MOTHER EMERITUS
THE Louders lived on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, in theLossing Building. There is a restaurant to the right; and a new doctor,every six months, who is every kind of a healer except "regular," keepsthe permanent boarders in gossip, to the left; two or three dressmakers,a dentist, and a diamond merchant up-stairs, one flight; and half adozen families and a dozen single tenants higher--so you see the Loudershad plenty of neighbors. In fact, the multitude of the neighbors is onecause of my story.
Tilly Louder came home from the Lossing factory (where she is atypewriter) one February afternoon. As she turned the corner, she wasface to the river, which is not so full of shipping in winter that onecannot see the steel-blue glint of the water. Back of her the brickpaved street climbed the hill, under a shapeless arch of trees. Theremorseless pencil of a railway has drawn black lines at the foot ofthe hill; and, all day and all night, slender red bars rise and sinkin their black sockets, to the accompaniment of the outcry of torturedsteam. All day, if not all night, the crooked pole slips up and down thetrolley wire, as the yellow cars rattle, and flash, and clang a spitefullittle bell, that sounds like a soprano bark, over the crossings.
It is customary in the Lossing Building to say, "We are so handy to thecars." The street is a handsome street, not free from dingy old brickboxes of stores below the railway, but fast replacing them with fairerstructures. The Lossing Building has the wide arches, the recesseddoors, the balconies and the colonnades of modern business architecture.The occupants are very proud of the balconies, in particular; and,summer days, these will be a mass of greenery and bright tints. To-day,it was so warm, February day though it was, that some of the pottedplants were sunning themselves outside the windows.
Tilly could see them if she craned her neck. There were some bouvardiasand fuchsias of her mother's among them.
"It IS a pretty building," said Tilly; and, for some reason, shefrowned.
She was a young woman, but not a very young woman. Her figure was slim,and she looked better in loose waists than in tightly fitted gowns. Shewore a dark green gown with a black jacket, and a scarlet shirt-waistunderneath. Her face was long, with square chin and high cheek-bones,and thin, firm lips; yet she was comely, because of her lustrous blackhair, her clear, gray eyes, and her charming, fair skin. She had anothergift: everything about her was daintily neat; at first glance one said,"Here is a person who has spent pains, if not money, on her toilet."
By this time Tilly was entering the Lossing Building. Half-way up thestairway a hand plucked her skirts. The hand belonged to a tired-facedwoman in black, on whose breast glittered a little crowd of pins andthreaded needles, like the insignia of an Order of Toil.
"Please excuse me, Miss Tilly," said the woman, at the same timepresenting a flat package in brown paper, "but WILL you give thispattern back to your mother. I am so very much obliged. I don't know howI WOULD git along without your mother, Tilly."
"I'll give the pattern to her," said Tilly, and she pursued her way.
Not very far. A stout woman and a thin young man, with long, wavy, redhair, awaited her on the landing. The woman held a plate of cake whichshe thrust at Tilly the instant they were on the same level, saying:"The cake was just splendid, tell your mother; it's a lovely recipe, andwill you tell her to take this, and see how well I succeeded?"
"And--ah--Miss Louder," said the man, as the stout woman rustled away,"here are some _Banner of Lights;_ I think she'd be interested in someof the articles on the true principles of the inspirationalfaith----" Tilly placed the bundle of newspapers at the base of herload--"and--and, I wish you'd tell your dear mother that, under theangels, her mustard plaster really saved my life."
"I'll tell her," said Tilly.
She had advanced a little space before a young girl in a bright bluesilk gown flung a radiant presence between her and the door. "Oh,Miss Tilly," she murmured, blushing, "will you just give your motherthis?--it's--it's Jim's photograph. You tell her it's ALL right; and SHEwas exactly right, and _I_ was wrong. She'll understand."
Tilly, with a look of resignation, accepted a stiff package done up inwhite tissue paper. She had now only three steps to take: she took two,only two, for--"Miss Tilly, PLEASE!" a voice pealed around the corner,while a flushed and breathless young woman, with a large baby topplingover her lean shoulder, staggered into view. "My!" she panted, "ain't ittiresome lugging a child! I missed the car, of course, coming homefrom ma's. Oh, say, Tilly, your mother was so good, she said she'd tendBlossom next time I went to the doctor's, and----"
"I'll take the baby," said Tilly. She hoisted the infant on to her ownshoulder with her right arm. "Perhaps you'll be so kind's to turn thehandle of the door," said she in a slightly caustic tone, "as I haven'tgot any hands left. Please shut it, too."
