CHAPTER III.
There was great interest now at Shadywalk, at least in one house, toknow when the Liverpool steamer, _City of Pride_, would be in.Conjectures proving unsatisfactory and uncertain, the whole family tookto studying the marine lists in the daily papers; and when everybodyelse had looked them over, the last one of the family did it again withextra care; lest by some singular coincidence the letters forming the_City of Pride_ might have escaped the eyes so keen set to find them.The paper grew better than a novel. It furnished a great deal of matterfor conversation, besides; for all the steamers which had got in weretalked over, with their dates of sailing, and number of days on thepassage; with each of which the times, certain and probable, of the_City of Pride_ were compared. Then there was the question, whetherAunt Candy might have changed her mind at the last minute, and waitedfor another steamer; and the reports of the weather lately experiencedat sea were anxiously read and put alongside of the weather latelyexperienced at Shadywalk.
Preparations in the house went on diligently; whatever might help it tomake a better impression, or afford greater comfort to the expectedguests, was carefully done. Mrs. Englefield even talked of getting anew stair-carpet, but contented herself with having the old one takenup and put down again, the stairs washed, and the stair-rodsbrightened; the spare room, the large corner chamber looking to thenorth and west, was scrupulously swept and dusted; furniture rubbed;little white knitted mats laid on the dressing-table; the chintzcurtains taken down and put up again; a new nice chamber set of whitechina was bought, for the pitcher of the old set had an ugly nick in itand looked shabby; the towel rack was filled with white napery; thehandsomest Marseilles quilt was spread on the bed; the stove wasblackened and polished. It looked "very respectable," Anne said, whenall was done.
What private preparations went on, besides, on the part of the girls,it would be hard to say. Maria worked hard at her braiding--that wasopen to anybody's observation; but there were less obvious flutings andironings down in the kitchen, and adjusting of ribbons and flowers insecret consultations up-stairs. And one piece of care was made publicby Maria, who announced that Letty had trimmed her old bonnet threetimes over before she would be suited.
"Very well," said Letty, contentedly. "I should like to know who wouldwear an old thing when he could have a new; and mine is like new now."
"Things can't be new always," said Matilda.
"What then?" her sisters asked, laughing.
"Then it must be respectable for them to be old, sometimes."
"Respectable! Not very pleasant, when they are to be set alongside ofthings as new and nice as they can be. I like to be as good as anybody,for my part."
"Mamma," said Matilda, "do you know there is a great hole in the doormat?"
"It is worn out a great deal too soon," said Mrs. Englefield; "I shalltell Mr. Hard that his goods do not last; to be sure, you children dokick it to pieces with the snow."
"But, mamma, I should think you might get another, and let that one goto the kitchen."
"And then, wouldn't you like me to buy a new hall cloth? there is verynearly a hole in that."
"Oh yes, mamma!"
"I cannot do it, children. I am not as rich as your Aunt Candy. Youmust be contented to let things be as they are."
The girls seemed to take it as a grave fact, to judge by their faces.
"And I think all this is very foolish talking and feeling. People arenot any better for being rich."
"But they are a great deal happier," said Letitia.
"I don't know, I am sure. I never was tried. I think you had better putthe thought out of your heads. I should be sorry if you were not ashappy as your cousin, and with as much reason."
"Mamma's being sorry doesn't help the matter," said Letitia, softly. "Iknow I should be happier if I had what I want. It is just nonsense tosay I should not. And mamma would herself."
That evening, the end of the week it was, the newspaper rewarded thefirst eyes that looked at its columns, with the intelligence that the_City of Pride_ had been telegraphed. She would be in that night. Andthe list of passengers duly showed the names of Mrs. Candy anddaughter. The family could hardly wait over Sunday now. Mondaymorning's train, they settled it, would bring the travellers. Sundaywas spent in a flutter. But, however, that Monday, as well as thatSunday, was a lost day. The washing was put off, and a special dinnercooked, in vain. The children stayed at home and did not go to school,and did nothing. Nobody did anything to speak of. To be sure, there wasa great deal of running up and down stairs; setting and clearingtables; going to and from the post-office; but when night came, thehouse and everything in it was just where the morning had found them;only, all the humanity in it was tired with looking out of windows.
