CHAPTER III.
THE TRUTH IS TOLD.
IN the bottom of that wonderful little trunk lay side by side twolittle blue and white plaid dresses, made gabrielle fashion, withruffles around the bottom and around the neck. Never were dresses madewith more patient care. All the stitches were small and very neat.
And they represented hours and hours of steady work. Every stitch inthem had been taken by Nettie Decker. Long before she had thought ofsuch a thing as coming home, they had been commenced. Birthday presentsthey were to be to the little sisters whom she had never seen. She hadearned the money to buy them. She had borrowed two little neighbors ofthe same age, to fit them to, and with much advice and now and then alittle skilful handling from Mrs. Marshall, they were finally finishedto Nettie's great satisfaction.
It was the day the last stitch was set in them that she learned she wasto come herself and bring them.
She thought of them this afternoon. If the little girls would only lether comb their hair and wash their faces and hands, she would put onthe new dresses. She had not intended to present them in that way, butdresses as soiled and faded and worn as those the little sisters hadon, Nettie Decker had never worn.
She opened the trunk, with both children beside her, watching, and drewout the dresses.
"Aren't these almost as pretty as red ones?" she asked, as she unfoldedthem, and displayed the dainty ruffles.
"No," said Susie, "not near so pretty as red ones. But then they arepretty. They aren't dresses at all; they are aprons. Are they for youto wear?"
"No," said Nettie, "they are for two little girls to wear, who havetheir hair combed beautifully, and their hands and faces very clean."
"Do you mean us?"
"I do if the description fits. I can think just how nice you would lookif your faces were clean and your hair was combed."
"We will put on the aprons," said Susie firmly, "but we won't have ourhair combed, nor our faces washed, and you need not try it."
But Miss Susie found that this new sister had as strong a will as she.The trunk lid went down with a click, and Nettie rose up.
"Very well," she said, "then we will not waste time over them. Ibrought them for you, and meant to put them on you this afternoon tosurprise mamma, but if you don't want them, they can lie in the trunk."
"I told you we did want them," said Susie, looking horribly cross. "Isaid we would put them on."
"Yes, but you said some more which spoiled it. _I_ say that they cannotgo on until your faces and hands are so clean that they shine, and yourhair is combed beautifully."
"You can't make us have our hair combed."
"I shall not try," said Nettie, as though it was a matter of very smallimportance to her. "I was willing to dress you all up prettily, but ifyou don't choose to look like the little girls I saw on the cars, whyyou can go dirty, of course. But you can't have the clean new dresses."
"Till when?"
"Not ever. Unless you are clean and neat."
"It hurts to have hair combed."
"I know it. Yours would hurt a good deal, because you don't have itcombed every day; if you kept it smooth and nice it would hardly hurtat all. But I didn't suppose you were a cowardly little girl who wasafraid of a few pulls. If the dresses are not worth those, we hadbetter let them lie in the trunk."
Nettie was already beginning to understand her queer fierce littlesister. She had no idea of being thought a coward.
"Well," she said, after a thoughtful pause, "comb my hair if you like;I don't care. Sate, you are going to have your hair combed, and youneedn't cry; because it won't do any good."
It was certainly a trial to all parties; and poor little Sate in spiteof this warning, did shed several tears; but Susie, though she frowned,and choked, and once jerked the comb away and threw it across thefloor, did not let a single tear appear on her cheeks. And at last theterrible tangles slipped out, and left silky folds of beautiful hairthat was willing to do whatever Nettie's skilful fingers told it. Whenthe faces and hands were clean, and the lovely blue dresses had beenarranged, Nettie stood back to look at them in genuine delight. Whatpretty little girls they were! She sighed in two minutes after shethought this. What did it mean that they looked so neglected and dirty?
"These must go in the wash," she said, as she gathered up the ragswhich had been kicked off.
"Will we put these on in the morning?" asked Susie, in quite a mildtone. She was looking down at herself and was very much pleased withher changed appearance.
"Oh, no," Nettie said, "they are too light to play in. They aredress-up clothes. You must have dark dresses on in the morning."
"We ain't got no dresses only them," and Susie pointed contemptuouslyat the rags in Nettie's hand. This made poor Nettie sigh again. Whatdid it all mean?
However, there was no time for sighing. There was still a great deal tobe done.
"Now we must get tea," she said, bustling about. "Where does motherkeep the bread, and other things?"
"She don't keep them nowhere. We don't have no things. I go to thebakery sometimes for bread, and for potatoes, and sometimes formilk. I would go now; I just want to show that hateful little girl inthere my new dress, and my curls, but it isn't a bit of use to go. Hewon't let us have another single thing without the money. He said soyesterday, and he looked so cross he scared Sate; but I made faces athim."