As the young mother opened the door, Tilly entered the parlor. For asecond she stood and stared grimly about her. The furniture of the roomwas old-fashioned but in the best repair. There was a cabinet organ inone corner. A crayon portrait of Tilly's father (killed in the civilwar) glared out of a florid gilt frame. Perhaps it was the fault of theportrait, but he had a peevish frown. There were two other portraits ofhim, large ghastly gray tintypes in oval frames of rosewood, obscurelysuggesting coffins. In these he looked distinctly sullen. He wasrepresented in uniform (being a lieutenant of volunteers), and theartist had conscientiously gilded his buttons until, as Mrs. Louderwas wont to observe, "It most made you want to cut them off with thescissors." There were other tintypes and a flock of photographs in theroom. What Mrs. Louder named "a throw" decorated each framed picture andeach chair. The largest arm-chair was drawn up to a table covered withbooks and magazines: in the chair sat Mrs. Louder, reading.
At Tilly's entrance she started and turned her head, and then one couldsee that the tears were streaming down her cheeks.
"Now, MOTHER!" exploded Tilly. Kicking the door open, she marched intothe bed-chamber. An indignant sweep of one arm sent the miscellany ofgifts into a rocking-chair; an indignant curve of the other landed thebaby on the bed. Tilly turned on her mother. "Now, mother, what didyou promise--HUSH! will you?" (The latter part of the sentence a fierce"ASIDE" to the infant on the bed.) In a second Mrs. Louder's arms wereencircling him, and she was soothing him on her broad shoulder, where Iknow not how many babies have found comfort.
Jane Louder was a tall woman--tall and portly. She had a massive reposeabout her, a kind of soft dignity; and a stranger would not guess howtender was her heart. Deprecatingly she looked up at her only child,standing in judgment over her. Her eyes were fine still, though they hadsparkled and wept for more than half a century. They were not gray, likeTilly's, but a deep violet, with black eyelashes and eyebrows. Black,once, had been the hair under the widow's cap, now streaked withsilver; but Jane Louder's skin was fresh and daintily tinted like herdaughter's, for all its fine wrinkles. Her voice when she spoke wasmellow and slow, with a nervous vibration of apology. "Never mind,dear," she said, "I was just reading 'bout the Russians."
"I KNEW it! You promised me you wouldn't cry about the Russians anymore."
"I know, Tilly, but Alma Brown lent this to me, herself. There's abeautiful article in it about 'The Horrors of Hunger.' It would makeyour heart ache! I wish you would read it, Tilly."
"No, thank you. I don't care to have my heart ache. I'm not going toread any more horrors about the Russians, or hear them either, if I canhelp it. I have to write Mr. Lossing's letters about them, and that'senough. I've given all I can afford, and you've given more than you canafford; and I helped get up the subscription at the shops. I've done allI could; and now I ain't going to have my feelings harrowed up any more,when it won't do me nor the Russians a mite of good."
"But I cayn't HELP it, Tilly. I cayn't take any comfort in my meals,thinking of that awful black bread the poor children starve rather thaneat; and, Tilly, they ain't so dirty as some folks think! I read in amagazine how they have GOT to bathe twice a week by their religion; andthere's
a bath-house in every village. Tilly, do you know how much moneythey've raised here?"
"Over three thousand. This town is the greatest town for giving--giveto the cholera down South, give to Johnstown, give to Grinnell, give tocyclones, give to fires. _The Freeman_ always starts up a subscription,and Mr. Bayard runs the thing, and Mr. Lossing always gives. Mother,I tell you HE makes them hustle when he takes hold. He's the chairmanhere, and he has township chairmen appointed for every township. He'sso popular they start in to oblige him, and then, someway, he makes themall interested. I must tell you of a funny letter he had to-day froma Captain Ferguson, out at Baxter. He's a rich farmer with lots ofinfluence and a great worker, Mr. Lossing says. But this is 'most wordfor word what he wrote: 'Dear Sir: I am sorry for the Russians, but mywife is down with the la grippe, and I can't get a hired girl; so I haveto stay with her. If you'll get me a hired girl, I'll get you a lot ofmoney for the Russians.'"
