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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75471-0.txt b/75471-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a97c334 --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7256 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75471 *** + +Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. +New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain. + +[Illustration: _Rhoda's Education.—Frontispiece._ +"And she has written over the flyleaves so that you can't take it back."] + + + + [The Boonville Series] + + + + RHODA'S EDUCATION; + + OR, + + TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING. + + + BY + + LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY + + AUTHOR OF + + "IRISH AMY," "COMFORT ALLISON," "THE TATTLER," + "NELLY; OR THE BEST INHERITANCE," "TWIN ROSES," "ETHEL'S TRIAL," + "THE FAIRCHILDS," "THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION," "THE RED PLANT," + "PERCY'S HOLIDAYS," "ON THE MOUNTAIN; OR, LOST AND FOUND," + "CLARIBEL; OR, OUT OF PRISON," "JENNY AND THE INSECTS," ETC. + + + —————————— + + + PHILADELPHIA: + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION + NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET. + —————————— + NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE. + + + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by the + + AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, + + In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. + + ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— + + + + ————————————————— ———————————————— + WESCOTT & THOMSON HENRY B. ASHMEAD + Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada. Printer, Philada. + + + + CONTENTS. + + —————— + +CHAP. + + I. LITTLE BROTHER + + II. AUNT HANNAH + + III. THE CLOUD GROWS + + IV. THE CHANGE + + V. A NEW LIFE + + VI. MISS BROWN + + VII. AFFAIRS AT BOONVILLE + + VIII. A NEW HOME + + IX. MRS. FERRAND'S + + X. SYSTEM + + XI. THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP + + XII. AN OLD ENEMY + + XIII. A NEW FRIEND + + XIV. MISS DAVIS'S LETTER + + XV. WHAT A BIT OF SOAP DID + + XVI. MISS THURSTON + + XVII. DOCTOR DOUGLASS + +XVIII. SCHOOL + + XIX. THE END + + + + PREFACE. + + —————— + +IF this book does not make its own moral plain, it is a failure. +I merely wish to preclude a certain kind of criticism by saying that all +the most improbable incidents contained in the tale are literally true. +I could point out more than one Professor Sampson, and any manager +of an orphan school or any similar institution can relate stories of +conduct as heartless as that of Mr. and Mrs. Bowers. I hope the book +may be read with profit both by young people and their parents. + + LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY. + + + + RHODA'S EDUCATION. + + —————— + +CHAPTER I. + +_LITTLE BROTHER._ + +RHODA BOWERS stood at the east window of her own room, busily engaged +in "binding off" the neck of a little baby's shirt—one of a set which +had occupied all the spare minutes which she could contrive to spend in +her own room for the past few weeks. They were not many, for she had to +assist her mother in the housework, and yet she had contrived to knit +four little shirts of the softest wool and prettiest design for the new +little brother who had lately come to the household. Rhoda had taken +great pains with them, and she meant, if her mother could spare her, to +go down this very afternoon to Aunt Hannah's and learn of her how to +crochet the scalloped edge round the tops. + +"How pretty they are!" she said as she bound off the last stitch and +held the little garment up before her. "I am so glad Aunt Hannah knew +how to make them. I only hope mother will like them. Heigho! I wonder +if my own mother used to make any such pretty things for me when I +was a baby? How I do wish I could remember the least thing about her! +But I don't. It seems to me that the very first thing I recollect is +Mrs. Munson feeding me with little bits of cold turkey in the nursery +at 'The Home.' I wonder if the old place looks at all as it used to? +Some time I think I will ask mother to let me go back there for a +little visit. I should like to see them all again. But I dare say it +is changed since my time. I think everything and everybody changes in +this world." And Rhoda's face clouded a little as she stood looking out +of the window, but it cleared up again, and she gave herself a kind of +shake, as if to get rid of some incumbrance. + +"There, now, Rhoda Bowers! Didn't I tell you never to let such a +thought come into your head again as long as you lived? What do you +mean by it? Don't you know that it is high time you were off if you +mean to see Aunt Hannah this afternoon? And don't you think you would +be more like a rational being if you went about your business? Answer +me that, now!" + +Having given herself this little lecture, Rhoda put her work into her +pocket, got her hat, and went down stairs to her mother's room. There +was a little fire, though it was a fine, mild day in the fall, and Mrs. +Bowers sat by the stove nursing her baby. She was a pretty woman of +thirty or thereabouts, and would have been pleasing but for a certain +peevishness and, as it were, narrowness of expression which did not +promise well. + +"Dear little fellow!" said Rhoda, stooping down and kissing the baby. +"How he does grow, doesn't he? I am so glad he is a boy. I always did +want a little brother. But sister will be almost an old woman before +you are grown-up, little man." + +"A great many things may happen before he is grown-up," said Mrs. +Bowers, on whom Rhoda's remark seemed to grate a little. "I wish you +would not be always saying such things and looking forward so, Rhoda." + +"Why not?" asked Rhoda. "I think it is so nice to look forward." + +"It is a good thing to look backward sometimes," said Mrs. Bowers. +"Where are you going now?" + +"You know you said this morning that I might go down and spend the +afternoon with Aunt Hannah," said Rhoda. "She is going away so soon I +may not have another chance." + +"Oh, very well. I do not see what you find so very attractive in Aunt +Hannah, but I suppose almost any place is better than home." + +Rhoda's face clouded again, and she looked as if some sharp answer +might be lurking behind her compressed lips. If so, it was not allowed +to escape, for she said, gently, though with some apparent effort,— + +"I have set the table, and laid the fire all ready to light, and filled +the tea-kettle, but I will come back in time to get the tea if you +like, or I won't go at all if you want me, mother dear. Don't you feel +so well this afternoon?" + +Mrs. Bowers looked a little ashamed. + +"Yes, child, only I am tired and worried about something. You mustn't +mind if I am cross. You are a good girl, Rhoda, and always have been—I +will say that, whatever happens. There! Run along and have a good long +visit with Aunt Hannah, and stay till dark if you like. As you say, you +may never have another chance—not in a good long time, at least; and +the old lady has always been a kind friend to you. I only wish, for +your sake, she were a little better off." + +"Why?" asked Rhoda. + +"Oh, because—because she might leave you something one of these days," +answered Mrs. Bowers, arranging the baby's dress as she spoke. + +"I suppose she is pretty poor?" + +"Well, no; she has her place and about three hundred a year." + +"How did she come to be left so, when her brother, Uncle Weightman, is +so well off?" asked Rhoda. + +"I don't know the rights of it," answered Mrs. Bowers. "There were two +wills, I know, and by the last one the children were to share alike, +but it wasn't signed or witnessed right, or something, and so they went +by the first will, which gave everything to Jacob—only this little +place and Aunt Hannah's property. But, Rhoda, you must remember not to +call him Uncle Weightman to his face. You know he doesn't like it." + +"No fear," said Rhoda, laughing; "I don't like him well enough for +that. He is so domineering and interfering, I do wonder how father puts +up with his ways so patiently." + +"Well, he is getting an old man now, and your father is his heir by +rights; so he naturally wants to please him. He can make us all rich if +he chooses." + +"Yes, but he won't choose, you'll see. He will go on saving all his +life, and then think to make up by leaving his money to the Bible +society or some such thing, and think himself very generous because he +gives away his money when he can't keep it any longer. I never can see +any goodness in such bequests." + +"I don't know about that. But anyhow you must be careful, for your +father would be very angry if you should do anything to offend Uncle +Jacob." + +"I'll be careful, never fear," said Rhoda. "But don't you really want +me this afternoon, mother dear?" + +"No, no, child. Run along and have a good time while you can." + +Rhoda kissed her mother and the baby; and putting on her hat, she +walked thoughtfully down the garden, jumped lightly over the rail +fence, and took the path across the meadow which led "'cross-lots" to +Aunt Hannah's little brown house on the edge of the mill-pond. + +Rhoda Bowers was an orphan, but she had never felt the want of a +mother's care, as many children do. Till she was seven years old she +had lived at the old ladies' "Home" in Milby—an excellent institution +founded some thirty years ago by two wealthy old ladies "for the +maintenance of twenty widows or single women of good repute who should +have passed the age of sixty years, and also, should the funds prove +sufficient, of no more than eight poor little girls." The property +belonging to "The Home" had greatly increased in value; and as all the +funds were properly employed, both the old ladies and the little girls +were made very comfortable indeed. + +This institution had been Rhoda's home ever since she could remember, +till one day Mr. and Mrs. Bowers of Boonville, attracted by her bright +gray eyes and pretty curling black hair, had adopted her for their own. +Rhoda had been rather homesick at first, but she soon became reconciled +to the change, and had found her life as happy as that of most children. + +Mr. Bowers lived on a farm about half a mile from the little village +of Boonville, and had besides an interest in one of the mills on +the Outlet, as the little river was called. He could not be called +rich, but neither was he poor. The farm was a good one, and the mill, +taking one year with another, was fairly productive. Mr. Bowers owned +a nice pair of horses, and his wife dressed well and might have kept +a servant-girl if she had chosen. In short, as Aunt Hannah Weightman +said, James and Martha were about as well off as anybody in the world, +if they could only think so. + +But that was just the thing. They could not think so as long as Uncle +Jacob Weightman counted his money by hundreds of thousands—as long as +Mrs. Bowers's brother-in-law, Mr. Evans, owned one of the finest places +in Hobarttown, and Mrs. Bowers's sister had three new dresses to her +one, and could go to the springs and the seashore, and even to Europe, +every summer of her life if she chose. + +Mrs. Bowers fancied that her sister Anne "felt above her," which was +not true, and that Anne cared for nothing but the things of this world, +which was not true, either; and when Mrs. Evans, who had lost all her +own children but one little delicate boy, proposed that Rhoda should +spend the winter with her and go to school, Mrs. Bowers refused her +consent with some acrimony, saying to her husband afterward that she +thought Anne had enough without trying to get Rhoda away from her. + +"She just wants Rhoda to wait on that boy of hers," said Mr. Bowers. + +"Oh no, I don't think that," answered his wife; "Anne is no hand to +save in that way. But she has always liked Rhoda, and she wanted her +when we first took the child; but Rhoda isn't going, and that is all +about it. She is doing well enough about school here, and I don't want +her set up to feel above me." + +Rhoda had been a good deal disappointed by this decision:—not that +she was at all dissatisfied with her present condition, but she liked +Aunt Anne and Uncle Evans, and she wanted to see a little more of the +world than was to be found at Boonville; and besides that, she was +very desirous of getting a thoroughly good education. She had nearly +exhausted the capabilities of the district school, and Mrs. Maynard, +the minister's wife, who had kindly undertaken to carry her on farther +in her studies, had gone away. Yes, Rhoda would have liked to go to +Hobarttown. But the offer had never been renewed, and now Mr. and Mrs. +Evans were going to Europe, to be absent three or four years. + +It was a disappointment certainly, but there was no help for it, and +there was no use in making herself miserable over it, either—so Rhoda +argued with herself, very sensibly; so she put away the thought of what +she might have done at Hobarttown, and set herself to accomplish as +much as she possibly could at home. + +There was another cloud which had lately appeared in Rhoda's sky. +She had said to herself that this cloud was all in her imagination, +or at least was no more than a passing mist. But this afternoon, as +she walked across the fields toward Aunt Hannah's, it assumed a more +definite shape and consistency than it had ever done before, and she +said to herself that she would ask Aunt Hannah about it. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_AUNT HANNAH._ + +AUNT HANNAH WEIGHTMAN lived in a little red house near the edge of the +mill-pond, as it was called, though it was little more than a widening +of the Outlet, caused by the dam which supplied Mr. Francis's mills. +The situation was a very pretty one. On one side of the house lay +Aunt Hannah's garden, green with well-conditioned vegetables and gay +with flowers, not only of the commoner but also of the rarer kinds, +for she was one of those people for whom everything grows. On the +other side lay three or four acres of pasture-land, enough, with some +help, to keep Aunt Hannah's white cow, most wonderful of milkers both +for quantity and quality, and where grew in their season the finest +mushrooms in the country. + +The "door-yard" of the little dwelling was crowded with lilacs and +other blossoming shrubs; the plain board fence and rough stone walls +were covered with Virginia creepers, clematis, and morning-glories, and +the turf was so neat and green as to give rise to a report among the +school-boys that Aunt Hannah dressed it every morning with a hairbrush +and a fine-tooth comb. The house was dark red, with rather dusky +and faded green blinds. There were three rooms besides the kitchen +below and two above; and as Aunt Hannah had inherited the household +goods both of mother and grandmother, there was no lack of solid, +respectable, old-fashioned furniture. + +"How pretty it looks!" said Rhoda to herself as she came across the +pasture and stopped a moment to bestow a pat on old Snowball. "It ought +to be put in a picture. One could tell who lived there by the outside +of the house. It looks just like Aunt Hannah herself. What lots of +button mushrooms! I shall have a fine time with them when my work is +done." + +As Rhoda drew near the side window, she heard within what boded no good +to her pleasant afternoon—namely, the sharp, thin, and growling voice +of Mr. Jacob Weightman, Aunt Hannah's brother, of whom she stood in +great fear. Now I am aware that very few voices could succeed in being +sharp and growling at the same time, but Uncle Jacob's accomplished +this feat. + +"Oh dear!" thought Rhoda. "There goes my nice visit. He will just stay +and scold all the afternoon, I dare say. I wish I hadn't put on my new +dress. He will be sure to say something about it. I mean to go round to +the back door and wait; perhaps he will go away some time or other." + +Rhoda sat down on the step at the back kitchen door, and occupied +herself alternately in watching the lights and shadows on the stream +and in playing with the white Persian kitten Fuzzyball, which romped +about the yard, while her equally white and long-haired mother sat +couched by Rhoda's side in all the calm dignity befitting a lady who +had come all the way from Bombay. + +As Rhoda sat on the step she could not help hearing through the window +parts of Uncle Jacob's exhortation. + +"It is all nonsense, Hannah," she heard him say, "perfect nonsense, for +you to take up so much house-room. The house is arranged just right for +two families, and it is too bad to be so extravagant. You could live in +the east half, if you must keep house, and rent the other part for a +dollar a week. It is quite large enough—quite." + +"I don't think so," answered Aunt Hannah, quietly. "I like my house to +myself and I never yet saw the roof large enough to cover two families." + +"Then there is that cow," continued Art Weightman, disregarding the +interruption, "Where is the sense of your keeping a cow?" + +"To give milk," answered Aunt Hannah. + +"To give milk, indeed!" said Uncle Jacob, in a tone as if Miss Hannah +had said the cow was good to read aloud or to calculate the longitude. +"As if you wanted a cow to give milk! Why, you can't use more than a +quart a day at the outside, and what becomes of the rest, I want to +know? I don't hear of your selling any." + +Aunt Hannah did not seem to feel obliged to gratify her brother's +curiosity, for she remained silent. + +"Umph!" said Rhoda to herself. "Perhaps if he should ask Widow Makay +and poor old Aunty Sarah, they might tell him something about the milk; +though I