CHAPTER X.
ERNESTINE.
"Mamma," asked Ernestine Alroy, "may I ask the girls to have their nextmeeting here and take tea with us?"
Mrs. Alroy looked at her daughter with some hesitation as shesaid: "Ernestine, you know I would like to please you, but have yousufficiently considered the matter? All of your friends are verycomfortably situated, and it will be impossible for us to entertain themas they do you. Besides, I cannot be at home until after six, and itwill make tea very late."
"I know all that, mamma, but I am sure I can make them have a pleasanttime. I do not think we ought to be ashamed of being poor, when we thinkof the One who 'had not where to lay His head.' For your sake, poormamma, I wish we had more money; but as for myself, I feel just as happyas if we were worth millions. I don't care a bit whether my friendshave money or not, and I don't see why it should make any difference toanybody."
"My poor child!" said her mother, and she sighed as she rememberedthat at Ernestine's age she had never even seen apartments so poorlyfurnished as theirs, "you have much to learn; you will find that thereare many people in the world to whom it will make a great deal ofdifference."
"Well, mamma, we don't care for the Madame Mucklegrands of the world,and Winnie Burton and all of her folks are as 'real folks' as any inMrs. Whitney's book. Do let us have them!"
"Well, dear, I don't exactly like to have you accept hospitalities whichwe are not willing to return, and if you think you can make it pleasantfor your friends, you shall do as you wish."
The next day, therefore, Ernestine told the four girls that her mothersent her compliments and would be much pleased to have them to tea onFriday evening. In the afternoon the girls all accepted, and Fannie saidthat if agreeable to Mrs. Alroy, her father would call for them at nineo'clock and see them home.
After school that day, as Fannie and Ernestine were walking down CourtStreet together, they met a little girl, dirty and uncombed, carrying abasket of soiled clothes. Two of the boys of their class, racing wildlydown the street, boy-fashion, ran against the child, upset the basket,and the clothes, not being very tightly packed, fell out. There wasquite a strong wind, and some of the napkins and handkerchiefs lyingloose on top were caught up and sent blowing here, there and everywhere.
The boys ran on, totally indifferent, if not unconscious. The child,commencing to cry, gave chase to the wind-blown articles, and the basketrolled entirely over, and nearly every article fell out.
Fannie stood laughing, her sense of the ridiculous overcoming any pityshe might have felt for the girl. Ernestine hesitated a moment. She wasdaintiness itself, and the sight of the soiled clothes, belonging to noone knew whom, was not an attractive one. But for three years she hadbeen earnestly striving to follow the Golden Rule, so she righted thebasket, picked up the soiled clothes, rolled them together more tightly,and replaced them in the basket by the time the child returned with therecaptured napkins. She also helped put these in, and with a few kindwords sent the girl on her way far happier than she would have been ifobliged to struggle with her burden alone.
Fannie had moved on some distance, much ashamed of being mixed up insuch a scene to even so slight a degree, and feeling inclined toleave Ernestine entirely, for she knew that her mother would havecharacterized the whole affair as "plebeian," and she felt half angrywith Ernestine.
Ernestine righted the basket.--See page 46.]
When the latter rejoined her, she said with some irritation, "Howevercould you touch those horrid, dirty clothes or go near that dirtychild?"
"I didn't like to touch them," said Ernestine simply; "but Christ did agreat many things he did not like to do."
"Well, you are a queer girl, Ernestine! I'm sure I can't make up my mindthat it is my duty to be pleasant to every dirty little beggar who comesalong. There might have been small-pox in those clothes!"
Ernestine smiled at that, but made no reply, and the two walked on insilence till they reached the corner where they separated.
Fannie went on, swinging her books by the strap, and thinking that dirtcould not be so repulsive to Ernestine as to her; but if she could haveseen Ernestine go straight to the kitchen sink the minute she reachedhome, before she stopped to touch anything, Fannie might have realizedsomething of the self-restraint her friend had exercised in the matter.But few of us can be brought to believe that things we find unpleasantare often quite as unpleasant to other people.
Friday afternoon came, and five o'clock found the four girls entering aside yard in a pleasant if not an aristocratic neighborhood. They wentup the stairs leading from a side hall, and were met at the top byErnestine, who was holding open the door.
She led them into a tiny bedroom, not much larger than a closet, butscrupulously dainty and clean, from the white spread and pillows on thebed to the fresh towels hanging on the rack above the washstand.
