CHAPTER XIII
ENTER MARY-IN-THE-KITCHEN
In a certain pleasant suburb--yes, the city has pleasant suburbs, thoughwhen you are in the slums you do not believe it--stands a white housewith green blinds. It stands in the middle of a square yard (by which Imean an inclosure, not a measure of space); its front looks on apleasant street, with a sidewalk, and sentinel maples set at regularintervals; the back gives, as the French say, on a road that is not yetpaved, with neither sidewalk nor maples, only a straggling procession ofelms, with grass or dust, as may happen, under foot. Yet it is moresympathetic, some people think, than the proper street, andMary-in-the-kitchen, whose windows both above and below stairs look outupon it, privately thinks she has the best part of the house. So thinksthe visitor in the back corner room, too; but we have not come to himyet.
Mary-in-the-kitchen is not in it just now. She is in the yard, hangingout the clothes, for all the world like the maid in the nursery song.She is standing on a raised platform; her face is toward the house, herback toward the road. So standing, with her arms raised, pinning linenalong a line, Mary is such a picture that you really must stop and lookat her. She is neither tall nor short, but just the right height, andher blue cotton gown takes the lines and curves of as pretty a figure asever sculptor sighed for. Her forehead is broad and smooth, and herhair ripples round it as if for pure pleasure. Her brows are black andstraight, her lashes black and curled, and her eyes violet blue withbrown shadows; you may see the color in clear water when the windruffles it. A short straight nose, a chin like Mary Donnelly's, "veryneat and pert, and smooth as a china cup," a mouth with kisses tucked inat the corners: all these things Mary has, and her hair beside. Hair toodark for gold, too bright for brown; rather like October oak leaves whenthe sun shines through them at a certain angle--but you must know theright kind of oak. Well, then, like a red heifer, a yearling, when hercoat is new and glossy in the spring. There is so much of it that Maryhardly knows what to do with it; being a very tidy girl, she has it wellbraided and pinned in shining coils at the back of her head, but littletendrils will escape and curl round her face just because they cannotkeep away; and on the nape of her neck are two little curls that knowthemselves for the prettiest in the world.
If you asked Mary what she was, she would reply promptly, "A scientificgeneral." By this she would not mean that she was prepared to conductwarfare on approved modern principles; not at all. She means that shehas taken courses in General Housework at a certain Institute; and thatshe is able to do (and does) the work of two "domestics" of yesterday'sclass, with ease and precision. It stands to reason--Mary's favoritephrase--that she would. Knowing not only how but why a thing should bedone, you know what came next, and there you were, all ready. So Marywas the joy and comfort of her employers ("the nicest folks in theworld!") and the distraction of all the youthful tradesmen of thesuburbs. And here I am still keeping her standing on that platform withher arms uplifted, pinning the tablecloth on the line. Scientificgenerals do not wash clothes nowadays, nor any other generals for thatmatter, but this was the employeress's best tablecloth, and Mary knewthe stuff the laundry put in, and see beautiful linen destroyed was athing she could not; it stood to reason.
The intelligent reader knows why I am keeping her there; I do not evenattempt to deceive him. Yes, Pippin is coming round the corner thismoment. Here he is, wheel and all; high time, too, says the intelligentreader. He is walking slowly, not looking round him, as is his wont,with quick, darting glances, but with intent look fixed on the ground alittle way ahead, as if he were searching for something; as indeed heis. Pippin is very busy this morning. He has just established ten ortwenty boys (he is not sure which) in Cyrus Poor Farm, and he is nowlooking for the right kind of guy to teach them the use of their hands.He has never heard of manual training--Bashford taught it in a way, butit was called by other names--but there were several guys in There(remember that this meant Shoreham) that would have made first-ratemechanics, give 'em the chance. Now take 'em young, and--why--why--
At this point Fate tapped Pippin smartly on the shoulder. He looked up,and saw Mary on the platform, with her back to him, pinning out thetablecloth.
