The Maidens' Lodge Part 14

"I say, Phoebe!"

"Yes?"

"Did you say 'kakios?'"

Phoebe had to collect her thoughts. "Kakos," she said.

"Oh, all right; _they_ won't know. But won't I take the s.h.i.+ne out of that Molly!"

Phoebe's arrested sleep came back to her as she was reflecting on the curious idea which her cousin seemed to have of friends.h.i.+p.

"Come along, Phoebe! This is the shortest way."

"Oh, couldn't we go by the road?" asked Phoebe, drawing back apprehensively, as Rhoda sprang lightly from the top of the stile which led into the meadow.

"Of course we could, but 'tis ever so much further round, and not half so pleasant. Why?"

"There are--cows!" said Phoebe, under her breath.

Rhoda laughed more decidedly than civilly.

"Cows! Did you never see cows before? I say, Phoebe, come along!

Don't be so silly!"

Phoebe obeyed, but in evident trepidation, and casting many nervous glances at the dreaded cows, until the girls had pa.s.sed the next stile.

"Cows don't bite, silly Phoebe!" said Rhoda, rather patronisingly, from the height of her two years' superiority in age.

"But they toss sometimes, don't they?" tremblingly demanded Phoebe.

"What nonsense!" said Rhoda, as they rounded the Maidens' Lodge.

Little Mrs Dorothy sat sewing at her window, and she nodded cheerily to her young guests as they came in.

"What do you think, Mrs Dolly?--good evening!" said Rhoda, parenthetically. "If this foolish Phoebe isn't frighted of a cow!"

"Sure, my dear, that is no wonder, for one bred in in the town," gently deprecated Mrs Dorothy.

"So stupid and nonsensical!" said Rhoda. "I say, Mrs Dolly, are you afraid of anything?"

"Yes, my dear," was the quiet answer.

"Oh!" said Rhoda. "Cows?"

"No, not cows," returned Mrs Dorothy, smiling.

"Frogs? Beetles?" suggested Rhoda.

"I do not think I am afraid of any animal, at least in this country, without it be vipers," said Mrs Dorothy. "But--well, I dare say I am but a foolish old woman in many regards. I oft fear things which I note others not to fear at all."

"But what sort of things, Mrs Dolly?" inquired Rhoda, who had made herself extremely comfortable with a large chair and sundry cus.h.i.+ons.

"I will tell you of three things, my dear, of which I have always felt afraid, at the least since I came to years of discretion. And most folks are not afraid of any of them. I am afraid of getting rich. I am afraid of being married. And I am afraid of judging my neighbours."

"Oh!" cried Rhoda, in genuine amazement. "Why, Mrs Dolly, what _do_ you mean? As to judging one's neighbours,--well, I suppose the Bible says something against that; but we all do it, you know."

"We do, my dear; more's the pity."

"But getting rich, and being married! Oh, Mrs Dolly! Everybody wants those."

"No, my dear, asking your pardon," replied the old lady, in a tone of decision unusual with her. "I trust every Christian does not want to be rich, when the Lord hath given him so many warnings against it. And every man does not want to marry, nor every woman neither."

"Well, not every man, perhaps," admitted Rhoda; "but every woman does, Mrs Dolly."

"My dear, I am sorry to hear a woman say it," answered Mrs Dorothy, with as much warmth as was consonant with her nature. "I hoped that was a man's delusion."

"Why, Mrs Dolly! I do," said Rhoda, with great candour.

"Then I wish you more wisdom, child."

"Well, upon my word!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Didn't you, when you were young, Mrs Dolly?"

"No, I thank G.o.d, nor when I was old neither," replied Mrs Dorothy, in the same tone.

"But, Mrs Dolly! A maid has no station in society!" said Rhoda, using a phrase which she had picked up from one of her grandfather's books.

"My dear, your station is where G.o.d puts you. A maid has just as good a station as a wife; and a much pleasanter, to my thinking."

"Pleasanter!" exclaimed Rhoda. "Why, Mrs Dolly, n.o.body thinks anything of an old maid, except to pity her."

"They may keep their pity to themselves," said Mrs Dorothy, with a little laugh. "We old maids can pity them back again, and with more reason."

"Mrs Dolly, would you have all the world hermits?"

"No, my dear; nor do I at all see why people should always leap to the conclusion that an old maid must be an ill-tempered, lonely, disappointed creature. Sure, there are other relatives in this world beside husbands and children; and if she choose her own lot, what cause hath she for disappointment? 'Tis but a few day since Mr Leighton said, in my hearing, 'Of course we know, when a gentlewoman is unwed, 'tis her misfortune rather than her fault'--and I do believe the poor man thought he paid us women a compliment in so speaking. For me, I felt it an insult."

"Why so, Mrs Dolly?"

"Why, think what it meant, my dear. 'Of course, a woman cannot be so insensible to the virtues and attractions of men that she should wish to remain unwed; therefore, if this calamity overtake her, it shows that she hath no virtues nor attractions herself.'"

"You don't think Mr Leighton meant that, Mrs Dolly?" asked Rhoda, laughing.

"No, my dear; I think he did not see the meaning of his own words. But tell me, if it is not a piece of great vanity on the part of men, that while they never think to condole with a man who is unmarried, but take it undoubted that he prefers that life, they take it as equally undoubted that a woman doth not prefer it, and lament over her being left at ease and liberty as though she had suffered some great misfortune?"

"I never did see such queer notions as you have, Mrs Dolly! I can't think where you get them," said Rhoda. "However, you may say what you will; _I_ mean to marry, and I am going to be rich too. And I expect I shall like both of them."

"My dear!" and Mrs Dorothy laid down her work, and looked earnestly at Rhoda. "How do you know you are going to be rich?"