"Did he git a girl? I mean Mr. Lossing."
"No, ma'am. He said he'd try if it was the city, but it was easierfinding gold-mines than girls that would go into the country. See here,I'm forgetting your presents. Mother, you look real dragged and--queer!"
"It's nothing; jist a thought kinder struck me 'bout--'bout that girl."
Tilly was sorting out the parcels and explaining them; at the end of hertask her mind harked back to an old grievance. "Mother," said she, "I'vebeen thinking for a long time, and I've made up my mind."
"Yes, dearie." Mrs. Louder's eyes grew troubled. She knew something ofthe quality of Tilly's mind, which resembled her father's in a peculiarimmobility. Once let her decision run into any mould (be it whatsoeverit might), and let it stiffen, there was no chance, any more than withother iron things, of its bending.
"Positively I could hardly get up the stairs today," said Tilly--she wasputting her jacket and hat away in her orderly fashion; of necessityher back was to Mrs. Louder--"there was such a raft of people wanting tosend stuff and messages to you. You are just working yourself to death;and, mother, I am convinced we have _got to move!_"
Mrs. Louder dropped into a chair and gasped. The baby, who had fallenasleep, stirred uneasily. It was not a pretty child; its face was heavy,its little cheeks were roughened by the wind, its lower lip sagged,its chin creased into the semblance of a fat old man's. But Jane Loudergazed down on it with infinite compassion. She stroked its head as shespoke.
"Tilly," said she, "I've been in this block, Mrs. Carleton and me, eversince it was built; and, some way, between us we've managed to keepthe run of all the folks in it; at least when they were in any trouble.We've worked together like sisters. She's 'Piscopal, and I guess I'mUnitarian; but never a word between us. We tended the Willardses throughdiphtheria and the Hopkinses through small-pox, and we steamed andfumigated the rooms together. It was her first found out the Dillseswere letting that twelve-year-old child run the gasoline stove, andshe threatened to tell Mr. Lossing, and they begged off; and when itexploded we put it out together, with flour out of her flour-barrel, forthe poor, shiftless things hadn't half a sack full of their own; and herand me, we took half the care of that little neglected Ellis baby thatwas always sitting down in the sticky fly-paper, poor innocent child.He's took the valedictory at the High School, Tilly, now. No, Tilly, Icouldn't bring myself to leave this building, where I've married them,and buried them, and born them, you may say, being with so many of theirmothers; I feel like they was all my children. Don't ASK me."
Tilly's head went upward and backward with a little dilatation of thenostrils. "Now, mother," said she in a voice of determined gentleness,"just listen to me. Would I ask you to do anything that wouldn't be foryour happiness? I have found a real pretty house up on Fifteenth Street;and we'll keep house together, just as cosey; and have a woman come towash and iron and scrub, so it won't be a bit hard; and be right on thestreet-cars; and you won't have to drudge helping Mrs. Carleton extratimes with her restaurant."
"But, Tilly," eagerly interrupted Mrs. Louder, "you know I dearly loveto cook, and she PAYS me. I couldn't feel right to take any of thepension money, or the little property your father left me, away fromthe house expenses; but what I earn myself, it is SUCH a comfort to giveaway out of THAT."
Tilly ran over and kissed the agitated face. "You dear, generousmother!" cried she, "I'LL give you all the money you want to spend orgive. I got another rise in my salary of five a month. Don't you worry."
"You ain't thinking of doing anything right away, Tilly?"
"Don't you think it's best done and over with, after we've decided,mother? You have worked so hard all your life I want to give you someease and peace now."
"But, Tilly, I love to work; I wouldn't be happy to do nothing, and I'dget so fleshy!"
Tilly only laughed. She did not crave the show of authority. Let herbut have her own way, she would never flaunt her victories. She wasimperious, but she was not arrogant. For months she had been ponderinghow to give her mother an easier life; and she set the table for supper,in a filial glow of satisfaction, never dreaming that her mother, in thekitchen, was keeping her head turned from the stove lest she should cryinto the fried ham and stewed potatoes. But, at a sudden thought, JaneLouder laid her big spoon down to wipe her eyes.
"Here you are, Jane Louder"--thus she addressed herself--"mourningand grieving to leave your friends and be laid aside for a useless oldwoman, and jist be taken care of, and you clean forgetting the chancethe Lord gives you to help more'n you ever helped in your life! Forshame!"
