The English Orphans Part 21

Mrs. Lincoln, too, and Rose were greatly provoked, the former declaring she would not send her daughters to a school which was so cheap that paupers and all could go, were it not that Lizzie Upton had been there, and Ida Selden was going. Jenny, however, thought differently. She was delighted, and as often as she possibly could, she came to Mrs. Mason's to talk the matter over, and tell what good times they'd have, "provided they didn't set her to pounding clothes,"

which she presumed they would, just because she was so fat and healthy. The widow a.s.sumed a very resigned air, saying "She never did meddle with other folks' business, and she guessed she shouldn't begin by 'tendin' to Mary's, but 'twas a miracle where all the money came from."

A few more of the neighbors felt worried and troubled but as no attention was paid to their remarks, they gradually ceased, and by the time Mary's preparations were completed, curiosity and gossip seemed to have subsided altogether. She was quite a favorite in the neighborhood, and on the morning when she left home, there was many a kind good-bye, and word of love spoken to her by those who came to see her off. Mr. Knight carried her to the depot, where they found Sally Furbush, accompanied by Ta.s.so, her constant attendant. She knew that Mary was to leave that morning, and had walked all that distance, for the sake of seeing her, and giving her a little parting advice. It was not quite time for the cars, and Mr. Knight, who was always in a hurry, said "he guessed he wouldn't stay," so squeezing both of Mary's hands, he bade her good-bye, telling her "to be a good girl, and not get to running after the sparks."

Scarcely was he gone, when Mary's attention was attracted by the sound of many voices, and looking from the window, she saw a group of the city girls advancing towards the depot. Among them was Ella, talking and laughing very loudly Mary's heart beat very rapidly, for she thought her sister was coming to bid her good-bye, but she was mistaken. Ella had no thought or care for her, and after glancing in at the sitting-room, without seeming to see its inmates, though not to see them was impossible, she turned her back, and looking across the river, which was directly in front, she said in her most drawling tone, "Why don't Rose come? I shan't have time to see her at all, I'm afraid."

Lizzie Upton, who was also there, looked at her in astonishment, and then said, "Why, Ella, isn't that your sister?"

"My sister? I don't know. Where?" returned Ella.

Mary laughed, and then Ella, facing about, exclaimed, "Why, Mary, you here? I forgot that you were going this morning."

Before Mary could reply. Sally Furbush arose, and pa.s.sed her hand carefully over Ella's head. Partly in fear, and partly in anger, Ella drew back from the crazy woman, who said, "Don't be alarmed, little one, I only wanted to find the cavity which I felt sure was there."

Lizzie Upton's half-smothered laugh was more provoking to Ella, than Sally's insinuation of her want of brains, but she soon recovered her equanimity, for Mr. Lincoln's carriage at that moment drove up. Henry sprang nimbly out, kissing his hand to Ella, who blushed, and then turning to Rose, began wishing she, too, was old enough to go to Mount Holyoke.

"I guess you'd pa.s.s about as good an examination now, as some who are going," returned Rose, glancing contemptuously towards Mary, to whom Jenny was eagerly talking.

This directed Henry's attention that way, and simultaneously his own and Mary's eyes met. With a peculiar expression of countenance, he stepped towards her, saying "Good morning, school ma'am. For what part are you bound with all this baggage?" pointing to a huge chest with a feather bed tied over it, the whole the property of a daughter of Erin, who stood near, carefully guarding her treasure.

Had he addressed Mary civilly, she would have replied with her usual politeness, but as it was, she made no reply and he turned to walk away. All this time Ta.s.so lay under the table, winking and blinking at his old enemy, with an expression in his eyes, which Henry would hardly have relished, could he have seen him.

"Hark! Isn't that the cars?" said Jenny, as a low, heavy growl fell on her ear; but she soon ascertained what it was, for as Henry was leaving the room, he kicked aside the blue umbrella, which Sal had brought with her for fear of a shower, and which was lying upon the floor.

In an instant, Ta.s.so's growl changed to a bark, and bristling with anger, he rushed towards Henry, but was stopped by Sal just in time to prevent his doing any mischief. With a muttered oath, which included the "old woman" as well as her dog, the young man was turning away, when Jenny said, "Shame on you, to swear before ladies!"

After a.s.suring himself by a look that Ella and the city girls were all standing upon the platform, Henry replied with a sneer, "I don't see any ladies in the room."

Instantly Sal, now more furious than the dog, clutched her long, bony fingers around his arm, saying, "Take back that insult, sir, or Ta.s.so shall tear you in pieces! What am I, if I am not a lady?"

Henry felt sure that Sal meant what she said, and with an air of a.s.sumed deference, he replied as he backed himself out of his uncomfortable quarters, "I beg your pardon Mrs. Furbush, I forgot that you were present."

The whistle of the cars was now heard, and in a moment the locomotive stood puffing before the depot. From one of the open windows a fair young face looked out, and a voice which thrilled Mary's every nerve, it seemed so familiar, called out, "Oh, Rosa, Jenny, all of you, I'm so glad you are here; I was afraid there would be some mistake, and I'd have to go alone."