Here she helped the girls remove their wraps, and then they went intothe adjoining room, which was a pleasant surprise, particularly toFannie. So pretty and pleasant and homelike it appeared that, at first,it almost seemed elegant, until one had time to observe that there wasnot an expensive article in the room. The floor was covered with a blueand white checked matting, the chairs and rockers were simply "cane,"and the only piece of upholstered furniture was the lounge. But therewere some engravings, plainly framed; hanging baskets at both of thewindows; a window-box of lilies-of-the-valley, just beginning to bloom,and in the other window a similar box of mignonette, which filled thewhole room with its delicate fragrance.
A bright fire blazed in the grate, and the four girls felt at home morequickly than they had done at either of the two places of their previousmeetings, probably because Ernestine was their only hostess, her mothernot yet having returned from the store.
A late magazine lay on the table, together with a copy of that charmingstory, "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and Mrs. Whitney's "We Girls" and "RealFolks." Winnie could not help picking them up to see what they were, andit turned out that all of the girls except Gretta had read them, so theyimmediately began talking about them.
"Mamma and papa and brother Jack took turns in reading 'Fauntleroy'aloud to us when it came out in the magazine," said Winnie, "and for aday or two in each month we hardly talked of anything else."
"I liked the scene of the dinner party best, when the little lord talkedto the guests, but stayed close beside the pretty lady and paid her suchcunning compliments," said Fannie.
"I enjoyed reading about him in the grocery store with Mr. Hobbs," saidMiriam. "I can see them now; Hobbs was so funny! My sister said he wasmore of a child than the little hero of the story."
"I think I liked him best when he was with his grandfather," saidErnestine; "it was lovely of him to think that wicked old man was sogood."
"My mother says that every child in the land, and particularly everyboy, ought to read that story, if for no other reason than to learnwhat it is to be a real gentleman and a real lady. She says no depths ofpoverty could ever have made 'Dearest' and her son anything else."
"I was just about frantic," said Fannie, "when I began to be afraid hewasn't the heir after all. It seemed horrid to think that that roughwoman's son should own those fine lands and the title, and I felt almostas glad when it turned out all right as if he had been one of my nearestfriends."
"I wish I read more," said Gretta. "I do love my music; and if I didn't,I'd have to keep it up all the same. But I would like to read the bookyou are talking about."
"You may take it," said Ernestine, "and keep it just as long as youwish."
"Speaking of borrowing books," said Miriam, "reminds me that I did themost dreadful thing to-day. Miss Carter had lent me Mrs. Gaskel's 'Lifeof Charlotte Bronte,' and I had just returned it yesterday, feeling verygrateful, for I think it is nice in Miss Carter to take an interest inso many girls. I should think she would just get to hating us, for it isthe same thing year in and year out, and most of us are so trying.
"But although I love her dearly
, you know how angry she gets, andshe was giving Josie Thompson such a lecture about there being nopunctuation in her composition, and then she read a paragraph as it waspunctuated--just 'like commas and periods shaken out of a pepper-box,'she said. The subject was 'Joan of Arc,' and Josie, as usual, hadrather a mixed idea of her character, and what Miss Carter read soundedsomething like this:
"'Joan of Arc, was a poor, girl who heard a great many, ghost storiesand these turned her head and she imagined, that, it would be a greatdeal more fun to lead soldiers. To battle in the war. With England thanto be spending her time tending sheep? on the mountains she thought shewould enjoy herself better.'
"That last was so much like Josie--who, as you know, is always talkingabout enjoying herself--that I could hardly keep in, and when Josie madea mouth at Miss Carter the minute her back was turned, three or four ofus giggled out loud, and Miss Carter stopped lecturing Josie and turnedher wrath on us.
"That was yesterday, but this morning the whole affair was still freshin my memory, and three or four of the girls in Miss Brownlow's roomhappening to come about the same time that I did, I began to tell themabout it. I began in a high key, a great deal worse than Miss Carterever uses, although she does pitch her voice very high when she isvexed. I said:
"'Miss Thompson, I am surprised at you; in fact, I am more thansurprised. It almost passes belief that a girl should begin to studypunctuation almost as soon as her school life begins, as in our schools,and after six or seven years should not be able even to use a period, tosay nothing of the more complicated marks; to know nothing, absolutelynothing, of her own language.'
"Here I interrupted myself to show them the kind of mouth Josie made,and of course they all laughed, for they know how her mouth and nose goup at every little thing. Then I went on.
"Miss Carter didn't see the mouth that Josie made, and she caught uslaughing, and said, 'Can it be possible that there are girls in thisclass, girls of good rank and standing, and of moderately good behavior,who can laugh, yes, actually laugh, at the ignorance of one of theirschool-mates? Something is wrong, radically wrong,'--and here I made thegesture she always makes when she says 'radically wrong,' and--what doyou think? There she stood, right behind me!"
"What did she do?" asked Fannie.
