The English Orphans Part 17

"Perhaps, sir," said Billy haughtily, "it may refresh your memory a little to know that I was once the owner of Ta.s.so!"

"Blast the brute," muttered Henry, meaning Billy quite as much as the dog; then turning to George, he asked, "how long the _old folks_ had been in Chicopee."

"Several weeks, I think," answered George; and then, either because he wanted to hear what Henry would say, or because of a re-awakened interest in Mary Howard, he continued, "By the way. Henry, when you came so unceremoniously upon us, we were speaking of a young girl in Chicopee whom you have perhaps ferreted out ere this, as Bender says she is fine looking."

Henry stroked his whiskers, which had received far more cultivation than his brains, stuck his hat on one side, and answered. "Why, yes, I suppose that in my way I am some thing of a b'hoy with the fair s.e.x, but really I do not now think of more than one handsome girl in Chicopee, and that is Ella Campbell, but she is young yet, not as old as Jenny--altogether too small fry for Henry Lincoln, Esq. But who is the girl?"

Billy frowned, for he held Mary's name as too sacred to be breathed by a young man of Henry Lincoln's character; while George replied, "Her name is Mary Howard."

"What, the pauper?" asked Henry, looking significantly at Billy, who replied, "The same, sir."

"Whew-ew," whistled Henry, prolonging the diphthong to an unusual length. "Why, she's got two teeth at least a foot long, and her face looks as though she had just been in the vinegar barrel, and didn't like the taste of it."

"But without joking, though, how does she look?" asked George; while Billy made a movement as if he would help the insolent puppy to find his level.

"Well, now, old boy," returned Henry, "I'll tell you honestly, that the last time I saw her, I was surprised to find how much she was improved. She has swallowed those abominable teeth, or done something with them, and is really quite decent looking. In short," he continued, with a malicious leer at Billy, which made the blood tingle to his finger's end, "In short, she'll do very well for a city buck like me to play the mischief with for a summer or so, and then cast off like an old coat."

There was a look in Billy's eye as Henry finished this speech which decided that young man to make no further remarks concerning Mary, and swaggering towards the door he added, "Well, Moreland, when will you come round and take a horn of brandy? Let me know, and I'll have in some of the bloods."

"Thank you," said George, "I never use the article."

"I beg your pardon," returned Henry, in a tone of mock humility. "I remember now that you've taken to carrying a Prayer Book as big as an old woman's moulding board, and manage to come out behind in the service about three or four lines so as to be distinctly heard; but I suppose you think it pleases the old gent your uncle, and that furthers your cause with the daughter. By the way, present my compliments to Miss Selden, and ask her if she has any word to send to Chicopee, for I'll have to go there by and by, though I hate to mightily, for it'll be just like the old man to put me through in the hay field; and if there's any thing I abominate, it's work."

So saying, he took his leave. Just then there was a call for Mr, Moreland, who also departed, leaving Billy alone.

"It is very strange that she never told me she knew him," thought he; and then taking from his pocket a neatly folded letter, he again read it through. But there was nothing in it about George, except the simple words, "I am glad you have found a friend in Mr. Moreland. I am sure I should like him, just because he is kind to you."

"Yes, she's forgotten him," said Billy, and that belief gave him secret satisfaction. He had known Mary long and the interest he had felt in her when a homely, neglected child, had not in the least decreased as the lapse of time gradually ripened her into a fine, intelligent-looking girl. He was to her a brother still, but she to him was dearer far than a sister; and though in his letters he always addressed her as such, in his heart he claimed her as something nearer, and yet he had never breathed in her ear a word of love, or hinted that it was for her sake he toiled both early and late, h.o.a.rding up his earnings with almost a miser's care that she might be educated.

Regularly each week she wrote to him, and it was the receipt of these letters, and the thoughts of her that kept his heart so brave and cheerful, as, alone and unappreciated, except by George, he worked on, dreaming of a bright future, when the one great object of his life should be realized.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS.

In the old brown school-house, overshadowed by apple-trees and sheltered on the west by a long steep hill, where the acorns and wild grapes grew, Mary Howard taught her little flock of twenty-five, coaxing some, urging others, and teaching them all by her kind words and winsome ways to love her as they had never before loved an instructor.

When first she was proposed as a teacher in Rice Corner, Widow Perkins, and a few others who had no children to send, held up their hands in amazement, wondering "what the world was comin' to, and if the committee man, Mr. Knight, s'posed they was goin' to be rid over rough-shod by a town pauper; but she couldn't get a _stifficut_, for the Orthodox minister wouldn't give her one; and if he did, the Unitarian minister wouldn't!"

Accordingly, when it was known that the ordeal had been pa.s.sed, and that Mary had in her possession a piece of paper about three inches square, authorizing her to teach a common district school, this worthy conclave concluded that "either every body had lost their senses, or else Miss Mason, who was present at the examination, had sat by and whispered in her ear the answers to all hard questions." "In all my born days I never seen any thing like it," said the widow, as she distributed her green tea, sweetened with brown sugar, to a party of ladies, which she was entertaining "But you'll see, she won't keep her time more'n half out.--Sally Ann, pa.s.s them nutcakes.--n.o.body's goin'

to send their children to a pauper. There's Miss Bradley says she'll take her'n out the first time they get licked.--Have some more sa.s.s, Miss Dodge. I want it eat up, for I believe it's a workin',--but I telled her that warn't the trouble; Mary's too softly to hurt a miskeeter. And so young too. It's government she'll lack in.--If any body'll have a piece of this dried apple pie, I'll cut it."