"That's the worst of expecting people!" Mrs. Englefield observed, asshe wearily put herself in an arm-chair, and Letitia drew the windowcurtains. "You never know what to do, and the thing you do is sure tobe the wrong thing. Here Judith might as well have done her washing asnot; and now it's to do to-morrow, when we don't want it in the way,and it will be in the way."
"Don't you think they will come to-night, mamma?" said Matilda.
"I don't know, I am sure. I know no more than you do. How can I tell?Only don't ask me any more questions."
"Would you have tea yet, mamma?" said Letitia.
"There's a question, now! I tell you, don't ask me. Just when you like."
"There's no train due for a good while, mamma; they _couldn't_ come fortwo or three hours. I think we had better have tea."
So she went off to prepare it, just as Matilda who had put her faceoutside of the window curtain, proclaimed that somebody was coming tothe door.
"Only one person though, mamma. Mamma! it's Miss Redwood--Mr.Richmond's Miss Redwood."
"It wanted but that!" Mrs. Englefield exclaimed, with a sort ofresigned despair. "Let her in, Matilda. I locked the door."
The person who followed Matilda to the sitting-room was a slim woman,in black costume, neither new nor fashionable. Indeed, it had no suchpretensions; for the fashion at that time was for small bonnets, butMiss Redwood's shadowed her face with a reminiscence of thecoal-scuttle shapes, once worn many years before. The face under thebonnet was thin and sharp-featured; yet a certain delicate softness ofskin saved it from being harsh; there was even a little peachy bloom onthe cheeks. The eyes were soft and keen at once; at least there was nowant of benevolence in them, while their glance was swift and shrewdenough, and full of business activity.
"Miss Redwood, how do you do? I am glad to see you. Do sit down," wasMrs. Englefield's salutation, made without rising.
"How do you do, Mis' Englefield? Why--seems as if you was expectin'folks here?"
"Just what we are doing; and it is some of the hardest work one can do."
"Depends on who you expect, seems to me. And I guess 'tain't harderwork than what I've been doing to-day. I've been makin' soap. Got itdone, too. And 'tain't to do agin till this time next year comes round."
"Can you make enough at once for the whole year? I cannot."
"'Spects you use a passel, don't ye?"
"Of course--in so large a family. But you're a great hand for soap,Miss Redwood, if folks say true?"
"Cellar ain't never out of it," said Miss Redwood, shaking her head."It's strong, mine is; that's where it is. You see I've my own leachsot up, and there's lots o' ashes; the minister, he likes to burn wood,and I like it, for it gives me my ley; and I don't have no trouble withit; the minister, he saws it and splits it and chops it, and then whenall's done he brings it in, and he puts it on. All I have to do is toget my ashes. I did think, when I first come, and the minister he toldme he calculated to burn wood in his room, I did think I should giveup. 'Why sir,' says I, 'it'll take a load o' wood a day, to fill thatere chimney; and I hate to see a chimney standin' empty with two orthree sticks a makin' believe have a fire in the bottom of it.Besides,' says I, 'stoves is a sight cleaner and nicer, Mr. Richmond,and they don't smoke
nor nothin', and they're always ready.' 'I'll takecare of the fire,' says he, 'if you'll take care of the ashes.' Well,it had to be; but I declare I thought I should have enough to do totake care of the ashes; a-flyin' over everything in the world as theywould, and nobody but my two hands to dust with; but I do believe theminister's wood burns quieter than other folks', and somehow it don'tfly nor smoke nor nothin', and the room keeps decent."
"Your whole house is as neat as a pin. But you have no children thereto put it out of order, Miss Redwood."
"Guess we do," said the minister's housekeeper quietly; "there ain'tany sort o' thing in the village but the minister has it in there byturns. There ain't any sort o' shoes as walks, not to speak of boots,that don't go over my carpets and floors; little and big, and brushedand unbrushed. I tell you, Mis' Englefield, they're goin' in betweenthem two doors all the week long."
