Janice was not as much surprised--at first as her father was by
the appearance of the spinster and Mrs. Watkins. She remembered
that Miss Peckham had said she would call this evening, although
the girl had not expected her at the back door.
Their neighbor had managed to time her appearance at a rather
inopportune moment, and when daddy rose up from behind the stove
to confront the two women, in a voluminous apron and with a
smutch across his cheek, Janice could not entirely smother her
amusement.
"Oh! Oh!" she giggled. "Good evening, Miss Peckham! This--this
is Mrs. Watkins, Daddy," and she directed her father's attention
to the faded-out lady. "Ahem! I am glad to see you, Miss
Peckham--and Mrs. Watkins," Mr. Day said, bowing in that nice way
of his that Janice so much admired. Even with a blacking brush
in one hand and a can of stove polish in the other, Mr. Broxton
Day was very much the gentleman.
"You find us considerably engaged in domestic work," continued
Mr. Day, a smile wreathing his lips and his eyes twinkling. "And
if you don't mind, I'll finish my job before giving you my full
attention. Janice, take
Miss Peckham and her friend into the living room."
"Oh, no. You needn't bother," said Miss Peckham shortly.
"Here's chairs, and we can sit down. It's interesting to watch a
man try to do housework, I've no doubt."
"You said something then, Miss Peckham," said Mr. Day,
cheerfully, and began industriously daubing the stove covers.
"I brought Mrs. Watkins in here to see you, Mr. Day, 'cause I got
your welfare and hers at heart," pursued the spinster.
That sounded rather ominous, and Mr. Day poised the dauber and
stared doubtfully from his neighbor to the washed-out looking
woman.
"Mrs. Watkins is a widow," went on Miss Peckham.
Mr. Day made a sympathetic sound with his lips, but fell to
polishing now, making the stove covers rattle. Miss Peckham
raised her voice a notch. "She's a widow, and she's seen
trouble."
"We're born to it--as the sparks fly upward," observed
Mr. Day, under his breath.
"Mrs. Watkins has come to an age when nobody can say she's
flighty, I sh'd hope," continued Miss Peckham. "She's settled.
And she's got to earn her livin'."
"Now, Marthy!" objected Mrs. Watkins.
"Well, 'tis so, Sophrony, ain't it?" demanded her friend.
"Oh, of course, expenses are heavy, and it's desirable that I
should--should--well, add to my income. But I've come to no
great age, Marthy Peckham, I'd have you know!"
"Oh, bosh, Sophrony!" ejaculated Miss Peckham. "Well, as I say,
Mr. Day, Mrs. Watkins is a widow, and she needs a settled place."
"Just what are you trying to get at, Miss Peckham? I don't
understand you," asked Mr. Day, his face actually getting rather
pale.
Neither did Janice understand; but her father looked so funny
that the girl giggled again. Miss Peckham gave her a reproving
glance.
"I sh'd think you'd understand your need well enough, Broxton
Day," she said sternly. "First of all that gal ought to be
learned manners. But that's incidental, as you might say. What
I am tellin' you is, that here's your chance to get a housekeeper
that'll amount to something."
"Oh! Ah! I see!" exclaimed Mr. Day in staccato fashion, and
evidently very much relieved. "Mrs. Watkins is looking for a
position?"
"Well, she ought to be. But it does take a stick of dynamite to
get her goin', seems to me. Speak up, Sophrony!"
"Why, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Day," said the faded-out lady,
simpering. "I've been considerin' acceptin' a position such as
you have. Of course, I ain't used to working out--"
"Oh, fiddlesticks? put in Miss Peckham, "He don't care nothin'
about that, Sophrony. He can see you ain't no common servant."
"Assuredly I can see that, Mrs. Watkins," said Mr. Day, suavely.
"But do you think you would care to accept such a position as I
can offer you?"
"I should be pleased to try it," said Mrs. Watkins, with a sigh.
"Of course, it would be a comedown for me--"
"Land's sake, Sophrony!" ejaculated her friend, "with me to
sponsor you, I don't guess anybody in this neighborhood will
undertake to criticize."