Cyrus Poor Farm vanished, boys and all! "Green grass!" said Pippin. Hestopped short, and silently bade himself see if there wasn't some picturto look at. He joyfully absorbed Mary, from head to trim feet and backagain, his eyes resting finally on the nape of her neck where the twolittle curls were displaying themselves, and on the heavy coils ofshining hair. Now _there_ was a color! 'Twas the color of a hosschestnut--no! lighter than that. A bay hoss, then--bright bay, kind o'squintin' toward sorrel; no! lighter than that. Green grass! 'Twas likea heifer, a yearlin' heifer. Now--Pippin smote his thigh lightly--thatwas the very color Old Man Blossom named in regards to his little gal.Now would you call that a reminder, p'inter like, fear he should forget?Or was it showin' him that gals as had a chance might grow up beautslike this young lady? No, he hadn't see her face, that was a fact,but--here Mary turned round.
Probably neither thought anything in that minute they stood at gaze,save that here was the goodliest person ever seen of their respectiveeyes; as to how the Fates busied themselves at the time, I am not in aposition to say, but the next moment, when Pippin pulled off his cap andsmiled, and Mary smiled back, possibly--I cannot say--exceptionally keenears might have heard the whir of Clotho's distaff.
To both the smile seemed somehow familiar; it was as if--this was notthought, only a sunlit gleam of something too far and bright torecognize--as if each had known how the other would smile; thus, and nototherwise the gracious lines would curve and melt and deepen. How isthis? Is there no flash of vision, Pippin? Think! Pippin is toobewildered to think.
"Mornin'!" said Pippin. "Nice day!"
"Real nice!" Mary assented.
"Havin' nice weather right along; seasonable, you might say. Any knivesor scissors to grind, lady?"
"Why, I don't know!" Mary came daintily down the steps of the platform(demonstrating the while a seeming impossibility, that her foot was aspretty as the rest of her), and advanced, looking from Pippin to thewheel and back again. "Are you a p'fessional?" she asked.
"That's what! I expect I can give satisfaction, knives, scissors, ortools; anything except razors; them I don't undertake. Like to have alook at the wheel, lady? She's a beaut, too--what I would say, Nipper isher name, not a female name, but all she's got--same as me."
"Nipper!" the girl paused a fraction of a second. It was as if somefaint air stirred, not enough to ruffle ever so delicately the clearpool of memory; it passed and was gone. "'Tis a pretty wheel!" saidMary.
"Take it from me, lady, she's O.K., the Nipper is. Runs slick as greasedlightning; I'd show you if you had a knife handy."
"I'll fetch the carving knife!" said Mary. "It's dull as anything."
She vanished, to the perceptible darkening of the daylight, but soonreappeared, bringing not only the sun but a handful of knives, big andlittle.
Looking at them, and still more closely at the strong shapely hand thatproffered the first of them, an idea came to Pippin, which he withheldfor the moment. He took the carving knife, pronounced it a dandy butbeen used some.
"Now watch me, lady!" he said.
A pretty trade! Temp'ry, as Pippin never failed to assure himself, butpretty. See now how lovingly he lays the blade to the wheel. His footpresses the pedal, and the wheel turns; slowly at first, then faster andever faster till all Mary sees is a blur of gray and blue with now andthen a darting spark. Pippin, holding the blade tenderly yet firmlyagainst the flying stone, bends over it intent; then as the edge beginsto fine and taper, he whistles, then hums under his breath, finallybreaks out into full-throated song:
"Knives and scissors to grind, oh! Have 'em done to your mind, oh! Large and small, Damaged and all, Don't leave any behind, oh!
"Knives and scissors to grind, oh! Every specie and kind, oh! Bring 'em to me, _And_ you will
see Satisfaction, you'll find, oh!"
Mary looks and listens; looks first at the wheel, then at the man. Onhim her eyes linger, studying his trim khaki-clad figure (his new roadsuit, a parting gift from Mrs. Baxter, a good wish set in every stitch),his close-curling hair, the sharp, bold chiseling of cheek and chin. My!thinks Mary, if he's as good as he is lookin'!
