The English Orphans Part 4

Mary knew she was indebted to this personage for the shower bath, for the water was still trickling from her fingers, which were now engaged in picking her teeth with a large pin. There was something exceedingly cross and forbidding in her looks, and Mary secretly hoped she would not prove to be Mrs. Parker, the wife of the overseer. She was soon relieved of her fears by the overseer himself, who came forward and said, "Polly, I don't see any other way but you'll have to take these children into the room next to yourn. The baby worries a good deal, and such things trouble my wife, now she's sick."

The person addressed as "Polly," gave her shoulders an angry jerk, and sticking the pin on the waist of her dress, replied, "So I s'pose it's no matter if I'm kept awake all night, and worried to death. But I guess you'd find there'd be queer doins here if I should be taken away. I wish the British would stay to hum, and not lug their young ones here for us to take care of."

This was said with a lowering frown, and movement towards Mary, who shrank back into the corner and covered her mouth with her hand, as if that were the cause of offence.

"But you can take an extra nap after dinner," said Mr. Parker, in a conciliatory manner. "And then you are so good at managing children, that I thought they would be better off near you."

This speech, while it mollified Polly, made Mary shudder, as she thought of Alice's being "managed" by such a woman. But she had no time for thought, for Polly, who was very rapid in her movements, and always in a hurry, said, "Come, child, I will show you where you are going to sleep;" at the same time she caught up Alice, who, not liking her handling, kicked so vigorously that she was soon dropped; Polly remarking, that "she was mighty strong in her legs for a sick baby."

After pa.s.sing up a dark stairway they came to a door, which opened under the garret stairs, and Mary was startled by a voice which seemed to be almost over her head, and which, between a sneer and a hiss, called out, "See where the immaculate Miss Grundy comes!"

This was followed by a wild, insane chuckle, which made Mary spring in terror to Polly's side.

"Oh, who is it?" said she. "Is it Patsy?"

"Patsy!" was the tart reply. "She never is saucy like that. It's Sal Furbush."

Mary longed to ask who Sal Furbush was; but as her guide did not seem, at all inclined to be communicative, she followed on in silence until they came to a longer and lighter hall, or "s.p.a.ceway," as it is frequently called in New England. On each side of this there were doors opening into small sleeping rooms, and into one of these Polly led her companion, saying, as she did so, "This is your room, and it's a great favor to you to be so near me. But mind, that child mustn't cry and keep me awake nights, for if she does, may-be you'll have to move into that other s.p.a.ce, where we heard the laugh."

Mary thought she would rather do any thing than that. She also felt a great curiosity to know who her companion was, so she at last ventured to ask, "Do you live here, Miss Polly?"

"Why, yes, I'm staying here for a spell now:--kind of seeing to things. My name isn't Polly. It's Mrs. Mary Grundy, and somehow folks have got to nicknaming me Polly, but it'll look more mannerly in you to call me Mrs. Grundy; but what am I thinking of? The folks must have their supper. So you'd better come down now."

"If you please," said Mary, who knew she could not eat a mouthful, "If you please, I'd rather stay here and rest me if I can have some milk for Alice by and by."

"Mercy sakes, ain't that child weaned?" asked Mrs. Grundy.

"Ma'am?" said Mary, not exactly understanding her.

"Ain't Ellis weaned, or must we break into the cream a dozen times a day for her?"

"She has never eaten any thing but milk," said Mary, weeping to think how different Mrs. Grundy's manner was from her own dear mother's.

"Wall, there's no use blubberin' so. If she must have milk, why she must, and that's the end on't. But what I want to know is, how folks as poor as yourn, could afford to buy milk for so big a child."

Mary could have told of many hungry nights which she and Frank had pa.s.sed in order that Ella and Alice might be fed, but she made no remark, and Mrs. Grundy soon left the room saying, "Come down when you get ready for the milk I s'pose _skim_ will do."

Half an hour after Alice began to cry; and Mary, knowing she was hungry, laid her upon the bed and started for the milk. She trembled as she drew near the garret stairs, and trod softly that she might not be heard, but as she was pa.s.sing the mysterious door, a voice entirely different in its tone from the one a.s.sumed towards Mrs. Grundy, called out, "Come here, little dear, and see your Aunty."

Mary's circle of acquaintances was quite as large as she cared to have it, and quickening her steps, she was soon in the kitchen, where she found several old ladies still lingering over cups of very weak and very red looking tea. As she entered the room they all suspended their operations, and looking hard at her, asked if she were the little English girl. On being told that she was, three of them returned to their cups, while one shook her head, saying. "Poor child, I pity you."

Mary had heard that remark many times, but she knew that the words now conveyed other meaning than what referred to her face or teeth.

"Where can I find Mrs. Grundy?" she at last ventured to ask.

