CHAPTER XI.
THE MAD GARDENER.
"This seems to be a lazy place," said Louise, as she stood in thedoorway of Beth's room to bid her good night. "I shall sleep untillate in the morning, for I don't believe Aunt Jane will be onexhibition before noon."
"At home I always get up at six o'clock," answered Beth.
"Six o'clock! Good gracious! What for?"
"To study my lessons and help get the breakfast."
"Don't you keep a maid?"
"No," said Beth, rather surlily; "we have hard work to keepourselves."
"But you must be nearly through with school by this time. I finishedmy education ages ago."
"Did you graduate?" asked Beth.
"No; it wasn't worth while," declared Louise, complacently. "I'm sureI know as much as most girls do, and there are more useful lessons tobe learned from real life than from books."
"Good night," said Beth.
"Good night," answered the older girl, and shut the door behind her.
Beth sat for a time moodily thinking. She did not like the way inwhich her cousin assumed superiority over her. The difference intheir ages did not account for the greater worldly wisdom Louisehad acquired, and in much that she said and did Beth recognized ashrewdness and experience that made her feel humbled and, in a way,inferior to her cousin. Nor did she trust the friendship Louiseexpressed for her.
Somehow, nothing that the girl said seemed to ring true, and Bethalready, in her mind, accused her of treachery and insincerity.
As a matter of fact, however, she failed to understand her cousin.Louise really loved to be nice to people, and to say nice thing's. Itis true she schemed and intrigued to advance her personal welfare andposition in life; but even her schemes were undertaken lightly andcarelessly, and if they failed the girl would be the first to laugh ather disappointment and try to mend her fortunes. If others stood inher way she might not consider them at all; if she pledged her word,it might not always be profitable to keep it; but she liked to be onpleasant terms with everyone, and would be amiable to the last, nomatter what happened. Comedy was her forte, rather than tragedy. Iftragedy entered her life she would probably turn it into ridicule.Wholly without care, whimsical and generous to a degree, if it suitedher mood, Louise Merrick possessed a nature capable of great things,either for good or ill.
It was no wonder her unsophisticated country cousin failed tocomprehend her, although Beth's intuition was not greatly at fault.
Six o'clock found Beth wide awake, as usual; so she quietly dressedand, taking her book under her arm, started to make her way into thegardens. Despite Louise's cynicism she had no intention of abandoningher studies. She had decided to fit herself for a teacher before AuntJane's invitation had come to her, and this ambition would render itnecessary for her to study hard during vacations.
If she became an heiress she would not need to teach, but she was notat all confident of her prospects, and the girl's practical natureprompted her to carry out her plans until she was sure of the future.
In the hall she met Phibbs, shuffling along as if in pain.
"Good morning, miss," said the old servant.
Beth looked at her thoughtfully. This was Aunt Jane's special andconfidential attendant.
"Do your feet hurt you?" she asked.
"Yes, miss; in the mornin' they's awful bad. It's being on 'em all theday, 'tendin' to Miss Jane, you know. But after a time I gets moreused to the pain, and don't feel it. The mornin's always the worst."
She was passing on, but Beth stopped her.
"Come into my room," she said, and led the way.
Martha Phibbs followed reluctantly. Miss Jane might already be awakeand demanding her services, and she could not imagine what the younglady wanted her for.
But she entered the room, and Beth went to a box and brought out abottle of lotion.
"Mother has the same trouble that you complain of," she said,practically, "and here is a remedy that always gives her relief. Ibrought it with me in case I should take long tramps, and get sorefeet."
She gently pushed the old woman into a chair, and then, to Phibbs'utter amazement, knelt down and unfastened her shoes and drew off herstockings. A moment later she was rubbing the lotion upon the poorcreature's swollen feet, paying no attention to Martha's horrifiedprotests.
"There. Now they're sure to feel better," said Beth, pulling the wornand darned stockings upon the woman's feet again. "And you must takethis bottle to your room, and use it every night and morning."
"Bless your dear heart!" cried Phibbs, while tears of gratitude stoodin her faded eyes. "I'm sure I feel twenty years younger, a'ready. Butyou shouldn't 'a' done it, miss; indeed you shouldn't."
"I'm glad to help you," said Beth, rinsing her hands at the wash standand drying them upon a towel. "It would be cruel to let you sufferwhen I can ease your pain."
"But what would Miss Jane say?" wailed old Martha, throwing up herhands in dismay.
"She'll never know a thing about it. It's our secret, Martha, and I'msure if I ever need a friend you'll do as much for me."
"I'll do anything for you, Miss Elizabeth," was the reply, as thewoman took the bottle of lotion and departed.
Beth smiled.
"That was not a bad thought," she said to herself, again starting forthe gardens. "I have made a firm friend and done a kindly action atthe same time--and all while Cousin Louise is fast asleep."
