CHANGES
"Let's go back after luncheon," suggested Ruth as they tramped homeward.
The others assented heartily enough, and Nan was so eager to return to
her sport that she did not wait for Delia to let her in at the upper
door, but burst through the basement way, and ran against Miss Blake in
the lower hall.
"Oh, excuse me!" she panted. "We've had a glorious time. We're going
out again. Please may I have a bite of something quick, so I can run?
We want to make the most of the daylight, and Lu can almost go alone."
"Certainly. Delia has everything on the table. But won't you want to
run upstairs and give your face and hands a little scrub?"
Nan's forehead wrinkled, and she was on the point of uttering an
exclamation of disgust. But she caught herself up, and pressing her
lips together hard, flew upstairs without a word of protest. She
finished her luncheon in marvelously quick time.
"If you wish to go you may be excused," her companion announced, as the
last crumb was swallowed. A gleam of surprise lit upon Nan's face.
"Thank you," she said, and went her way feeling more contented with
herself than she had done in many a long day.
It was late when she returned, and not finding Miss Blake in any other
part of the house, she went to the governess' room and tapped on the
door for admittance, a thing she had never done before, from pure
perversity and a determination not to "let any person suppose she cared
to see them when she didn't have to."
Miss Blake herself opened the door to her and invited her to "step into
her parlor," most cordially, adding:
"I'm just having my afternoon tea. Won't you take a cup with me?"
At first Nan could scarcely find voice to reply, so strange did she
feel in this altered room. When she had last seen it it was bare and
cold and comfortless, and now--
The windows were draped with inner curtains of dainty Swiss. Hangings
of some soft, pale green stuff hung before them and in all the
doorways. The bed was shoved into a far corner of the room, and where
it had once been, against the wall, a low bookcase now stood,
displaying rows of tempting books upon its well-laden shelves, and
above them delicate bits of bric-à-brac. A rug covered the centre of
the floor. The ugly mantel-shelf was hidden from sight by an Oriental
scarf, and upon it stood all manner of odd and curious trifles. The
shabby lounge was covered by a fine old rug and piled with cushions,
while beside it stood the quaint stand and brass tray that Nan had
feasted from when her foot was lame; only now it held a brightly
burnished alcohol kettle, out of which steam was issuing in the most
hospitable fashion possible. Here also were dainty cups and saucers,
and here it was that Miss Blake brewed her tea after she had led her
guest to a chair and helped her remove her cap and coat with all the
solicitude of a veritable hostess.
"Well, how has the day gone?" asked she, trying not to betray her
amusement at Nan's obvious amazement.
"Oh, finely! We had a jolly good time. Lu can go alone now. John and
I took her out and simply made her skate. Ruth goes floundering about
like a seal, and every one laughs at her, but she's so good-natured she
doesn't mind, and one can't help liking her. Such a funny thing
happened.
"We were standing still for a minute waiting for Lu to catch her
breath, and all at once we saw Ruth coming galloping toward us in her
ridiculous way. A big, fat man was skating in the other direction, but
nowhere near her, and we didn't notice him particularly till she veered
suddenly off and crashed straight into him, without any excuse at all,
just hurled into him plump, and bowled him square over. It was the
most deliberate thing I ever saw. She had gone out of her way to do
it, but, of course, she didn't mean to. They both went crashing down
with such a thump I thought it would break the ice, and as he went over
he said: 'Good gracious!' in the mildest, funniest voice you ever
heard. John hurried off and helped him up, and I got Ruth on her feet
again, all covered with snow, and as mortified as could be, but choking
with laughter. The man looked worried, and we asked him if he was
hurt. He said, 'No! Oh, no indeed!' and then he turned to Ruth with
the most embarrassed sort of apologetic smile--just as if he had been
to blame.
"'I'm so sorry!' he stammered. 'It is the strangest thing how it could
have occurred. I thought you were over there. I really thought I was
in no one's way. Oh, would you mind telling me--a--what I said when
I--a--fell?'
"Lu was swallowing her pocket-handkerchief to keep from laughing out,
and I know I was grinning.
"Why, I think you said, 'Good gracious!'" said Ruth, shakily.
"'Oh, thank, you!' the man cried, looking ever so much relieved. 'I
thought I said 'Good gracious,' but I--I wasn't sure. I'm very glad!'
and he shambled off as if he were lamed for life, poor thing, while
Ruth and Lu and John and I simply rocked with laughter. And now when
anything happens John says 'Good gracious!' in the mildest tone, and
then goes on, 'What did I say? Oh, thank you. I thought I said "Good
gracious," but I wasn't sure!'" and Nan broke into a chuckle at the
mere recollection of the thing. Miss Blake laughed in sympathy, and
she and Nan drank their tea and nibbled their wafers in the most
amicable fashion possible, talking over, not alone the pleasant
experiences, but also that which had threatened to spoil Nan's day, the
remembrance of which made her shudder even now.