don't exactly see what business it is of his." + +But Uncle Jacob was continuing his lecture: + +"The fact is, Hannah, you are no manager at all; you don't know how +to save. The right way would be for you to break up housekeeping and +board somewhere, for two or three dollars a week, fat and kill that old +cow, and rent your house and land. Then it would bring you in a good, +handsome sum, whereas now you don't get your living out of it; and you +might lay up money every year. Why, you might die a rich woman if you +would only be guided by me and take care of things." + +"Possibly, Jacob, but I prefer living a rich woman," said Aunt Hannah. +"I have enough as it is to make me very comfortable, and to help others +a little, and I don't exactly see what good it would do me to die rich, +unless I could take my money along with me, which does not seem very +practicable. I like to have my own house over my head and my own land +around me; and as I have nobody dependent upon me, I don't see that I +have any particular motive for saving more money than will serve to +take care of me if I should be long sick, and bury me when I am dead; +and that I have done already. So you see I feel quite easy on that +score." + +"You might think of somebody besides yourself," said Uncle Jacob. +"There is that boy of John Bowers's." + +"Oh, he is likely to be well enough off," said Aunt Hannah. "If I were +to save, it would not be for the boy, but for the girl." + +"The girl is no relation to you, or them either," growled Mr. +Weightman. "She has never done work enough to pay for her board, and +she never will. It has all been a piece of nonsense from the taking of +her in the first place to the present time. They ought to have taught +her to work, and kept her at it, instead of sending her to school and +dressing her up as fine as a lady. Why, Mr. Shepherd's bound-girl +does more than half the work, and she is only twelve years old. Mrs. +Shepherd says she can do quite a large washing now." + +Boiling over with indignation, Rhoda jumped up and came into the +kitchen, knocking down a pail as she did so and making a tremendous +clatter. As she was picking it up, Aunt Hannah opened the inner door: + +"Are you there, child. I thought I heard somebody come in a while ago. +Have you been sitting here all the time?" + +"Yes," said Rhoda. "Aunt Hannah, I didn't mean to listen, but I could +not help hearing." + +"Never mind, dear; there is no harm done." + +"Listeners never hear any good of themselves," said Uncle Jacob, with +an ill-natured sneer. + +"That depends on whom they listen to, Uncle Jacob," answered Rhoda, in +her vexation committing two offences—one in answering at all, and the +other in saying "Uncle." "One might listen to Aunt Hannah all day, and +never hear ill either of himself or anybody else." + +"There! Never mind," interposed Aunt Hannah. "Don't you want to take +the basket and see if you can find any mushrooms? They ought to be +plenty after the rains last night. There! Never mind, dear," she +whispered again, patting Rhoda's hot cheek with her soft withered hand. +"Run away a little. It will be all right when you come back, and we +will have a nice time together." + +From her earliest childhood Rhoda had learned to obey, and she never +thought of disputing with Aunt Hannah. She took the basket and went +out to the pasture, followed by an exasperating laugh from Uncle Jacob +which certainly did not tend to make her cheeks any cooler. + +"Impudent little piece!" said he. + +"She is not impudent, Jacob," answered Aunt Hannah, with more than +common decision, "but she is sensitive and high-spirited, and you +provoked her. Rhoda is very far above listening, or tattling, either." + +"Of course she is a paragon," said Uncle Jacob, rising and taking +his hat; "charity children always are, I believe, according to the +Sunday-school books. Well, sister Hannah, I must bid you good-day, +since you have so much more agreeable company on hand. If you make up +your mind to rent your place, I can find you a good tenant. I advise +you to think over what I have said." + +"On the contrary, I shall forget it just as soon as I can," thought +Aunt Hannah, but she did not say so; being one of those fortunate +people who can keep their thoughts to themselves. + +She stood looking after her brother for a moment, and then went into +her bedroom and shut the door. When she came out, the cloud of vexation +had passed from her fair, aged face, though she still looked somewhat +sad. She put on a broad hat, and taking a basket, went out to join +Rhoda in her search for mushrooms. + +In the course of an hour both baskets were filled to the brim, and +Rhoda's straw hat besides, and the gatherers returned to the house and +sat down in the kitchen, Aunt Hannah tying on a large calico apron over +her dress. + +"Now I will show you how to do the edge to your shirts, and then you +shall finish them while I prepare my mushrooms," said she. "These +little buttons will make beautiful pickles, and the large ones will do +for catsup. They are the finest we have had this year." + +"Isn't it odd," said Rhoda, "that mushrooms growing in the pastures of +Lake County should be helping to educate a little girl in China?" + +"No more so than that silk grown in China should help to clothe a +little girl living in Lake County," answered Aunt Hannah. + +"Well, perhaps not. How much money have you made by your mushrooms +first and last?" + +"I don't know, my dear; I have it all down in a book, but I don't +recollect the amount. It varies with different years. Last year was a +bad season for the mushrooms, and this is a good one; but I have never +failed to make my thirty dollars but once." + +"What did you do then?" asked Rhoda. + +"I made it up in another way." + +"If you had put all that in the bank, now, you would have saved quite +a sum by this time," said Rhoda, with a mischievous smile. "Why don't +you?" + +"I think it is safer where it is," answered Aunt Hannah, dryly. "It +would never do for me to begin to save in that way; I should grow too +much in earnest about it." + +"You, Aunt Hannah?" + +"Yes, dear. I am naturally very much in earnest and inclined to +persevere in what I undertake; and besides, it is in me to be fond of +money for its own sake. I should never dare to make it an object." + +"But all rich people are not stingy or mean or grasping, Aunt Hannah. I +am sure Uncle Evans is not." + +"No, indeed. He is just the man to be rich, for he gives out to all +around him. It is not the being rich that hurts people, child remember +that; it is the trusting in uncertain riches that makes the entrance +hard to the kingdom. It is not money, but the love of money, that is +the root of all evil. The world does us no harm so long as we keep it +at arm's length. It only hurts us when we let it get inside our hearts, +and the poor, and especially folks in moderate circumstances, may do +so, perhaps, quite as much as the rich. I know plenty of women in this +little village who spend far more time and thought, and, according to +their means, more money, on their dress than your aunt Evans does on +hers." + +Rhoda was silent, thinking that this was the case with her own +mother, and wondering whether she were one of the people in moderate +circumstances who were in Aunt Hannah's mind. But she quickly dismissed +the idea, and began on one of the two subjects which she had, as it +were, brought from home to talk over with Aunt Hannah: + +"Aunt Hannah, there are two things that trouble me." + +"Only two?" asked Aunt Hannah. + +"Why, no—only two that I know of," answered Rhoda, considering; "only +two of any importance, I believe." + +"And one of them, perhaps, is not so very important," said Aunt +Hannah. "Are you thinking about what you heard my brother saying this +afternoon? You mustn't let that worry you." + +"Oh, I don't," said Rhoda; "only I am sorry I offended him. I know he +doesn't like to have me call him 'Uncle,' and I am sorry I answered him +back. However, I dare say he will never think of it again; I am too +insignificant to trouble him." + +Aunt Hannah sighed. She was pretty sure her brother would think of it +again, and she knew that nothing which crossed his wishes or designs +was too insignificant to vex him. + +"Since I have guessed wrong, I won't try to guess again. I will let you +tell me your two troubles." + +"Well, then," said Rhoda, "one of my troubles is about my education. I +do so very much want an education, and I don't see how I am ever to get +one without going away from Boonville, and I don't see how I go." + +"What is 'an education,' Rhoda?" asked Aunt Hannah. "What do you mean +by it?" + +"Why, an education is—why, going to school and studying—going through +a course of study," answered Rhoda, not very clearly. "I know what I +mean, but I can't put it into