The housekeeper let her out at the side door, after Beth had pressedher hand and kissed her good morning.
"You're looking quite bonny, my dear," said the old woman. "Do youfeel at home, at all, in this strange place?"
"Not quite, as yet," answered Beth. "But I know I have one good friendhere, and that comforts me."
She found a path between high hedges, that wandered away through thegrounds, and along this she strolled until she reached a rose arborwith a comfortable bench.
Here she seated herself, looking around her curiously. The placeseemed little frequented, but was kept with scrupulous care. Evenat this hour, a little way off could be heard the "click-click!" ofhedge-shears, and Beth noted how neatly the paths were swept, and howcarefully every rose on the arbor was protected.
Elmhurst was a beautiful place. Beth sighed as she wondered if itwould ever be hers. Then she opened her book and began to work.
During the next hour the click of the hedge-shears drew nearer, butthe girl did not notice this. In another half hour James himself cameinto view, intent upon his monotonous task. Gradually the motionlessform of the girl and the plodding figure of the gardener drewtogether, until he stood but two yards distant. Then he paused, lookedtoward the arbor, and uttered an exclamation.
Beth looked up.
"Good morning," she said, pleasantly.
James stared at her, but made no reply save a slight inclination ofhis head.
"Am I in your way?" she asked.
He turned his back to her, then, and began clipping away as before.Beth sprang up and laid a hand upon his arm, arresting him. Again heturned to stare at her, and in his eyes was a look almost of fear.
She drew back.
"Why won't you speak to me?" enquired the girl, gently. "I'm astranger at Elmhurst, but I want to be your friend. Won't you let me?"
To her amazement James threw up his hands, letting the shears clatterto the ground, and with a hoarse cry turned and fled up the path asswiftly as he could go.
Beth was really puzzled, but as she stood silently looking after thegardener she heard a soft laugh, and found old Misery beside her.
"It's just his way, Miss; don't you be scared by anything that Jamesdoes," said the woman. "Why, at times he won't even speak to MissJane."
"He isn't dumb, is he?" asked Beth.
"Lor', no! But he's that odd an' contrary he won't talk to a soul.Never did, since the day Master Tom was killed. James was travellin'with Master Tom, you know, and there was an accident, an' the trainrun off'n the track an' tipped over. James wasn't
hurt at all, but hedragged Master Tom out'n the wreck and sat by him until he died. ThenJames brought Master Tom's body back home again; but his mindseemed to have got a shock, in some way, and he never was the sameafterwards. He was powerful fond of young Master Tom. But then, we allwas."
"Poor man!" said Beth.
"After that," resumed Misery, "all that James would do was to lookafter the flowers. Miss Jane, after she came, made him the headgardener, and he's proved a rare good one, too. But James he won'teven talk to Miss Jane, nor even to his old friend Lawyer Watson, whoused to be Master Tom's special chum an' comrade. He does his duty,and obeys all Miss Jane's orders as faithful as can be; but he won'ttalk, an' we've all give up tryin' to make him."
"But why should I frighten him?" asked the girl.
"You tried to make him talk, and you're a stranger. Strangers alwaysaffect James that way. I remember when Miss Jane first came toElmhurst he screamed at the sight of her; but when he found out thatMaster Tom loved her and had given her Elmhurst, James followed heraround like a dog, and did everything she told him to. But breakfastis ready, Miss. I came to call you."
"Thank you," said Beth, turning to walk beside the housekeeper.
According to Aunt Jane's instructions the breakfast was served in herown room, and presently Louise, dressed in a light silk kimona, camein bearing her tray "to keep her cousin company," she laughinglyannounced.
"I should have slept an hour longer," she yawned, over her chocolate,"but old Misery--who seems rightly named--insisted on waking me, justthat I might eat. Isn't this a funny establishment?"
"It's different from everything I'm used to," answered Beth, gravely;"but it seems very pleasant here, and everyone is most kind andattentive."
"Now I'll dress," said Louise, "and we'll take a long walk together,and see the place."
So it happened that Kenneth clattered down the road on the sorrel marejust a moment before the girls emerged from the house, and while hewas riding off his indignation at their presence at Elmhurst, theywere doing just what his horrified imagination had depicted--that is,penetrating to all parts of the grounds, to every nook in the spaciousold gardens and even to the stables, where Beth endeavored to make afriend of old Donald the coachman.
However, the gray-whiskered Scotsman was not to be taken by storm,even by a pretty face. His loyalty to "the boy" induced him to be waryin associating with these strange "young females" and although hewelcomed them to the stable with glum civility he withheld his opinionof them until he should know them better.
In their rambles the girls found Kenneth's own stair, and were sittingupon it when Phibbs came to summon Louise to attend upon Aunt Jane.
She obeyed with alacrity, for she wished to know more of the queerrelative whose guest she had become.
