THE LETTER-BAG.
Monday morning Marion sent a long letter to her mother, in which she
gave a full account of her interview with Aunt Bettie; sent the address,
and gave as accurate a description as she was able of Miss Jemima Dobbs
herself.
She waited anxiously for some days for an answer to her letter, and
could hardly keep the thought of Aunt Bettie out of her head. Friday
afternoon, when the postman came, she was the first to get to the door
and take the bag from him. As she went with it into the library, the
girls all crowded round her in eager expectation, while she stifled her
own impatience and slowly unstrapped the bag, looking provokingly
unconcerned, and quite regardless of the smiling, eager faces that were
bent over her.
"O Marion!" exclaimed Sarah Brown, "don't you see I'm dying to know if
there's a letter for me? Do hurry up."
"She doesn't expect a letter herself, so she doesn't care how long she
keeps us waiting," sullenly remarked Mattie Denton; "she likes to
torment us."
"You're mistaken there, Mattie," replied Marion, with a teasing twinkle
in her eyes, "for I do expect a letter; but I like 'linked sweetness,
long drawn out,' you know. Hands off, girls!" as she slowly opened the
mouth of the bag, and two or three arms were stretched out for the
letters that filled it to the top; "hands off, I'm postman to-day, and I
won't have my rights interfered with. Let me see,--number one; that's
for Julia Thayer. Julia! where are you? Here, Fan, run upstairs and take
it to her. Number two, Grace Minton. Here, Grace, virtue recognized and
patience rewarded; you held your tongue, and see how well I've served
you;" and Marion rattled on a string of nonsense as she took out the
letters and handed them to their various owners.
"Two letters and a pamphlet for Miss Stiefbach; one for Miss Christine;
and whose is this great, fat one, I wonder, with a foreign stamp? Rachel
Drayton, I do declare!" and she was about to add, "I'm glad she's got
it;" but her habit of always treating Rachel with supreme indifference
was too strong upon her, and she only remarked, "Here, who will take
this letter up to Miss Drayton's room?"
Georgie Graham came forward and offered her services. "I am going
upstairs," she said; "I'll take it up to her."
Marion handed it to her without speaking, but elevated her eyebrows in a
very expressive way; but at that moment Rachel herself came into the
room, and Georgie stepped forward and gave her the letter, saying in her
sweetest tones:--
"Ah, Rachel! are you here? Here is a letter for you, and I could not
resist giving myself the pleasure of delivering it."
Rachel took the letter with a delighted smile, and, thanking Georgie,
ran upstairs that she might read it undisturbed; in the surprise and
pleasure of receiving it she did not notice Georgie's unusually affable
manner, or the astonished glances and expressive looks which passed
between the other girls.
Marion mentally remarked, "The two millions are taking effect; Georgie
has begun to toady already."
"Well, Marion, haven't you got a letter for me?" asked little Rose May,
who had stood patiently by Marion's side, saying nothing, but looking
longingly into the bag, the bottom of which was fast becoming visible.
"You poor little thing, how good you have been!" and Marion bent down
and kissed the expectant, little face. "I'll look over these in a jiffy,
and we'll see if there isn't one for you. Susie Brastow, May Fowler,
_Marion Berkley_, and--yes, here is yours, Rose,--Miss Rose May in great
black letters."
"Oh, it's from father! I'm so glad!" and Rose seated herself on the
floor in the bow-window, and was soon oblivious to everything but the
contents of her letter.
"Here, Grace!" exclaimed Marion, as Grace Minton passed on her way into
the drawing-room, "just take this and hang it on the nail; that's a good
girl;" and she held the letter-bag towards her.
"No, I thank you," laughingly replied Grace; "you're very anxious to be
postmaster when it comes to taking out the letters, but the rest of the
duties you want to shirk on to some one else; but I won't submit, I'm
going to do my practising."
"Oh, you unnatural, ungrateful girl!" replied Marion; "you have read
your letter, and are not even thankful to me for giving it to you,
almost the first one; and here I am perfectly wild to read mine.
However," she exclaimed with martyr-like air, "it's only another proof
of the total depravity of the human race."
