ETHICS AND ETIQUETTE
It was midnight, and the bells rang out for 1854. The streets were
full of people. Banjos were being strummed, accordions lent their
music. Singers really made bedlam, but above all you heard every
little while the refrain from a chorus of voices:
"The days of old, the days of gold,
The days of forty-nine."
Was San Francisco getting old in its scarcely more than childhood? For
in August of that year, John W. Geary, who had been the last alcalde
of the town, was elected its first mayor, and the city had her charter
in due American form. It had stretched up and down the bay, the
wharves were crowded with shipping. Had ever any other city such a
marvellous story!
Yet in 1854, the world was still a little old-fashioned and friendly.
Never was there a more peerless day. Over the hilltops came streams of
brilliance with the rising sun that drove the fog before it into the
ocean. The lowlands were alive with the slant rays that wavered and
wandered about like seas of gold. Flowers seemed to have sprung up in
the night. Flags were flying. The streets were full of men and boys;
one would have thought it a grand procession. For New Year's calls
were then the great fashion. The day was given over to the renewals of
friendships. Men put on their Sunday best, and went from house to
house with joyous greetings. And within doors were groups of women to
welcome them, and rooms presented a gala aspect. Lovers found an
opportunity to say sweet things, friends clasped hands, business was
laid aside.
No doubt there were orgies here and there, quarrels over cups, and
fights, but even among the lower ranks there was a great deal of
jollity.
Then everybody went back to business. The great Express Building was
opened, having been more than a year under way, and a big banquet
given in the evening.
The weather underwent a sudden change. Ice froze in the pools about
the streets. Icicles hung from the roofs of the houses and children
thrashed them down, and went about eating them like sticks of candy.
There was veritable snow on some of the hills, and those at Contra
Costa were white and glittering in the sun. The old Californians, who
were fond of lazing about in the sun, and smoking a pipe, laid it to
those Yankee devils who had turned everything upside down. There would
be no more good times in "Californy." Even the miners came in and
grumbled. The rains in the fall and winter had been slight, then a
sort of freshet had swollen the rivers, which were too full for "wet
diggings," as the hill sides had been too dry for "dry diggings."
It seemed as if a series of misfortunes happened. The fine new
clipper ship _San Francisco_ missed her bearings and struck on the
rocks on the north side of the channel. Some lives were lost, and a
storm coming up, scattered much of the cargo. Added to this was a very
general depression in business, but in all new cities there are lean
years as well as fat ones.
The little girl had said nothing more about dancing school, although
there was a very nice class that met twice a week not far from the
school. She and Olive had a little "tiff," and now hardly spoke. She
would have liked to consult some one, but Miss Holmes and Mrs.
Personette were now very cordial friends, and she was not sure that
she had been exactly right herself. She could not quite make up her
mind to be blamed. She had said to Uncle Jason that she had changed
her mind, she did not want to go to dancing school just yet.
"There's plenty of time for that," he responded cheerfully. "And I
guess dancing comes kind of natural to little girls. You can put on
the fancy touches by and by."
Then he gave her such a hug that she knew he was pleased with her
decision, though down in the depths of her heart she really would have
liked it. Sometimes she danced around out of doors, going through
whatever figures she could recall.
This was what had happened: She had spoken cordially to Olive the
first morning school had begun again, and Olive had given her head a
toss, and mumbled something. Then at recess she had joined some of the
larger girls. The Personette girls went home to luncheon; Laverne
brought hers. There were several smaller children that she liked very
much, and they had a nice play together. Olive generally claimed her,
but for several days she took very little notice of her. She had a
feeling that Laverne would feel hurt and want to know the reason. But
the latter was too much afraid of a rebuff to advert to it.
"I suppose you think it's queer that I'm acting this way," Olive
began, when her indifference seemed to pass unnoticed. "But, really,
you were so forward at my party----"
"Forward!" Laverne gasped. "Why, I--I was almost frightened at first.
I had never been to a real party before."
"Well, you made yourself very conspicuous. Esta Collins thought you
bold enough."
