MATTY.
"Amy, what are you pondering?"
"Men and things in general and their iniquities in particular; my own
not being included, they being nothing worth speaking of," I answered,
rather evasively, not being disposed at present to make public the
nature of my cogitations, which really had to do with my own
shortcomings.
"We will pass over the modesty of the remark," said Bessie Sanford,
"but we insist upon knowing--do we not, Milly?--the tenor of the
meditations which have actually kept you quiet for--let me see--I think
it must be full two minutes by the clock."
"That inquisitive spirit of yours needs repression, Elizabeth," I said:
"therefore I shall not yield to your demands."
"Then bid farewell to peace," was the rejoinder. And knowing Elizabeth
Sanford well, I meditated a precipitate flight; but she divined my
intention, and, seizing upon me, held me prisoner, and made good her
threat until I succumbed, first freeing my mind of my opinion as to the
conduct of my captor.
"Never mind. We will leave the results of that case to the future," she
said; "the present question has only to do with yourself, and the
unburdening of your secrets. Your inward communings are of such rare
occurrence, that when you do indulge in them, your friends are entitled
to benefit by them.--Is it not so, Milly?"
"Reap what benefit you may, then," I answered. "I was thinking how I
was going to waste."
"H'm'm," said Bessie, releasing her grasp upon my shoulders, and gazing
with an air of deep meditation out of the window near which we sat.
"Fred Winston would doubtless feel complimented by that sage
conclusion; but if you feel so decidedly that you are throwing yourself
away, it is not yet too late for you to draw back, and----"
"Your remarks are too frivolous to bear the consideration of a
well-balanced mind, Elizabeth," I interrupted, "and therefore I decline
to notice them further than to say that you are entirely wide of the
mark. Perhaps I did not express myself in language as choice as I might
have used; but what I meant to say was--to quote the copy-books--that
'opportunities imply obligations,' and that, while my opportunities are
many, the obligations arising therefrom have _not_ been fulfilled."
I had spoken jokingly, almost mockingly, nevertheless I really meant
what I said; but any thing like a sober reflection or solemn view of
life's duties was so new from me, that for a moment my sister and
friend were struck dumb with astonishment.
Then Bessie gave vent to a smothered groan.
"Listen to the words of wisdom!" she ejaculated. "The depth of her! And
whence and since when, may I inquire, arises thus suddenly so solemn a
view of your responsibilities? They are not wont to weigh upon your
mind."
"That is just it," I said. "I am in earnest, not in joke, whatever you
may think. It has, rather suddenly I allow, dawned upon me, that I am a
perfectly useless member of society; or rather, the conviction has been
forced upon me by the words of Allie, whom I overheard informing Daisy
that I was very nice and lovely, but the _uselessest_ person in the
house. Loyal Daisy was indignant, and questioned the justice of the
remark; but it opened up a field of reflection to me, and I am obliged
to admit its truth. Since I left school last spring, what have I done
but amuse myself, and attend readings and lectures, which amounts to
the same thing, as the motive is purely selfish?"
"You have made 'food for the gods,'" said Bessie demurely.
I turned upon her.
"For that remark you shall have cause to regret that you ever were
born," I retorted, "and I would not have believed it of you, Bessie.
But seriously, girls, I am longing for an object in life on which I can
expend some of the capabilities of which I feel myself possessed."
"I thought you had been supplied with one since the 15th of last
November," said Bessie, "but----"
"Will you leave that subject out of the question?" I again interrupted.
"If not, there will be trouble between the houses of Sanford and
Livingstone."
"Why can't you two be what Daisy calls 'common-sensible,' and tell what
is at the bottom of all this?" said Milly, joining for the first time
in the conversation.
"I am sure that I am showing an unusual amount of common-sense," I
rejoined, "for I have in all seriousness just awakened to a sense of my
shortcomings towards humanity in general, and am longing for an object
on which to expend my superfluous energies. You, Milly, have your
charges, Bill and Jim, whom you have rescued from lives of shame and
crime, and who are standing monuments of the efficacy of your zeal,
self-sacrifice, and good sense in their behalf (no, you need not
courtesy); and Bessie has her old ladies to whom she so religiously
devotes one afternoon in every week, no matter what temptations assail
her in other directions, and who simply adore her, and for whom she
does many a little kind office at divers other times. But who, outside
of our family, to whose happiness I add, of course, because I am their
own Amy; and--and Fred; yes, and you, dear Bessie," as a soft little
reminding hand was laid upon my arm,--"who except these is any the
better or happier for my existence?"
