CHAPTER I
HELEN
It had been a great day for the children at Hope Center the closing dayof school, the last of the term, the last of the week. The larger boysand girls had spent the morning decorating the "big" room, which was tobe the assembly-room. At the Center they were still quite primitive.There were many old or rather elderly people very much opposed to"putting on airs." Boys and girls went to school together, but theywouldn't have called it co-education. So the main room where variousmeetings and occasional entertainments were held, was always known bythe appellation "big."
It was very prettily trimmed with the shining sprays of "bread andbutter," and wild clematis, and the platform was gay with flowers. Seatswere arranged on either hand for the graduating class, and the bestsingers in school. There was a very good attendance. Closing day washeld in as high esteem as Washington's Birthday, or Decoration Day.Christmas was only partly kept, the old Hope settlers being an offshootof the Puritans, and the one little Episcopalian chapel had almost tofight for its Holy days.
The first three seats in the audience-room were full of children inSunday attire. The girl graduates were in white, with various coloredribbons. The boys' habiliments had followed no especial rule. But theywere a bright, happy-looking lot, taking a deep interest in what theywere to do. The boys had an entertaining historical exercise. One beganwith a brief account of causes leading to the revolution. Anotherfollowed with the part Boston played, then New York, then Philadelphia,Virginia, and the surrender of Cornwallis; afterward, two or threepatriotic songs, several recitations--two distinctly humorous--anothersong or two, and then Helen Grant's selection, which was "Herve Riel," apoem she had cut from a paper, that somehow inspired her. Diplomas werethen distributed, and the "Star Spangled Banner," sung by everybody,finished the exercises.
Helen was fourteen, well-grown and very well-looking, without beingpretty enough to arouse anyone's envy. "A great girl for book-learning,"her uncle said, while Aunt Jane declared "She didn't see but people gotalong just as well without so much of it. It had never done a great dealfor Ad Grant."
Helen had a bright, sunny nature--well, for that matter, she had a goodmany sides to her nature, and no girl of fourteen has them all definiteat once. Some get toned down, some flash out here and there, and thoseof real worth come to have a steady shining light later on. But shenever could hear Aunt Jane say "Ad Grant" in the peculiar tone she usedwithout a sharp pang. For Addison Grant was her father, that is if hewas still alive, and when Aunt Jane wanted to be particularlytormenting, she was sure he was roaming the world somewhere, andforgetting that he had a child.
Sixteen years before he had come to Hope Center and taught school. Atall, thin nondescript sort of man, a college graduate, but that didn'traise him in anyone's estimation. He was queer and always working atsome kind of problems, and doing bits of translating from old Latin andGreek writers, and spent his money for books that he considered ofgreat value. Why pretty Kitty Mulford should have married him was amystery, but why he should have taken her would have seemed a greaterpuzzle to intellectual people. They went to one of the larger cities,where he taught, then to another, and so on; and when Helen was sevenher mother came back to the Center a hopeless invalid with consumption,and died. Mr. Grant seemed very much broken. No one knew what a trialthe frivolous, childish wife had been. He _was_ disappointed at nothaving a son. He had some peculiar ideas about a boy's education, and hedidn't know what to do with a girl. So he left her with her aunt anduncle, and for four years sent them two hundred dollars a year for herkeep. Then he went to Europe without so much as coming to say good-by,and no one had ever heard of him since.
Helen's memories of her mother were not delightful enough to build analtar to remembrance. She had fretted a good deal. When she was out oftemper she slapped Helen on the shoulder, and said she was "just likeher father." Helen waited on her, changed her slippers, brushed herhair, and would have made a famous nurse if the end had not come. Andthen the life was so different.
The Mulfords were in many respects happy-go-lucky people. Aunt Janescolded a good deal, or rather talked in a very scolding tone. But thechildren came up without much governing. Once in a while Uncle Jasonstruck one of them with his old gray felt hat; Helen didn't rememberever seeing him have a new one, but he wore a black one on Sunday. Therewere five rollicking children, and one daughter grown, who was engagedto be married at seventeen. Helen ran and played and worked and sewed alittle, which she hated, and studied and read everything she could gethold of. There were Sunday-school library books, some of them very good,too; there were books she borrowed, and some old ones up in the garretbelonging to her father. She read these quite on the sly, for she knewshe should hate to hear comments made about them, and Aunt Jane mightburn them up.
Some years before she had a big rag doll that she was very fond of. Itwas her confidant, and wonderful stories, complaints, and wishes wentinto her deaf ears. 'Reely, the girl next to the two boys, wanted it,and ran away with it at every opportunity. One day they had a quarrelabout it.