A smile of exaltation, of lofty resolution, erased the worry lines onher face. "Why, it might be to save twenty lives," said she; but in thevery speaking of the words a sharp pain wrenched her heart again, andshe caught up the baby from the floor, where he sat in a wall of chairs,and sobbed over him: "Oh, how can I go away when I got to go for good sosoon? I want every minnit!"
She never thought of disputing Tilly's wishes. "It's only fair," saidJane. "She's lived here all these years to please me, and now I ought tobe willing to go to please her."
Neither did she for a moment hope to change Tilly's determination."She was the settest baby ever was," thought poor Jane, tossing on herpillow, in the night watches, "and it's grown with every inch of her!"
But in the morning she surprised her daughter. "Tilly," said she at thebreakfast-table, "Tilly, I got something I must do, and I don't want youto oppose me."
"Good gracious, ma!" said Tilly; "as if I ever opposed you!"
"You know how bad I have been feeling about the poor Russians------"
"Well?"
"And how I've wished and wished I could do something--something toCOUNT? I never could, Tilly, because I ain't got the money or theintellect; but s'posing I could do it for somebody else, like thisCaptain Ferguson who could do so much if he just could get a hired girlto take care of his wife. Well, I do know how to cook and to keep ahouse neat and to do for the sick----"
Tilly could restrain herself no longer; her voice rose to a shout ofdismay--"Mother Louder, you AIN'T thinking of going to be the Ferguson's_hired girl!_"
"Not their hired girl, Tilly; just their help, so as he can work forthose poor starving creatures." Jane strangled a sob in her throat.Tilly, in a kind of stupor of bewilderment, frowned at her plate. Thenher clouded face cleared. If Mrs. Louder had surprised her daughter, herdaughter repaid the surprise. "Well, if you feel that way, mother," saidshe, "I won't say a word; and I'll ask Mr. Lossing to explain to theFergusons and fix everything. He will."
"You're real good, Tilly."
"And while you're gone I guess it will be a good plan to move and gitsettled----"
For some reason Tilly's throat felt dry, she lifted her cup. She did notintend to look across the table, but her eyes escaped her. She set thecoffee down untasted. The clock was slow, she muttered; and she left theroom.
Jane Louder remained in her place, with the same pale face, staring atthe table-cloth.
"It don't seem like I COULD go, now," she thought dully to hersel
f; "thetime's so awful short, I don't s'pose Maria Carleton can git up to seeme more'n once or twice a month, busy as she is! I got so to depend onseeing her every day. A sister couldn't be kinder! I don't see how I amgoing to bear it. And to go away, beforehand----"
For a long while she sat, her face hardly changing. At last, when shedid push her chair away, her lips were tightly closed. She spoke to thelittle pile of books lying on the table in the corner. "I cayn't--theseare my own and you are strangers!" She walked across the room to take upthe same magazine which Tilly had found her reading the day before.When she began reading she looked stern--poor Jane, she was steeling herheart--but in a little while she was sniffing and blowing her nose.With a groan she flung the book aside. "It's no use, I would feel like amurderer if I don't go!" said she.
She did go. Harry Lossing made all the arrangements. Tilly wassatisfied. But, then, Tilly had not heard Harry's remark to his mother:"Alma says Miss Louder is trying to make the old lady move against herwill. I dare say it would be better to give the young woman a chance tomiss her mother and take a little quiet think."
Tilly saw her mother off on the train to Baxter, the Fergusons' station.Being a provident, far-sighted, and also inexperienced traveller, shehad allowed a full half-hour for preliminary passages at arms with therailway officials; and, as the train happened to be an hour late, shefound herself with time to spare, even after she had exhausted thecatalogue of possible deceptions and catastrophes by rail. During thesilence that followed her last warning, she sat mentally keeping tallyon her fingers. "Confidence men"--Tilly began with the thumb--"Nevergive anybody her check. Never lend anybody money. Never write hername to anything. Don't get out till conductor tells her. In case ofaccident, telegraph me, and keep in the middle of the car, off thetrucks. Not take care of anybody's baby while she goes off for a minute.Not take care of babies at all. Or children. Not talk to strangers--goodgracious!"