She repeated the incident to Miss Blake, concluding with:
"I don't care what they think!"
"John was right," declared Miss Blake, "and you did what was brave and
just. But don't give up trying to win Mary's and Grace's good opinion,
Nan. I want you to be respected and loved, and you can be, if you will
only be as true to yourself as you are to your friends. You were not
satisfied to let Lu and Ruth rest under a false accusation this
morning. Neither should you be satisfied to let yourself. Prove to
Mary and Grace that you are neither bold nor brazen. Force them to see
that you are kind and lovable and courageous."
"Oh, dear! How can I?" despaired Nan.
"Why, simply by being so," declared Miss Blake.
Nan fell silent, and then, when Miss Blake was just beginning to wonder
what new caprice her guest had fallen victim to, she broke out
impetuously:
"Oh, I say Miss Blake! it is just festive in here. I never saw
anything that began to be so pretty."
It was genuine praise, and Miss Blake really flushed with gratification
as she replied:
"Thank you, Nan. I think myself it is cozy, and I am very happy if my
little nest pleases you. It is a very simple one. I am my own
upholsterer and my own decorator, so I have a special reason to value
any praise of my small domain. You must come often if you like it
here, for I love to play hostess to so appreciative a guest!"
Nan settled back among the cushions with a contented sigh.
"I wish," she said presently, "I wish the rest of the house looked this
way."
"If you really would like to make some changes, Nan, I will do my best.
What there is in the house is good and substantial, and with a little
alteration could be made to serve very well."
Nan looked up eagerly.
"Oh, let's try and fix up the house, for father's coming home. Mr.
Turner will give us some money to pay for repairs, I guess--he always
does when pipes burst and things. Won't it be jolly to watch father's
face when he comes in and sees it all so pretty here? Poor old papa!
Mr. Turner says he may come in the fall, and so we'll have all the
summer to work and plan in, and then when he's here, won't we have a
jubilation, Miss Blake?"
The governess stooped to pick up a pin, and she did not reply. Then
she rose and carried the tea-cups and plates to the washstand, where
she began rinsing them carefully.
"When your father comes home I shall not be here, you know," she said
simply; "but you will be very happy together, and I am sure he would
enjoy a pretty home!"
The radiance in Nan's face faded suddenly. The same dull pain was at
her heart that she had felt and shrunk from yesterday. Only now it did
not pass away, and all the evening she seemed to be haunted by a
peculiar sense of impending misfortune. It was as though she had been
reminded of some unhappy occasion that she had tried to forget. Every
once in a while after that, when she saw Miss Blake laboriously toiling
to renovate some dilapidated piece of furniture, or heard her
discussing with Delia the remaining possibilities of this carpet or
that pair of curtains, she felt an almost uncontrollable desire to cry
out--so sharp was the sudden sting of regret that bit at her
conscience--and so keen the pain that pierced her heart.
Miss Blake left her to enjoy her holidays in perfect freedom, but as
soon as they were spent the books were brought out again and lessons
resumed as strictly as if the discipline of an entire school depended
on it.
But study had grown to have no terrors for Nan, and she was not at all
aware of the thorough course she was being put through, because it was
all accomplished in such an unobtrusive fashion. Miss Blake had a
system of her own which she put into practice, and the girl followed
her unconsciously with an interest that showed how wise an one it was.
Latin and mathematics proved the most troublesome of the tasks, and
would perhaps have led to some serious differences of opinion if Miss
Blake had not confessed herself at the start "rusty" in these
particular branches and suggested that they "go over them together."
"I really never was very strong in either of them, and it will do me
good to review," she explained.
So, spurred on by the thought of competition, Nan did her best; went
through the declensions with a rush, and quite outstripped her
fellow-student in the matter of algebraic problems.
History was always simple enough with Miss Blake to make it seem like
the most dramatic of romances, and the girl discovered a fresh interest
in the Roman heroes when the scenes of their exploits was so
graphically described to her, and when she could build up the ancient
city for herself by the aid of Miss Blake's admirable photographs of
the present.
"It seems to me you have done more traveling than any one I ever knew!"
exclaimed the girl for the hundredth time one day.