"I don't know how you manage them, I'm sure."
"Well, _I_ don't," said the housekeeper. "The back is fitted to theburden, they say; and I always _did_ pray that if I had work to do, Imight be able to do it; and I always was, somehow. And it's afirst-rate place to go and warm your feet, when the minister is out,"she added after a pause.
"What?" said Mrs. Englefield, laughing.
"The minister's fire, to be sure, that I was talkin' about. Of course,I have to go in to see it's safe, when he ain't there; and sometimes Ithink it's cheaper to sit down and watch it than to be always runnin'."
"Mr. Richmond was a lucky man when he got you for a housekeeper," saidMrs. Englefield.
"Well, I don't know," said Miss Redwood, contemplatively, with rather asweet look on her old face. "I 'spose I might as well say I was a luckywoman when I got his house to keep. It come all by chance, too, you maysay----"
"Mamma, tea is ready," Maria here interrupted.
"Miss Redwood, will you come down and have tea with us?"
"No; but what I come to ask was somethin' different. I was so taken upwith my soap-kettle all day, I just forgot somethin' more important,and didn't make no new risin'; and I hain't got none to-night for theminister's bread. I know you're one of the folks that likes sweetbread, Mis' Englefield, and has it; and I've come to beg a cup o' yourrisin'."
One of the girls was sent for the article, and Mrs. Englefield went on.
"The minister's an easy man to live with, I suppose; isn't he?"
"What sort do you mean by that, Mrs. Englefield?"
"Why! I mean he is easily suited, and don't give more trouble than canbe helped, and don't take it hard when things go wrong.
"Things don't go wrong, fur's I know," said Miss Redwood. "Not withhim, nor with me."
"Easily pleased, isn't he?"
"When folks do just what they'd ought to do, he _is_," said thehousekeeper with some energy. "I have no sort of patience, for my part,with the folks that are pleased when they hadn't ought to be pleased."
"But isn't that what Mr. Richmond preaches to us all the time? that weought to be pleased with everybody?"
"Why, no, mamma!" said Matilda.
"I thought he did."
"I take it t'other way," Miss Redwood observed. "It comes close, itdoes, some of the minister's talk; but I always think, if I had a rightto be better pleased with myself, maybe other folks' onesidednesswouldn't worry me. I'll do as much for you, next time, Miss Letty," shesaid, rising to take what that young lady had brought her. Andtherewith away she went.
"Well, we have got off with our lives this time," said Mrs. Englefield."Now, girls, let us have tea."
"Mamma, I believe here they are this minute," said Matilda. "Theomnibus is stopping."
It was declared to be impossible; but nevertheless found true. Theomnibus was certainly at the door, backing down upon the side walk; andtwo figures did get out of it and came through the little courtyard tothe house. And then all doubts were resolved; Mrs. Candy was in thearms of her sister, and the cousins were looking at each other.
That is, as soon as people could get their wrappings off. Letty andMaria were assiduous in their endeavours to relieve Miss Clarissa ofher hood and furs and the cloakings and mufflings which a night ridehad rendered necessary; while Anne waited upon her aunt; andimpressions were forming and opinions taking ground, under all theconfused chatter about the journey, the train, the omnibus, and the_City of Pride;_ opinions and impressions which were likely enough toget turned topsy-turvy in another day or two; but for the presentnobody knew that.
"And here is somebody who says nothing!" Mrs. Candy remarked, stoopingdown to touch Matilda's hair with a light finger.
"Tilly does the thinking for the family," said Mrs. Englefield. "Now docome down and have some tea."
"Down? Where are we going?" said Mrs. Candy. "Your house stands on theground level, I noticed."
"Oh, we have a very nice basement; and just for eating, you know, itdoes not make much difference where you are--and it is so much moreconvenient, being near the kitchen."
"In Germany we used to take our meals in the open air a great deal,"Mrs. Candy went on, as the party filed down the narrow stairs.
"In the open air! Not at this season?"