"Sit down," said Aunt Jane, very graciously, as the girl entered.
Louise leaned over the chair, kissed her and patted her cheekaffectionately, and then shook up the pillows to make them morecomfortable.
"I want you to talk to me," announced Aunt Jane, "and to tell mesomething of the city and the society in which you live. I've been solong dead to the world that I've lost track of people and things."
"Let me dress your hair at the same time," said Louise, pleadingly."It looks really frowsy, and I can talk while I work."
"I can't lift my left hand," said the invalid, flushing, "and Phibbsis a stupid ass."
"Never mind, I can make it look beautiful in half a jiffy," said thegirl, standing behind the chair and drawing deftly the hairpins fromAunt Jane's scanty grey locks, "and you can't imagine how it pleasesme to fuss over anyone."
It was surprising how meekly Aunt Jane submitted to this ordeal, butshe plied the girl with many shrewd questions and Louise, busilyworking in a position where the old woman could not see her face,never hesitated for an answer. She knew all the recent gossip offashionable society, and retailed it glibly. She had met thiscelebrity at a ball and that one at a reception, and she describedthem minutely, realizing that Aunt Jane would never be in a positionto contradict any assertion she might choose to make.
Indeed, Aunt Jane was really startled.
"However did your mother manage to gain an entree into society?" sheasked. "Your father was a poor man and of little account. I know, forhe was my own brother."
"He left us a very respectable life insurance," said Louise, demurely,"and my mother had many friends who were glad to introduce us to goodsociety when we were able to afford such a luxury. Father died twelveyears ago, you know, and for several years, while I was at school,mother lived very quietly. Then she decided it was time I made mydebut, but for the last season we have been rather gay, I admit."
"Are you rich?" asked Aunt Jane, sharply.
"Mercy, no!" laughed Louise, who had finished her work and now sat heraunt's feet. "But we have enough for our requirements, and that makesus feel quite independent. By the way, auntie, I want to return thatcheck you sent me. It was awfully good and generous of you, but Ididn't need it, you know, and so I want you to take it back."
She drew the slip of paper from her pocket and pressed it into AuntJane's hand.
"It's quite enough for you to give me this nice treat in the country,"resumed the girl, calmly. "The change from the city will do me a worldof good, and as I wanted to be quiet, and rest I declined all my otherinvitations for the summer to accept yours. Isn't it glorious that wecan get acquainted at last? And I quite love Elmhurst, already!"
Aunt Jane was equally surprised and gratified. The return of the checkfor a hundred dollars was very pleasant. She had drawn a similar checkfor each of her three nieces, believing that it would be necessary forher to meet their expenses, and she had considered the expenditure inthe nature of a business transaction. But Patricia had flung one checkin her face, practically, and now Louise had voluntarily returnedanother, because she did not need the money. Really, Jane Merrick wasaccomplishing her purpose for less money than she had expected, andshe had hoarded her wealth for so many years that she disliked tospend any of it foolishly.
Louise had read her nature correctly. It had been a little hard toreturn so large a check, but the girl's policy was not to appearbefore Aunt Jane as a poor relation, but rather as a young lady fittedby social education and position to become a gracious mistress ofElmhurst. This she believed would give her a powerful advantage overall competitors.
Whether she was right or not in this surmise it is certain that sherose several points in Aunt Jane's estimation during this interview,and when she was dismissed it was so graciously that she told herselfthe money her little plot had cost had been well expended.
Afterward Elizabeth was summoned to attend her aunt.
"I want to be amused. Can you read aloud?" said the invalid.
"Not very well, I'm afraid. But I'll be glad to try," answered Beth."What do you like?"
"Select your own book," said Aunt Jane, pointing to a heap of volumesbeside her.
The girl hesitated. Louise would doubtless have chosen a romance, orsome light tale sure to interest for the hour, and so amuse the oldlady. But Beth erroneously judged that the aged and infirm love soberand scholarly books, and picked out a treatise that proved ineffablydull and tedious.
Aunt Jane sniffed, and then smiled slyly and proceeded to settleherself for a nap. If the girl was a fool, let her be properlypunished.
Beth read for an hour, uncertain whether her aunt were intenselyinterested or really asleep. At the end of that dreadful period oldMisery entered and aroused the sleeper without ceremony.
"What's the matter?" asked Aunt Jane, querrulously, for she resentedbeing disturbed.
"There's a man to see you, Miss."
"Send him about his business!"
"But--"
"I won't see him, I tell you!"
"But he says he's your brother, Miss."
"Who?"
"Your brother."
Miss Jane stared as if bewildered.
"Your brother John, Miss."
r /> The invalid sank back upon her cushions with a sigh of resignation.
"I thought he was dead, long ago; but if he's alive I suppose I'llhave to see him," she said. "Elizabeth, leave the room. Misery, sendthe man here!"