!" she said, and blushed all to
herself at the thought that her vanity alone had caused her all these
pangs.