"Well, not with the thermometer at zero," said Mrs. Candy, laughing alittle. "Nor at quite so high a temperature as you have here!"
The room down-stairs was bright enough, and looked cheerful, with itswell-spread table and tea-urn; but it was low, and full of close stoveheat. The travellers got as far from the source of this as the limitsof the table would let them, and presently begged for an open door. ButMrs. Englefield's tea was good; and very soon the family talk began tomove naturally. Mrs. Candy pleased her nieces. A fine-looking and alsoa kind-looking woman, with a good figure, well clothed in a handsometravelling dress; a gold watch and chain; and an easy, good-humoured,and at the same time, sensible air and way of talking. It was notdifficult to get acquainted with her; she met all advances more thanhalf way; and her talk even that first evening was full of amusementand novelty for the young people. It was less easy to know what tothink of Clarissa. Her cousins held a consultation about her that nightbefore going to sleep.
"She looks as old as Letty."
"But she isn't. Oh, she don't, either."
"She's well looking; don't you think so?"
"I'll tell you what I think," said Matilda. "She's beau-ti-ful."
"I don't think _so_," said Letty; "but she's an uncommon looking girl."
"How old _is_ she?"
"She is sixteen."
"Well! Maria's only half a year younger than that."
"She hasn't said three words yet; so I cannot tell what she is," Anneremarked.
"She didn't like going down into the basement," said Letty.
"How do you know?"
"I know she didn't!"
"I should like to know where she would go; there is no other place,"said Maria.
"I suppose that is just what she didn't like," said Letitia.
"There might be, though," Matilda began again. "If mamma would open theback room behind the parlour, and move the table and things upthere,--I think it would be a great deal pleasanter."
"That's like Matilda!" the other girls exclaimed in chorus.
"Well, I _don't_ think that basement room is pleasant," said the girl."I never did. I am always glad to get out of it."
"And now, I suppose, you will be taking all Clarissa's dainty ways, inaddition to your own!" said Letitia. "I wonder what will become of therest of us."
"What dainty ways has Clarissa?" Matilda inquired.
"You can see for yourself. She doesn't like the heat of a stove; andshe must look at her watch to see what time it is, though the clock wasright opposite to her."
"I am sure I would look at a watch, if I had it," Matilda added.
"And did you see what travelling gloves she wore?"
"Why not?" said Matilda.
"Why not, of course! you will have no eyes for any one shortly butClarissa Candy; I can see it. But she is a member of the Church, isn'tshe?"
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"What if she is?" said Matilda. "Mamma read that in one of Aunt Candy'sletters, I remember."
"We'll see what Mr. Richmond will say to her. Maria reports that hedoes not like red flowers; I wonder what he will think of some otherthings."
"That is only Maria's nonsense," Matilda insisted. "I know Mr. Richmondlikes red flowers; he has got a red lily in his room."
"In his room--oh yes! but not in people's bonnets, you know; nor intheir heads; if they are Christians."
"I can't imagine what people's being Christians has to do with redflowers," said Matilda. "Besides, Clarissa hadn't any flowers about herat all. I don't know what you are talking of."
"Didn't you see her gold chain, though, that hung round her neck?"
"Her watch was on that. Mayn't Christians wear gold chains? Whatnonsense you do talk, Letitia!"
"I shouldn't want to be a Christian if I thought I couldn't wearanything," Maria remarked.
"Nor would I," said Letitia. "So I advise you, my dears, to be a littlecareful how you join Bands and such things. You may find that Mr.Richmond is not just the sort of Christian you want to be."
The conclave broke up, having reached a termination of generaldissatisfaction common to such conclaves. Maria went to bed grumbling.Matilda was as usual silent.