Tilly felt a movement of impatience; there, after all her cautions,there was her mother helping an old woman, an utterly strange old woman,to pile a bird-cage on a bandbox surmounting a bag. The old woman wasclad in a black alpaca frock, made with the voluminous draperies ofyears ago, but with the uncreased folds and the brilliant gloss of anew gown. She wore a bonnet of a singular shape, unknown to fashion, butmade out of good velvet. Beneath the bonnet (which was large) appeareda little, round, agitated old face, with bobbing white curls and whiteteeth set a little apart in the mouth, a defect that brought a kind ofpalpitating frankness into the expression.
"Now, who HAS mother picked up now?" thought Tilly. "Well, praise be,she hasn't a baby, anyhow!"
She could hear the talk between the two; for the old woman being deaf,Mrs. Louder elevated her voice, and the old woman, herself, spoke in ahigh, thin pipe that somehow reminded Tilly of a lost lamb.
"That's just so," said Mrs. Louder, "a body cayn't help worrying over asick child, especially if they're away from you."
"Solon and Minnie wouldn't tell me," bleated the other woman, "they knewI'd worry. Kinder hurt me they should keep things from me; but theyhate to have me upset. They are awful good children. But I suspicionedsomething when Alonzo kept writing. Minnie, she wouldn't tell me, butI pinned her down and it come out, Eliza had the grip bad. And, then,nothing would do but I must go to her--why, Mrs. Louder, she's my child!But they wouldn't hark to it. 'Fraid to have me travel alone----"
"I guess they take awful good care of you," said Mrs. Louder; and shesighed.
"Yes, ma'am, awful." She, too, sighed.
As she talked her eyes were darting about the room, eagerly fixed onevery new arrival.
"Are you expecting anyone, Mrs. Higbee?" said Jane. They seemed, atleast, to know each other by name, thought Tilly; it was amazing thenumber of people mother did know!
"No," said Mrs. Higbee, "I--I--fact is, I'm kinder frightened. I--factis, Mrs. Louder, I guess I'll tell you, though I don't know you verywell; but I've known about you so long--I run away and didn't tell'em. I just couldn't stay way from Liza. And I took the bird--for thechildren; and it's my bird, and I was 'fraid Minnie would forget to feedit and it would be lonesome. My children are awful kind good children,but they don't understand. And if Solon sees me he will want me to goback. I know I'm dretful foolish; and Solon and Minnie will make me seeI am. There won't be no good reason for me to go, and I'll have to stay;and I feel as if I should FLY--Oh, massy sakes! there's Solon comingdown the street----"
She ran a few steps in half a dozen ways, then fluttered back to her bagand her cage.
"Well," said Mrs. Louder, drawing herself up to her full height, "youSHALL go if you want to."
"Solon will find me, he'll know the bird-cage! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
Then a most unexpected helper stepped upon the stage. What is themysterious instinct of rebellion to authority that, nine cases out often, sends us to the aid of a fugitive? Tilly, the unconscious despot ofher own mother, promptly aided and abetted Solon's rebel mother in herflight.
"Not if _I_ carry it," said she, snatching up the bird-cage; "run insidethat den where they sell refreshments; he'll see ME and go somewhereelse."
It fell out precisely as she planned. They heard Solon demanding a ladywith a bird-cage of the agent; they heard the agent's reply, given withofficial indifference, "There she is, inside." Directly, Solon, a smallman with an anxious mien, ran into the waiting-room, flung a glance ofdisappointment at Tilly, and ran out again.
Tilly went to her client. "Did he look like he was anxious?" was themother's greeting. "Oh, I just know he and Minnie will be hunting meeverywhere. Maybe I had better go home, 'stead of to Baxter."
"No, you hadn't," said Tilly, with decision. "Mother's going to Baxter,too, and if you like, minnit you're safely off, I'll go tell yourfolks."
"You're real kind, I'd be ever so much obliged. And you don't mind yourma travelling alone? ain't that nice for her!" She seemed much cheeredby the prospect of company and warmed into confidences.
"I am kinder lonesome, sometimes, that's a fact," said she, "and Ikinder wish I lived in a block or a flat like your ma. You see, Minnieteaches in the public school and she's away all day, and she don't liketo have me make company of the hired girl, though she's a real nicegirl. And there ain't nothing for me to do, and I feel like I wasn't nouse any more in the world. I remember that's what our old ministerin Ohio said once. He was a real nice old man; and they HAD thoughteverything of him in the parish; but he got old and his sermons werelong; and so they got a young man for assistant; and they made HIM a_pastor americus_, they called it--some sort of Latin. Folks did saythe young feller was stuck up and snubbed the old man; anyhow, he neverpreached after young Lisbon come; and only made the first prayers. Butwhen the old folks would ask him to preach some of the old sermonsthey had liked, he only would say, 'No, friends, I know more about mysermons, now.' He didn't live very long, and I always kinder fanciedbeing a AMERICUS killed him. And some days I git to feeling like I was akinder AMERICUS myself."
