Aikenside Part 9

It was the doctor who carried Maddy's answer to Agnes, the doctor who made all the succeeding arrangements, deciding that Maddy would not be wholly strong until the very day fixed upon by Agnes for her departure for Saratoga. For this Guy was sorry. It would have been an easy matter for him to have ridden down to the cottage, and seen the girl in whom he was beginning to feel so much interest that in his last letter to Lucy he had mentioned her as about to become his sister's governess; but he did not care to see her there. It seemed to him that the surroundings of that slanting-roofed house did not belong to her, and he would rather meet her in his own more luxurious home. But the doctor's word was law, and so, on the first day of August he followed Agnes and her three huge traveling trunks to the carriage, and was driven from the house to which Maddy was coming that afternoon.

CHAPTER X. -- AT AIKENSIDE.

It was a long, tiresome ride, for grandpa, from Honedale to Aikenside, and as he was not in his wife's secret, he accepted thankfully the doctor's offer to take Maddy there himself. With this arrangement Maddy was well pleased, as it would thus afford her the opportunity she had so much desired, of talking with the doctor about his bill, and asking him to wait until she had earned enough to pay it.

To the aged couple, parting for the first time with their darling, the day was very sad, but they would not intrude their grief upon the young girl looking so eagerly forward to the new life opening before her; only grandpa's voice faltered a little when, in the morning prayer, he commended his child to G.o.d, asking that she might be kept from temptation, and that the new sights and scenes to which she was going might not beget in her a love of the world's vanities, or a disgust for her old home; but that she might come back to it the same loving, happy child as she was then, and never be ashamed of the parents to whom she was so dear. There was an answering sob from the chair where Maddy knelt, and after the devotions were ended she wound her arm around her grandfather's neck, and parting his silvery locks, said to him, earnestly;

"Grandpa, do you think I could ever be ashamed of you and grandma?"

"I hope not, darling; it would break our hearts; but finery and things is mighty apt to set folks up, and after you've walked a spell on them velvet carpets, you'll no doubt think your feet make a big noise on our bare kitchen floor."

"That may be, but I shan't be ashamed of you. No, not if I were Mrs. Guy Remington herself." And Maddy emphasized her words with a kiss, as she thought how nice it would be provided she were a widow, to be Mrs. Guy Remington, and have her grandparents live at Aikenside with her.

"But, pshaw! I'll never be Mrs. anybody; and if I am, I'll have to have a husband, which would be such a bother!" was her next mental comment, as, leaving her grandfather, she went to help her grandmother with the breakfast dishes, wondering when she would wipe those blue cups again, and how she should probably feel when she did.

Quickly the morning pa.s.sed, and just as the clock struck two the doctor's buggy appeared over the hill. Up to this moment Maddy had only been happy in antic.i.p.ation; but when, with her shawl and bonnet on, she stood waiting while the doctor fastened her little trunk, and when she saw a tear on the wrinkled faces of both her grandparents, her fort.i.tude gave way; and 'mid a storm of sobs, she said her good-bys and received her grandfather's blessing.

It was very pleasant that afternoon, for the summer breeze was blowing cool across the fields, where the laborers were busy; and with the elasticity of youth, Maddy's tears stopped their flowing, but not until the dear old home had disappeared, and they were some distance on the road to Aikenside.

"I wonder how I shall like Mrs. Remington and Mr. Guy?" was the first remark she made.

"You'll not see them immediately. They left this morning for Saratoga,"

the doctor replied.

"Left! Mr. Guy gone!" Maddy repeated in a disappointed tone.

"Are you very sorry?" the doctor asked, and Maddy replied:

"I did want to see him once; you know I never have."

It would be such a surprise to find that Guy was no other than the terrible inspector, that he would not undeceive her, the doctor thought; and so he relapsed into a thoughtful mood, from which Maddy aroused him by breaking the subject of the unpaid bill, asking if he'd please not trouble grandpa, but wait until she could pay it.

"Perhaps it's wrong asking it when you were so good, but if you only will take me for payment," and Maddy's soft brown eyes were lifted to his face.

"Yes, Maddy, I'll take you for payment," the doctor said, smiling, half seriously, as his eyes rested fondly upon her.

Even then stupid Maddy did not understand him, but began to calculate out loud how long it would take to earn the money. She'd heard people say that the doctor charged a dollar a visit to Honedale, and he'd been so many, many times, that it would take a great many weeks to pay him; besides, there was the debt to Mr. Guy. She wanted to help pay that, but did not see how she could, unless he waited, too. Did the doctor think he would? It seemed terrible to the doctor that one so young as Maddy should be hara.s.sed with the payment of debts, and he felt a most intense desire for the right to shield her from all such care, but he must not speak of it then; he'd rather she should remain a little longer an artless child, confiding all her troubles to him as if he had been her brother.

"There's Aikenside," he said, at last, and it was not long before they pa.s.sed through the gate, guarded by the great bronze lions, and struck into the graveled road leading to the house.

"It's grander, finer, than I ever dreamed. Oh! if I could some time have just such a home! and doctor, look! What does make that water go up in the air so? Is it what they call a fountain?"

In her excitement Maddy had risen, and with one hand resting on the doctor's shoulder, was looking around her eagerly. Guy Remington would have laughed, and been gratified, too, could he have heard the enthusiastic praises heaped upon his home by the little schoolgirl as she drove up to his door. But Guy was away in the dusty cars, and only Jessie stood on the piazza to receive her teacher. There were warm words of welcome, kisses and hugs; and then Jessie led her friend to the chamber she was to occupy.

