CHAPTER XVI.
THE WIDOW BRETT.
So it came to pass that at the breakfast-table next morning no one wasso bright and gay as Miss Wealthy. She was full of the new plan, andmade one suggestion after another.
"The first thing," she said, "is to find a good housekeeper. There isnothing more important, especially where children are concerned. Now, Ihave thought of precisely the right person,--pre-cisely!" she added,sipping her tea with an air of great content. "Martha, your cousinCynthia Brett is the very woman for the place."
"Truly, Mam, I think she is," said Martha, putting down the butteredtoast on the exact centre of the little round mat where it belonged;"and I think she would do it too!"
"A widow," Miss Wealthy explained, turning to Hildegarde, her kind eyesbeaming with interest, "fond of children, neat as _wax_, capable, a goodcook, and makes butter equal to Martha's. My dears, Cynthia Brett wasmade for this emergency. Zerubbabel, my lad, are you desirous ofattracting attention? We will gladly listen to any suggestion you haveto make."
The unfortunate Bubble, who had been drumming on the table with hisspoon, blushed furiously, muttered an incoherent apology, and wished hewere small enough to dive into his bowl of porridge.
"And this brings me to another plan," continued the dear old lady."Bixby, where Cynthia Brett lives, is an extremely pretty littlevillage, and I should like you all to see it. What do you say to drivingover there, spending the night at Mrs. Brett's, and coming back the nextday, after making the arrangements with her? Zerubbabel could borrow Mr.Rawson's pony, I am sure, and be your escort. Do you like the plan,Hilda, my dear?"
"Oh, Cousin Wealthy," cried Hildegarde, "it is too delightful! We shouldenjoy it above all things. But--no!" she added, "what would you dowithout the Doctor? You would lose your drive. Is there no other way ofsending word to Mrs. Brett?"
But Miss Wealthy would not hear of any other way. It was a pity if shecould not stay at home one day, she said. So when Mr. Brisket, the longbutcher from Bixby, came that morning, and towering in the doorway, sixfeet and a half of blue jean, asked if they wanted "a-any ni-icemut-ton toda-a-ay," he was intrusted with a note from Martha to hercousin, telling of the projected expedition, and warning her to expectthe young ladies the next day but one.
The day came,--a day of absolute beauty, and though still very hot, notunbearable. Dr. Abernethy had had an excellent breakfast, with twice hisusual quantity of oats, so that he actually frisked when he was broughtround to the door. The whole family assembled to see the little partystart. Miss Wealthy stood on the piazza, looking like an ancient Dresdenshepherdess in her pink and white and silver beauty, and gave cautionafter caution: they must spare the horse up hill, and _never_ trot downhill; "and let the good beast drink, dearie, when you come to thehalf-way trough,--not too much, but enough moderately to quench histhirst;" etc.
Martha beamed through her silver-rimmed spectacles, and hoped she'dgiven them enough lunch; while Benny, with his hand resting on the headof his "ole fat kyat," surveyed them with rather a serious air.
The girls had been troubled about Benny. They did not want to leave thelittle fellow, who had announced his firm intention of going with them;yet it was out of the question to take him. The evening before, however,Bubble had had a long talk with "ve boy of ve house;" and great was therelief of the ladies when that youthful potentate announced at breakfasthis determination to stay at home and "take care of ve womenfolks,'cause Jim-Maria [the name by which he persistently called themelancholy prophet], he's gettin' old, an' somebody has to see to fings;and I's ve boy of ve house, so _I_ ought to see to vem."
When the final moment came, however, it seemed very dreadful to see hisown Sing-girl drive away, and Posy, and the other boy too; and Benny'slip began to quiver, and his eyes to grow large and round, to make roomfor the tears. At this very moment, however, Jim-Maria, who haddisappeared after bringing the horse to the door, came round the corner,bringing the most wonderful hobby-horse that ever was seen. It waspainted bright yellow, for that was the color Jeremiah was painting thebarn. Its eyes were large and black, which gave it a dashing andspirited appearance; and at sight of it the Boy of the House forgoteverything else in heaven and earth. "Mine horse!" he cried, rushingupon it with outstretched arms,--"all mine, for to wide on! Jim-Maria,get out ov ve way! Goo-by, Sing-girl! goo-by, ev'ryboggy! Benny's goin'to ve Norf Pole!" and he cantered away, triumphant.