words." + +"You don't know whether you know what you mean or not unless you can +put your meaning into words," said Aunt Hannah. "Suppose you bring the +book on the table and let us see what this same word education really +does mean. You will find it in the lower part of the bookcase." + +Rhoda brought the volume on "Mental Discipline" from the east room, and +running over the pages, found what she sought and read aloud: + +"Education, the act of educating; the act of developing and cultivating +the various physical, intellectual, and moral faculties; formation of +the manners and improvement of the mind; instruction, tuition, culture, +breeding." + +"There you have it," said Aunt Hannah; "I suppose that is what you +want. Now, the question is whether it is necessary to go away from +Boonville to obtain it. What do you think?" + +"Well, as to my physical faculties, they are pretty well developed +already," said Rhoda, smiling. "I fancy I can walk and ride and so on, +as well as any girl of my age in the county, and I am not very bad at +doing housework; only mother says I forget what I am about." + +"Well, how about the others?" + +"I think my moral qualities have a good chance enough, considering what +a nice home I have and who has always been my Sunday-school teacher," +said Rhoda, with a loving glance at Aunt Hannah—"a better chance than +they have improved, I am afraid. I wish you were not going away, Aunt +Hannah." + +"It will be only for a few weeks, my dear. Well, now for the +intellectual part." + +"Exactly: and there you must admit, Aunt Hannah, that I have very +little chance. There isn't one bit of use in my going to school to +Miss Smith any more. I only go round and round like a blind horse in a +brickyard; only I don't help to make any bricks, that I see. I thought +I had it all arranged so nicely, and then Mr. Maynard must go and get a +call somewhere else." + +"Yes, I was sorry for that. Mrs. Maynard was a very nice woman." + +"And really, Aunt Hannah, I don't see how that part of my education +is to come about. I should like to learn French and German and Latin, +and especially music. I don't think I care so much about drawing and +rhetoric and moral philosophy, and all the other things that girls +learn in school." + +"And I should like to have you. But, Rhoda, you need not be an +uneducated person, even if you have none of these things, and you can +have some of them as well out of school as in—not as easily, perhaps, +but as well." + +"How, Aunt Hannah?" + +"By studying what you can find to study, and thinking about what you +learn." + +"There is one of my great troubles," said Rhoda, candidly; "I never can +think on purpose—regularly, I mean. I try to do it, and the first I +know my thoughts are at the ends of the earth." + +"Then you had better begin your education right there, my dear," said +Aunt Hannah; "for nothing more important than the art of thinking can +be learned at school or anywhere else. Come, now, let me set you a +task. I think you mentioned history as one of the things you wanted to +learn?" + +"It is one, whether I mentioned it or not." + +"Very good. Now, I shall be gone about three weeks. You may take home +my Rollin, and read about ten pages a day; and when I come home, I will +see how much you can tell me about it. You had better take the whole +set. You may want to refer from one volume to another. + +"And, Rhoda, try to educate yourself in another point. Try to learn +to mind what you are about, and to do your best at whatever you +undertake, whether it is reading or housework, or anything else, and +learn all that comes in your way, if it be no more than a mere piece of +fancy-work or a new recipe for cake. You will always find some corner +where such things fit in. If you want any other books while I am gone, +you can come down and get them. Aunt Sarah will stay here and keep +house." + +"I wondered what was to become of Molly and Fuzzyball," said Rhoda. +"But, Aunt Hannah, though all this is very nice, and I shall like it +ever so much, it doesn't help me altogether." + +"I know it, child, I understand you exactly, because I have been in the +same place. At your age I was as ambitious as you are, and I would have +moved heaven and earth, as the saying is, to get just such an education +as you want, but it was not for me, and I had to be content without it." + +"I am sure nobody would think of your wanting an education, Aunt +Hannah," said Rhoda; "I think you know more things than anybody I ever +saw. I mean you have more general information, as Uncle Evans says. He +was talking about some young man in the college one day, and he said +the boy had been to school so constantly that he has never acquired any +general information." + +Aunt Hannah smiled: + +"Well, my dear; I never thought the fact of my having no regular school +education was any reason for my not learning all I could, and it need +not be so in your case. Make the best of all the opportunities that +come in your way, and you will never be lacking, though you may not +learn all the things you would wish to know. Above all, don't neglect +the things you can do, because you are waiting to do something better. +Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; and, my dear, +try not to fret or worry about the future, but leave it in the hands of +your heavenly Father. + + "'Trust in the Lord, and do good.' + + "'Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring +it to pass.' + +"Now, what is your second trouble? You said there were two." + +"Well, I am not so sure about the second trouble," said Rhoda. +"Sometimes I think it is only an imagination. I am afraid I am growing +jealous and suspicious, Aunt Hannah." + +"That would be a real trouble, certainly," said Aunt Hannah; "but why +do you think so?" + +"Because, Aunt Hannah, I can't help thinking that father and mother are +different to me since the baby has come—that they don't treat me as +they used to. There! The thing is out." + +Aunt Hannah put down her pan of mushrooms and went into the next room +for a moment. When she came back, she asked, quietly,— + +"Why, my dear, what makes you think so? Because you have more work to +do?" + +"No, indeed, Aunt Hannah: that is not it at all," answered Rhoda, +rather warmly. "Of course I expect to have more to do, and I only wish +mother would let me do a great deal more for her and the dear baby. +But I don't know—she is different somehow. She doesn't seem to like to +leave me with her as she used to; and, Aunt Hannah, I am sure she does +not like to have me call baby my brother. She does not say anything, +but I don't think she likes it." + +"Are you sure that is not a fancy?" + +"I thought it was at first, Aunt Hannah, and I scolded myself for it, +but I am quite sure it is so. And—" Rhoda's voice failed, and she +winked very hard with both eyes as she bent over her work. "I have +tried very hard to put away the thought, Aunt Hannah," she continued, +after a little pause, and in a low voice; "I have striven and prayed +against it, and I am sure I am not jealous of the baby: dear little +fellow! It has troubled me a great deal, so at last I thought I would +mention it to you." + +"I am glad you have done so, Rhoda, and I will tell you what I think +about it as well as I can," said Aunt Hannah. "It often happens in a +family that when a new baby comes, the old one has to be turned off +and put aside in a good many ways. I think this is the case with you +at present. You have been baby a long time, now you are in a manner +dethroned, and you must try to abdicate gracefully and be content with +the place of elder daughter and sister—a much more responsible and +useful position, and in the long run perhaps quite as agreeable." + +"I am sure I don't mind, if that is all," said Rhoda. + +"We will try to think that is all," said Aunt Hannah, cheerfully. +"There are women who can never be just to other people's children when +they have little ones of their own, but I do not believe your mother is +one of that kind." + +"I am sure she isn't," said Rhoda, with emphasis. "There! I believe +these are all finished, Aunt Hannah." + +"And very pretty they are. Well, my dear, as you are to learn all sorts +of things, you know, you may make the fire and put on the kettle; and +then, if you will get out the baking things, I will teach you how to +make those cream biscuit you like so much, and you may stop on your way +home and carry a plateful to Mrs. Makay. Sam likes good things to eat, +and they are about the only pleasures he has sense enough to enjoy, +poor fellow!" + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE CLOUD GROWS._ + +THE biscuits were excellent, and Rhoda greatly enjoyed making and +baking them, and afterward milking old Snowball and straining the milk. + +"What beautiful rich milk she does give!" said she. "Aunt