"No ingratitude, Marion; but you _know_ you always get some one to hang
the bag up for you after _you_ have had the fun of taking out the
letters, and I don't think it is fair."
"Perfectly," replied Marion, as she hung the bag up in the vestibule,
ready for the girls to make their various deposits, "perfectly; equal
distribution of labor you know."
"Equal humbug!" replied Grace, who could not help laughing.
"O Grace!" called out Marion over the banisters, as Grace was about to
turn into the drawing-room, "couldn't you find out what Georgie Graham
is going to practise, for when she is in the school-room, playing
Chopin's Polonaise, and you are in the drawing-room running the
scales,--at least, to one who is not especially fond of 'close
harmony,'--the effect is not so charming as it might be."
Grace, whose musical powers were not very extensive, made up a face, and
slammed the drawing-room door, and Marion rushed precipitately into her
own room.
"Don't sit down on that bed!" cried Florence; "don't you see I've got on
the ruffled tidies?"
"O you old maid!" retorted Marion; "you know there's no place I enjoy
sitting to read my letters so much as on the bed. What possessed you to
put on those tidies to-day?"
"Why, Marion, we have been back more than seven weeks, and have not had
them on yet. Now just see how nice they look."
"They do look lovely, that's a fact;" replied Marion. "There's one thing
your respected aunt knows how to do to perfection, and that is to quill
ruffles. On the whole I'm glad you put them on; it will cure me of my
horrible habit of bouncing down on the bed; consequently save me an
innumerable amount of lectures, besides making our room look very
distingué; three excellent reasons for keeping them on, so I'll content
myself with our old seat."
"Well, Mab, do tell me what your mother writes."
"Why, I actually haven't had time to read it yet; there were crowds of
letters, and I, like a little goose, took the bag. I do hope she has
some good news of Jemima;" and Marion opened the letter and read it
aloud:--
"BOSTON, Nov. 16th.
"MY DEAR MARION:--I was delighted to receive your letter, but
particularly so when I read it and found how much my dear daughter
was interesting herself for the good of others.
"I have just been obliged to change our parlor girl, Mary having
gone home to be with her invalid mother, and was preparing myself
for going the usual round of the intelligence offices, when your
letter came. The address which you sent (I presume it was not a
specimen of Miss Stiefbach's instruction) I took with me, for I had
never heard of Mrs. Benson's office, and doubted very much if I
should be able to find it.
"As events proved, I was right, for after having crossed the city
in every direction,--in cars, coaches and on foot,--I found that
the place must be in Crawford Street, East Boston, instead of East
Crawford Street, Boston; so I went to the East Boston ferry, and as
good luck would have it, there was a directory in the office, which
I looked over, and discovered that there was such a street, but
could find no Mrs. Benson; however, as the directory was an old
one, I did not trust to it, but crossed the ferry. I found the
street without any difficulty; but when I came to No. 22, behold,
it was occupied by a barber! I must say, I was discouraged; but
upon going in and making inquiries, I found that Mrs. Benson had
formerly occupied the store, but, as the colored gentleman informed
me, 'she had removed to Boston, thinking that the crowded
metropolis would afford her a better opportunity of carrying on her
business, so as to render it more lucrative.' He was so extremely
affable and polite, that I almost felt it my duty to sit down and
have all my hair cut off; but I contented myself with buying a new
kind of crimping-pin, which he assured me was the same as those
used by Her Royal Highness the Empress Eugénie. Of course I
believed him, and the crimping-pins will be ready for you when you
come home at Christmas. But to return to my story; Mr. Ambrose St.
Leger (don't be frightened, Marion, that is only the barber) gave
me minute directions how to find Mrs. Benson's office, and I came
back to the city, thankful to have some clue, however indirect it
might be. I found the office without any difficulty, and Mrs.
Benson, being of course very anxious to work herself into the good
graces of a Boston lady, was extremely loquacious and obliging,
notwithstanding I was unable to suit myself there with a servant.
To make a long story short, she told me that she had received
several letters for a Jemima Dobbs, but as she had never had any
such girl in her office, after keeping them some time, she had
burned them up.