Then Hildegarde and Rose, seeing that all was well, made their adieuswith a light heart, and Bubble waved his hat, and Miss Wealthy kissedher hand, and Martha shook her blue checked apron violently up and down,and off they went.
* * * * *
The little village of Bixby was in its usual condition of somnolentcheerfulness, that same afternoon. The mail had come in, being broughtin Abner Colt's green wagon from the railway-station two miles away. Theappearance of the green wagon, with its solitary brown bag, notgenerally too well filled, and its bundle of newspapers, was the signalfor all the village-loungers to gather about the door of thepost-office. The busy men would come later, when the mail was sorted;but this was the supreme hour of the loungers. They did not often getletters themselves, but it was very important that they should see who_did_ get letters; and most of them had a newspaper to look for. Thenthe joy of leaning against the door-posts, and waiting to see ifanything would happen! As a rule, nothing did happen, but there was noknowing what joyful day might bring a new sensation. Sometimes there wasa dog-fight. Once--thrilling recollection!--Ozias Brisket's horse hadrun away ("Think 't 's likely a bumble-bee must ha' stung him; couldn'tnothin' else ha' stirred him out of a walk, haw! haw!") and hadscattered the joints of meat all about the street.
To-day there seemed little chance of any awakening event beyond thearrival of the green cart. It was very warm; the patient post-supporterswere nearly asleep. Their yellow dogs slumbered at their feet; theafternoon sun filled the little street with vivid golden light.
Suddenly the sound of wheels was heard,--of unfamiliar wheels. Thepost-supporters knew the creak or rattle or jingle of every "team" inBixby. There was a general stir, a looking up the street, in thedirection whence the sound came; and then a gaping of mouths, an openingof eyes, a craning of long necks.
A phaeton, drawn by a comfortable-looking gray horse, was coming slowlydown the street. It approached; it stopped at the post-office door. Init sat two young girls: one, tall, erect, with flashing gray eyes andbrilliant color, held the reins, and drew the horse up with the air of apractised whip; the other leaned back among the cushions, with a veryhappy, contented look, though she seemed rather tired. Both girls weredressed alike in simple gowns of blue gingham; but the simplicity was ofa kind unknown to Bixby, and the general effect was very marvellous. Thespectators had not yet shut their mouths, when a clattering of hoofswas heard, and a boy on a black pony came dashing along the street, anddrew up beside the phaeton.
"No, it wasn't that house," he said, addressing the two girls. "Atleast, there was no one there. Say," he added, turning to the nearestlounger, a sandy person of uncertain age and appearance, "can you tellus where Mrs. Brett lives?"
"The Widder Brett?" returned the sandy person, cautiously. "Do ye meanthe Widder Brett?"
"Yes, I suppose so," answered the boy. "Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"
"No, there ain't!" was the succinct reply.
"Well, where _does_ she live?" cried the boy, impatiently.
"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" said the sandy person, noddingdown the street. "Ye can't see the house from here, but go clear on tothe eend, and ye'll see it to yer right,--a yaller house, with greenblinds, an' a yard in front. You 'kin to the Widder Brett?"
"No," said the tall young lady, speaking for the first time; "we are norelations. Thank you very much! Good-morning!" and with a word to theboy, she gathered up the reins, and drove slowly down the little street.
The post-supporters watched them till the last wheel of the phaetondisappeared r
ound the turn; then they turned eagerly to one another.
"Who be they? What d'ye s'pose they want o' the Widder Brett?" was theeager cry. "Says they ain't no blood relation o' Mis' Brett's." "Some o'Brett's folks, likely!" "I allus heerd his folks was well off."
Meanwhile the phaeton was making its way along slowly, as I said, forRose was tired after the long drive.
"But not too tired!" she averred, in answer to Hildegarde's anxiousinquiry. "Oh, no, dear! not a bit too tired, only just enough to makerest most delightful. What a funny little street!--something like thestreet in Glenfield, isn't it? Look! that might be Miss Bean's shop,before you took hold of it."
