The English Orphans Part 15

"Of course you will," returned Mrs. Campbell, "and I only wish you had it in your power to do more for her, and in this perhaps I am selfish.

I felt badly about her being in the poor-house, but truth compels me to say, that it was more on Ella's account than her own. I shall give Ella every advantage which money can purchase, and I am excusable I think for saying that she is admirably fitted to adorn any station in life; therefore it cannot but be exceedingly mortifying to her to know that one sister died a pauper and the other was one for a length of time. This, however, can not be helped, and now, as I said before I only wish it were in your power to do more for Mary. I, of course, know that you are poor, but I do not think less of you for that--"

Mrs. Mason's body became slightly more erect, but she made no reply, and Mrs. Campbell continued.

"Still I hope you will make every exertion in your power to educate and polish Mary as much as possible, so that if by chance Ella in after years should come in contact with her, she would not feel,--ahem,--would not,--would not be--"

"Ashamed to own her sister, I suppose you would say," interrupted Mrs.

Mason. "Ashamed to acknowledge that the same blood flowed in her veins, that the same roof once sheltered them, and that the same mother bent lovingly over their pillows, calling them her children."

"Why, not exactly that," said Mrs. Campbell, fidgeting in her chair and growing very red. "I think there is a difference between feeling mortified and ashamed. Now you must know that Ella would not be particularly pleased to have a homely, stupid, rawboned country girl pointed out as her sister to a circle of fas.h.i.+onable acquaintances in Boston, where I intend taking her as soon as her education is finished; and I think it well enough for Mary to understand, that with the best you can do for her there will still be a great difference between her own and her sister's position."

"Excuse me, madam," again interrupted Mrs. Mason, "a stupid, awkward country girl Mary is not, and never will be. In point of intellect she is far superior to her sister, and possesses more graceful and lady-like manners. Instead of Ella's being ashamed of her, I fancy it will be just the reverse, unless your daughter's foolish vanity and utter selfishness is soon checked. Pardon me for being thus plain, but in the short time Mary has been with me, I have learned to love her, and my heart already warms towards her as towards a daughter, and I cannot calmly hear her spoken of so contemptuously."

During this conversation, Ella had remained listening at the keyhole, and as the voices grew louder and more earnest, Mary, too, distinguished what they said. She was too young to appreciate it fully, but she understood enough to wound her deeply; and as she just then heard Ella say there was a carriage coming, she sprang up the stairs, and entering her own room, threw herself upon the bed and burst into tears. Erelong a little chubby face looked in at the door, and a voice which went to Mary's heart, exclaimed, "Why-ee,--Mary,--crying the first time I come to see you!"

It was Jenny, and in a moment the girls were in each other's arms.

"Rose has gone to the garden with Ella," said Jenny, "but she told me where to find you, and I came right up here. Oh, what a nice little room, so different from mine with my things scattered every where. But what is the matter? Don't you like to live with Mrs. Mason?"

"Yes, very much," answered Mary. "It isn't that," and then she told what she had overheard.

"It's perfectly ridiculous and out of character for Mrs. Campbell to talk so," said Jenny, looking very wise. "And it's all, false, too.

You are not stupid, nor awkward, nor very homely either; Billy Bender says so, and he knows. I saw him this morning, and he talked ever so much about you. Next fall he's going to Wilbraham to study Latin and Chinese too, I believe, I don't know though. Henry laughs and says, 'a plough-jogger study Latin!' But I guess Billy will some day be a bigger man than Henry don't you?"

Mary was sure of it; and then Jenny proceeded to open her budget of news concerning the inmates of the poor-house. "Sal Furbush," said she, "is raving crazy now you are gone, and they had to shut her up, but yesterday she broke away and came over to our house. Ta.s.so was with her, and growled so at Henry that he ran up garret, and then, like a great hateful, threw bricks at the dog. I told Sally I was coming to see you, and she said, 'Ask her if she has taken the first step towards the publication of my novel. Tell her, too, that the Glory of Israel has departed, and that I would drown myself if it were not for my clothes, which I fear Mrs. Grundy would wear out!'"

Here Rose called to her sister to come down, and accordingly the two girls descended together to the parlor, where they found Mrs. Lincoln.