Hannah, what +will you do when she dies? She is growing an old cow, you know." + +"I don't borrow trouble about it, child." + +"Nor about anything else, do you, Aunt Hannah?" + +"Well, no, my dear, not often. I generally find I have enough as I go +along. There is no need to look ahead for it." + +"I never can see any use in it, anyway," remarked Rhoda. "Either +the things one is worrying about don't come to pass, or they are so +different from what one expects that all the contriving beforehand is +thrown away. I said so to mother, and she told me it was very easy for +any one to talk so who did not know what trouble was. But I am sure you +know what it is." + +"Yes, child, I have had my share: quite as much as I wanted, without +borrowing any; and so, I dare say, will you, if you live long enough. +Now, my dear, it is time for you to be going. And, Rhoda, I want you +to promise me one thing: I am an old woman, and there is no telling +what may happen before we meet again. I want you to promise me that, +whatever happens, you will never give up your faith in God, and your +trust in his goodness. Never think, however he may suffer you to be +afflicted, that he can be anything but a tender Father to you. I think +you love him, Rhoda, my child?" + +Rhoda answered in a low voice, but without hesitation: + +"Yes, Aunt Hannah, I am sure I do." + +"Then, my dear, will you always remember these verses? + + "'He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how +shall he not with him freely give us all things?' + + "'Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication +with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.' + + "'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.' + +"I have bought you a new Bible for a parting present," continued Aunt +Hannah, "and I have written these verses in the beginning. Remember, +whatever happens, that your Lord and Saviour has promised to be with +you, that you are not to be anxious, but to let your requests, great +and small, be made known unto him, and that your Father's love can +never fail to give you that which is best, seeing that he spared not +his own Son for you." + +"I won't forget, Aunt Hannah. Oh what a beautiful book!—The nicest I +ever saw. Just see! It has maps and an index, and all." + +"Yes, you will find it very convenient. Now, go along, child, and God +bless you!" + + +Rhoda left her plate of good things at Mrs. Makay's, and then walked +rapidly homeward, for it was growing late. + +As she entered the parlour she nearly stumbled over somebody who was +sitting in the rocking-chair, for the room was quite dark. + +"Take care, and mind what you are about, Rhoda!" said her mother. "You +do come in, in such a headlong way." + +"It is so dark coming in from out of doors," apologized Rhoda. "May I +get a light, mother? I have something to show you." + +"Yes, do. I have been waiting for you to come." + +Rhoda lighted the lamp and came in, bringing it in one hand and her +little shirts and her new Bible in the other. As she did so, she saw +that the person over whom she had nearly fallen was Mr. Weightman. He +laughed in his usual amiable fashion as he saw her look of discomfiture +and annoyance. + +"You are out rather late, I think, miss," said he. "In my time little +girls stayed at home and helped do the work, instead of running about +town after dark. But come, let us see this wonderful something." + +Rhoda wished herself or Mr. Weightman anywhere else, but there was no +help for it now, and she produced the shirts she had made for the baby. + +"How very nice and pretty they are!" said Mrs. Bowers. "And how neatly +you have made them! See, father, what a pretty present Rhoda has made +for the baby! Who taught you, dear?" + +"Aunt Hannah," replied Rhoda, her heart beating with pleasure; "but I +did every stitch of them myself, and bought the wool with my own money." + +"Humph! Your money!" said Mr. Weightman. "Pray, how came you by this +money of yours?" + +Rhoda was silent till Mrs. Bowers said, rather sharply,— + +"Don't you hear, Rhoda? Why don't you answer Mr. Weightman's question?" + +Then she said, briefly,— + +"It is money my father gave me to spend for a new sash, Mr. Weightman." + +"So that was the reason you bought the cheap sash?" said her mother. +"I wondered at your changing your mind. I must say it was very nice in +you, my dear. But what pretty book have you there?" + +"A new Bible Aunt Hannah gave me—just what I wanted. Isn't it pretty?" + +"Let me see it," said Mr. Weightman, and Rhoda put it into his hand, +feeling as if his touch would profane her treasure. + +He turned the book over and over, and then looked at the flyleaf where +the price was marked. + +"Five dollars and a half!" said he, in a tone of amazement mingled with +sorrow. + +"Well, if ever! Five dollars and a half! And she might have got one +for nothing if she must give it away. Well, I didn't think even Hannah +would do such a thing as that. She ought to be put under 'gardeens.'" + +Rhoda was boiling over, but she kept silence, and only held out her +hand for her precious book, which Uncle Jacob seemed no ways inclined +to give up. + +"I am sure it was very kind in Aunt Hannah," said Mrs. Bowers, in a +deprecating tone. + +"Kind? Yes! Wonderful kind! I should like to know what business she has +to be so kind, as you call it?" + +"She has a right to do what she likes with her own, I suppose," said +Mrs. Bowers, with some spirit. + +"And she has written all over the flyleaves, so that you can't take it +back or exchange it for anything useful," continued Uncle Jacob: "'To +my dearest niece and pupil.' Do you hear that, Maria? Rhoda is her +dearest niece. Well, I must say I think charity begins at home. I think +she might consider her own family a little. But I suppose you are too +well off to care what your relations do with their money." + +"Will you please give me my book, Mr. Weightman?" said Rhoda, in a +voice which expressed more than her words, and holding out her hand for +the book. + +"Oh ho! So I am Mr. Weightman now, am I?" said he, still retaining the +volume, and evidently enjoying Rhoda's irritation. "I was Uncle Jacob +this afternoon, I remember." + +"It was a mere slip of the tongue, Mr. Weightman," said Rhoda, trying +hard to control her temper. "I am sure I should never call you 'Uncle' +if I knew what I was saying. Will you please give me my book?" + +Mr. Weightman threw it on the table: + +"Take it, then, and learn manners from it, if you can. Niece Maria, I +wish you joy of your adopted daughter. It is easy to see that she will +get on in the world." + +"You may go to your own room, Rhoda," said Mr. Bowers; "and another +time don't stay away all the afternoon and leave your work for your +mother as you did to-night." + +Rhoda could not trust herself to speak. She took up her book and +retreated, smarting under a sense of injustice such as she had never +felt before. It was hard enough to be insulted in that way, but that +her father should take part against her, and her mother should not say +a word for her—it was almost too much to bear. She retreated to the +kitchen, and busied herself in putting away the milk and preparing +things for the night till Mr. Weightman went away and Mr. Bowers came +into the kitchen. + +"What are you doing here?" he asked, harshly. "Didn't you hear me tell +you to go to bed?" + +"I thought I would put things away," Rhoda began, but Mr. Bowers +stopped her. "Oh yes! You thought you would do anything rather than +what you were told. You have got to turn over a new leaf, Rhoda, and +learn to mind, and not spend all your time running about and reading +story-books. And I don't want to hear any excuses or fine speeches. Go +to bed, and another time do as I tell you." + +Mr. Bowers was a man of moods and tenses; and whatever the mood of the +moment might be, he rarely failed to make those about him sensible of +the same. Knowing this to be the case, Rhoda thought less of his words +than she would otherwise have done. Girl-like, she had a good cry when +she got up stairs by herself, but, girl-like, she cried away most of +her trouble, and was prepared to take the best view that was possible. + +"Father was worried about something," she said to herself. "I dare say +Uncle Jacob—I mean Mr. Weightman—had been at him. It will be all right +to-morrow. I didn't leave all the work for mother, and she knows I +didn't; and anyhow, I am glad she liked the shirts." + + +But Rhoda did not find it all right on the morrow, nor for a good many +succeeding days. She could not tell what was the matter, though she +taxed herself in every way to see whether she were to blame, and told +herself again and again that she was growing jealous and fanciful; but +all was of no use. There was certainly a great change. + +Mrs. Bowers alternated between fondness and