"Lots of friends and relations, you foolish child," said Bessie, while
Milly dropped a re-assuring kiss upon my forehead. "What nonsense, Amy!
I do not know any one who is a more general favorite."
"Well, allowing that it is so," I said, "is it not only because I am
merry and full of life, and make things a little cheerful around me?
Point to one thing useful or of real lasting benefit that I have ever
done, and I will thank you. I have loved Aunt Emily's hospital cottage
by the sea, for her sake and for dear little Amy's, and have worked a
little for that; but it has been a real pleasure and enjoyment to me,
and has never involved one moment's self-sacrifice."
Modesty will not allow me to put down here all that Milly and Bessie in
their partial affection said to persuade me that I was not altogether a
useless member of society at large. Delightful as it was to hear, it
did not succeed in quieting my newly awakened conscience or sense of
responsibility; and perhaps Milly on her part did not intend that it
should do so.
"She evidently must be furnished with an _object_," said Bessie;
"nothing else will satisfy her; and as she seems to have something of
the feeling of the monks and nuns of old, that the more disagreeable
the duty the greater the credit, let us satisfy her by finding her a
most unpleasant one. Oh, charming! I have thought of just the
thing.--Why not adopt as your particular charge, Amy, that most
unattractive young cripple, Matty Blair? She will probably satisfy all
your longings for self-sacrifice, in a way which can leave nothing to
be desired."
"The very thing," I answered, delighted to have found so soon an
"object" on which to expend the benevolent yearnings with which I had
been seized,--not so suddenly as Milly and Bessie believed; for, for
some time past, I had had a secret and rather unwelcome consciousness
that I was not doing my share toward mitigating the general load of
human misery and ignorance,--a consciousness which Allie's words had
only quickened into more active life. "But, girls, I assure you that I
am not at all moved by the ascetic notion of taking up the most
disagreeable work I can find, as a penance for former shortcomings. I
wish from my heart that Matty Blair was pretty and straight and sweet,
a typical little story-book pauper, whom it would be a pleasure to
befriend, and who would respond amicably to my advances. Matty, from
what I know of her, will be far from being all that; nevertheless I
shall take her up, and see what can be done for her."
"Consult mother first, dear," said Milly. "She may see objections: they
say that Matty's parents are dreadful people, and they may choose to
make trouble for you. There are cases, you know, where people expect
you to _pay_ for being allowed to confer benefits upon them."
"I wish that we could remove the child, or both the children, entirely
from the father and mother," I said.
"They will never allow that while the poor little things continue to be
profitable to them," said Milly.
"You have taken up something of a task, truly," said Bessie. "First you
will have those wretched parents to win over, and then that
unattractive little creature. And, Amy, although I would not wish to
throw cold water upon your enthusiasm, I feel sure that your father and
mother will never let you go to such a place as the home of the child
must be. Milly's mission came to her, as it were, heaven-sent, it seems
to me," she added in a reverent tone; "but you must seek this out to do
Matty any good, and face those dreadful relations of hers. Your father
and mother will never listen to it, and they will be right. Do not try
to run a tilt against windmills, dear."
"No, neither will I make mountains out of mole-hills," I answered
lightly, although I did feel the force, yes, and the truth too, of
Bessie's reasoning, and had my own doubts; "and certainly I shall not
have more unpromising material to deal with than Milly had when she
undertook to bring up her charges in the way they should go. Moreover,
I shall not attempt to beard the lions in their den; but I suppose I
have to win my way into Matty's affections or confidence, or whatever
it may be that proves assailable, and if I find any way to help her, I
shall ask cousin Serena to go into partnership with me. She will be
protection enough anywhere, for no one could think of troubling or
annoying her in any way."
"Well, I'm not so sure of that, either," said Bessie; "but I'm not
going to discourage you further, and time will show. But how do you
mean to set to work, Amy?"
"I do not know yet; how can I?" I answered. "I have only just thought
of this, and of course I have not had time to make any plans or to
think of what I shall do. I shall firstly go this very afternoon to
cousin Serena; and if she thinks me, as she doubtless will, a prodigy
of benevolence, self-sacrifice, and generosity, and agrees to all I ask
of her, I shall attack father and mother to-night. I mean to act while
the frenzy is on me, lest my ardor cool, and I see the many lions in
the way which you bad girls are trying to conjure up."
Knowing myself in this respect pretty well, I was really afraid that if
I gave myself too much time for consideration of my new scheme, I might
become appalled by the difficulty and disagreeableness which were
prophesied; and I was determined to place myself in a position
where--unless a higher authority interfered--I could not in pride or
conscience draw back.