She was riding out, she said, and had just stopped a moment to inquire after Mrs. Mason's health and to ask for a _very few_ flowers,--they did look so tempting! She was of course perfectly delighted to meet Mrs. Campbell, and Mrs. Campbell was perfectly delighted to meet her; and drawing their chairs together, they conversed for a long time about Mrs. So and So, who either had come, or was coming from Boston to spend the summer.

"I am so glad," said Mrs. Lincoln, "for we need some thing to keep us alive. I don't see, Mrs. Campbell, how you manage to live here through the winter, no society nor any thing."

Here Mrs. Mason ventured to ask if there were not some very pleasant and intelligent ladies in the village.

"Oh, ye-es," said Mrs. Lincoln, with a peculiar twist to her mouth, which Jenny said she always used when she was "putting on." "They are well enough, but they are not the kind of folks we would recognize at home. At least they don't belong to 'our set,'" speaking to Mrs.

Campbell who replied, "Oh, certainly not." It was plain even to a casual observer that Mrs. Lincoln's was the ruling spirit to which Mrs. Campbell readily yielded, thinking that so perfect a model of gentility could not err. Mr. Knight possibly might have enlightened her a little with regard to her friend's pedigree, but he was not present, and for half an hour more the two ladies talked together of their city acquaintances, without once seeming to remember that Mrs.

Mason, too, had formerly known them all intimately. At last Mrs.

Lincoln arose, saying she must go, as she had already stopped much longer than she intended, "but when I get with you," said she, turning to Mrs. Campbell, "I never know when to leave."

Mrs. Mason invited her to remain to tea, saying it was nearly ready.

Mrs. Campbell, who had also arisen, waited for Mrs. Lincoln to decide, which she soon did by reseating herself and saying, laughingly, "I don't know but I'll stay for a taste of those delicious looking strawberries I saw your servant carry past the window."

Erelong the little tea-bell rang, and Mrs. Lincoln, who had not before spoken to Mary, now turned haughtily towards her, requesting her to watch while they were at supper and see if the coachman did not drive off with the horses as he sometimes did. Mary could not trust herself to reply for she had agreed to sit next Jenny at table, and had in her own mind decided to give her little friend her share of berries. She glanced once at Mrs. Mason, who apparently did not notice her, and then gulping down her tears, took her station by the window, where she could see the coachman who, instead of meditating a drive around the neighborhood was fast asleep upon the box. Jenny did not miss her companion until she was sitting down to the table, and then noticing an empty plate between herself and her mother, who managed to take up as much room as possible, she rather impolitely called out, "Here, mother, sit along and make room for Mary. That's her place. Why, where is she? Mrs. Mason, may I call her?"

Mrs. Mason, who had seen and heard more than Mary fancied, and who in seating her guests had contrived to bring Mary's plate next to Mrs.

Lincoln, nodded, and Jenny springing up ran to the parlor, where Mary stood counting flies, looking up at the ceiling, and trying various other ways to keep from crying. Seizing both her hands Jenny almost dragged her into the dining-room, where she found it rather difficult squeezing in between her mother and Rose, whose elbows took up much more room than was necessary. A timely _pinch_, however, duly administered, sent the young lady along an inch or so, and Jenny and Mary were at last fairly seated.

Mrs. Lincoln reddened,--Mrs. Campbell looked concerned,--Mrs. Mason amused,--Rose angry,--Mary mortified,--while Ella, who was not quick enough to understand, did not look at all except at her strawberries, which disappeared rapidly. Then in order to attract attention, she sc.r.a.ped her saucer as loudly as possible; but for once Mrs. Mason was very obtuse, not even taking the hint when Mrs. Campbell removed a portion of her own fruit to the plate of the pouting child, bidding her "eat something besides berries."

After a time Mrs. Lincoln thought proper to break the silence which she had preserved, and taking up her fork said, "You have been buying some new silver, haven't you?"

"They were a present to me from my friend, Miss Martha Selden," was Mrs. Mason's reply.

"Possible!" said Mrs. Campbell.

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Lincoln, and again closely examining the fork, she continued, "Aunt Martha is really getting liberal in her old age. But then I suppose she thinks Ida is provided for, and there'll be no particular need of her money in that quarter."

"Provided for? How?" asked Mrs. Mason, and Mrs Lincoln answered, "Why didn't you know that Mr. Selden's orphan nephew, George Moreland, had come over from England to live with him? He is heir to a large fortune, and it is said that both Mr. Selden and Aunt Martha are straining every nerve to eventually bring about a match between George and Ida."

