Nobody Part 8

"How is it in your part of the world?" said Mr. Dillwyn. "You cannot have what you want?"

"Depends upon what order you keep your wishes in," said Lois. "You can have strawberries in June--and grapes in September."

"What order do you keep your wishes in?" was the next question.

"I think it best to have as few as possible."

"But that would reduce life to a mere framework of life,--if one had no wishes!"

"One can find something else to fill it up," said Lois.

"Pray what would you subst.i.tute? For with wishes I connect the accomplishment of wishes."

"Are they always connected?"

"Not always; but generally, the one are the means to the other."

"I believe I do not find it so."

"Then, pardon me, what would you subst.i.tute, Miss Lothrop, to fill up your life, and not have it a bare existence?"

"There is always work--" said Lois shyly; "and there are the pleasures that come without being wished for. I mean, without being particularly sought and expected."

"Does much come that way?" asked their entertainer, with an incredulous smile of mockery.

"O, a great deal!" cried Lois; and then she checked herself.

"This is a very interesting investigation, Mrs. Wishart," said the gentleman. "Do you think I may presume upon Miss Lothrop's good nature, and carry it further?"

"Miss Lothrop's good nature is a commodity I never knew yet to fail."

"Then I will go on, for I am curious to know, with an honest desire to enlarge my circle of knowledge. Will you tell me, Miss Lothrop, what are the pleasures in your mind when you speak of their coming unsought?"

Lois tried to draw back. "I do not believe you would understand them,"

she said a little shyly.

"I trust you do my understanding less than justice!"

"No," said Lois, blus.h.i.+ng, "for your enjoyments are in another line."

"Please indulge me, and tell me the line of yours."

He is laughing at me, thought Lois. And her next thought was, What matter! So, after an instant's hesitation, she answered simply.

"To anybody who has travelled over the world, Shampuashuh is a small place; and to anybody who knows all you have been talking about, what we know at Shampuashuh would seem very little. But every morning it is a pleasure to me to wake and see the sun rise; and the fields, and the river, and the Sound, are a constant delight to me at all times of day, and in all sorts of weather. A walk or a ride is always a great pleasure, and different every time. Then I take constant pleasure in my work."

"Mrs. Wishart," said the gentleman, "this is a revelation to me. Would it be indiscreet, if I were to ask Miss Lothrop what she can possibly mean under the use of the term '_work_'?"

I think Mrs. Wishart considered that it _would_ be rather indiscreet, and wished Lois would be a little reticent about her home affairs.

Lois, however, had no such feeling.

"I mean work," she said. "I can have no objection that anybody should know what our life is at home. We have a little farm, very small; it just keeps a few cows and sheep. In the house we are three sisters; and we have an old grandmother to take care of, and to keep the house, and manage the farm."

"But surely you cannot do that last?" said the gentleman.

"We do not manage the cows and sheep," said Lois, smiling; "men's hands do that; but we make the b.u.t.ter, and we spin the wool, and we cultivate our garden. _That_ we do ourselves entirely; and we have a good garden too. And that is one of the things," added Lois, smiling, "in which I take unending pleasure."

"What can you do in a garden?"

"All there is to do, except ploughing. We get a neighbour to do that."

"And the digging?"

"I can dig," said Lois, laughing.

"But do not?"

"Certainly I do."

"And sow seeds, and dress beds?"

"Certainly. And enjoy every moment of it. I do it early, before the sun gets hot. And then, there is all the rest; gathering the fruit, and pulling the vegetables, and the care of them when we have got them; and I take great pleasure in it all. The summer mornings and spring mornings in the garden are delightful, and all the work of a garden is delightful, I think."

"You will except the digging?"

"You are laughing at me," said Lois quietly. "No, I do not except the digging. I like it particularly. Hoeing and raking I do not like half so well."

"I am not laughing," said Mr. Dillwyn, "or certainly not at you. If at anybody, it is myself. I am filled with admiration."

"There is no room for that either," said Lois. "We just have it to do, and we do it; that is all."

"Miss Lothrop, I never have _had_ to do anything in my life, since I left college."

Lois thought privately her own thoughts, but did not give them expression; she had talked a great deal more than she meant to do.

Perhaps Mrs. Wishart too thought there had been enough of it, for she began to make preparations for departure.

"Mrs. Wishart," said Mr. Dillwyn, "I have to thank you for the greatest pleasure I have enjoyed since I landed."

"Unsought and unwished-for, too, according to Miss Lothrop's theory.

Certainly we have to thank you, Philip, for we were in a distressed condition when you found us. Come and see me. And," she added _sotto voce_ as he was leading her out, and Lois had stepped on before them, "I consider that all the information that has been given you is strictly in confidence."

"Quite delicious confidence!"

"Yes, but not for all ears," added Mrs. Wishart somewhat anxiously.

"I am glad you think me worthy. I will not abuse the trust."

"I did not say I thought you worthy," said the lady, laughing; "I was not consulted. Young eyes see the world in the fresh colours of morning, and think daisies grow everywhere."