"It's mine!" declared Helen. "I'll hide it away. You have no businesswith it."
"What's that?" demanded Aunt Jane sharply. "Helen Grant, you just givethat doll to 'Reely. You're too big for such nonsense! Now, 'Reely, thatdoll is yours, and if Helen takes it away, I'll just settle with her ina way she'll remember one while. You great baby-calf playing withdolls!"
Helen never troubled the doll after that. There was a crooked oldapple-tree in the orchard, and after she had dipped into mythology shemade a friend and confidant of it, read her stories to it, studied herlessons with it even in real cold weather. It was a sort of desultoryeducation, until the last year, when Mr. Warfield came, and then Helenreally found a friend worlds better than the old apple tree, though shestill told it her dreams. And sometimes when the wind soughed throughits branches it seemed as if she could translate what it said.
"Of course you go to the High School next year," Mr. Warfield said aweek or so before school closed. "It would be such a pity for you tostop here. You have the making of a good scholar, and there is no reasonwhy you shouldn't be a teacher. You have one admirable quality, you goso directly to the point, you are so ambitious, so in earnest, and youacquire knowledge so easily. You will make a broad-minded woman. I mustsay the Center people are rather narrow and self-satisfied, except thefew new ones that have come in." And Mr. Warfield smiled.
Helen felt in her inner consciousness that it would be unwise to talkabout the High School. And she was very busy. She was called upon tohelp with the ironing now. She darned all the stockings. She washed thesupper dishes because Aunt Jane was tired out, and Jenny wanted to sewon her wedding outfit.
Everything had gone along very comfortably. Her white frock had a scantruffle put on the bottom to lengthen it down, and new sleeves put in.Uncle Jason was really proud that she had to "speak a piece."
Everybody stopped to talk and discuss the exercises. The singing waspronounced first-rate. The History talk stirred up some revolutionaryreminiscences among the old folks. Someone praised Helen's share in theentertainment.
"Well, I didn't just see the sense of it," declared Aunt Jane. "Afterall that great thing, savin' of the ships, as one may say, why didn't heask for something worth while? Just a day to go off and see somewoman----"
"She was his wife."
"And, I dare say, he had chances enough to see her. You can't tell whatthey are driving at in these new-fangled stories. Now there's 'Pity thesorrows of a poor old man, whose trembling limbs have borne him to yourdoor,' and 'Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise, The Queen of the world,and the child of the skies' that children used to speak when I went toschool, and you could sense them."
Mrs. Mulford repeated them as if she was reeling off so much prose, andpaused out of breath. She was getting rather stout now.
"I thought it rather _the_atrical," said Mrs. Keen. "I didn't understandit a bit. The Searings are going to send Louise to the High School. Theyhav
e it all fixed, and she's going to board with her sister through theweek. Marty Pendleton's going, too. Dear me! There wa'n't any HighSchool in my day, and I guess girls were just as smart."
Helen was with the girls in a merry crowd. Some were going away to auntsand grandmothers, and the envied one, Ella Graham, was going to theseaside, as the doctor had recommended that to her ailing mother. Sothey walked on, chatting, until paths began to diverge. Two roads ranthrough the Center, north and south, east and west. There were SouthHope and North Hope, settlements that had branched out from the Center.North Hope had grown into quite a thriving town with a railroad stationand several social advantages. The High School for the towns around wassituated here.
"Now," began Aunt Jane, as they neared the gate and said good-by to afew who were going farther on, "now Helen, you just run in and take offyour frock and that white petticoat. They'll do for Sunday. There's peasto shell and potatoes to clean, and I have to look after the chickens,and make some biscuits. After spending 'most all the day it's time youdid something."
Helen drew a long breath. She wanted to go out to the old apple tree todream and plan. But Aunt Jane didn't consider anything real work outsideof housekeeping and earning money, though Helen had been up since fivein the morning, and very busy with chores before she went to help adornthe schoolroom.
Sam, who had been inducted into farming two years before, was out in thefield mowing with father and the man. Nathan, next in age, was mostenthusiastic about the good time they had, only if there'd been a treatlike a Sunday School picnic!
"Do stop!" said his mother, "I'm tired and sick of all this schoolstuff. Go out and bring in a good basket of wood, or you won't have anychicken potpie for supper."
Helen hung up her frock, and put on the faded gingham and a checkedapron, and kept busy right along. 'Reely helped shell peas; Fan and Louwere out playing.