The next day, however, found all the family as bright as itself. It wasa cold day in January; snow on the ground; a clear, sharp sunshineglittering from white roofs and fence tops and the banks of snow heapedagainst the fences, and shining on twigs and branches of the baretrees; coming into houses with its cheery and keen look at everythingit found, as if bidding the dark sides of things, and the dustycorners, to change their characters and be light and fair. In thebasement the family gathered for breakfast in happy mood, ready to bepleased with each other; so pleasure was the order of the day. Pleasurehad a good deal to feed on, too; for after the long breakfast was overand the conversation had adjourned to the parlour, there came thebestowing of presents which Clarissa had brought for her friends. Andthey were so many and so satisfactory, that the criticisms of the pastnight were certainly for the present forgotten; Letitia forgave hercousin her daintiness, and Maria overlooked the gold watch. Matilda asusual said little, beyond the civil, needful words, which that littlegirl always spoke gracefully.
"You are a character, my dear, I see," her aunt observed, drawingMatilda to her side caressingly.
"What is that, Aunt Candy?"
"Well, I don't know, my dear," her aunt answered, laughing; "you put meto define and prove my words, and you bring me into difficulty. Ithink, however, I shall be safe in saying, that a 'character' is aperson who has his own thoughts."
"But doesn't everybody?"
"Have his own thoughts? No, my dear; the majority have the thoughts ofother people."
"How can they, Aunt Candy?"
"Just by not thinking for themselves. It saves a great deal of trouble."
"But we all think for ourselves," said Matilda.
"Do we? Reflect a little. Don't _some_ of you think like other people?about ways of doing, and acting, and dressing, for instance?"
"Oh yes. But, Aunt Candy, if people think for themselves, _must_ theydo unlike other people?"
"If they follow out their thoughts, they must, child."
"That suits Matilda then," said her sister Anne.
"Well, it is very nice for a family to have one character in it," saidMrs. Candy.
"But, Aunt Candy, isn't Clarissa a character too?"
"I don't know, Tilly; I really have not found it out, if she is. Up tothis time she always thinks as I think. Now she has given you thetokens of remembrance she has brought home for you; what do you think_I_ have got?"
"O aunt, nothing more!" exclaimed Anne.
"Clarissa and I are two people, if neither of us is a character,however," said Mrs. Candy. "Her gifts are not my gifts. But mine shallbe different from hers. And if there is more than one character amongus, I should like to find it out; and this will do it."
So saying, she fetched out her purse and presented to each of hersister's children a bank-note for twenty-five dollars.
Mrs. Englefield exclaimed and protested. But Mrs. Candy laid her handon her sister's mouth, and declared she must please herself in her ownway.
"What do you want us to do with this, Aunt Candy?" Matilda inquired ina sort of contemplative wonder.
"Just whatever will please you, will please each of you, best. Onlythat. That is my condition, girls, if I may call it so. You are not tospend that money for any claims of duty or conscience; but simply inthat way which will afford you the highest pleasure."
Thanks were warm and gratification very high; and in the best mood inthe world the new relations sat down to talk to each other and studyeach other for the remainder of the day. Clarissa pleased her cousins.She was undoubtedly extremely pretty, with big, brown, honest eyes,that gave a good full look into the face she was speaking to; beautifulhair a little lighter in colour, and great sweetness of outline andfeature. Yet she was reserved; very quiet; very self-possessed--to adegree that almost carried an air of superiority in the minds of hercousins. Those large brown eyes of hers would be lifted swiftly to theface of some one speaking, and then go down again, with no sign ofagreeing or disagreeing--indeed, with no sign of her thought at all;but she _had_ thoughts of course; why should she not show them, as hercousins did? It was almost supercilious, to the fancy of Anne andLetitia; Matilda and Maria were fascinated. Then her hands were moredelicate than those of Mrs. Englefield's children; and there were oneor two costly rings on them. Anne and Letty did not understand theirvalue, but nevertheless even they could guess that they belonged to asuperior description of jewellery from that which was displayed beneaththe glass cases of Mr. Kurtz the watchmaker of Shadywalk. ThenClarissa's dress was of fine quality, and made beautifully, and herlittle gold watch with its chain "put a finish upon it," Anne said. Alittle hair necklace with a gold clasp was round her neck besides; andher comb was real tortoise-shell. Clarissa was dainty, there was nodoubt; but her sweet mouth was grave and modest; her words were few;her manners were very kindly and proper; and her cousins on the wholewere obliged to approve her.