"Do? She didn't do anything, and I half thought she was smiling. But Ifelt as if I would like to sink through the floor, I was so mortified.And only yesterday I was walking down the street with her, talkingto her as if I thought her my best friend! She'll think I'm a perfecthypocrite."
"Why don't you apologize?" asked Gretta.
"I can't go and apologize to someone for making fun of her as soon asher back is turned, can I? And I really didn't intend to make fun ofMiss Carter, either; it was only that the whole affair seemed amusing tome."
"She probably understands, and does not think any more about it," saidErnestine. "But now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go into thekitchen for a few minutes; or perhaps you'll come, too."
"Oh, we'd like to come, if we won't be in the way," said Fannie. So theyall trooped into the kitchen.
What a tiny box of a place it was, to be sure! When all five of thegirls were there, there was not room for anybody else. Fannie and Grettasqueezed close to each other on the box beside the window, Miriam sat ona chair in one corner, and Winnie stood in the doorway between the tworooms, watching Ernestine, and thinking how cross she had been onlya week or two before because she had to do a little cooking in themorning, while Ernestine had to do it every day and go to school beside.
But Ernestine did everything so easily and pleasantly that it was apleasure to watch her. She did her cooking on a little oil stove, andthere seemed so little to be done--for Mrs. Alroy and Ernestine hadprepared things the day before--that her young visitors could not feelas if it were a bit of trouble to entertain them. It was as nice as aplay, too, to see her cut the potatoes in delicate, thin slices and dropthem into the boiling fat, and see them come out delightfully crisp andbrown.
Then the girls all followed her into the sitting-room, laughing andchattering as only girls can, while Ernestine set the table. The tablelinen was white and fine, and the cups and saucers were real old china,these being about the only things which Mrs. Alroy had saved from herpast grandeur.
Everything was ready and on the table, except the food which was to beserved hot, when Mrs. Alroy came in, looking tired and reserved. Shedisappeared for a few moments into the bedroom, and when she came out,seeming somewhat refreshed, they all sat down to the table.
To the surprise of the girls, Ernestine, in her simple, unaffectedmanner, asked a blessing on what was set before them. It seemed queer tothem that if it were to be done at all, it should not be by Mrs. Alroy.But Ernestine's mother was not yet perfectly resigned to what had comeupon her, and it was that, perhaps--yes, certainly--which made herburden so hard to bear; but at least she did not interfere withErnestine in these matters.
The girls were hungry, and everything tasted delicious, from the slicedcold ham and the potatoes which they had seen Ernestine frying, to thedessert of ice-cream and cake.
When supper was over, the girls begged to be allowed to clear off thetable, and Ernestine washed the dishes as they brought them out, whileWinnie wiped them.
Mrs. Alroy sat down and glanced over the newspaper. Fannie watchedher curiously, and privately came to the conclusion that she was theproudest woman she had ever seen. This conviction came to her withsomething of a shock, for she had heretofore supposed that pride andwealth and fine living belonged together. She furthermore came tothe conclusion that while pride might be fine, it was not especiallycharming, for though Mrs. Alroy had been pleasant when the girls werepresented to her, her manner had been only polite, not interested.
When the girls had finished washing and putting away the supperthings, she roused herself and talked with them about their school andamusements, but as soon as Ernestine returned, excused herself and wentinto the little room and closed the door. Ernestine followed her, with atroubled look on her usually calm face. When she returned, she said:
"Mamma has a severe headache, and begs to be excused for awhile, buthopes to feel better before you go home."
"We were all to have a text or a verse to-night, weren't we?" askedFannie. "The only thing I could find was our Golden Text for lastSunday, 'Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.' I spoke topapa about it, and, although he is not very religious, he said he didn'tbelieve there was any better way of remembering our Creator than bytrying to do what was right, and he was glad to see that I was thinkingabout such things."
"Mamma says there are very few things said in the Bible about thedangers of delay," said Winnie, "but she gave me this one from Proverbs:'Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day maybring forth.'"
"I couldn't find anything in the Bible," said Miriam, "but I found apoem by Adelaide Procter which I copied, thinking you might like to hearit all, as I scarcely knew which verse to select. I will read it to you:
"Rise! for the day is passing, And you lie dreaming on; The others have buckled their armor, And forth to the fight are gone. A place in the ranks awaits you, Each man has some part to play; The Past and the Future are nothing, In the face of the stern To-day.
"Rise from your dreams of the Future,-- Of gaining some hard-fought field; Of storming some airy fortress, Or bidding some giant yield; Your Future has deeds of glory, Of honor (God grant it may)! But your arm will never be stronger, Or the need so great as To-day.