"Where can you find who?" asked a spiteful looking woman. "Did she tell you to call her so?"

"She told me that was her name,--yes, ma'am," said Mary.

"Well, _Mrs._ Grundy is in the but'ry," indicating with her elbow the direction.

Mary had no trouble in finding "the but'ry," but on trying the door, she found it fastened inside. In answer to her gentle knock a harsh voice replied, "Who's there?"

"It's I. I've come after the milk for Alice."

With a jerk Mrs. Grundy opened the door, and putting a pint cup two thirds full of blue milk in Mary's hand, she hastily shut and fastened it again. Quick as her movements were, Mary caught a smell of strong green tea, and the sight of a sugar bowl and a slice of white bread.

She knew now why the door was b.u.t.toned, but thinking it was none of her business, she started to return to the kitchen. As she pa.s.sed the outer door, an old gray-haired man, with a face perfectly simple and foolish in its expression, stepped towards her, stretching out his hands as if to reach her. With a loud cry she rushed headlong into the kitchen, where one of the women was still sitting.

"What's broke loose now?" asked the woman, to which Mary replied, "Look at him!" at the same time pointing to the man, who with his hand thrust out was still advancing towards her.

"Don't be scared," said the woman. "It's uncle Peter. Let him touch you and he'll go off;" but Mary didn't choose to be touched, and retreating towards the chamber door, she fled rapidly up the stairs.

This time she was not accosted by any one, but as she pa.s.sed the dark closet, she was surprised to hear a musical voice singing the national air of her own country, and she wondered, too, at the taste of the singer in finishing every verse with "G.o.d save Miss Grundy."

That night Alice, who missed her cradle, was unusually restless, and Mary, remembering Mrs. Grundy's threat, carried her in her arms until after midnight. Then without undressing she threw herself upon the bed, and, for the first time in many weeks, dreamed of George and his parting promise to see her again. The next morning when she awoke she found Mr. Parker's prediction verified, for the clouds were pouring rain. "Billy won't come to-day," was her first thought, and throwing herself upon the floor she burst into tears, wishing as she had once done before that she had died with her mother.

In the midst of her grief the door was pushed hastily open, and Mrs.

Grundy's harsh voice exclaimed, "Wall, so you are up at last, hey? I didn't know but you was goin' to take it upon you to sleep over, but that don't answer here."

"Is it after breakfast time?" asked Mary.

"After breakfast time," repeated Mrs. Grundy. "No, but I guess you'll find there's something to do before breakfast, or did you think we's goin' to support you in idleness?"

Here, touched perhaps by the pale, tearful face uplifted to hers, Mrs.

Grundy's voice softened, and in a milder tone she added, "We won't mind about it, seein' it's the first morning, but come, you must be hungry by this time."

Although so poor, Mrs. Howard had been extremely neat and as she said "cold water cost nothing," she had insisted upon her children's being very nice and particular in their morning toilet. Mary remembered this, and now casting a rueful glance around the room she said, "I wonder where I am going to wash me."

The loud, scornful laugh which followed this remark made her look up amazed at Mrs. Grundy, who replied, "In the back room sink, of course.

May-be you expected to have a china bowl and pitcher in your room, and somebody to empty your slop. I wonder what _airs_ paupers won't take on themselves next."

"I didn't mean to take airs," said Mary; "I don't care where I wash myself, but Alice is sick, and mother had me bathe her every morning.

While we were at Mrs. Bender's, though, I didn't do it, and I don't think she seems as well."

"Pride and poverty," muttered Mrs. Grundy. "She won't get many baths here, I can tell you, nor you either, unless it is a dishwater one.

Know how to wash dishes hey?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Mary meekly.

"Then I'll give you a chance to try your hand after breakfast, but come, I'm in a hurry."

Mary glanced at Alice. She was sleeping sweetly, and though there seemed to be no reason, she still lingered.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Mrs. Grundy, and Mary, with some hesitation, answered, "I haven't said my prayers yet."

A change pa.s.sed suddenly over Mrs. Grundy's face, and she turned away without a word. When she was gone Mary fell on her knees, and though the words she uttered were addressed more to her mother than to G.o.d, she felt comforted, and rising up started for the kitchen. It was a motley group which she found a.s.sembled around the breakfast table, and as she entered the room, the man called Uncle Peter smiled on her, saying, "Come here, little daughter, and let me touch you with the tip of my fourth finger."

Shrinking to nearly half her usual size, she managed to pa.s.s him without coming in contact with said finger, which was merely a stump, the first joint having been amputated. On reaching the back room she readily found the place where she with all the rest was to wash. For this she did not care, as the water was as cold and pure, and seemed as refreshing as when dipped from her mother's tin wash-basin. But when she came to the wiping part, and tried in vain to find a clean corner' on the long towel, which hung upon a roller, she felt that she was indeed a pauper.