Milly had taken almost no part in the little discussion between Bessie
and me, generally speaking only when she was appealed to; and I knew by
this that she did not altogether approve. But I was a little
self-willed, a state of mind not altogether of rare occurrence with me,
I am afraid; and I chose to ignore the disapprobation which was implied
by this silence, and asked her no questions.
And now for cousin Serena, to whom I bent my steps at once, accompanied
by Bessie, who volunteered to go with me; though, to tell the truth, I
could have dispensed with her society for this occasion, being afraid
of the discouraging objections and criticisms she might raise. But she
ventured none; on the contrary, she seemed rather inclined to aid and
abet me when I broached the subject to cousin Serena, in whom I was not
disappointed. She proved herself--the blessed soul--the most willing
co-adjutor, even more so than I desired; for, running to a closet where
she kept a bountiful provision of such articles, she began to bring
forth flannel, calico, and stout muslin suitable to make clothes for
poor people; whereupon my spirit shrank appalled, for, if there was one
occupation which I hated more than another, it was plain sewing,
especially upon coarse material.
"O cousin Serena!" I said, "I am not going to sew and make clothes for
Matty. It is so much easier and more convenient to buy them
ready-made."
This speech, I was sorry to see, damped cousin Serena's ardor; for this
working by proxy, as it were, did not at all coincide with her
old-fashioned notions; and "ready-made garments" were to her a delusion
and a snare, giving opportunity to Satan to find mischief for idle
hands to do. I hated to disappoint her when she was so enthusiastically
preparing to cut put work for both Bessie and me; but I hated still
more to sew, and held my ground, being borne out by Bessie, who was not
any more partial to such work than I was. Cousin Serena shook her head,
and sighed over the degeneracy of the age which could content itself
with other than such exquisite "hand-sewing" as she did herself.
Having gained my point, and made her promise all that I wished, I
insisted that she should go home with us to dinner, taking the little
bower of Dutch Johnny, the florist, by the way for a glimpse of Matty.
Cousin Serena had never seen her; but I was not afraid to have her do
so, unpromising object for one's charitable sympathies though she
certainly was, for, the more helpless and repulsive-looking, the more
would cousin Serena's tender heart warm toward her.
Our errand to Johnny's was nominally to purchase flowers, and, of
course, we did invest therein, and came out bearing some of his
choicest blossoms; but cousin Serena made use of the opportunity to
take a close observation of Matty as she sat at her little peanut-stand
in the corner, sullen and lowering, the picture of discontent and
misery, as usual.
But cousin Serena did more than this; for, with the tact which she
always showed in dealing with people of this class, she succeeded in
arousing a slight feeling of interest in the sullen, disagreeable
little cripple.
The one gift which had been granted to Matty was a profusion of
beautiful hair, which, however, was never seen to perfection, as it was
always braided tightly and wound in a close coil about her head, giving
to the wizened, shrunken face an even older look than was natural to
it. If she had any pride in any thing, it must have been in this
hair,--indeed, she had little else to be proud of,--for it was always
fairly tidy. Johnny, it seemed, always exacted a certain amount of
cleanliness and decency as the price of her admission into his shop;
not, perhaps, that he had any inherent love for this virtue, as such,
or that his own comfort and happiness depended upon them, but because
he feared that his trade might be injured if his customers found there
such a dirty, ragged little object as Matty had formerly been. Clean
hands and faces, well-brushed hair, and as much patching of ragged
clothes as the neglected, worse than motherless creatures could
compass, were required from Matty and Tony. His good-natured wife
sometimes befriended them in this way, and put in a few stitches for
them; the result being profitable in more ways than one. It was she,
and not the miserable, intemperate mother, who plaited Matty's glossy
locks in the heavy braid which she then wound round her head.
Cousin Serena went up to the peanut-stand, invested in Matty's wares,
the child serving her in the dull, mechanical way usual with her, and
smiled kindly down at her, eliciting, however, no response.
"What pretty hair you have, Matty!" was Miss Craven's next advance;
and, as she spoke, she lightly touched with her gloved finger the
shining coil which many a society belle might have envied.
A gleam lighted up the dull, heavy eyes, and Matty raised them to the
dear old lady's face.
"It is almost a pity to wear it so closely bound up," continued cousin
Serena; while Bessie and I, apparently making an inspection of Johnny's
stock while he was engaged with another customer, lent attentive ears
to what passed, I feeling rather that my intended mission work had been
taken up by other hands; "it would show so nicely if you wore it loose
and flowing as most little girls do now. I would like to see it when it
is down."