"Wait a moment," said Mr. Day, and Janice was delighted to see
that he was not entirely carried off his feet. "Let us understand
each other. I pay so much a month," naming a fair sum, "and I
expect the cooking and all the housework except the heavy washing
done by whoever takes the place."
"Well, now, Mr. Day," began Mrs. Watkins, "you see, I shouldn't
expect to be treated just like an ordinary servant. Oh, no."
"That's what I tell her," snorted Miss Peckham.
"Folks that have had the off-scourings of the earth, like you
have had, Broxton Day, in your kitchen, ain't used to having
lady-help about the house."
"I hope Janice and I will appreciate Mrs. Watkins' efforts, if
she wishes to try the place," Mr. Day said, in rather a
bewildered tone.
"That gal herself can do a good deal I sh'd think, morning and
night. She ain't helpless," said Miss Peckham, staring at
Janice.
"Janice has her school work to do," said Mr. Day firmly. "She
takes care of her own room and does other little things. But
unless Mrs. Watkins wishes to undertake the full responsibility
of the housework it would be useless for her to come."
He was firm on that point. The faded-out lady smiled feebly. "I
am always willing to do as far as I can," she sighed. "The work
for three people can't be so much. I am perfectly willing to
try, Mr. Day. I'm sure nothin' could be fairer than that."
Daddy and Janice looked at each other for an instant. It flashed
through both their minds that the faded-out lady did not sound
very encouraging. Later when the two had gone, daddy put away
the blacklug tools, saying:
"Well, it will be a new experience, Janice. She is different
from anybody we have ever had before."
"Oh, Daddy! I think she's funny," gasped the girl.
He smiled at her broadly, shaking his head. "I presume she does
seem funny to you. But at least she is a ladylike person. We
must treat her nicely."
"Why, as though we wouldn't!" gasped Janice.
"But don't offend her by showing her you are amused," warned her
father. "That may be hard, for it does strike me that Mrs.
Sophronia Watkins is a character, and no mistake."
"I wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world," declared Janice.
"But, Daddy, do you suppose it is rouge she has on her face? And
does she use a lipstick?"
"For goodness' sake! Where did you hear about such things?" he
laughed.
"Why, of course I know something about most everything," declared
Janice, quite confidently. "And her face doesn't look just
natural."
"Don't get too curious, Janice," he said laughing. "If she can
cook and keep the house clean, as far as I am concerned she can
paint herself like a Piute chief."
One shock, however, Mr. Broxton Day was not exactly prepared for.
Mrs. Watkins came to the house the next day for a late
breakfast--which she got herself, Janice and her father having
already cooked their own and eaten it.
"I haven't been used to getting up very early," confessed the
woman, preening a bit. "But, of course, I shall change my
breakfast hour to conform with yours."
"I hope so," said Broxton Day, hurrying away to business.
He got the shock mentioned at night when he came to the dinner
table. The table was very neatly set; but there were three
places. The meal was not elaborate but the food seemed to be
cooked all right. Mrs. Watkins brought in the dishes and then
sat down with Mr. Day and Janice to eat.
Janice did not look at daddy, but her own face was rather red and
she was uncomfortable.
"Your daughter," said Mrs. Watkins severely, informs me that you
have not been in the habit of having anybody at your table at
meal time but your two selves. Of course, I could only engage to
assist you here with the understanding that I am to be considered
one of the family."
"Why--er--yes; that will be all right," Janice's father said,
though a bit doubtfully. "It would scarcely do to consider you,
Mrs. Watkins, in the same category as the ordinary help Janice
and I have had."
"I am glad you see it that way," said the faded-out lady. And
she was quite colorless at the moment. It was evident that the
rouge and lip-stick were used only on important occasions.
"I am glad you see it that way," she repeated. "I could consider
no let-down as a lady, in accepting any position. Manual labor
is no shame; but one must be true to one's upbringing."
"Quite so, Mrs. Watkins--quite so," agreed Mr. Day.