Laverne's face was scarlet. "What did I do?" she asked in a tremulous
tone, trying to keep down a great throb that wanted to rise in her
throat.
"What did you do, Miss Innocence? Well, I declare! You didn't dance
three times with my cousin, and then march in to supper with him, and
talk and laugh just as if you didn't mean to let him look at another
girl. And you had never met him before! It was shameful!"
"But--he asked me!"
The tears did come now. She tried very hard to wink them away.
"Oh, yes! But he never supposed you were going to hang on him that
way. And there were girls who had known him long before, just waiting
to be asked. You see, as he was _my_ cousin, he was--well, almost like
the host, and should have gone around. You're a regular flirt,
Laverne Chadsey, and you will never get asked to any party of mine
again."
"You didn't ask me this time," said Laverne, with spirit. "It was your
mother. And it wasn't altogether your party."
"Well, it was _my_ cousin."
"She is Isabel's cousin also."
"Well, she did not like it, either."
Laverne wanted to say she was sorry. No one had ever quarrelled with
her before. But was she really at fault? There came a sudden flash of
spirit.
"It was mean in your cousin to ask me to dance so many times when he
knew it wasn't quite proper. He was used to parties, I wasn't. I shall
never want to go to parties again; I just hate them."
With that Laverne turned away, holding her head very high. She missed
in one lesson that afternoon, and asked Miss Bain if she might not
stay in and go over it; she knew it then, but she was confused by
something else. Her uncle was always so proud of her marks that she
did not want to disappoint him.
"Why, yes," returned Miss Bain smilingly. "I wish all little girls
were as careful."
She was rather grave at home that afternoon. She told Bruno about it
and he gave her a world of sympathy out of large, loving eyes.
Then there were several smaller girls that she found very
companionable. One of them discovered a way to walk together for some
distance by making the circuit just a little longer. Her mother was
French and had been born in New Orleans. There were five children;
she, Lucie, was the oldest. Her father was one of the old California
residents, and had fought in the war. Last summer they had gone down
to Santa Cruz and had a lovely time. She had only one little sister,
the baby. So they made quite a friendship.
After the cold snap it seemed as if spring had come in earnest.
Everything took to growing. Miss Holmes and Laverne had delightful
rides about on Saturdays. And one morning the child watched a lad
coming up the somewhat crooked road. He waved his hand--yes, he
smiled, too. Why, it couldn't be Victor Savedra!
But it was, though. Laverne hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry.
But she was glad down in the bottom of her heart, and ran a few steps
to meet him, then paused in pure bashfulness.
"Are you glad to see me? Don't you remember that I told you I would
come? I was at uncle's a fortnight ago and meant to beg Olive to come
up with me, but behold!" and he laughed.
It was such a gay, infectious sort of laugh, and he slid down from his
pony and threw the rein over his neck, then took both of her hands,
while she colored scarlet, and her eyes had merry lights in them.
"I dragged it all out of Olive. Did you have much of a fuss with her?
Girls are so queer! It was because I danced two or three times with
you. Why, I thought you were such a dainty little thing. I liked you.
Some of the girls are so--well, so sentimental--silly. Olive has a
temper, though. And now--_are_ you glad. Father knows your uncle a
little. And he said I might come over; father, I mean. I always tell
him where I go on Saturdays."
"Yes, I am glad," Laverne replied. "Oh, we were going out to ride."
"We? Who?" and the bright young face fell a little.
"Why, Miss Holmes--who takes care of us."
"Oh, yes, that's all right. Girls always do have some one, you know.
And I remember her. She is Aunt Grace's friend."
"Yes, Pablo is bringing the horses." She led the way with a springing
step and smiled without knowing just what made her happy.
"And the gull! Father thinks it really odd, that you should tame him
and he should want to stay."
"And he can fly quite well. Just a bit of the wing droops down. Oh,
here he is! We had such a time to find a name for him. And once Uncle
Jason was up the coast of Norway and learned about the gods, and I
liked the story of Balder so much, Balder the beautiful, and then I
called him that. But Uncle Jason calls him Jim."
"Did your uncle come for the Golden Fleece?"