"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "These bonnets arepositively mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on that bunch of berries."
"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. "It is bloom, Hilda,--a finepurple bloom! City people don't know the difference, perhaps."
"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be 'the Widder Brett's' house. What apretty little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like the good womanherself. Take the reins, dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, Iwill go myself, thank you."
She sprang lightly out, and after patting Dr. Abernethy's head andbidding him stand still like the best of dears, she opened the whitegate, which stuck a little, as if it were not opened every day. A tidylittle wooden walk, with a border of pinks on either side, led up to thegreen door, in front of which was one broad stone doorstep. Beyond thepinks was a bed of pansies on the one hand; on the other, twoapple-trees and a pleasant little green space; while under the cottagewindows were tiger-lilies and tall white phlox and geraniums, and agreat bush of southernwood; altogether, it was a front yard such as MissJewett would like.
Hildegarde lifted the bright brass knocker,--she was so glad it was aknocker, and not an odious gong bell; she _could_ not have liked ahouse with a gong bell,--and rapped gently. The pause which followed wasnot strictly necessary, for the Widow Brett had been reconnoitring everymovement of the new-comers through a crack in the window-blind, and wasnow standing in the little entry, not two feet from the door. The goodwoman counted twenty, which she thought would occupy just about the timenecessary to come from the kitchen, and then opened the door, with aproper expression of polite surprise on her face.
"Good-day!" she said, with a rising inflection.
"How do you do?" replied Hildegarde, with a falling one. "Are you Mrs.Brett, and are you expecting us?"
"My name is Brett," replied the tall, spare woman in the brown stuffgown; "but I wasn't expectin' any one, as I know of. Pleased to see ye,though! Step in, won't ye?"
"Oh!" cried Hildegarde, looking distressed. "Didn't you--haven't you hada letter from Martha? She promised to write, and said she was sure youwould take us in for the night. I don't understand--"
"There!" cried Mrs. Brett. "Step right in now, do! and I'll tell you.This way, if _you_ please!" and much flurried, she led the way into thebest room, and drew up the hair-cloth rocking-chair, in which ourheroine entombed herself. "I _do_ declare," the widow went on, "I oughtto be shook! There _was_ a letter come last night; and my spectacles wasbroken, my dear, and I can't read Martha's small handwriting without'em. I thought 't was just one of her letters, you know, telling howthey was getting on, and I'd wait till one of the neighbors came in toread it to me. Well, there! and all the time she was telling mesomething, was she? and who might you be, dear, that was thinking ofstaying here?"
"I am Hilda Grahame!" said the girl, suppressing an inclination to cry,as the thought of Rose's tired face came over her. "If you will find theletter, Mrs. Brett, I will read it to you at once. It was to tell youthat I was coming, with my friend, who is in the carriage now, and heryoung brother; and Martha thought there was no doubt about your takingus in. Perhaps there is some other house--"
"No, there isn't," said the Widow Brett, quickly and kindly,--"notanother one. The idea! Of course I'll take you in, child, and gladenough of the chance. And you Miss Hildy Grahame, too, that Marthy hastold me so much about! Why, I'm right glad to see ye, right glad!" Shetook Hildegarde's hand, and moved it up and down as if it were apump-handle, her homely face shining with a cordiality which wasevidently genuine. "Only,"--and here her face clouded again,--"only ifI'd ha' known, I should have had everything ready, and have done somecleaning, and cooked up a few things. You'll have to take me just as Iam, I expect! However--"
"Oh, we _like_ things just as they are!" cried Hildegarde, in delight."You must not make any difference at all for us, Mrs. Brett! We shallnot like it if you do. May I bring my friend in now?"
"Well, I should say so!" cried the good woman. "She's out in thecarriage, you say? I'll go right out and fetch her in."
Rose was warmly welcomed, and brought into the house; while Hildafastened Dr. Abernethy to the gate-post, and got the shawls andhand-bags out from under the seat.