"I must say I felt extremely disheartened, for I thought that if I
found the right woman she would certainly be able to tell me
something about Jemima Dobbs. She produced her books, and upon
looking over them I found the name of Arabella Dobbs. It seemed
ridiculous to think that could be the same person I wanted, but I
had an inward conviction that it was, and I have still; though
don't get elated yet. Mrs. Benson, who relies more upon her memory
than her book-keeping, says she is sure she got Arabella Dobbs a
place in East Boston several weeks ago, and she is going to write
to the lady, to find out if she is still there, and if she ever had
the name Jemima. I thanked her for the interest she had taken in
the case, and gave her my address, as she promised to send me word
the instant she received an answer to her letter.
"And now, my dear, that is all I have to tell you. Very
unsatisfactory I know it is; but I feel quite sure that Arabella
Dobbs and Jemima Dobbs are one and the same person, for it is very
seldom that one comes across a Yankee girl in these offices, and
Dobbs is a name one would not be likely to find there twice.
"You will be the best judge of what it is best to do about telling
Mrs. Dobbs what I have written to you; perhaps it will be better to
wait until you hear something more conclusive; but the suspense
must be terrible for her to bear, and it may be some consolation
for her to know there is some one interesting herself for her here.
"I will write just as soon as I hear from Mrs. Benson; and now, my
darling, I really have not another moment to spare you.
"Your father sends his usual stock of love, and ever so many
messages, which I could not remember if I tried; but they were all
very affectionate and so complimentary, that perhaps it is just as
well you should not hear them.
"Charlie is asleep, and Fred has not yet come in from baseball; so
you must content yourself with a whole heart-full of love from your
fond
"MAMMA."
"Now, Flo, was there ever such a darling mamma as mine? I do think she
is just perfection,--going all over Boston, and East Boston too, and
never saying she was tired, or anything of the sort. I don't think there
are many women that would do that; do you, Flo?"
"No, I don't believe there are many like her; I think she is the
loveliest woman I ever knew. But, Marion, I don't see as you have found
out much about poor Jemima after all."
"No, there is not much real, satisfactory information, that's a fact;
but I _feel_ just as if that girl was the right one, and I know mamma
must feel pretty sure of it too, or she would have waited for the answer
to that letter before she wrote me. I shall go up to auntie's as soon as
I can; but I'm afraid it won't be before Saturday, for you know
to-morrow is English composition day, and next day French abstract, and
I was so careless about mine last time that I really think I ought to
lay myself out this week."
"Indeed you ought, Marion," exclaimed Florence; "it's a shame that a
girl who can write such compositions as you can, when you have a mind
to, should hand in such a flat, silly thing as your last one was. I'm
not complimentary, I know, but it's the truth; you know yourself it was
horrible."
"Yes, I know it was; and that is why I'm particularly anxious to have a
good one this time; don't you see?"
"But don't you think you will be able to get up to Aunt Bettie's before
Saturday?" asked Florence; "it seems hard to keep her in suspense."
"I really don't see how I can find time, and then I'm in hopes that if I
wait, by that time the answer to that woman's letter will have come, and
I shall hear something decisive from mamma."
"Well, I think after all perhaps it will be better for you to wait until
then. But do you know it is after four o'clock, and the girls have all
got through practising? We ought to go down and try our duet."
"Sure enough!" exclaimed Marion, springing up. "I don't know my part at
all; haven't looked at the last two pages, and Mr. Stein comes
to-morrow."
"Oh, you read music so quickly, that you'll play your part better at
sight than I shall after I've practised it a week. I wish I could read
faster."
"Don't wish it, Flo; it is very nice sometimes, but I don't think people
who read easily ever play readily without their notes. Now for you to
know a piece once is to know it always, with or without your notes,
while I have to fairly pound it into my head."
"There is more truth than poetry in that, I know," replied Florence, as
the two went downstairs together, "for I have heard Aunt Sue complain of
the same thing; nevertheless I wish I wasn't so awfully slow."
But we will leave them to their music, and musical discussions, and
hurry on with our story.