fretfulness. One day +she told Rhoda that she slighted her work, and that she ought to do +more about the house; the next perhaps she found fault with her for +neglecting her book, telling her that there was no saying how long she +might have a chance for study. At times she seemed unwilling to have +Rhoda out of her sight, and again she appeared to seek excuses for +getting rid her. + +Mr. Bowers was almost uniformly cold and repellent in his manners +toward her, though he too now and then melted into tenderness, +especially once, when Mr. Weightman had been away for several days. + +"Father," said Rhoda, taking courage to speak out what was in her mind, +"have I done wrong or offended you in any way?" + +"No, child, no," answered Mr. Bowers, hastily; "why should you think +so?" + +"Because you are so different from what you used to be," answered +Rhoda. "You don't seem the same person sometimes—not a bit like my +father," she added, putting her arms round his neck and sitting down on +his knee as she used to do when a child. + +Mr. Bowers started as if stung. + +"You mustn't let such notions come into your head," he said, kissing +her with something of his old affection. "I have been worried about +business and other things—no matter what. Nothing that need trouble +you." + +"I can't help being worried when I see you so different, papa," said +Rhoda. "I think you ought to tell me about business now," she added, +with a pretty little assumption of dignity. "I am not the baby any +longer: I am the elder daughter." + +Mr. Bowers's moustache twitched a little, and his voice was somewhat +husky as he answered,— + +"You are a dear good girl, and always have been, Rhoda. I am sure you +have been the same as our own ever since you came to us." + +"I never remember that I am not your own unless somebody puts me in +mind of it," said Rhoda. "I never think of belonging to anybody else." + +"Not even to Aunt Annie?" asked Mr. Bowers. "Didn't you want to go and +be Aunt Annie's girl?" + +"No, indeed!" answered Rhoda, with emphasis. "I never thought of such +a thing. I would have liked well enough to go to Hobarttown to school, +because I always have wanted to get a regular education, but that was +all. I never dreamed of such a thing as living there. I don't believe +you think you have very much of a daughter, papa dear, if you suppose +she could want to run away from you as easily as that. I don't believe +you would like to have me think you wanted to get rid of me." + +Mr. Bowers's mouth twitched again. + +"I was only joking, child. There! Run over to the post-office and see +whether the mail has come in." + + +For three or four days all was fair weather with Rhoda once more. Her +father was kindness itself, and seemed to seek out ways of giving her +pleasure. + +"I can't do it," Rhoda heard him say one day in answer to some +observations of his wife's. "It would break my heart to part with the +girl, and I don't believe it would be right." + +"But if it is our duty toward the child?" said his wife. + +"I don't believe it is," answered Mr. Bowers, hastily; "I don't believe +the child will ever be one bit the better for it." + +Rhoda knew she ought not to listen, and turned away, her heart beating +between hope and disappointment. Could it be that they were thinking of +sending her away to school? + +As the time went on, a good many things seemed to confirm this view +of the case. Her father had bought a new sewing-machine and a piece +of nice muslin, and her mother had set Rhoda to making a new set of +underclothing for herself. Her old dresses were all remodelled and +several new ones bought, and, in short, her wardrobe was put in perfect +order. + +Mr. Weightman had returned, and was often at the house, but Rhoda +kept out of his way and seldom saw him. When they did meet, he was +uncommonly gracious to her; and once, encountering her in a store at +the Springs, he actually bestowed upon her a dollar to spend as she +pleased, advising her, at the same time, to buy something useful, and +not to waste it all upon ribbons and laces. + +Rhoda could not help wondering how many ribbons and laces Uncle Jacob +supposed that one dollar would buy; but she liked to be friends with +everybody, so she thanked him for his present and laid it out upon a +box of initial-paper. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_THE CHANGE._ + +"MOTHER," said Rhoda one evening at the supper-table, "if we should +ever go to the city, I should like to go and see the old ladies' +'Home.'" + +Mr. and Mrs. Bowers exchanged glances, and Mrs. Bowers said,— + +"How would you like to make a little visit there?" + +"I should like it ever so much, though I suppose hardly any one is left +in the house that I know, except Miss Carpenter. I wonder what has +become of all the children I used to play with? I hope they are all as +well off as I am. But, mother—" + +"Well?" said Mrs. Bowers as Rhoda paused. "But what?" + +"I thought—I hoped, rather—that I was getting ready to go away to +school." + +"Perhaps you may go to school too," said Mrs. Bowers, again glancing at +her husband. + +"Perhaps some arrangement may be made for you to board at 'The Home' +and go to school in the city." + +"Really!" said Rhoda, with sparkling eyes. + +"Mind, I said 'Perhaps,'" answered her mother. "If you go to school, +you must live somewhere, you know. You can't board at home and go to +school in Milby very well." + +"No, of course not. But what school shall I attend?—Mrs. Anderson's?" + +"We will see about that when you get there. We don't know much about +the Milby schools, and shall have to consult somebody. There! Don't be +all upset now, but run down to the mill and ask if Mr. Antis is going +to Hobarttown to-morrow. I want to send by him if he is." + +"Well, Maria, I must say you have a good deal of assurance," said Mr. +Bowers when Rhoda had left the room. "I don't see how you could tell +such a string of stories with such a straight face." + +"I didn't tell any lies," said Mrs. Bowers. "She may go to school, for +aught I know, and she may as well think she is going, and let other +people think so. It will make less of a talk." + +"Well, I wish I could feel sure we were doing right," returned Mr. +Bowers. + +"I declare, I think you are too bad, Mr. Bowers," said his wife. "You +must admit that our first duty is to our own child, and you know what +Uncle Jacob said. When we took Rhoda, we did not suppose we should have +any of our own; and now that we have, of course the case is entirely +altered. I am sure Rhoda has no cause of complaint; and besides, I +don't believe she will care very much. You see how pleased she is at +the mere thought of going away." + +"Yes, of going away to school." + +"It would be just the same if she were going away anywhere else. She +would rather be at Aunt Hannah's all day long than at home." + +"What do you suppose Aunt Hannah will say?" + +"I don't know; I am glad she is not here. You know she is going to stay +away four weeks longer. Anyhow, you can't help yourself now. You know +what Uncle Jacob made a condition, and he never goes back from his +word." + +"No, there is no help for it now," agreed Mr. Bowers, sighing; "but do +get the child ready and have it over as soon as you can." + + +The next week saw Rhoda and her father on the way to Milby. Rhoda +parted from her mother and the baby with many tears, and Mrs. Bowers +herself was a good deal affected. + +"He will be a great boy before I see him again," said Rhoda as she gave +him back into his mother's arms; "but I suppose I shall come back at +Christmas, shall I not?" + +"That will be just as the teacher thinks best," said Mrs. Bowers. +"There! Hurry, child! You will make your father miss the train." + +Mr. Weightman met Mr. Bowers and Rhoda on the platform of the station +at the Springs, whither they went to catch the train to Milby. "Oh +ho! What fine young lady is this?" he asked, glancing at Rhoda's +travelling-suit, her neat bag, and strapped-up waterproof. "Where are +you going, miss?" + +"To Milby, Uncle Jacob—I mean Mr. Weightman," said Rhoda, correcting +herself—"to Milby, to school; only I am going to make a visit at 'The +Home' first, and perhaps to board there if they will take me." + +The old man laughed. + +"Of course they will take you," said he, "no doubt of that at all. +And so you are going to school, eh? That's a very good idea of your +mother's. I hope you will learn all you can. And, pray, is this fine +new Saratoga trunk yours too?" + +"Yes, sir; papa sent to Hobarttown for it by Mr. Antis." + +"And it is full of new clothes, eh? Well, take good care of them. +School-girls spoil their clothes very fast sometimes." + +"You had better go into the waiting-room and sit down, Rhoda," said Mr. +Bowers, who had appeared unaccountably uneasy during this conference. +"It is beginning to rain