"I expect you'd like to go right upstairs and lay off your things!" wasMrs. Brett's next remark. "I declare! I do wish 't I'd known! I swep'the spare chamber yesterday, but I hadn't any _i_dea of its being used.Well, there! you'll have to take me as I am." She bustled upstairsbefore the girls, talking all the way. "I try to keep the house clean,but I don't often have comp'ny, and the dust doos gather so, this dryweather, and not keeping any help, you see--well, there! this is thebest I've got, and maybe it'll do to sleep in."
She threw open, with mingled pride and nervousness, the door of apleasant, sunny room, rather bare, but in exquisite order. The ragcarpet was brilliant with scarlet, blue, and green; the furniture showedno smallest speck of dust; the bed looked like a snowdrift.Nevertheless, the good hostess went peering about, wiping the chairswith her apron, and repeating, "The dust _doos_ gather so! I wouldn'tset down, if I was you, till I've got the chairs done off!"
"Why, Mrs. Brett," cried Hildegarde, laughing merrily, "it is the chairsyou should be anxious for, not ourselves. We are simply _covered_ withdust, from head to foot. I think it must be an inch deep on my hat!" shecontinued, taking off her round "sailor" and looking at it withpretended alarm. "I don't dare to put it down in this clean room."
"Oh, _that_'s all right!" cried the widow, beaming. "Land sakes! I don'tcare how much dust you bring in, but I _should_ be lawth to have you getany on you here. Well, there! now you need a proper good rest, I'm sure,both of you. Wouldn't you like a cup o' tea now?"
"'NOT A THING IN THE HOUSE!'"]
Both girls declined the tea, and declared that an hour's rest was allthey needed; so the good woman bade them "rest good!" and hurrieddownstairs, to fling herself into a Berserker fit of cooking. "Not athing in the house!" she soliloquized, as she sifted flour and beat eggswith the energy of desperation, "except cookies and doughnuts; andMarthy always has everything so nice, let alone what they're used to athome. I'll make up a sheet of sponge-cake, I guess, first, and whileit's baking I can whip up some chocolate frosting and mix a pan ofbiscuit. Le' me see! I might make a jelly-roll, while I'm about it, forthere's some of Marthy's own currant jelly that she sent me last fall.They'd ought to have some hearty victuals for supper, I suppose; but Ideclare,"--she paused, with the egg-beater in her hand,--"stuffedaigs'll have to do to-night, I guess!" she concluded with a sigh. "Thereisn't time to get a chicken ready. Well, there! If I'd ha' known! butthey'll have to take me as I am. I might give 'em some fritters,though, to eat with maple surrup, just for a relish."
While these formidable preparations were going on against their peace ofbody, the two girls were enjoying an hour of perfect rest, each afterher own manner. Rose was curled up on the bed, in a delicious doze whichwas fast deepening into sound sleep. Hildegarde sat in a low chair witha book in her hand, and looked out of the window. She could always restbetter with a book, even if she did not read it; and the very touch ofthis little worn morocco volume--it was the "Golden Treasury"--was apleasure to her. She looked out dreamily over the pleasant green fieldsand strips of woodland; for the house stood at the very end of thelittle village, and the country was b
efore and around it. Under thewindow lay the back yard, with a white lilac-tree in blossom, and awell with a long sweep. Such a pleasant place it looked! A lowstone-wall shut it in, the stones all covered with moss and gay red andyellow lichens. Beside the white lilac, there was a great elm and ayellow birch. In the latter was an oriole's nest; and presentlyHildegarde heard the bird's clear golden note, and saw his bright wingsflash by. "I like this place!" she said, settling herself comfortably inthe flag-bottomed chair. She dropped her eyes to the book in her lap andread,--
"Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures While the landscape round it measures: Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains, on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide."
Then her eyes strayed over the landscape again. "There must be a brookover there, behind that line of willows!" she thought. "I wonder ifMilton loved willows. There are pines and monumental oaks in 'IlPenseroso,' but I don't remember any willows. It's a pity we have noskylarks here! I do want Rose to hear a skylark. Dear Rose! dear Milton!Oh--I am _so_ comfortable!"
And Hildegarde was asleep.