Of course, n.o.body wanted a piece, and one of the ladies, continuing the conversation, said she supposed Mary would of course board with Mrs. Mason. The tea-pot lid, which chanced to be off, went on with a jerk, and with the air of a much injured woman the widow replied: "Wall, I can tell her this much, it's no desirable job to board the school-marm, though any body can see that's all made her so anxious for Mary to have the school. She's short on't, and wants a little money. Do any on you know how much she charges?"

n.o.body knew, but a good many "guessed she didn't charge any thing,"

and the widow, rising from the table and telling Sally Ann to "rense the sa.s.s dishes, and pour it in the vinegar bottle," led her guests back to the best room, saying, "a dollar and ninepence (her usual price) was next to nothing, but she'd warrant Miss Mason had more'n that"

Fortunately, Mary knew nothing of Mrs. Perkins's displeasure, and never dreamed that any feeling existed towards her, save that of perfect friendship. Since we last saw her, she had grown into a fine, healthy-looking girl. Her face and figure were round and full, and her complexion, though still rather pale, was clear as marble, contrasting well with her dark brown hair and eyes, which no longer seemed unnaturally large. Still she was not beautiful, it is true, and yet Billy was not far from right when he called her the finest looking girl in Chicopee; and it was for this reason, perhaps, that Mrs.

Campbell watched her with so much jealousy.

Every possible pains had been taken with Ella's education. The best teachers had been hired to instruct her, and she was now at a fashionable seminary, but still she did not possess one half the ease and gracefulness of manner, which seemed natural to her sister. Since the day of that memorable visit, the two girls had seen but little of each other. Ella would not forgive Mrs. Mason for praising Mary, nor forgive Mary for being praised; and as Mrs. Campbell, too pretended to feel insulted, the intercourse between the families gradually ceased; and oftentimes when Ella met her sister, she merely acknowledged her presence by a nod, or a simple "how d'ye do?"

When she heard that Mary was to be a teacher, she said "she was glad, for it was more respectable than going into a factory, or working out." Mrs. Campbell, too, felt in duty bound to express her pleasure, adding, that "she hoped Mary would give satisfaction, but 'twas extremely doubtful, she was _so_ young, and possessed of so little dignity!"

Unfortunately, Widow Perkins's red cottage stood directly opposite the school-house; and as the widow belonged to that stirring few who always "wash the breakfast dishes, and make the beds before any one is up in the house," she had ample leisure to watch and report the proceedings of the new teacher. Now Mrs. Perkins's clock was like its mistress, always half an hour in advance of the true time and Mary had scarcely taught a week ere Mr. Knight, "the committee man," was duly hailed in the street, and told that the 'school-marm wanted lookin'

to, for she didn't begin no mornin' till half-past nine, nor no afternoon till half past one! "Besides that," she added, "I think she gives 'em too long a play spell. Any ways, seem's ef some on em was out o'door the hull time."

Mr. Knight had too much good sense to heed the widow's complaints, and he merely replied, "I'm glad on't. Five hours is enough to keep little shavers cramped up in the house,--glad on't."

The widow, thus foiled in her attempts at making disturbance, finally gave up the strife, contenting herself with quizzing the older girls, and asking them if Mary could do all the hard sums in Arithmetic, or whether she took them home for Mrs. Mason to solve! Old leathern-bound Daboll, too, was brought to light, and its most difficult problems selected and sent to Mary, who, being an excellent mathematician, worked them all out to the widow's astonishment. But when it was known that quill pens had been discarded, and steel ones subst.i.tuted in their place, Mrs. Perkins again looked askance, declaring that Mary couldn't make a quill pen, and by way of testing the matter, Sally Ann was sent across the road with a huge bunch of goose quills, which "Miss Howard" was politely requested "to fix, as ma wanted to write some letters."

Mary candidly confessed her ignorance, saying she had never made a pen in her life; and the next Sabbath the widow's leghorn was missed from its accustomed pew in the Unitarian church, and upon inquiry, it was ascertained that "she couldn't in conscience hear a man preach who would give a 'stifficut' to a girl that didn't know how to make a pen!"

In spite, however, of these little annoyances, Mary was contented and happy. She knew that her pupils loved her and that the greater part of the district were satisfied, so she greeted the widow with her pleasantest smile, and by always being particularly polite to Sally Ann, finally overcame their prejudices to a considerable extent.

One afternoon about the middle of July, as Mrs. Perkins was seated by her front window engaged in "st.i.tching shoes," a very common employment in some parts of New England, her attention was suddenly diverted by a tall, stylish-looking young man, who, driving his handsome horse and buggy under the shadow of the apple-trees, alighted and entered into conversation with a group of little girls who were taking their usual recess. Mrs. Perkins's curiosity was roused, and Sally Ann was called to see who the stranger was. But for a wonder, Sally Ann didn't know, though she "guessed the hoss was one of the East Chicopee livery."

"He's talkin' to Liddy Knight," said she, at the same time holding back the curtain, and stepping aside so as not to be visible herself.

"Try if you can hear what he's sayin," whispered Mrs. Perkins; but a cla.s.s of boys in the school-house just then struck into the multiplication table, thus effectually drowning any thing which Sally Ann might otherwise have heard.

"I know them children will split their throats. Can't they hold up a minute," exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, greatly annoyed at being thus prevented from overhearing a conversation, the nature of which she could not even guess.

But as some other Widow Perkins may read this story we will for her benefit repeat what the young man was saying to Lydia Knight, who being nearest to him was the first one addressed.

"You have a nice place for your school-house and play-grounds."

"Yes, sir," answered Lydia, twirling her sun-bonnet and taking up a small round stone between her naked toes.

"Do you like to go to school?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you a good teacher?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is her name?"

"Miss Howard,--Mary Howard, and she lives with Miss Mason."

"Mary Howard,--that's a pretty name,--is she pretty too?"

"Not so dreadful," chimed in Susan Bradley. "She licked brother Tim to-day, and I don't think she's much pretty."