"It's splendid that there isn't any more school," said Fan. "We can justplay and play and play."
The big girl inside was sorry enough there was no more school. SomehowAunt Jane's voice rasped her terribly this afternoon. Two whole monthsof it! A shudder ran all over her.
There was a savory fragrance through the house presently. Helen tried toremember everything that went on the table, though she was repeatingsnatches of verses to herself. Then Jenny came up the path, stood herumbrella in the corner, gave her hat a toss that landed it on a standunder the glass, that Helen had just cleared up, and dropped into arocking chair.
"It's been hot to-day, now I tell you;" she said. "Well, did yourfandango go off to suit, Helen?"
"I shouldn't call it fandango," the girl replied.
"Oh, well, what's in a name! Now I'll bet you can't tell what smart chapsaid that!"
"Shakspeare."
"Did he really? I suppose it's always safe to tack his name toeverything;" and Jenny laughed. The word buxom could be justly appliedto her. Her two long walks, and her day in the factory, did not seem towear on her. Her color was rather high, her eyes and hair dark, hervoice untrained, and everything about her commonplace.
"Go and blow the horn," said Aunt Jane to Helen.
"Did you go, mother? Was it anything worth while?" asked the daughter.
"Oh, well, so, so. Mr. Warfield seemed very proud of his pupils. Yes,the singing was good. Harry Lane had the 'Surrender of Cornwallis', andit was just fine."
Father and Sam and the hired man came in. The two children straggledalong, and Helen had to wash them, but presently they were all rangedabout the table.
"Well, how did it go?" Uncle Jason asked, looking up as Helen finallytook her place after doing Aunt Jane's bidding several times.
"Oh, it was splendid!" A thrill of delight swept over Helen as she metthe good-humored eyes. "And I have a diploma."
"And did you carry the house by storm, or did you forget two lines inthe most important place?" asked Sam, mischievously. "Dan Erlick isgoing to the High School in the fall. Are you?"
"O, I wish I could," cried Helen, eagerly, with a beseeching glance ather uncle. Occasionally he did decide matters.
"Well, I declare!" Aunt Jane threw back her head with her fork poisedhalf way to her mouth, "And I dare say you'd like to go over to Europe,too!"
"I just should," said Helen with a good natured accent. "There are agreat many things I should like to do."
"Where's the money coming from to do 'em?"
"I hope to earn it. I should like to teach, and Mr. Warfield thinks Iought."
"And follow in your father's steps."
Helen's face was scarlet.
"You just won't go to any High School, I can tell you," began her auntin an arbitrary tone. "You'd look fine walking in three mile and outagain every day. Who'd keep you in shoes? Or did you think you'd takethe horse and wagon? You're learning enough for the kind of life you'relikely to lead, and there are other things to do."
"And I'll tell you one of them, Nell," said Jenny with a rough comfortin her tone. "There will be three vacancies in the factory comeSeptember, and you better take one of them. Now I haven't been there butlittle more than two years, and take up my twelve dollars every twoweeks. The work isn't hard. I almost think I'm a fool to get marriedquite so soon, only Joe does need a housekeeper, and will have the houseall fixed up--and doesn't want to wait;" laughingly.
"Joe's a nice fellow," said her mother, "and well to do. And you didn'tgo to any High School, either."
Mrs. Mulford took great pride in her daughter's prospects, though whenJoe Northrup first began to "wait on her," she said: "I don't see howyou'll ever get along with old lady Northrup, and Joe won't leave hismother."
"I aint in any hurry," returned Jenny. "Joe's a good catch and worthwaiting for."
In March Mrs. Northrup began to clean house and took a bad cold, and amonth later was buried. Quite a sum of ready money came to Joe, and hebuilt on a parlor room, a new wide porch, papered and painted, and Jennyfelt not a little elated at her good luck. She had been steadily at workpreparing for her new home, improving evenings and odd hours, for shewas an industrious girl, and she declared Mrs. Northrup's old thingswould be a "disgrace to the folks on the ridge." These were the poorestand most inelegant people at the Center, and had somehow herdedtogether.
"Yes, that will be a good thing for Helen," said Aunt Jane. "She's oldenough to do something to earn her way. And you'll want everything newthis winter, you've grown so. And if you have had any idee of HighSchools and that folderol, you may just get it out of your head at once.If you'd a fortune it would be more to the purpose, but a girl----"
"It would be too far for her to walk," said Uncle Jason, warding off areference to her father as he saw tears in Helen's eyes. "Mother, thisis a tip-top potpie. You do beat the Dutch!"
