Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 23

He turned to me abruptly. "Have they never mentioned Mr. Winthrop's trouble to you?"

"No, Thomas, they have not."

"Well, that's curious; but quality has different ways from nateral folks.

Well, you see, she was handsomer than any picture; looked as well as you'd think an angel could look, and better dressed than they generally seem to be; for any pictures I've seen of them they've only had a long cloth around them without cut or pattern, and their wings. I've often thought they weren't overhandy with the needle. And the day for the wedding was sot." I stopped him there.

"Would you tell me this if you knew I should repeat all you said to Mr.

Winthrop?"

"I guess not; he'd turn me off without my dinner, if he knew."

"You may be sure I shall not tell him; but nevertheless it is not honest for us to be talking on such a subject."

"I see you are like the rest of them. You seemed to have such a fellow feeling for poor folks, we've concluded you were more like us than them."

"Perhaps I am, Thomas; but gentle or simple, we ought to be alike honorable. The Bible has only one code of morals for us all."

"Very few that I know pays much attention to Bible rules. But here we are at the Blakes'. I'll hitch the horse and carry in the bundles since you want them left here. Hang it, if there ain't that ugly critter of Dan's coming for us."

Thomas sprang back into the carriage, and looked a good deal alarmed as he saw me turn to meet Tiger and pat the animal's huge head.

He fawned delightedly around me, licking my gloved hand whenever he could get the chance.

"You need not be afraid, Thomas. I won't let him hurt you."

"I won't risk him. He's the crossest brute in Cavendish."

"Why, Tiger, what a character to get!"

To my surprise the dog looked up at Thomas, and uttered an angry growl.

"See, now; I believe the brute understands what I say."

"Come with me, Tiger." I started for the house. Tiger stood a moment uncertainly, and then trotted after me. Mrs. Blake's face was radiant when she opened the door in answer to my knock.

"You're a thousand times welcome back; and my! but you're needed."

"That is encouraging news. But, Mrs. Blake, won't you hide Tiger away somewhere? Thomas is afraid of him, and, I think, not without reason."

"I wish't Daniel 'd sell him; he frightens folks from the house," she said, with much discontent, driving Tiger unceremoniously into the back porch.

Thomas soon had the bundles laid on the kitchen table, and the carriage turned homewards, while I began unrolling the prints and flannels, frocks and pinafores, for the Mill Road pensioners. Mrs. Blake watched eagerly; but at last exclaimed:

"Dear me! it must a cost you a mint of money to get all these."

"About the price of one evening dress."

"I hope you got all the things, then, you needed for yourself."

"Yes, and more, I fear, than I really needed. But Mrs. Flaxman says we owe it to our position in society to dress becomingly; but the question to my mind is, how far it is necessary to go to pay that social debt?

When I see a family like the Lark.u.ms, my conscience tells me I owe them a heavier debt than society."

"I can't understand why some people have no conscience, and other so much. It seems to me now you have just a little too much for one of your age."

"Please don't you discourage me, Mrs. Blake. I meet too much everywhere else. But for you I might never have given a thought to the poor and needy."

Mrs. Blake went to the window and stood looking out for some time in silence, while I sat with my hand on Tiger's head, whom I had liberated after Thomas went away. I looked down into the brown eyes that were gazing up at me with dumb affection.

"Do you really like me so very much, Tiger?" I said, stooping down to gratify him with a touch of my face.

"I do believe he thinks more of you than of anybody. I've not seen him look so good-natured since I come here as he does now." I fancied that I saw traces of tears on her face, and was surprised at it, for she was not the kind of woman constantly bubbling over, and rarely showed the tender side of her nature, save in kindly deeds. Again she began inspecting my goodly array of dry goods with keen interest, inquiring the prices, and pa.s.sing shrewd comments on the bargains I had made.

"I'm afraid the Lark.u.ms won't need your gifts. If they go to the poor-house, it won't be worth while giving them anything; the town'll provide."

"I do not think they will go there. Mrs. Lark.u.m will get better, after awhile."

"It might do her good to hear you say; so would you mind coming over this morning to see her? I go in every day to see to them."

I gathered up a large bundle of flannels and prints, for herself and children, along with the parcel containing Mr. Bowen's cloth, while Mrs.

Blake was getting ready. She came to the table, where I stood arranging my parcels.

"Are these to go to the widow's now?" she asked.

"Yes, if we can carry all at once."

"I'll see to that. I've taken many a heavier load a good deal farther."

"But I will share the burden with you."

"No, it looks better for me to have my arms full than you; and, anyway, I want to do something to help them, and you too."

I humored her fancy, only insisting on relieving her of my present for Mr. Bowen. It was the most precious package in the lot; and I feared she might drop it. When we reached the door of the Lark.u.m cottage she halted.

"You won't like the look of things here to-day. There's only the neighbors to look after them; and the most of us has more'n enough to do home."

"If I am such a poor soldier as to be so easily frightened as that, you would be ashamed of me. When they endure it all the time, surely I may for a few minutes."

"But you're not used to it."

She entered without knocking, when a scene met my gaze that fully equaled Mrs. Blake's warning. The fire was quite out, and I could see no fuel at hand to kindle it, Mr. Bowen sat in the window trying to extract some warmth from the dull, November sunshine; the baby crying wearily in his arms, probably from cold and hunger combined; the other two children had curled themselves up in an old rug, their bright eyes watching us with eager longing, the house itself was the picture of desolation.

I shivered under my warm fur cloak, and with difficulty restrained myself from rushing from the place; but Mrs. Blake, laying down her bundle with a sigh of relief, bade Mr. Bowen good morning in her usual cheerful way; he responded with equal cheerfulness, still ignorant of my presence there. "You find us a little cold to-day," he said, as if it were the merest accident; "but wood has given out, and the morning seems rather cool."

I looked at him in amazement. How could he speak so calmly under the circ.u.mstances?

"How is Mrs. Lark.u.m, to-day?"

"Pretty low, I am sorry to say. The doctor says she needs beef-tea and wine."