"That ain't fair to your children," said Tilly; "you ought to let themknow how you feel. Then they'd act different."
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know. You see, miss, they're so sure theyknow better'n me. Say, Mrs. Louder, be you going to visit relatives inBaxter?"
"No, ma'am, I'm going to take care of a sick lady," said Jane, "it'skinder queer. Her name's Ferguson, her----"
"For the land's sake!" screamed Mrs. Higbee, "why, that's my 'Liza!" Shewas in a flutter of surprise and delight, and so absorbed was Tilly ingetting her and her unwieldy luggage into the car, that Jane's daughterforgot to kiss her mother good-by.
"Put your arm in QUICK," she yelled, as Jane essayed to kiss her handthrough the window; "don't EVER put your arm or your head out of atrain!"--the train moved away--"I do hope she'll remember what I toldher, and not lend anybody money, or come home lugging somebody else'sbaby!"
With such reflections, and an ugly sensation of loneliness creeping overher, Tilly went to assure Miss Minnie Higbee of her
mother's safety. Shedescribed her reception to Harry Lossing and Alma, later. "She reallyseemed kinder mad at me," says Tilly, "seemed to think I was interferingsomehow. And she hadn't any business to feel that way, for SHE didn'tknow how I'd fooled her brother with that bird-cage. I guess the poorold lady daren't call her soul her own. I'd hate to have my mother thatway--so 'fraid of me. MY mother shall go where she pleases, and staywhere she pleases, and DO as she pleases."
"That makes me think," says Alma, "I heard you were going to move."
"Yes, we are. Mother is working too hard. She knows everybody in thebuilding, and they call on her all the time; and I think the easiest wayout is just to move."
Alma and Mr. Lossing exchanged glances. There is an Arabian legend ofan angel whose trade it is to decipher the language of faces. This angelmust have perceived that Alma's eyes said, with the courage of a secondin a duel, "Go on, now is the time!" and that Harry's answered, withmasculine pusillanimity, "I don't like to!"
But he spoke. "Very likely your mother does sometimes work too hard,"said he. "But don't you think it would be harder for her not to work?Why, she must have been in the building ever since my father boughtit; and she's been a janitor and a fire inspector and a doctor and aministering angel combined! That is why we never raised the rent to youwhen we improved the building, and raised it on the others. My fathertold me your mother was the best paying tenant he ever had. And don'tyou remember how, when I used to come with him, when I was a little boy,she used to take me in her room while he went the rounds? She was alwaysdoing good to everybody, the same way. She has a heart as big as theMississippi, and I assure you, Miss Louder, you won't make her happy,but miserable, if you try to dam up its channel. She has often told methat she loved the building and all the people in it. They all love her.I HOPE, Miss Louder, you'll think of those things before you decide. Sheis so unselfish that she would go in a minute if she thought it wouldmake you happier." The angel aforesaid, during this speech (which Harrydelivered with great energy and feeling), must have had all his witsbusy on Tilly's impassive features; but he could read ardent approval,succeeded by indignation, on Alma's countenance, at his first glance.The indignation came when Tilly spoke. She said: "Thank you, Mr.Lossing, you're very kind, I'm sure"--Harry softly kicked thewastebasket under the desk--"but I guess it's best for us to go. I'vebeen thinking about it for six months, and I know it will be a hardstruggle for mother to go; but in a little while she will be gladshe went. It's only for her sake I am doing it; it ain't an easy or apleasant thing for me to do, either----" As Tilly stopped her voice wasunsteady, and the rare tears shone in her eyes.
"What's best for her is the only question, of course," said Alma,helping Harry off the field.