There was no reason why Mary should blush at the mention of George Moreland, still she did do so, while Jenny slyly stepped upon her toes. But her embarra.s.sment was un.o.bserved, for what did she, a pauper girl, know or care about one whose future destiny, and wife too, were even then the subject of more than one scheming mother's speculations.

Mrs. Mason smiled, and said she thought it very much like child's play, for if she remembered rightly Ida couldn't be more than thirteen or fourteen.

"About that," returned Mrs. Lincoln; "but the young man is older,--eighteen or nineteen, I think."

"No, mother," interrupted Jenny, who was as good at keeping ages as some old women, "he isn't but seventeen."

"Really," rejoined Mrs. Campbell, "I wouldn't wonder if our little Jenny had some designs on him herself, she is so anxious to make him out young."

"Oh, fy," returned Jenny. "He can't begin with Billy Bender!"

Mrs. Lincoln frowned, and turning to her daughter, said 'I have repeatedly requested, and now I command you not to bring up Billy Bender in comparison with every thing and every body."

"And pray, who is Billy Bender?" asked Mrs. Mason, and Mrs. Lincoln replied, "Why, he's a great rough, over grown country boy, who used to work for Mr. Lincoln, and now he's on the town farm, I believe."

"But he's _working_ there," said Jenny, "and he's going to get money enough to go to school next fall at Wilbraham; and I heard father say he deserved a great deal of credit for it and that men that made themselves, or else men that didn't, I've forgot which, were always the smartest."

Here the older portion of the company laughed, and Mrs. Lincoln, bidding her daughter not to try to tell any thing unless she could get it straight, again resumed the subject of the silver forks, saying to Mrs. Mason, "I should think you'd be so glad. For my part I'm perfectly wedded to a silver fork, and positively I could not eat without one."

"But, mother," interrupted Jenny, "Grandma Howland hasn't any, and I don't believe she ever had, for once when we were there and you carried yours to eat with, don't you remember she showed you a little two tined one, and asked if the victuals didn't taste just as good when you lived at home and worked in the,--that great big noisy building,--I forget the name of it?"

It was fortunate for Jenny's after happiness that Mrs. Campbell was just then listening intently for something which Ella was whispering in her ear, consequently she did not hear the remark, which possibly might have enlightened her a little with regard to her friend's early days. Tea being over, the ladies announced their intention of leaving, and Mrs. Mason, recollecting Mrs. Lincoln's request for flowers, invited them into the garden, where she bade them help themselves. It required, however, almost a martyr's patience for her to stand quietly by, while her choicest flowers were torn from their stalks, and it was with a sigh of relief that she finally listened to the roll of the wheels which bore her guests away.

Could she have listened to their remarks, as on a piece of wide road their carriages kept side by side for a mile or more, she would probably have felt amply repaid for her flowers and trouble too.

"Dear me," said Mrs. Campbell, "I never could live in such a lonely out of the way place."

"Nor I either," returned Mrs. Lincoln, "but I think Mrs. Mason appears more at home here than in the city. I suppose you know she was a poor girl when Mr. Mason married her, and such people almost always show their breeding. Still she is a good sort of a woman, and it is well enough to have some such nice place to visit and get fruit. Weren't those delicious berries, and ain't these splendid rosebuds?"

"I guess, though," said Jenny, glancing at her mother's huge bouquet, "Mrs. Mason didn't expect you to gather quite so many. And Rose, too, trampled down a beautiful lily without ever apologizing."

"And what if I did?" retorted Rose. "She and that girl have nothing to do but fix it up."

This allusion to Mary, reminded Mrs. Campbell of her conversation with Mrs. Mason, and laughingly she repeated it. "I never knew before,"

said she, "that Mrs. Mason had so much spirit. Why, she really seemed quite angry, and tried hard to make Mary out beautiful, and graceful, and all that."

"And," chimed in Ella, who was angry at Mrs. Mason for defending her sister, and angry at her sister for being defended, "don't you think she said that Mary ought to be ashamed of me."

"Is it possible she was so impudent!" said Mrs. Lincoln; "I wish I had been present, I would have spoken my mind freely, but so much one gets for patronizing such creatures."