With a motion marvellously quick in one so crippled, the child raised
her hands, unbound the coil from about her head, and drawing her
fingers through the plait, let the rippling, waving masses fall flowing
over her poor, twisted, mis-shapen shoulders.
"Amy and Bessie," said cousin Serena, pursuing her advantage of playing
upon the only vanity in poor Matty's nature, "Amy and Bessie, come here
and see what beautiful hair this child has. It is a good deal like
yours, Amy, both in color and quantity."
With another sudden motion, Matty drew the shining waves in front of
her, glanced at them lovingly, and then raising her eyes to me with the
first appearance of any thing like interest in them which I had ever
seen, scanned my locks, and said with something of malicious triumph in
her tone and look,--
"It's prettier nor her'n."
"So it is, Matty," I said, ignoring what Daisy would have called the
"discompliment" to myself, and determined to strike while the iron was
hot, or at least approaching an unusual degree of warmth,--"so it is;
you have the very prettiest hair I ever saw."
Matty did not smile,--I never but once saw the light of a smile on her
face,--but she gave a low chuckle. Evidently we had touched a chord
that would respond; an ignoble one it might be, but it was something to
have gained even this.
Having dismissed his customer, Johnny now came to the front.
"'Tis goot," he said, pointing to the beautiful locks; "'tis goot. Mine
wife she say 'tis pest cut off dat head; bud Maddy she so moosh lofe
dat head, an' 'tis so goot, I say, leaf her keep her head. So mine
wife, she say, 'yes, 'tis too pad to cut dat nice head,' an' she leafs
it on her, an' mine wife she comb an' prush it for Maddy. But I tells
Maddy she shall sell dat head for so moosh as fife tollars if she
schuse."
"Don't ye be after tellin' me mother that," said Matty, with a sudden
look of angry alarm, which was really pathetic, as one gathered from it
that the child felt she would no longer be allowed to keep her one
cherished possession, if any idea of its pecuniary value were suggested
to her mother.
"Nein, nein," answered Johnny, shaking his head and speaking with
emphasis, as if to say that this was a secret he would carefully guard
from the unnatural parent. "Nein, nein," he repeated. "If I tells dat
mutter any tings, 'tis as dat head is so pad as is not vort notings."
"But you would not say what is not true, even to save Matty's hair,
would you?" said Miss Craven, unable to allow this more than doubtful
morality to pass.
Again Johnny wagged his head, this time as one quite convinced that he
was in the right, and answered: "If I tells shust one nice, leetle pit
of a lie" (Johnny did not mince matters, even to his own conscience),
"'tis for to keep away a great pig wrong; for if I tells dat mutter de
shild's head is vort so moosh, she put dat head in de scissors de negst
minit."
The kindly old Dutchman was plainly convinced that the end justified
the means, and cousin Serena felt that any further discussion of the
question was useless, and that it would not tend to improve Matty's
moral views or those of her brother Tony, who had just come in, as both
were sure to side with their friend and benefactor.
"We will hope that no one will ever touch Matty's pretty hair," she
said; and I, seized with a sudden inspiration, and still appealing to
Matty's vanity, said,--
"I would like to see Matty's hair flowing over a dark-blue dress. How
it would set it off! Would you like a blue dress, Matty? Your hair will
look so pretty over it if you wear it down."
Matty looked rather askance at me. She evidently regarded me as a rival
in the matter of hair, and was not inclined to accept any advances on
my part; but friendly, jolly little Tony answered for her; while she
hesitated, evidently meditating some ungracious answer.
"Oh, wouldn't she though, miss! I guess she would like it, an' her hair
would look awful pooty on it, an' when we goes to the Sunday-school
festival,--when it's Easter, ye know,--Matty'll wear the blue dress,
an' her hair down on it, an' she'll look as good as any of the girls
there, an' better, 'cause there isn't one of 'em has hair like
Matty's.--An' I'll tell ye, Matty, if the lady,--she's one of Jim's
young ladies,--if she gives ye the blue dress, we'll keep it to Mrs.
Petersen's if she'll let us, so ma can't get it for the drink.--Are ye
goin' to give it to her, miss?"
"Indeed I am," I answered to the eager question. "Come now, Matty,
stand up, and we'll measure you for the dress. Perhaps I can find one
ready-made, and you shall have it to-morrow.--Johnny, can you lend me a
yard-measure?"