This called forth several questions as to where the bakery was, andNettie, finding that it was but a few steps away, and that the littlegirls really bought most of the things which came from there, countedout the required number of pennies from her poor little purse for aloaf of bread and a pint of milk. In the cupboard was what had oncebeen butter, set on the upper shelf in a teacup. It was almost oil, now.
"If I had a lump of ice for this," Nettie murmured, "it might do.Butter costs so much."
"They keep ice at the bakery," said that wise young woman, Susie, "butwe never buy it."
This brought two more pennies from the pocketbook; for to Nettie itseemed quite impossible that butter in such a condition could be eaten.So the ice was ordered, and two very neat, and very vain little bits ofgirls started on their mission.
Tablecloths? Where would the new housekeeper find them? Where indeed!Hunt through the room as she would, no trace of one was to be found.She did not know that the Deckers had not used such an article inmonths. She thought of the cupboard drawer at home, and of the neatpile which was always waiting there, and at about this hour it hadbeen her duty to set the table and make everything ready for tea. Itwould not do to think about it. There were sharper contrasts thanthese. Her proposed present to her mother had been a tablecloth, notvery large nor very fine, but beautifully smooth and clean, and hemmedby her own patient fingers. She must get it out to-night, as no otherappeared; and of course she could not set the table without one. So itwas spread on the clean table, and the few dishes arranged as well asshe could. There was a drawing of tea set up in another teacup, andthere was a sticky little tin teapot. Nettie, as she washed it, told itthat to-morrow she would scour it until it shone; then she made tea.Meantime the little errand girls had returned with their purchases, thebutter was resting on a generous lump of ice, the bread which was foundto be stale, was toasted, a plate of cookies from the wonderful trunkwas added, and at last there was ready such a supper as had not beeneaten in that house for weeks. To be sure it looked to Nettie as thoughthere was very little to eat; but then she had not been used to livingat the Deckers. She began to be very nervous about the people who weregoing to sit down at this neat table. Why did not some of them come?
The wise housekeeper knew that neither tea nor toast improved greatlyby standing, but she drew the teapot to the very edge of the stove,covered the toast, and set it in the oven. Then she went softly to thebedroom door and opened it. This time a pair of heavy eyes turned,as the door creaked, and were fixed on her with a kind of bewilderedstare. She went softly in.
"How do you feel now?" she asked gently. "I have ma
de a cup of tea anda bit of toast for you. Shall I bring them now? The children said youdid not eat any dinner."
"Who are you?" asked the astonished woman, still regarding her withthat bewildered stare.
Nettie swallowed at the lump in her throat. It would be dreadful if sheshould burst out crying and run away, as she felt exactly like doing.
"I am Nettie Decker," she said, and her lips quivered a little. "Fathersent for me, you know. Didn't you think I would be here to-day, ma'am?"
"You can't be Nan!"
I cannot begin to describe to you the astonishment there was in Mrs.Decker's voice.
"Yes'm, I am. At least that is what father used to call me once in awhile, just for fun. My name is Nanette; but Auntie Marshall where Ilive, or where I used to live"--she corrected herself, "always calledme Nettie. May I bring you the tea, ma'am? I think it will make youfeel better."
But the two children had stayed in the background as long as theyintended. They pushed forward, Susie eager-voiced:
"Look at us! See my curls, and see my new apron, only she says it is adress, but it ain't; it is made just like Jennie Brown's apron, ain'tit? But we ain't got no dresses on. She's got a white cloth on thetable, and cookies, and a lump of ice, and everything; and we had twopeaches. Old Jock gave us the bread. She sent the money, and I told himto take his old money and give me some bread right straight."
How fast Susie could talk!
There was scarcely room for the slow sweet Satie to get in her gentle,"and me too." Meaning look at my dress and hair. The bewildered motherraised herself on her elbow and stared--from Nan to the little girls,and then back to Nan. She was sufficiently astonished to satisfy evenSusie.
"Well, I never!" she said at last. "I didn't know, I mean I didn'tthink"--then she stopped and pressed her hand to her head, and pushedback the straggling hair behind her ears. "I took dizzy this morning,"she said at last, addressing Nettie as though she were a grown-upneighbor who had stepped in to see her, "and I staggered to the bed,and didn't know nothing for a long while. I had a dreadful pain inmy head, and then I must have dropped to sleep. Here I've been allday, if the day is gone. It must be after three o'clock if you've gothere. I meant to try to do something towards making things a littlemore decent; though the land knows what it would have been; I don't.There's nothing to do with. I didn't know till this morning that he hadthe least notion of sending for you--though he's threatened it timesenough. I've been ailing all the spring, and this morning I just giveout. I don't know what is the matter with me. The bed goes round now,and things get into a kind of a blur."