"Mother wanted you to sleep the other side of the house, but Brother Guy said no, you should have a pleasant room; and when Guy says a thing, it's so. It's nice in here, and close to me. See, I'm right here," and Jessie opened a door leading directly to her own sleeping room.

"Here's one trunk," she continued, as a servant brought up and set down, a little contemptuously, the small hair-cloth box containing Maddy's wardrobe. "Here's one; where's the rest?" and she was flying after Tom, when Maddy stopped her, saying:

"I have but one--that's all."

"Only that little, teenty thing? How funny. Why, mamma carried three most as big as my bed to Saratoga. You can't have many dresses. What are you going to wear to dinner?"

"I've been to dinner." And Maddy looked up in some surprise.

"You have! We never have it till five, when Guy is at home; but now they are gone, Mrs. Noah says we will have it at one, as folks ought to do.

To-day I coaxed her to wait till you come, and the table is all set out so nicely for two. Can you carve, and do you like green turtle soup?"

Maddy was bewildered, but managed to reply that she could not carve, that she never saw any green turtle soup, and that she supposed she should wear to dinner the delaine she had on. "Why, we always change, even Mrs. Noah," Jessie exclaimed, bending over the open trunk and examining its contents.

Two calicoes, a blue muslin, a gingham and another delaine, beside the one she had on. That was the sum total of Maddy's wardrobe, and Jessie glanced at it a little ruefully as Maddy carefully shook out the nicely folded dresses and laid them upon the bed. Here Mrs. Noah was heard calling Jessie, who ran away leaving Maddy alone for a moment.

Maddy had seen the look Jessie gave her dresses, and for the first time there dawned upon her mind the possibility that her plain apparel, and ignorance of the ways of Aikenside might be to her the cause of much mortification.

"And grandma said they were so nice, too--doing them up so carefully,"

she said, her lip beginning to quiver, and her eyes filling with tears, as thoughts of home came rushing over her.

She could not force them back, and laying her head upon the top of the despised hair trunk, she sobbed aloud. Guy Remington's private room was in that hall, and as the doctor knew a book was to have been left there for him, he took the liberty of getting it; pa.s.sing Maddy's door he heard the low sound of weeping, and looking in, saw her where she sat or rather knelt upon the floor.

"Homesick so soon!" he said, advancing to her side, and then amid a torrent of tears, the whole came out.

Maddy never could do as they did there, and everybody would laugh at her so for an awkward thing; she never knew that folks ate dinner at five instead of twelve--she should surely starve to death--she couldn't carve--she could not eat mud-turtle soup, and she did not know which dress to wear for dinner--would the doctor tell her? There they were, and she pointed to the bed, only five, and she knew Jessie thought it so mean.

Such was the substance of Maddy's pa.s.sionate outpouring of her griefs to the highly perplexed doctor, who, after quieting her somewhat, ascertained that the greatest present trouble was the deciding what dress was suitable to the occasion. The doctor had never made dress his study, but as it happened he liked blue, and so suggested it, as the one most likely to be becoming.

"That!" and Maddy looked confounded. "Why, grandma never let me wear that, except on Sunday; that's my very best dress."

"Poor child; I'm not sure it was right for you to come here where the life is so different from the quiet, unpretentious one you have led,"

the doctor thought, but he merely said: "It's my impression they wear their best dresses here, all the time."

"But what will I do when that's worn out! Oh, dear, dear, I wish I had not come!" and another impetuous fit of weeping ensued, in the midst of which Jessie came back, greatly disturbed on Maddy's account, and asking eagerly what was the matter.

Very adroitly the doctor managed to draw Jessie aside, while as well as he was able he gave her a few hints with regard to her intercourse with Maddy, and Jessie, who seemed intuitively to understand him, went back to the weeping girl, soothing her much as a little mother would have soothed her child. They would have such nice times, when Maddy got used to their ways, which would not take long, and n.o.body would laugh at her, she said, when Maddy expressed her fears on that point. "You are too pretty even if you do make mistakes!" and then she went into ecstasies over the blue muslin, which was becoming to Maddy, and greatly enhanced her girlish beauty. The tear stains were all washed away, Jessie using very freely her mother's _eau-de-cologne_, and making Maddy's cheeks very red with rubbing, the nut-brown hair was brushed until it shone like satin, a little narrow band of black velvet ribbon was pinned about Maddy's snowy neck, and then she was ready for that terrible ordeal, her first dinner at Aikenside. The doctor was going to stay, and this helped to relieve her somewhat.

"You must come to the housekeeper's room and see her first," Jessie said, and with a beating heart and brain bewildered by the elegancies which met her at every turn, Maddy followed to where the dreaded Mrs.

Noah, in rustling back silk and a thread lace collar, sat sewing and greatly enjoying the leisure she had in her master's absence.

Mrs. Noah knew who Maddy was, remembering the old man said that she would not disgrace a drawing-room as fine as that at Aikenside. She had discovered, too, that Mrs. Agnes was opposed to her coming, that only Guy's determined will had brought her there; and this, if nothing else, had disposed her to feel kindly toward the little governess. She had expected to see her rather pretty, but was not prepared to find her what she was. Maddy's was a singular type of beauty--a beauty untarnished by any selfish, uncharitable, or suspicious feeling. Clear and truthful as a mirror, her brown eyes looked into Mrs. Noah's, while her low courtesy--so full of deference, found its way straight to that motherly heart.

"I am glad to see you, Miss Clyde," she said, "very glad."

Maddy's lip quivered a little and her voice shook as she replied:

"Please call me Maddy. They do at home, and I shan't be quite so--so--"