"I think they find it here, if anywhere," she returned, smiling.
"Here, Balder," and she held out her hand.
He was not exactly graceful in his walk. But he came and put his head
in his little mistress's hand.
She stroked his neck, "Pretty Balder," she said. "Did Pablo get you
some fish?"
Balder glanced rather suspiciously at the newcomer. And just then Miss
Holmes came down. After the first glance she remembered the young
fellow, who explained a certain amount of curiosity had drawn him
hither, and since they were ready for a ride he begged to accompany
them.
"Oh," she said, "why didn't you bring the girls and we should have had
quite a party."
"I am afraid if I had gone there first I should have missed you, they
would have had so many plans. And this excursion has been in my mind
some time. I wanted to see these remarkable pets."
"Snippy seems quite busy in these days providing for his family; I
think, too, he is rather jealous of Jim."
"There are some such cunning little squirrels, but Snippy keeps them
closely at home, down in the hollow of the tree."
"If you would like to walk about a little--the rains have given us
quite a picturesque aspect, and the weather has brought us into
spring."
"Will Miss Laverne be my guide?"
"That sounds just like school. When you get in the highest class,
where your cousin Isabel is, you are called Miss--whatever your last
name happens to be. I don't like it so well."
"But you will when you get to be a young lady."
"I like girls the best," she said simply.
He thought they would be quite charming if they all resembled her.
They took the winding path up to the spring, if it were that; Pablo,
under Uncle Jason's direction, had made quite a basin of it. Then it
trickled down to the next level, and this was Balder's pool. It was
arranged so that it irrigated quite a little garden. There were some
orange trees, but they had been nipped by the frosts.
"They are rather bitter and sour and full of seeds," said Laverne,
"only they are beautiful with their glossy leaves, and the blossoms
are sweet. Everything is wonderful here."
"It truly is." He was glancing about. "Father ought to see this. But
you know we think Oaklands the garden spot of all as you go on down
the Bay. It's much wilder going up, and here it doesn't seem a bit
promising, but you have made it so. I wonder what about it charmed
your uncle?"
She remembered the old home in Maine was rather rocky and wild. She
rarely thought of it now.
"Here is where Snippy lives. Though there are plenty of squirrels
about and rabbits and everything, it seems to me. Snippy," she called,
"Snippy."
A sharp nose and two bright eyes appeared above the hollow and dropped
down at once. "Snippy! Oh! you needn't be afraid." She threw some bits
of hardtack down. Then there was a sudden gray flash, and he was out
on the ground, caught on her frock and ran up to her shoulder. He
looked saucily over to Victor Savedra as if he questioned what
business he had there.
The boy laughed. "We have some fine birds, and beautiful tame deer. I
suppose I could tame a squirrel. But the funny thing is that he should
have decided to move up here."
"We brought him first, you know. I didn't think about his having any
folks then. And there is getting to be quite a colony of them. Uncle
Jason will not have them shot. Though Pablo shot a wildcat not long
ago. And the birds do not seem afraid any more. I know where there are
several quails' nests."
"I expect you understand bird language."
They turned to go down. Pablo had given Victor's pony a drink. Miss
Holmes stood patting her horse's neck.
"I've done up a little lunch," she announced. "Are you quite sure you
have time to devote to our picnic?"
"Oh, yes! I have a whole day to spend. And I am delighted that you
permit me to accompany you. I hope you will come to Oaklands and allow
me to be the host."
They went down on the westerly path. Part of the way it was a rather
rough road, and they had the ocean at their side. Here was a kind of
depression in the rocky barricade, and down by the shore a herd of
deer were sniffing the ocean breezes. How pretty and graceful they
looked, startled, too, as the wind wafted the sound of voices to them.
Then they suddenly vanished as if the ocean had swallowed them up, and
the three looked at each other with surprised and laughing eyes.
Miss Holmes found young Savedra a very entertaining companion. He
expected presently to go to England for his education. There was a
rather delicate girl next in age to him, who had not been strong
enough to come over to the Christmas party. Then a rollicking hoyden,
and last of all a second son. It was evident he cared a great deal for
his mother. His sister had one of the nervous musical temperaments,
and was fond of solitude. The Personette girls were very different,
more like their father.