"It has been all I had to do," rejoined the governess wistfully. "For
many, many years I have had nothing else. But now all that is changed,
and--as it is half-past one, and I hear Delia coming up to announce
luncheon, I'll dismiss my class, and declare school over for to-day."
"That is always the way," mused Nan, "whenever I refer to her and try
to start her telling about herself she veers off and talks of something
else. Queer about her traveling so much, though. I wonder how she
came to do it--when she's so poor. She never said straight out she was
some one's companion, and I don't think a governess would be taken all
over the globe like that."
While the ice lasted Nan had many a good hour upon her skates. Miss
Blake too donned hers, and at these times the tables were turned and
Nan became the patient teacher, the governess the obedient pupil.
"My ankles are weak," pleaded the pupil in apology for persistent
failure.
"Exercise 'em and they'll grow strong!" declared the intrepid
instructor in peremptory tones.
"It's no use, I can't reverse, Nan!"
"Pooh! 'Never say can't till you've proved that the task is
impossible,'" quoted Nan, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
"You're real mean, so there!" responded Miss Blake in return with such
a good imitation of her own querulous tone that the girl burst into a
shout of laughter, and the two started off again to make another,
perhaps futile attempt, at the difficult feat, until, by the latter
part of the winter, Miss Blake acquitted herself so creditably that her
teacher regarded her with pardonable pride, and declared,
"There, now! You ought to be 'all primmed up with majestick pride.'
You skate as well as anybody now, and you've got rid of every particle
of nervousness."
There were many things beside skating that the governess set herself to
accomplish during these months, and Mrs. Newton often took her to task
for working so hard.
"You are beginning to look completely fagged. Do let the house go.
What do you fret over it for? If Nan wants alterations, why not let
Mr. Turner engage competent people to do the work? You have
responsibility enough without planning and overseeing all these
improvements."
But Miss Blake only shook her obstinate little head and continued to
discuss ways and means with Mr. Turner and Delia and to direct the
workmen, who presently took possession of the house, and made it seem
like a Bedlam into which order could never be restored.
"Oh, that's fine!" cried Nan, clapping her hands when she heard of the
governess' plans. "That hall closet was no good anyhow. Delia only
kept her brooms and dust-cloths there, and it's just the place for a
dumb-waiter. But if we turn the library into a dining-room, what are
you going to do with the books?"
"The best of them can be put on low shelves along the parlor walls, and
we'll take the rest upstairs and make a sort of cozy study of the front
room for your father."
"Splendid!" cried Nan.
For weeks the place was in a turmoil. Carpets were taken up, some of
them never to go down again, curtains were unhung, cleaned and folded
carefully away, and when the coast was clear the work of remodelling
began in earnest.
It seemed to Nan as if it would never come to an end, but little by
little things began to assume a more promising aspect, and at length
the last lingering workman dragged himself reluctantly away, and then
Delia descended upon the place, armed with scrubbing-brush and pail,
and waged a mighty war upon every spot of dust or paint anywhere to be
found.
The parlor had been freshly papered, and its walls no longer frowned
gloomily down upon the inoffensive guest, but seemed to cast a faint,
rosy smile at the redecorated hall and the new dining-room beyond.
Miss Blake stripped away every vestige of tarletan, and let the fine
oil paintings display themselves unveiled to the public eye.
"We can have the windows screened if we are afraid of flies," she said
as she folded away the unsightly shrouds, and Delia echoed, "Why, so we
can!" in the promptest assent, and as though it had been her own idea
all along.
The draperies were of the simplest sort, but Nan thought them
perfection. She fairly danced with delight as she fancied her father's
face when he should see his altered home. He would never recognize in
this attractive, tasteful room the old, gloomy parlor of former days.
The furniture was drawn out of its martial line and placed here and
there in inviting positions by loving, artful hands. Various pieces
were banished altogether, and where this chair or that had grown shabby
Miss Blake renewed its usefulness by covering it over with some odd
material that harmonized nicely with the old-fashioned shape of the
frame and the tone of the rest of the room.
A simple fireplace had been set in the blind chimney-piece, in which
were placed grandma's graceful andirons, buried so long in the attic
that Nan had never seen them, while the old mantel-shelf in the library
was torn out altogether and a stately new one put in its stead, and in
this too was a place for wood and fire-dogs. The two French windows
leading into the glass extension were transformed into doorways, and
gave pleasant vistas of a blooming conservatory, into which the south
sun shone genially the best part of the day.
Louie and Ruth came in on a special visit of inspection when the work
was all completed, and it did not detract from Nan's enjoyment to hear
them say that they thought the house one of the prettiest they had ever
seen.