"Janice, child," said the woman quickly, "run out to the kitchen
and get the rest of the potatoes. And see if the coffee is
ready."
Her tone rather startled Janice; but she did as she was bade and
that without even a glance at daddy.
"I never consider I have had a real dinner," Mrs. Watkins
continued, "unless I have a bit of good cheese with it. I find
none in the house, Mr. Day. Indeed," she added, "your pantry
sadly needs stocking up."
"Why--er--that may be so. We have been living a good deal
'catch-as-catch-can,'" and he smiled upon her. "Give Janice a
list of the things you need, and she will go to Harriman's for
you in the morning."
"No. I prefer to do my own marketing, always. A child like
Janice--thank you Janice, for the potatoes-- can scarcely be
expected to use judgment in the selection of provisions. You
might telephone to the stores where you are in the habit of
trading and inform them that I have charge of your household now.
They will then expect me."
"Oh, well! All right," he said, but doubtfully.
"I have not yet brought my bag from Marthy's, next door. I will
go after it when dinner is over, while Janice clears the table.
I will send for my trunk, which is at Marietteville, later."
"Suit yourself, Mrs. Watkins," said Mr. Day.
"Have you any choice as to which of the two empty bedrooms I
consider mine?" the woman asked, heaping her plate a second time
with food.
"What's that?" asked Mr. Day, rather non-plussed.
"Which chamber shall I sleep in?" she repeated, quite calmly.
"Why--I-- Really, Mrs. Watkins, isn't the small room beyond
Janice's quite sufficient for you?" he asked, a little color
coming into his face now.
"Oh, my dear Mr. Day! I could not consider that for a moment.
Why, that is the girl's room--merely a bedroom for the hired
help. I could not possibly consider myself in the same class--"
"Except on pay-day, Mrs. Watkins?" asked the man bluntly. "We
are glad to have you with us, of course; and we will consider
your quite different status in the family, as you demand. But--"
"No, Mr. Day," Mrs. Watkins said with decision, interrupting him.
"I could not contemplate for a moment occupying the girl's room.
Why you might want it again any time."
"Not while you are with us," said Mr. Day wonderingly. "I do not
think I could afford to have two helpers."
"It does not matter," said the faded-out lady stubbornly.
"Janice, get the coffee now. It does not matter. I refuse
positively to sleep in that little, poked-up room. I prefer my
windows opening to the east."
"But the east room is the one Mrs. Day always used," said the
man, with sudden hoarseness. "I cannot allow you to use that
one. The spare chamber on the other side of the hall, if you
insist."
"Very well," said the woman with a small toss of her head. "Will
you have a cup of coffee, Mr. Day?"
"No, Mrs. Watkins. I prefer a cup of tea at dinner time. A New
England habit that has clung to me."
"Indeed? Janice, go and make your father a cup of tea, that's a
good child."
"Never mind, Janice," said daddy quickly. "I do not wish it now.
And, Mrs. Watkins."
"Yes, Mr. Day?" simpered the faded-out lady.
"I wish it distinctly understood that Janice is to give her
complete attention to her school work between dinner and bedtime,
unless she should chance to have more freedom during those hours
than is usual. She will assist you as you may have need after
school, and even in the morning before she goes to school. But
the hours after dinner are for her school work. Do you quite
understand me, Mrs. Watkins?"
Mrs. Watkins' pale, wrinkled face did not color in the least, nor
did the washed-out brown eyes change their expression. But there
was an added sharpness to the woman's voice:
"You object to Janice's giving me a hand with the lighter tasks,
Mr. Day?" she queried.
"Not at all. But her education must not be neglected."
"Ah! I quite understand," sniffed Mrs. Watkins. "You object to
my going out this evening then? But I really must have my bag
with my toilet requisites."
"I have no wish to restrict your use of the evening, as long as
your work is done," said Mr. Day, rising from the table. "Come,
Janice, it is time you were at your books."
He led the way into the living room. Mrs. Watkins gave a violent
sniff at their departure. Then she finished her coffee.