He was really entertaining for so young a person. He knew many of the
older stories of the country, the Missions, the Indians, and the
lower-class Mexicans. They turned into quite a new road for them, that
seemed hidden away by an edge of woods, and presently came to a
charming spot where he tethered the horses, and they ate their lunch.
Little did they dream that one day even this solitude would be invaded
by the resistless hand of improvement. Shy, wild things were running
about, birds sang in every sort of key. Gulls swooped down for fish, a
great cormorant went sailing slowly along, and seals frolicked almost
like children.
"I suppose we could go across here and come up to the eastward," Miss
Holmes said. "This has been delightful. We keep to the beaten paths
when we are alone, but on Sunday, with Mr. Chadsey, we make farther
ventures. We must bring him here, Laverne, if we can remember the
way."
"I'll make a diagram for you," he laughed. "I might have 'blazed a
trail,'--isn't that what you Yankees call it? But there are so many
beautiful roads. And farther down everything is lovelier still. I
suppose the eastern world is quite different, with its long, cold
winters."
"But to the southward we have pleasant lands, where there is not much
winter, and where vegetation is almost as wonderful as here, where
roses bloom and tropical fruit ripens. Oh, the Atlantic has many fine
points and great cities."
"I should like to see them. I hope some day to travel round the whole
world. Miss Laverne, don't you want to go to India?"
"I don't know," and she made a little gesture of aversion. "Uncle
Jason has been to many of the seaport towns. And he did not like the
natives over well. He thinks them indolent and cruel and all that. And
there are tigers and poisonous snakes--no, I do not think I want to
go."
"I should like to talk with your uncle. You know we larger boys are
studying up curious vestiges of the old civilizations and races. There
were people here before the Indians, and it is supposed they came
across Behring Strait from Asia."
She opened her eyes wide.
"Why, I thought the Indians were the first race."
"They must have driven out some other people, or driven them down to
Mexico, perhaps. But I suppose girls don't need to know all this;" and
he laughed. "Oh, look at this picture before we go."
The curve of the path down toward the rocky shore made a striking
perspective. There was no wind, but the far-off waves had a golden
crest that came nearer and nearer, as if bearing the treasures of the
Orient; the air was full of spice and sweetness; wild grape, fern,
cedar, and pine, fluttering butterflies, almost like small birds, made
swift dazzles, or seemed to hang poised in the still air as if
considering which way to take. The sea was marvellously blue, so was
the sky overhead, but round the edges where it touched the sea there
was a soft gray mistiness, here whitening, there taking on an azure
tint.
He was mysteriously touched by beauty, though he was a whole-hearted
boy, and occasionally dipped into fun of the unorthodox sort. Who
could help it in such a wild country?
Miss Holmes nodded, she, too, was deeply moved. They turned about, the
road was narrow and carpeted, one might say, with countless wild
roses, flaming lilies, others as yellow as the palest sulphur color;
little juniper trees, with their pale green shoots that had never yet
seen sunshine; blackberry vines, that were in bloom at least six
months of the year, with their starry crowns, and berries of all
ripening colors. The horses kicked them aside, they were meet food for
the birds.
They came farther inland through tall woods, great stretches of wild
oats and barley, meadows that would presently be brown with burnt
roots of vanished things. Here and there an adobe house, small
children playing about in cotton shirts, and shouting with the same
riotous glee that informed the bird's song.
Pelajo gave a whinny as they came in sight of the house that looked as
if set among the rocks. Bruno rushed out. Balder gave a cry of
welcome. They had all missed the little girl, who talked to them in a
language they understood and loved.