"Let me bring you a cup of tea and something to eat," said Nettie; "Ithink you are faint." Then she vanished, the children following. Shewas back in a few minutes, under her arm a white towel from her trunk;this she spread on the barrel head which you will remember did duty asa table. She spread it with one hand, little Sate carefully smoothingout the other end. In her left hand she carried a cup of tea smokinghot, and poor Mrs. Decker noticed that the cup shone. Susie followedbehind, an air of grave importance on her face, and in her hands aplate, covered by a smaller one, which being taken off disclosed adelicately browned slice of bread with a bit of butter spread carefullyover it.
"Well, I never!" said Mrs. Decker again, but she drank the tea withfeverish haste, stopping long enough to feel of the cup with a curiouslook on her face. It was so smooth. There was a sound of heavy feetoutside, and the children appeared at the door and announced thatfather and Norm had come. Nettie took the emptied cup, promising tofill it again, urged the eating of the toast while it was hot, and wentwith trembling heart to meet the father whom she had not seen in somany years that she remembered very little about him.
A great rough-faced, unshaven man, with uncombed hair, ragged and dirtyshirt sleeves, ragged and dirty pants, a red face and eyes that seemedbut half open, and watery. Nothing less like what Nettie had imagined afather, could well be described. However, if she had but known it, thiswas a great improvement on the man who often came home to supper. Hewas nearly sober, and greeted her with a rough sort of kindness, givingher a kiss, which made her shrink and tremble. It was perfumed withodors which she did not like.
"Well, Nan, my girl, you have grown into a fine young lady, have you?Tall for your years, too. And smart, I'll be bound; you wouldn't beyour mother's girl if you wasn't. Is it you that has fixed up thingsso? It is a good thing you have come to take care of us. We haven't hadanything decent here in so long, we've most forgot how to treat it.Come on, Norm. This table looks something like living again."
And "Norm" shambled in. Rough, and uncombed, and unwashed, except adab at his hands which left long streaks of brown at the wrists. Ahard-looking boy, harder than Nettie had ever spoken to before. Shecould not help thinking of Jim Daker who lived in a saloon not far fromher old home, and whom she had always passed with a hurried step, andwith eyes on the ground, and of whom she thought as of one who lived ina different world from hers, and wondered how it felt to be down therein the slum. Now here was a boy whom it was her duty to think of as abrother; and he reminded her of Jim Daker!
Still there was something about Norm that she could not help halfliking. He had great brown, wistful-looking eyes, and an honest face.She had not much chance, it is true, to observe the eyes; for he didnot look at her, nor speak, until his father said:
"Why don't you shake hands with Nan? You ought to be glad to see her.You ain't used to such a looking supper as this."
The boy laughed, in an embarrassed way, and said he was sure he didnot know whether he was glad to see her or not: depended on what shehad come for. He gave her just a gleam then from the brown eyes, andshe smiled and held out her hand. He took it awkwardly enough, anddropped it as suddenly as though it had been hot; then sat down inhaste at the table, where his step-father was already making havoc withthe toast. It was not a very substantial meal for people who had dinedon bread and cheese, and were hungering at that moment for beer; butthe man had spoken the truth, it was better than they generally found.There was one part of the story, however, that he failed to tell: whichwas, that he did not furnish money to get anything better. As for Susieand Sate, they had become suddenly silent. They sat close together anddevoured their toast, like hungry children indeed, but also like scaredchildren. They gave occasional frightened glances at their father whichpuzzled and pained Nettie. No suspicion of the truth had yet come toher. Oh, yes, she had smelled the liquor when her father kissed her;but she thought it was something which had to do with the machineryaround which he worked.
"Where is the old woman?" he asked suddenly, setting down his empty cupwhich Nettie had filled for the third time. She looked up at him with astartled air. To whom was he speaking and what old woman could he mean?Her look seemed to make him cross. "What are you staring at?" he saidsharply. "Can't you answer a question? Where's your mother?"
Nettie hurried to answer; she was sick, had been real sick all day, butwas better now, and was trying to get up.
"She is everlastingly sick," the father said with a sneer; "you willget used to that story if you live here long. I hope you ain't one ofthe sickly kind, because we have heard enough of that."
This sentence and the tone in which it was spoken, brought the blood ingreat waves to Nettie's face. It was the first time she had ever hearda man speak of his wife in such a way. Norm looked up from his cookie,and flashed angry eyes on his step-father for a moment, and said "hedidn't know as that was any wonder. She had enough to make any womansick."