A distant whistle sounds; a clock in the kitchen strikes twelve, with aninsistence almost personal. Mary jumps up from the step where she hasbeen sitting with her feet tucked under her and her hands clasping herknees. There! She's no idea 'twas so late. She must go in and getdinner. She thanks him ever so; that is an elegant edge. How much,please?
Pippin, resisting the impulse to say, "Nothing at all to _you_!" nameshis lowest price. Mary runs into the house for the change, and again thesun goes and comes with her. "How about the other knives?" she asks, alittle breathless with her run. Will he finish them now, and bring themin, or--
Pippin will come again, if 'tis all the same to her. He does not thinkit necessary to say that this was the idea that had come to him, winninghis instant approval. If he times his coming so as to do one knife aday--why--there's quite a plenty of knives and mebbe she'd scare up somescissors too--Pippin sees a long vista of Mary-brightened daysstretching before him. He bids her good day--since it must be so--almostcheerfully. Then, if agreeable, he'll see her again soon. "So long,lady!"
Mary stands looking after him--it is strange (or not, 'cordin' to, asMrs. Baxter would say) how often people stand looking after Pippin whenhe goes away--till conscience nips her sharply; and she flies into thekitchen and all in a moment becomes severely scientific and unbelievablygeneral, executing amazing manoeuvres with saucepans anddouble-boilers. So scientific is she that when an amorous greengrocerlooks in with suggestions of spinach and strawberries, he is hustled offin short order with a curt, "Nothing to-day, thank you!" He hesitatingin the doorway with the information that it is a fine day, Mary, withsome asperity, presumes likely, but has not time to look. Now, Mary! Asif you had not been a good half-hour out on that clothes platform!
She is even a little--a very little short with her employeress, who sawthe departing grocer from her window and thinks they might have liked abox of strawberries. Her brother is fond of--
"He's fonder of shortcake!" Mary says briefly, "and it's all ready inthe 'frigerator." Relenting, she explains with her own particular smilethat there was enough strawberries left from supper last night, and sheremembered that the Elder liked her shortcake last time he was here."Besides," she adds irrelevantly, "'twas that fellow with the crookednose, and I do despise him. He's always making excuses to hang roundwhen I'm extra busy."
This was not really meant as a hint, but still the employeress vanishedpromptly; to see to something, she said. Mary's smile was even more inevidence at dinner, when the employer complimented her on the carvingknife.
"Mary, what have you been doing to this knife? It was dull as a hoeyesterday, and now it's a Toledo blade. I didn't get you the steel youasked for, either!"
Mary, standing at attention with an extra plate, an entrancing vision inblue and white, just enough flushed from her manoeuvres over thestove, dimples and smiles and says it _is_ a lovely edge, she doesthink. A knife-grinder came along, this morning, and he did appear to bea master hand. He did it just as easy!
"Knows his business!" The employer, who is "in" wholesale cutlery, runsthe eye of a connoisseur along the blade. "I'd like to turn him on to mypruning shears. Keep a lookout for him, will you, Mary? He may come byagain!"
Mary demurely promises to do so. The visitor, who is the employeress'sbrother, a quiet man in clerical dress, yet with a certain military airand carriage, and blue eyes as keen as they are kind, notices that thegirl's color deepens a little, and that a new and distracting dimpleappears at the corner of her mouth, as if a smile were trying to escape.
"If I were in the habit of betting," he says when Mary has left theroom, "I would lay a considerable sum that the knife-grinder will comeagain, and moreover, that he is young and possibly not ill looking!"
"I certainly would if I were he!" says the employer heartily. "I'd goround a block just to look at Mary!"
The employeress here develops dimples of her own, and says there is apair of them, and they'd better let her Mary alone, or there will betrouble.
"There are enough people going round blocks to look at Mary as it is!"she says. "She's not that kind, either. She huffed Babbitt's man rightout of the kitchen to-day, before I had time to get downstairs."
The visitor says nothing. He did not see the knife-grinder, being toobusy with his writing--he was preparing a paper for a conference--tolook out of the window; but he has a strong impression that he, theknife-grinder, had not been huffed out of the yard an hour or so ago.And here was Mary with the shortcake!