"I hardly know how to thank you for such a delightful day," Victor
Savedra said, in his refined manner that was hearty as well. "I had
not thought of so much pleasure when I came. And I do hope to return
it. You see, I haven't felt quite like a stranger, Aunt Grace has
talked of you so often. We all like her so much. And at first we felt
quite startled at the thought of uncle marrying a Yankee woman," and
he smiled, with a sort of gay retrospection. "Yet, she had been so
good to the aunt that died. But it is largely in the cultivation,
don't you think? Many of those first Eastern people were of good
birth, and they were fine pioneers, we can't deny that. And we shall
plan for you to come over on some Saturday with her and the girls, for
I want you to see mother."
Miss Holmes thanked him cordially, and the little girl said the same
thing with her eyes and her smile.
Yet, after she had made the round of her pets, had a splendid drink of
water, and seen Pelajo munching his wisps of alfalfa--Pablo would not
give him too much at a time--she came in and sat down in her favorite
low chair, while Miss Holmes was making some supper preparations,
beating-up an old-fashioned cake of which Uncle Jason was very fond,
and that suggested to him the weekly bakings in the old ovens back in
Maine.
The little girl was quiet so long that Miss Holmes said presently:
"Are you very tired?"
"Oh, no; I was thinking," and for an instant the rosy lips were
compressed. "Is it--do you think it wrong to have secrets?"
Miss Holmes was alarmed and studied her anxiously.
"It depends on what they are, and with whom," she answered gravely.
"Long ago, when we first knew her, Olive Personette said girls always
had secrets. They were mostly about other girls. And I only knew the
Estenegas, and there wasn't anything about them except the queer old
house and Carmen going to a convent. She didn't care about that. Then
there was the party."
"Yes," encouragingly.
"Olive was very angry because--because her cousin was so nice to me."
Then the whole story came out, how Olive had scarcely taken any notice
of her, and had her seat changed and played with the larger girls.
But, after awhile, it had blown over, and now they were good friends
again.
Miss Holmes had remarked an estrangement, but she was not in love with
Olive herself, and had made no comment.
"I didn't want to tell Uncle Jason----"
"Oh, no, no," interrupted Miss Holmes quickly.
"And--I should have liked to know whether it was quite right to dance
so much with Victor, but you see it was all done, and--and----"
"On the whole, you were a very discreet little girl. You did not know,
of course. Olive should have been more attentive to her guests. That
wasn't a very harmful secret, but I think your uncle would have been
quite vexed with Olive."
"I was afraid he would," she returned gravely.
"It is better to keep a secret than to stir up strife," Miss Holmes
remarked.
"But now there's another secret," and a look of distress clouded the
fair face. "It's been such a lovely day. I didn't ever suppose he
would come without the girls, but he has, and they do not know. Olive
will be angry, I am afraid."
Miss Holmes smiled inwardly, so as not to pain Laverne. Even these
little girls began to have troubles and jealousies about the boys. She
had been in it herself during childhood, she had seen a great deal of
it later on. And childhood should be such a sweet and simple thing--a
season of pure enjoyment.
"I think you had better say nothing about to-day. I'll explain the
matter sometime to Mrs. Personette."
"Oh, that will be splendid! It was just a glorious time, wasn't it?
And I should be sorry to have it spoiled."
Her face was joyous again with relief.
"But I can tell Uncle Jason?"
"Oh, yes."
She would have felt much relieved if she had known that the young
fellow went straight to the Personettes and found his aunt home alone.
The girls were out driving with some friends.
"Aunt Grace," he said frankly, after the first courtesies had passed,
"I've been up there on the hill where the Chadseys live, getting
acquainted with the pets; and what an odd, pretty place it is. I like
Miss Holmes very much. I wish Isola had just such a friend instead of
that half-French governess. And Miss Laverne is a very charming little
child, isn't she? Can't you bring them over some Saturday and I'll do
my best to entertain you. I've told mother a good deal about
them--well, so have you;" and he laughed with boyish gayety.
"Yes, I've been thinking of it. And now everything is at its best.
I'll be over in a day or two and we will settle upon the time. I
should like your mother to know Miss Holmes. And, oh, what a treat it
will be for that little Laverne. She might almost as well be in a
convent, but she is happy and bright as a lark. She's a really
charming child, but it would be a pity to make an early 1800 girl out
of her when we are passed the middle of the century."
They both laughed at the idea.