In a few days Tilly received a long letter from her mother. Mr. Fergusonwas doing wonders for the Russians; the family were all very kind to herand "nice folks" and easily pleased. ("Of COURSE they're pleased withmother's cooking; what would they be made of if they weren't!" criedTilly.) It was wonderful how much help Mrs. Higbee was about the house,and how happy it made her. Mrs. Ferguson had seemed real glad to seeher, and that made her happy. And then, maybe it helped a little, her(Jane Louder's) telling Mrs. Ferguson ("accidental like") how Tillytreated her, never trying to boss her, and letting her travel alone.Perhaps, if Mrs. Ferguson kept on improving, they might let her comehome next week. And the letter ended:
"I will be so glad if they do, for I want to see you so bad, deardaughter, and I want to see the old home once more before we leave. Iguess the house you tell me about will be very nice and convenient. Ido thank you, dear daughter, for being so nice and considerate about theRussians. Give my love to Mrs. Carleton and all of them; and if littleBobby Green hasn't missed school since I left, give him a nickel,please; and please give that medical student on the fifth floor--Iforget his name--the stockings I mended. They are in the first drawer ofthe walnut bureau. Good-by, my dear, good daughter.
"MOTHER, JANE M. LOUDER."
When Tilly read the letter she was surrounded by wall-paper and carpetsamples. Her eyes grew moist before she laid it down; but she set hermouth more firmly.
"It is an awful short time, but I've just got to hurry and have it overbefore she comes," said she.
Next week Jane returned. She was on the train, waiting in her seat inthe car, when Captain Ferguson handed her Tilly's last letter, which hadlain in the post-office for three days.
It was very short:
"DEAR MOTHER: I shall be very glad indeed to see you. I have a surprisewhich I hope will be pleasant for you; anyhow, I truly have meant it foryour happiness.
"Your affectionate daughter,
"M. E. LOUDER."
There must have been, despite her shrewd sense, an obtuse streak inTilly, else she would never have written that letter. Jane read ittwice. The paper rattled in her hands. "Tilly has moved while I wasgone," she said; "I never shall live in the block again." She droppedher veil over her face. She sat very quietly in her seat; but theconductor who came for her ticket watched her sharply, she seemed sodazed by his demand and was so long in finding the ticket.
The train rumbled and hissed through darkening cornfields, intoscattered yellow lights of low houses, into angles of white light ofstreet-arcs and shop-windows, into the red and blue lights dancingbefore the engines in the station.
"Mother!" cried Tilly's voice.
Jane let her and Harry Lossing take all her bundles and lift her out ofthe car. Whether she spoke a word she could not tell. She did rouse alittle at the vision of the Lossing carriage glittering at the streetcorner; but she had not the sense to thank Harry Lossing, who placed herin the carriage and lifted his hat in farewell.
"What's he doing all that for, Tilly?" cried she; "there ain't--thereain't nobody dead--Maria Carleton------" She stared at Tilly wildly.
Tilly was oddly moved, though she tried to speak lightly. "No, no, thereain't nothing wrong, at all. It's because you've done so much for theRussians--and other folks! Now, ma, I'm going to be mysterious. You mustshut your eyes and shut your mouth until I tell you. That's a dear ma."
It was vaguely comforting to have Tilly so affectionate. "I'm a wicked,ungrateful woman to be so wretched," thought Jane; "I'll never let Tillyknow how I felt."
In a surprisingly short time the carriage stopped. "Now, ma," saidTilly.
A great blaze of light seemed all about Jane Louder. There were the dearfamiliar windows of the Lossing block.
"Come up-stairs, ma," said Tilly.
She followed like one in a dream; and like one in a dream she was pushedinto her own old parlor. The old parlor, but not quite the old parlor;hung with new wall-paper, shining with new paint, soft under her feetwith a new carpet, it looked to Jane Louder like fairyland.
"Oh, Tilly," she gasped; "oh, Tilly, ain't you moved?"
"No, nor we ain't going to move, ma--that's the surprise! I took themoney I'd saved for moving, for the new carpet and new dishes; and theLossings they papered and painted. I was SO 'fraid we couldn't get donein time. Alma and all the boarders are coming in pretty soon towelcome you, and they've all chipped in for a little banquet at Mrs.Carleton's--why, mother, you're crying! Mother, you didn't really thinkI'd move when it made you feel so bad? I know I'm set and stubborn,and I didn't take it well when Mr. Lossing talked to me; but the more Ithought it over, the more I seemed to myself like that hateful Minnie.Oh, mother, I ain't, am I? You shall do just exactly as you like all thedays of your life!"