"It has such a fresh, comfortable look," exclaimed Louie.
"As if you lived in every part of it and enjoyed it yourself, and
wanted other people to enjoy it with you," added Ruth.
"So we do," declared Nan; "that's just what we do. Isn't it, Miss
Blake?"
And Miss Blake nodded a smiling assent, though she knew quite well that
until very lately Nan had never thought about the matter at all. She
had taken her home for granted, and it never had occurred to her to try
to improve it in any wise. But the governess had had more in mind than
the mere indulging of the girl's fancy when she set about rearranging
the place. As in most of her characteristic schemes there was "a
method in her madness." Nan soon discovered that a dainty home brought
its obligations with it.
"Do you notice," said Miss Blake one day, "that since the household
arrangements have been altered there has been a good deal more work to
be done?"
"Why, I don't know," rejoined Nan; "why should there be?"
"Because all these bits of bric-à-brac we have set about must be dusted
every day, and because throwing the parlor open, as we do, makes
another room to look after. Then the plants in the conservatory should
be carefully tended if we want them to live, and Delia has to take
double the steps she used to take when we ate in the basement. Really,
Nan, as things stand, I feel the work is going to be too hard for her."
"Dear me! Whatever are we going to do?" demanded the girl anxiously.
"Simply, she must have help."
"You mean another servant?"
"No, not that. I cannot increase the household expenses in such a way
without your father's knowledge and approval. What we have done now is
almost more than I dare think of. My only comfort is that it has come
out of your money."
Nan gave a start. "My money!" she exclaimed. "Why, I never knew I had
any. Goodness! tell me about it."
"There is nothing to tell. Simply, some one who owed your mother a
debt and was unable to discharge it during her lifetime, has paid in a
certain part of it to Mr. Turner for your benefit--or so he tells me.
Both he and I thought it wise to use it in this way. The house is
virtually yours, and unless you improve it from time to time it will
decrease in value. We both felt that since you wished it, and since it
might be looked upon in the light of protecting your property, we might
safely lay out the money as we have done without first consulting your
father."
"Oh, I'm glad," cried Nan. "I didn't want him to know. It'll be all
the bigger surprise to him when he comes home. But what are we going
to do about Delia?"
"That is what I want you to tell me," rejoined Miss Blake.
"I?" queried the girl. "Why, I'm sure I don't know what we can do,
unless we hire another girl--and you say father can't afford that."
"Now, Nan, listen to me," said Miss Blake, seriously, drawing her chair
to the girl's, and emphasizing her words by laying her hand upon hers
and tapping it gently whenever a point was made. "Let us put the
matter quite plainly, and see if we can't come to a conclusion that
will both help Delia and save us the trouble of engaging another maid.
One pair of hands can't do the work in this house! You admit that?"
"Yes; I s'pose so," conceded Nan.
"Well then, obviously, we must secure the aid of another pair--perhaps
even two."
"Uh-huh!" assented the girl cheerfully enough.
"Not only that, we must secure the aid of another pair, if not two, at
no additional expense to your father."
Here Nan's head began to drop. "That's what floors me," she responded
perplexedly. "The rest is easy enough to settle; but how in the world
we are going to get people to work for us for nothing--"
"What are those things in your lap, Nan?" asked the governess suddenly
with a quick smile and an extra tap of the finger on the girl's palm.
"My hands, of course."
"Why shouldn't they be the pair we need? I cordially offer the use of
mine."
"Oh!"
Nan's face was rather blank. "I hate housework," she added, and her
mouth drew down at the corners in a pout of petulance.
"I doubt if any one really cares for it. But it must be done, and in
this case you and I must consent to do it, at least in part. Now that
you have looked the facts in the face, let us say no more about it,
after we have settled just what we prefer to do. I have always taken
care of my own room. Will you see to yours after this?"
"I s'pose so.
"Then there is the dusting and the plants."
"I'll take the plants," Nan hastened to declare.
"And the dishes on Mondays and Tuesdays?" continued Miss Blake.
There was a pause.
"If there's one thing I despise it's washing dishes," cried the girl,
her voice trembling with irritation.
The governess looked down at her own two delicate little hands and
seemed to be considering. Then she raised her head quickly, and said,
without a shade of resentment in her voice:
"Very well then, dear, I'll take the dishes. So here is the way it
stands: You care for the plants and your own room and I'll look after
my room and do the dusting and the dishes."
"You'll have more to do than I," hesitated Nan.
"No matter; if you do your share well, and don't neglect it, I am
willing to stand by my part. Is it a bargain?"
Nan nodded grimly, and they shook hands upon it.