"And I never went to school a day after I was twelve. I've kept a houseand helped save and had six children of my own and Helen, and none of'em have gone in rags. And there's Kate Weston, who's secretary ofsomething over to North Hope, and who paints on chiny, and see what ahouse she keeps!"
"You can have lots of learning, and if it isn't of the right sort itwon't do you much good," said Jenny sententiously. "There's a girl inthe factory who was at boarding school two years. She's twenty and shenever earns over four dollars a week, and if I didn't know more than shedoes--well I'd go in a convent!"
Some other topics came up, and after dinner Sam went to milk, the hiredman to care for the stock, Aunt Jane took the big rocking chair andsettled herself to a few winks of sleep, as was her custom, and thewalk of to-day had fatigued her more than usual. Helen and 'Reelycleared the table. Jenny sat down to the sewing machine and hemmed yardsof ruffling for her various purposes. Then Helen put Fan and little Tomto bed, and sat a while out on the porch, thinking, strangely sore atheart.
She had not considered the subject seriously. It had been an ardentdesire to go on studying. She had just reached the place where knowledgewas fascinating to a girl of her temperament. Mr. Warfield had rousedthe best in her and she had, as i
t were, skipped over the years and seenherself just where she would like to be, able to travel, to makefriends, to have books and the pictures she loved. She had not seen manythat she cared for, until one day Mr. Warfield brought a portfolio ofprints _he_ admired, and she was so touched that she sat in a breathlessthrill of joy with her eyes full of tears.
"Oh, I did not know there were such beautiful things in the world," shesaid with a sob in her breath. "And that people could really make them!How wonderful it must be to do something the whole world can enjoy."
He smiled kindly. "The world is large," he replied, "and if only alittle circle commends us, that must satisfy the most of us. And perhapsyou know people who would rather have a bright chromo of fruit orflowers than all of these."
"Yes," she admitted with a flush.
"But in everything it is worth while to try to come up to the bestwithin us."
This sentence lingered in her mind. But she was a very busy girl for thenext two weeks, for there was a good deal to do at home. Then she wasnot old enough to have outgrown play. Girls really played in countryplaces round about.
But some new thing was growing up within her. There comes a dividingline in many lives when the soul awakens and reaches up and seemssuddenly to sweep past the old things, just as the bud pushes out of itssheath that then becomes a dry husk. So many desires crept up to thelight. Study, languages, histories of men and women, and deeds that hadchanged the aspect of the world. Travel, a life of her own in which shewas first, not in any selfish fashion, but to have things peculiarly herown, the things that appealed to her, not other people's ideas of whatwas best for you. She had had some of Jenny's frocks made over for her,and had been wearing Jenny's coat all winter. Aurelia was too small tomake these changes economical, and Mrs. Mulford was one of the thriftykind that believed in putting everything to the best use. Yet Helenlonged for the time when second-hand clothes and ideas were no longerforced upon you, but you could come into some of your very own.
She thought she would go up to her own room and have a good cry. Just asshe reached the door Aunt Jane said: "Yes, she's old enough now to go towork. It's a good idea."
"I'll speak to Mr. Brown and engage the place for her. After afortnight, if she pays any sort of attention she'll get three dollars aweek, for she's quick to see into things."
"Yes, if she settles her mind to them. Dear me! I hope she won't turnout trifling and inefficient like her father. She's got his eyes, onlythey're more wide awake. And when a girl has to do for herself, thesooner she begins the better. I'd reckoned on setting her to dosomething this fall, for there's 'Reely to work in the odds and ends; Ialways did say I wouldn't bring up a lot of shiftless girls, and I'lldo my duty by her if she isn't altogether mine."
Helen went round to the side entrance and slipped upstairs. Fan and'Reely slept in the big bed. There was a jog in the room and Helen's cotwas here. She threw off her clothes and crept into bed, and cried withher whole soul in revolt. What right had anyone to order another's life,to put one in hard and distasteful places! She had never thought of thefactory before, indeed she had never thought much of the future. Formost healthy energetic girls the present is sufficient, and to Aunt Janeit was everything. Children were to do to-day's work, there was no fearbut there would be enough to fill up to-morrow when it came.
To go in the factory when Mr. Warfield had said she could make ateacher! To miss three years in the High School, three splendidsatisfying years, to miss the wonderful knowledges of the wide,beautiful world when she had just come to know what a few leaves of themwere like. No wonder she cried with a girl's passionate disappointment.No wonder she saw possibilities in the enchanted future and wasconfident of reaching them if she could be allowed.