"You shut up," said the father in increasing irritability; and thechildren slipped out of their seats and moved toward the door, keepingcareful eyes on the father until they were fairly outside. Nettiefelt her limbs trembling so that her knees knocked together under thetable. But at last every crumb of toast was eaten, and every drop oftea swallowed, and Mr. Decker pushed himself back from the table, andspoke in a somewhat gentler tone: "Well, my girl, make yourself ascomfortable as you can. I'm glad to see you. We need your hel
p, you'llfind, in more ways than one. You've been working for other folks longenough. It is a poor place you've come to, and that's a fact. I ain'twhat I used to be; I've been unfortunate. No fellow ever had worseluck. Everything has gone wrong with me ever since your mother died.A sick wife, and young ones to look after, and nobody to do a thing.It is a hard life, but you might as well rough it with the rest of us.You'll get along somehow, I s'pose. The rest of us always have. I'vegot to go out for awhile. You tell the old woman to fix up some placefor you to sleep, and we'll do the best we can."
And he lounged away; Norm having left the table and the room someminutes before. And this was the father to whom Nettie Decker had comehome!
She swallowed at the lump which seemed growing larger every minute inher throat. She had choked back a great many tears that afternoon.There was no time to cry. Some place must be fixed for her to sleep.
In the home that she had left, there was a little room with matting onthe floor, and a little white bed in the corner, and a pretty toiletset that the carpenter's son had made her at odd times, and a wash bowland pitcher that had been her present on her eleventh birthday, and agreen rocking-chair that aunt Kate had sent her: not her own aunt Kate,but Mrs. Marshall's sister who had adopted her as a niece, and thesethings and many another little knickknack were all her own. The roomwas empty to-night; but then Nettie must not cry!
She began to gather the dishes and get them ready for washing. Just asshe plunged her hands into the dishwater, the bedroom door opened, andher mother came out, stepping feebly, like one just recovering fromsevere illness.
"I'm dreadful weak," she said in answer to Nettie's inquiries, "butI guess I'm better than I have been in a good while. I've had a restto-day; the first one I have had in three years. I don't know what mademe give out so, all of a sudden. I tried to keep on my feet, but Icouldn't do it no more than I could fly. You oughtn't to have to washthem dishes, child, with your pretty hands and your pretty dress. Oh,dear! I don't know what is to become of any of us."
"This is my work apron," said Nettie, trying to speak cheerily, "andI am used to this work: I always helped with the tea dishes at home."Then she plunged into the midst of the subject which was troubling her."Father said I was to ask you where I was to sleep."
"He better ask himself!" said the wilted woman, rousing to suddenenergy and indignation. "How does he think I know? There isn't thefirst rag to make a bed of, nor a spot to put it, if there was. I sayit was a sin and a shame for him to send for you, and that's the truth!If he had one decent child who had a place to stay, where she wouldbe took care of, he ought to have let you alone. You have come to anawful home, child. You have got to know the truth, and you might aswell know it first as last. It is enough sight worse than you have seento-night, though I dare say you think this is bad enough. You don'tlook nor act like what I was afraid of, and you must have had goodfriends who took care of you; and he ought to have let you alone. Thisis no place for a decent girl. It is bad enough for an old woman whohas given up, and never expects to have anything decent any more. Hewon't provide any place for you, nor any clothes, and what we are to dowith one more mouth to feed is more than I can see. I wouldn't grudgeit to you, child, if we had it; but we are starved, half the time, andthat's the living truth."
"I won't eat much," said poor Nettie, trembling and quivering, "and Iwill try very hard to help; but if you please, what makes things so?Can't father get work?"
"Work! of course he can; as much as he can do. He is as good amachinist to-day as there is in the shops; when they have a particularjob they want him to do it. He works hard enough by spells; why, child,it's the drink. You didn't know it, did you? Well, you may as well knowit first as last. He was nearer sober to-night than he has been in aweek; but he wasn't so very sober or he wouldn't have been cross. Heused to be good and kind as the best of them, and we had things decent.I never thought it would come to this, but it has, and it grows worseevery day. Yes, you may well turn pale, and cry out. Turning pale won'tdo any good. And you may cry tears of blood, and them that sells therum to poor foolish men will go right on selling it as long as theyhave money to pay, and kick them out when they haven't. That is the wayit is done, and it keeps going on here year after year, homes ruined,and children made beggars, and them that have the making of the laws,go right on and let it be done. I've watched it. And I've tried, too.You needn't think I gave up and sat down to it without trying as hardas ever woman could to struggle against the curse; but I've give upnow. Nothing is of any use. And the worst of it is my Norm is going thesame road."