Johnny produced one; and Matty, still half doubtful whether or no to be
gracious, and eying me with a gaze which had some lingering viciousness
in it, rose half reluctantly to her feet. Standing so, her deformity
was even more visible than it was when she was seated; and it took all
my nerve and power of will to take the measure of the mis-shapen
shoulders without shrinking from the touch. And then I saw the
improbability, I might say the impossibility, of finding in any
ready-made-clothing store, a dress which would fit the twisted form.
One must be made on purpose; one which would set at defiance all rules
of symmetry; and how to have it completed to-morrow, even late in the
day to-morrow? Where should I go to have such an order filled by the
time I desired it? And I believed from what I had seen of Matty that
the non-fulfilment or postponement of my hasty, ill-considered promise
would be enough to excite all her enmity again. However, I said nothing
until we were out of the little shop, when I exclaimed at my own want
of fore-thought, and asked where I could go to have my order fulfilled
without delay.
"You can't do it," said Bessie. "Even at the stores where they profess
to furnish costumes at twenty-four hours' notice, they would not agree
to give you, in so short a time, a dress for which they can use no
ordinary pattern. Amy,"--with what seemed to be a most irrelevant
change of subject,--"is any one coming to your house to dinner
to-night?"
"Cousin Serena, and yourself if you will," I answered.
"Yes, I intended to suggest that you should invite me," answered
Bessie, "and, had you proved obdurate, should have appealed to Milly or
your mother. Well, there will be four of us: yourself, cousin Serena,
Milly, and myself; and we will press the mother and Mrs. Rutherford
into the service. Let us go to Arnold's, buy some suitable
material,--and we all know what cousin Serena is with scissors and
thimble,--coax her to cut out a dress for Matty, and we will all devote
the evening, perhaps the whole night, to it. By our united exertions, I
think that we can surely accomplish it in time for you to take it to
her to-morrow, and your credit will be saved."
"If we were not in the street, I should fall upon you with kisses and
tears of gratitude," I answered ecstatically; "as it is, consider
yourself embraced.--Cousin Serena, will you help us?"
There was no question of that: cousin Serena was only too glad to give
us her services; and although, as I have said, she needed to be guided
and tyrannized over in the matter of style and fashion where her own
dress was concerned, she was an expert in fashioning garments for the
poor.
Bessie's idea was acted upon forthwith. We took our way down to
Arnold's, purchased the necessary material, and, lest it should not be
sent home in time, bid pride hide its head, and carried the parcels
ourselves.
Jim beamed upon us when he gathered, from the conversation around the
dinner-table, to what the evening was to be devoted, and became quite
an overpowering nuisance with his pressing attentions to the young
ladies.
The dress was so nearly completed that night that Milly and I had but
little difficulty in finishing it for the next afternoon.
Father and mother gave consent to my pursuing my benevolent intentions
with regard to Matty, so far as I could do it without venturing into
the abode of her wretched parents, but positively forbade my going
there even under the guidance and protection of cousin Serena. Indeed,
the fear of them which Tony and Matty showed augured little good or
encouragement for those who would benefit these children, unless some
profit therefrom, was to accrue to the elder Blairs themselves.
The dress was ready in good time, and supplemented by the addition of a
warm sack of the same color from mother and a little cloth cap from
aunt Emily. A hood had been in the thoughts of the latter, as warmer
and more suitable; but I had begged for the cap as affording better
opportunity for the display of Matty's hair. "Poor little object!" I
pleaded: "why not allow her the gratification of this small vanity?"
and aunt Emily yielded, as she was sure to do when any one's small
whims and fancies were to be satisfied.
Maria made the garments into a neat parcel for me; and I, thinking to
give Jim a pleasure, summoned him on his return from school to be the
bearer thereof, and to accompany me to Johnny's. That Jim was pleased,
was an assured fact; and his tongue wagged incessantly though
respectfully all the way until we arrived at our destination. Then
while I opened the parcel, and presented Matty with the dress and other
articles, he stood by in delighted contemplation, looking from me to
Matty as if he would say to her, "This is my young mistress;" to me,
"This is my _protégée_."
As for Matty, she appeared, so far as she showed any feeling at all, to
consider that the gifts were altogether due to him; and she vouchsafed
no word of thanks to me. Not that I cared for expressions of gratitude;
but I felt a little hopeless as I saw how entirely I had failed to make
any impression on her.
Tony, however, who was present again, was profuse in his thanks, and
really seemed to feel all that he said.
The shining hair fell like a shielding veil over Matty's deformity
again to-day; and after this it became her practice to wear it so when
she was away from home. There she wore it tightly bound up, and kept it
as much out of sight as possible; fearing, poor little creature, that
she might be bereft of it, should any idea of its pecuniary value enter
her mother's mind.