"Rise! for the day is passing; The sound that you scarcely hear, Is the enemy marching to battle; Arise! for the foe is here! Stay not to sharpen your weapons, Or the hour will strike at last, When, from dreams of a coming battle, You may wake to find it past!"
"How much better we understand things than we did three months ago!"said Winnie. "I used to dream of the grand things I was going to dowhen I grew up." Then she added, blushing a little as s
he rememberedher cross Saturday morning, "I do yet, sometimes, but I don't think Ineglect quite so many things as I used to."
"I never had much chance either to neglect things or to dream," saidGretta, "for papa or mamma or my sister was always reminding me thatit was time to do this or that or the other. But I am beginning now tothink of some of my faults. I couldn't find anything for this afternoon,except the Memory Gem we learned in the First Reader. You know I don'tread a great deal myself, and we all seem to have so much to do at ourhouse; when it isn't something else, it's practice, practice, practice!Even this little verse I don't suppose I should have remembered if Ihadn't heard the children reciting it at the 'Colony':
"One thing at a time, And that done well, Is a very good rule, As many can tell."
"Why, that's the very thing, Gretta! I'm surprised that none of the restof us thought of it. How queer that the same piece of advice, in oneform or another, has been given to us ever since we were little girls,and that we have just begun to realize what it all means!" said Fannie.
"What have you, Ernestine?" said Miriam.
"I took mine from Ecclesiastes," was the reply. "'When thou vowest a vowunto the Lord, defer not to pay it.'"
"I like that, too," said Gretta; "but I think Miss Benton's pretty cardis helping me more than anything else."
"I think that was lovely, too," said Fannie. "I liked the story everso much, but it will be nice for us to do as she suggested, and takea motto this week. How would it do to take the one Winnie brought? Itseems the easiest for us to understand."
So they all learned it, and, at Miriam's suggestion, added the versethat Gretta had recited.
Mrs. Alroy came back into the sitting-room just as the girls hadfinished reading their mottoes, and, though her eyes looked heavy, as ifshe were suffering, she joined the little band, and told them that shethought they were adopting a very good plan to help them over the roughplaces of life, and perhaps also enable them to make fewer mistakes thanthey might otherwise do.
While she was talking to them, footsteps were heard coming up thestairs.
"That's papa, I think," said Fannie, and she went with Ernestine to thedoor.
Ernestine had seen Mr. Allen often, for he was one of the trustees oftheir school, but of course Mrs. Alroy had never met him, so the girlsled him through the narrow hall into the room beyond.
Mrs. Alroy met him at the door and extended her hand, as Fannie said,"My papa, Mrs. Alroy."
Mr. Allen seated himself, at Mrs. Alroy's invitation, while the girlswent to get on their wraps. As they talked of the weather and the usualsubjects discussed by strangers, Mr. Allen looked at the lady in rathera puzzled manner, as if wondering where he had seen her before. Finallyhe said:
"Excuse me, Mrs. Alroy, but may I ask what was your maiden name?"
She told him, but rather coldly, as if she considered the questionimpertinent.
He read her thought well enough, but unhesitatingly continued:
"The Van Ortons of New York?"
"Of New York, yes."
"I thought so; it must be one of your brothers whom you so stronglyresemble. I could not think whom you were like, the day of thecelebration over at the school-house, but that, I see, was what puzzledme. I know your brother and his family quite well. I have had businessrelations with him for years, which have been very pleasant ones."
"I am glad to meet someone who has seen my brother recently. I have seenno member of my family for years; it has been impossible for me to gohome, and my circumstances have been such that I have managed to preventtheir visiting me, for I had no desire to have them do so. Should youhave any communication with him, I ask as a favor that my name may notbe mentioned."
"Your wishes, of course, will be respected, madam," the gentlemanreplied courteously.
The girls appeared at this moment, ready for the walk home, and Mr.Allen rose, adding:
"Permit me to thank you for the pleasure you have given my daughter, andto express the wish that you will allow her to make a return soon." Thenthey took their departure.
Ernestine went into the little kitchen to prepare things for breakfast,and when she came back she was shocked to find her mother sobbingviolently. It frightened her, too, for though her mother was never verycheerful, the girl seldom saw her shed tears.
"Mother dear, what is it?" she said. "Have I been selfish? Was theevening too much for you?"
"Selfish? No, dear," was the reply. "I am the selfish one, and I amgrateful to know that you have such perfect faith and hope that all iswell. Otherwise your young life would have been darkened long ago bymy constant sorrow and regret. Poor child! It is a hard life for one soyoung."
"But, mother, some day you will be happy again."
"I hope so, dear," replied Mrs. Alroy. But she thought to herself thatthere was nothing in this world that could make life endurable to her,unless she could forget. And that, to her proud, sensitive nature,seemed impossible.