"Isn't your father with you?" asked Henry, bowing so low, that he almost pitched headlong from the platform.

"No," answered the young lady, "he couldn't leave, nor George either, so Aunt Martha is my escort. She's fast asleep just opposite me, never dreaming, I dare say, that we've stopped."

"The mischief," said Henry. "What's to be done? The old gent was obliged to be in Southbridge to-day, so he bade me put Rose and Jenny under your father's protection; but as he isn't here I'll have to go myself."

"No you won't either," returned Ida, "Aunt Martha is as good as a man any time, and can look after three as well as one."

"That's Ida Selden! Isn't she handsome?" whispered Jenny to Mary.

But Mary hardly heard her. She was gazing admiringly at Ida's animated face, and tracing in it a strong resemblance to the boyish features, which looked so mischievously out from the golden locket, which at that moment lay next to her heart.

"All aboard," shouted the shrill voice of the conductor and Mary awoke from her reverie, and twining her arms around Sally Furbush's neck, bade her good-bye.

"The Lord be with you," said Sally, "and be sure you pay strict attention to Grammar!"

Mary next looked for Ella, but she stood at a distance jesting lightly with Henry Lincoln, and evidently determined not to see her sister, who was hurrying towards her, when "All aboard" was again shouted in her ear, while at the same moment, the conductor lifted her lightly upon the step where Rose and Jenny were standing.

"This car is brim full," said Rose, looking over her shoulder, "but I guess you can find a good seat in the next one."

The train was already in motion, and as Mary did not care to peril her life or limbs for the sake of pleasing Rose, she followed her into the car, where there was a goodly number of unoccupied seats, notwithstanding Rose's a.s.sertion to the contrary. As the train moved rapidly over the long, level meadow, and pa.s.sed the Chicopee burying-ground, Mary looked out to catch a glimpse of the thorn-apple tree, which overshadowed the graves of her parents, and then, as she thought how cold and estranged was the only one left of all the home circle, she drew her veil over her face and burst into tears.

"Who is that young lady?" asked Ida, who was riding backward and consequently directly opposite to Mary.

"What young lady?" said Rose; and Ida replied, "The one who kissed that queer-looking old woman and then followed you and Jenny into the cars."

"Oh, that was Mary Howard," was Rose's answer.

"Mary Howard!" repeated Ida, as if the name were one she had heard before, "who is she, and what is she?"

"n.o.body but a town pauper," answered Rose, "and one of Jenny's protegee's. You see she is sitting by her."

"She doesn't seem like a pauper," said Ida. "I wish she would take off that veil. I want to see how she looks."

"Rough and blowsy, of course, like any other country girl," was Rose's reply.

By this time Mary had dried her tears, and when they reached the station at Warren, she removed her veil, disclosing to view a face, which instead of being "rough and blowsy" was smooth and fair almost as marble.

"That isn't a pauper, I know," said Ida; and Rose replied, "Well, she has been, and what's the difference?"

"But where does she live now?" continued Ida. "I begin to grow interested."

"I suppose you remember Mrs. Mason, who used to live in Boston,"

answered Rose. "Well, she has adopted her, I believe, but I don't know much about it, and care a good deal less."

"Mrs. Mason!" repeated Ida. "Why, Aunt Martha thinks all the world of her, and I fancy she wouldn't sleep quite so soundly, if she knew her adopted daughter was in the car. I mean to tell her.--Aunt Martha, Aunt Martha!"

But Aunt Martha was too fast asleep to heed Ida's call, and a gentle shake was necessary to rouse her to consciousness. But when she became fully awake, and knew why she was roused, she started up, and going towards Mary, said in her own peculiarly sweet and winning manner, "Ida tells me you are Mrs. Mason's adopted daughter, and Mrs. Mason is the dearest friend I ever had. I am delighted to see you."

Jenny immediately introduced her to Mary, as Miss Selden, whispering in her ear at the same time that she was George's aunt; then rising she gave her seat to Aunt Martha, taking another one for herself near Rose and Ida. Without seeming to be curious at all, Aunt Martha had a peculiar way of drawing people out to talk of themselves, and by the time they reached the station, where they left the cars for Mt.

Holyoke, she had learned a good share of Mary's early history, and felt quite as much pleased with the freshness and simplicity of her young friend, as Mary did with her polished and elegant manners.

CHAPTER XIX.

MT. HOLYOKE

"Oh, forlorn what a looking place!" exclaimed Rose Lincoln, as from the windows of the crowded vehicle in which they had come from the cars, she first obtained a view of the not very handsome village of South Hadley.

Rose was in the worst of humors, for by some mischance, Mary was on the same seat with herself, and consequently she was very much distressed, and crowded. She, however, felt a little afraid of Aunt Martha, who she saw was inclined to favor the object of her wrath, so she restrained her fault-finding spirit until she arrived at South Hadley, where every thing came in for a share of her displeasure.