The Making of Mary Part 8

"I wish you really thought that, as I do. She's quick and adaptable, and I'm going to hand over to her a weekly allowance and let her keep the house on it."

"What about her accomplishments--the elocution and the cornet?"

"They can stand in the meantime. Do you know, Davie," hesitatingly, "I'm beginning to be afraid she hasn't a good ear for music."

"Why?"

"The other night when the Mortons were in she sat and talked to Frank Wade the whole time Eva was playing."

"That's nothing. Everyone else did the same."

"But for a girl who is trying to pose as a cornet player, who thinks she might earn her living leading a church choir with one, it's bad policy, to say the least of it."

"Earn her living! I asked Joe Mitch.e.l.l, when he was listening to her practicing out in the summer-house, what he thought of her playing, and he said she'd better keep to a penny whistle."

"Very rude of him!"

"No, it wasn't. I asked him point blank if I should be justified in paying for the more lessons she wants, and he said decidedly I should not."

"Well," said Belle wearily, "we'll try the housekeeping. That's a woman's true vocation, according to orthodox ideas. I shouldn't have set my heart on Mary turning out to be anything extraordinary. If she'll only be kind of half decent, and help me out with the housework, I'll be more than satisfied."

The sense of power gave new brightness to Mary's fair face, and her step through the house was of the lightest during the next week or two, but the boys rebelled in turn.

"_Mam_ma! Mary's locked the pantry. Must we go to her for the key whenever we want anything?"

"I call it a mean shame!" from Joe.

"What were you doing?"

"We didn't do nothin', on'y eat up the pie she meant for dessert. I'm sure Margaret wouldn't mind makin' another."

"Mary's perfectly right, boys; I've indulged you too much."

Then it was Watty who complained:

"Mary says she won't have us mussing up the parlor after she's tidied it, and that we've got to change our boots when we come into the house."

Or Chrissie:

"Mary says I'm big enough now to keep my own room in order, and she aint going to do it any more. She's wors'en grandma!"

To their grandma did they go with their woes when they found their mother so unaccountably obdurate, but they did not get much comfort there. Detest Mary as she might, my poor mother is always loyal to the powers that be, and she told the children:

"Yer mither kens fine what she's aboot, an' ye needna fash yer heids tae come cryin' tae me."

She even went so far as to back Mary up in her suggestion that the boys should eat what was set before them, asking no questions.

"That's the w'y yer faither was brocht up. If he didna finish his parritch in the mornin', they were warmed up for him again at nicht. Ye tak' but a spinfu' 'at ye could hardly ca' parritch, for they're jist puzhioned wi' sugar."

Mary was not naturally fond of children, and, having entered our family full-grown, she found it hard to put up with the freaks of our six, there being no foundation of sisterly love upon which to build toleration.

Belle's housekeeping had always been lavish. She ordered her groceries wholesale, and when they were done never inquired what had become of them.

"I decline to go into details--life is too short! I don't know where my patience ends and my laziness begins, but I'd rather be cheated than lock things up, or try to keep track of what Margaret wastes. She's not an ideal 'general,' but it's only one in a hundred that would stand the children pottering about in the kitchen so much."

After the time-worn custom of new brooms, Mary made a bold attempt to record each item of expenditure, and ordered what she wanted from day to day; but there was no calculating the appet.i.tes of four growing boys, especially when, as Mary affirmed, they sometimes over-ate themselves just to spite her.

"We're living from hand to mouth, _pa_pa," they would say, when an unwonted scarcity occurred.

Truth to tell, I began to sympathize with my revolting sons when I brought an old friend home with me to dinner one day, and went to announce the fact to our "housekeeper."

"I just wish that Bob Mansell would quit coming here so much when he's not expected. There's only enough pudding for ourselves."

"Mary," said I sternly, "Mr. Mansell's been coming to this house before you were here, and he'll keep on coming after you're gone, if you're not careful."

It was the first time I had ever spoken sharply to her, and I flattered myself that I had done some good, though she held her head high and left the room.

Belle came to the conclusion that the housekeeping scheme did not work smoothly, and she resumed the reins of government. Mary was still supposed to do the work of a second maid, but it was evident that her heart was not in it.

"What does Mary want now?" I asked my wife when she took her usual seat beside me, as I lay on the sofa with my pipe.

"She thinks she'd like to go to the Boston School of Oratory to prepare herself to be a public reader."

"Is it necessary that she should be before the public in one way or another?"

"She doesn't seem to be much of a success in private life."

"In that respect she's no worse than half the girls in town. None of them dote on housework."

"But, considering that this girl has no earthly claim on us, you'd think she might be different."

"Don't be angry, Belle, at my saying so, but you've only yourself to thank for that. You've been most anxious that Mary should be just like one of ourselves--should not feel that she was accepting charity, and you've succeeded only too well. The girl takes everything you do for her as her right, and asks for more."

"Well, what about Boston?"

"I think it would be arrant folly to send her there. How do we know she has any more talent for elocution than for music?"

"She has the desire to learn. I suppose that's a sign of the ability."

"She has an intense desire for admiration, that's about the size of it.

To be the center of all eyes, giving a recitation in a drawing room, pleases her down to the ground, but it doesn't follow that she would be a success professionally."

"I dare say we've spent about as much on her education as you care to do just now."

"We have indeed!"

My wife and I are much in demand at all the social functions of our town, and, though I accompany her under protest, I confess that, once the affair is in full swing, I enjoy as much as anybody a hand at "Pedro" or a dance.

The houses of our city are mostly wooden and mostly new, for an annual conflagration keeps building brisk. Hardwood floors and mantels are the order of the day, and if some of our lumbermen and their wives have not a command of English grammar in keeping with their horses, their sealskins, and their diamonds, they have a heartier than an English welcome--except, of course, for guests of such questionable antecedents as our Mary.