a little." + +Rhoda took a seat in the waiting-room, expecting her father would stay +with her, instead of which, to her disappointment, he went outside, +and walked up and down the platform in earnest conversation with Uncle +Jacob. + +"Just like him to go and spoil the last time I shall have!" thought +Rhoda. "I do hope he won't go to town with us." + +The two passed the window, and she heard her father say,— + +"It was the least we could do to make everything as easy as possible." + +"Nonsense!" was Mr. Weightman's answer. "All useless expense—money +thrown away. Let her begin as she is to go on, and learn to depend on +herself." + +"I sha'n't depend on you, you old bear," thought Rhoda. "I dare say he +is trying to persuade papa not to let me go to school, after all. I do +wish papa would let him alone and not get mixed up in business with +him. I know he doesn't do him any good. He just puts him up to think +that nothing is of any consequence but making money and getting rich." + +"Here comes the train, Rhoda," said her father, putting his head in at +the door. "Come, hurry!" + +"Uncle Jacob is not going, is he?" asked Rhoda, in a tone which was +louder than prudent. + +Mr. Weightman heard her, and answered for himself: + +"Oh no, 'Uncle Jacob' isn't going. You won't be plagued with 'Uncle +Jacob' again for a good long time, if ever. So you can afford to part +friends." + +Rhoda coloured, and then took a sudden resolution. + +"Good-bye, Mr. Weightman," said she, holding out her hand to him. "I am +sorry if I have ever been rude to you, and I hope you will forgive me. +I am sure I had much rather be friends with you than not, for I never +did you any injury, and I don't believe you ever meant to do me any." + +There was no time for Mr. Weightman to answer, if he had been so +disposed, for the train came up in a moment, and Rhoda and her father +were hurried on board. The cars were delayed a few minutes, and to +Rhoda's great, surprise, as she looked out of the window, Mr. Weightman +came round and spoke to her. + +"Here, child—here is some pocket-money for you," said he, putting a +five-dollar bill into her hand. "Take good care of it. Money soon goes +when once you change a bill." + +Rhoda could not have been more surprised if one of the telegraph-poles +had spoken to her. The train started on, and she showed the money to +her father, saying,— + +"Who ever would have thought of Mr. Weightman's making me such a +present?" + +"He can be liberal enough when he is in the humour," said Mr. Bowers. +"Put the money away; and when you get to 'The Home,' give it to Miss +Carpenter to take care of for you. There is another bill to keep it +company." + +"Just think!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I have really ten dollars of my own. I +mean to buy some wool and make baby a nice blanket." + +"You will have enough to do without making blankets for baby," said Mr. +Bowers. "There! Don't talk to me. I want to read my paper." + + +Mr. Bowers and Rhoda reached Milby in good time, and took a carriage +for "The Home." + +"The street looks just as it used to," said Rhoda. "There is the very +shop where Mrs. Green used to send me to buy her snuff. And this is +'The Home,' I am sure; but how much larger they have made it!" + +"Yes, they built a new wing last fall. Come, child, don't stand staring +in the street." + +The front hall and reception room looked just as Rhoda remembered them. +There was the little table with the register book, the little old, +rattling, yellow-keyed piano, and the coloured chalk landscape with the +heron standing on one leg in the foreground, just as he did when Rhoda +used to wish he would down his other foot and walk away. There was the +same pervading smell of roast beef; and when Miss Carpenter came in to +welcome them, Rhoda would have said she had on the very same soft gray +merino gown and lace handkerchief in which she had last seen her. + +The good lady welcomed Rhoda with all possible kindness, but looked +rather surprised at the sight of her large trunk and travelling-bag. +Rhoda wondered if she had not expected them, but her wonder was cut +short by Mr. Bowers rising and asking to see Miss Carpenter in another +room for a few minutes. + +Rhoda was left alone in the little reception room, where she waited +till she was tired. Her father and the matron went into the room +opposite, and presently Miss Carpenter came out, and returned with an +elderly lady whose face Rhoda seemed faintly to remember. There was +another long interval of waiting, which Rhoda endeavoured to shorten by +looking out of the window, and by reading the daily paper which lay on +the table. + +Miss Carpenter had closed the reception room door passing, but after +a long hour she heard first the door opposite and then the hall door +open and shut; and glancing out, she saw her father leaving the house, +apparently in a great hurry. She started forward to speak to him, but +before she could reach the door, he had hailed a passing omnibus, and +jumping in, was out of sight directly. + +"How very strange!" thought Rhoda. But her meditations were cut short +by the opening of the parlour door and the voice of the lady whom Miss +Carpenter had called saying emphatically,— + +"A more utterly heartless proceeding I must say I never heard of. I am +only glad he has turned the girl over to us instead of doing worse by +her." + +Then, as she saw Rhoda standing near, she came forward and took her +hand, saying, kindly,— + +"And so you have come back to us, little Rhoda, after all these years? +I suppose you don't remember me?" + +"I remember your face, ma'am, but not your name," answered Rhoda, very +much perplexed. + +"Well, that is no wonder," said the lady. "Miss Carpenter, you might as +well give her a room by herself for the present, as there are several +empty. Don't distress yourself, child. You shall have a home here till +we know what to do with you, and you may be sure we shall not turn you +out." + +"I don't quite understand," faltered Rhoda, feeling as if she were in a +puzzling dream. "Where has my father gone?" + +"She is all in the dark," said Miss Carpenter. "They have not told her +anything the matter." + +"Is it possible?" said Mrs. Mulford, with more indignation than before. +"My dear, what did Mr. Bowers tell you he was going to do with you?" + +"He told me I was going to make a little visit here, and perhaps board +here and go to school," answered Rhoda. "He said he would settle that +when we got here." + +"And nothing was said about your adopted parents giving you up—nothing +about their returning you on our hands?" + +"Giving me up!" repeated Rhoda. "What do you mean?" + +"My poor, dear child, it is even so," said Miss Carpenter, tenderly. +"They have given you up. Your father says he has a family of his own +now, and in justice to them, he cannot keep you any longer. This is +your home for the present, and I grieve to tell you that you have no +other." + +If the solid earth had yawned to swallow Rhoda, she could hardly have +been more astounded. And yet in the very first moment, she felt it was +all true. A hundred hints, a hundred circumstances, were all explained +to her at once. Yes, they had abandoned her. After eight years of +care—eight years in which she had almost forgotten that she had ever +belonged to any one else—they had left her to the mercy of a public +charity. + +Her head turned round, and she put out her hand blindly for help. She +felt herself supported by somebody, and then the world fled from her +and she sank down in a dead faint. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_A NEW LIFE._ + +FOR many days Rhoda was very ill with a kind of nervous fever, and for +many more she lay in her pleasant little room, weak and languid, and +so thoroughly depressed that her friends began to fear for her mind. +She had every care and kindness, for every one in the house knew her +story and felt interested in her, and even Aunty Parsons, who generally +resented whatever was done for anybody else as so much taken from +herself, expressed the opinion that that girl wasn't half taken care +of, and ought to have some real good whisky with cherry bark in it, +that being a cordial to which the old lady was much addicted. + +A few days after Mr. Bowers left Rhoda at "The Home," he sent her by +express a box containing all the books and other possessions she had +left behind her at Boonville, together with an envelope containing ten +dollars, but not a word of a letter. + +Rhoda never asked for news from her former home—never alluded to her +adopted parents in any way. She lay quite still, with her eyes closed +or gazing out of the window opposite her bed, giving very little +trouble and never speaking except when spoken to. All the lady managers +had been to see her; and if there were anything in the old sign, Mr. +Bowers's left ear must have rung like a chime of bells at the opinions +expressed of his conduct. + +Rhoda had been at "The Home" about three weeks when she had one day a +new visitor. Mrs. Worthington was one of the most active managers of +"The Home," but she had been out of town for some time, and this was +her first visit to the institution since her return. Of course she +heard the whole story over in every room she visited. + +"The doctor says she ain't no disease now," remarked Mrs. Josleyn, "but +yet she don't seem to get no strength." + +"No, and she won't so long as she is coddled up so," said Aunty +Parsons, who had grown tired of sympathizing with Rhoda. "She ought to +have some real good whisky with cherry bark in it, and be made to get +up and exercise, and go out in the fresh air. What's the sense of her +lying there when she hain't no disease?" + +"It's just the trouble on her mind, you see," said Mrs. Josleyn, who +was as sweet as her neighbour was sour. "She's had such trials, poor +dear!" + +"Her trials ain't nothing to mine," grumbled Mrs. Parsons; "nobody +never went and signed away all her property. But if I was ever so much +overcome by my troubles, you wouldn't catch Miss Carpenter making no +chicken broth for me." + +Mrs. Worthington smiled, but made no reply, well knowing from +experience that there was no use in it. Mrs. Parsons was one of those +people whom one finds it hard to think of as being happy in heaven, +since there will be nothing in that locality for them to find fault +with. + +"In what room is this poor child?" Mrs. Worthington asked. + +"She's in twenty-eight—the very room I always wanted; but of course +they never would put me in there." + +"Because they keep it for sick folks," Mrs. Josleyn. + +"Well, and ain't I sick? Have I ever had a well day since I came into +this house? But anything is good enough for me." + +Mrs. Lambert, the nurse, an experienced and kind-hearted person, +confirmed Mrs. Josleyn's opinion: + +"Dr. H. says she hain't any disease, and I do really think she would be +better for making a little effort, but I don't like to urge her, poor +thing! If we could only find something to interest her!" + +"Yes, that would be best. I think I will go in and see her." + +Rhoda lay on the bed, as she had done for the last three weeks, and +turned her eyes listlessly to the door as Mrs. Worthington entered, but +they brightened a little as they rested on the visitor's face. + +"Ah, little Rhoda!" said Mrs. Worthington, coming to the side of the +bed and kissing her. "I think you remember me, don't you?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda; "I remember you very well. When we had +the measles in the house, just a little while before I went away, +you took me over to your house, and let me stay two or three days. I +remember how we played under the big tree in the back yard—Cathy and +Rosy and I—and how the boys let out their rabbits. I suppose Cathy and +Rosy are grown-up young ladies now." + +And then, catching Mrs. Lambert's warning glance, she faltered, and +said, "Oh, I am so sorry!" + +"Never mind, dear; you have not hurt me at all. I like to hear you talk +about them," said Mrs. Worthington. "Yes, they are all gone—Cathy and +Rosy and the boys. We have a lonely house now, Rhoda. Poor Miss Smith +is not troubled by the noise in our back yard any more." + +"I remember how she came out and scolded us when we were playing +'king's land,'" said Rhoda; "and then, when Cathy cried, she went in +and brought out a great plate of little almond cakes for us. Is she +alive yet?" + +"Oh yes; she is just the same as ever. She gave me a great deal of +efficient help in John's last illness." + +"Your house must seem very lonely," said Mrs. Lambert. + +"Yes, it does indeed," said Mrs. Worthington, sadly. "It sometimes +seems as if I could not go on living there, especially as Mr. +Worthington has to be away so much. But I must keep a home for him, you +know," said the bright little woman, brushing away the drops from her +eyelids. "When it gets so that I can't bear it any longer, I just put +on my bonnet and run away up to the hospital or over here and stay all +the morning, and I always go home feeling cheerful again." + +"Well, I will leave you with Rhoda a while," said Mrs. Lambert. "I have +my hands full, now that Miss Brown is so helpless, though the old lady +makes me very little work, considering—not half so much as some who +are better able to wait on themselves. The other night I had just laid +down, after being on my feet till nearly one o'clock, when, just as I +was dropping off to sleep, Miss Martin screamed out to me from the top +of the house that she was dying and wanted a cup of tea directly. You +might have heard her down to the college, I am sure." + +Rhoda laughed—a faint little ghost of a laugh: + +"And was she?" + +"Bless you, no, child—not near so much like dying as you were. I +remembered how she had eaten stewed peaches at the supper-table, and I +wasn't at all scared. So I just mixed some essence of ginger and took +it up to her, and she was asleep again in half an hour." + +"Was I really in any danger of dying?" asked Rhoda. "Why didn't you +tell me?" + +"Where would have been the use when you were not able to think clearly, +and when you were so weak that the mere telling might have made all the +difference? But I really must go. Mrs. Worthington, you mean to stay +and take dinner with us, don't you?" + +"Oh yes; I have come for all day," said Mrs. Worthington, producing +her tatting from her pocket. "I will sit here and take care of Rhoda a +while." + +After Mrs. Lambert had left the room, Rhoda lay for some time silently +watching the motions of Mrs. Worthington's fingers. Then she sighed +deeply. + +"What are you thinking of, dear?" asked Mrs. Worthington. + +"I was thinking about your little girls, and about myself," answered +Rhoda, sighing again. "I was wondering why I didn't die when I was so +sick." + +"Shall I tell you what I think was the reason, Rhoda?" + +"If you please." + +"I think it was because your work in this world is not finished," said +Mrs. Worthington. + +Rhoda raised herself on her pillow and looked interested. + +"I don't exactly know what you mean," said she. "Tell me, please." + +"I think, my dear, that our heavenly Father has placed us here and +given to each his or her allotted task, and that he keeps us here till +we have finished it. Or to change the figure, this life is a kind of +school-room in which we have each our lessons to learn. Some are hard, +some are easy, but we must stay in the school-room till we have learned +them as well as we are able. Then he lets us go home. My dear girls +finished theirs very early. Mine, you see, takes longer, and yours are +not done yet, though you have, as I may say, seen the door opened. You +have your education to complete, and so you must stay." + +Rhoda sighed again. The word "education" had sad associations for her. + +"I thought I was going away to school when I came here," said she. +"Mother—I mean Mrs. Bowers—told me so, and I never guessed at anything +else. If they had only told me, I don't think I should have minded so +much. I wonder if Aunt Hannah thought of it?" she continued, musingly. +"I wonder if she thought it probable, and that what made her choose +those texts to write in my Bible?" + +"What texts?" asked Mrs. Worthington. + +"Aunt Hannah gave me a Bible when she went away to the West, and she +wrote some texts in it. She made me promise never to forget them. The +Bible is there on the table, I believe." + +Mrs. Worthington took up the book and read the passages which Miss +Weightman had written on the blank leaves. + +"These are precious words," said she. "I hope they have comforted you?" + +"I am afraid they haven't," answered Rhoda, frankly. "Somehow, I +haven't been able to think of anything comforting, only of how I have +been treated." + +"Ah, my poor child, that is an unprofitable subject of thought. Tell +me, have you found grace to forgive Mr. and Mrs. Bowers?" + +"No, I haven't—I can't!" said Rhoda, in great agitation. "It is not in +human nature to forgive such an injury." + +"Our Father requires us to do a great many things which are not in +human nature," said Mrs. Worthington. + +"I think that is very hard," said Rhoda. + +"That depends," returned her friend. "If I give a boy, say, a Latin +lesson which is quite beyond his power, and leave him to do it alone, +without help, you would say that was very hard?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"But if I give him the same lesson, and say to him, I know very well +that you cannot do this alone, but here are lexicons and grammars and +commentaries and a translation, and, moreover, I will myself sit down +with you and help you over the hard places, would not that alter the +case?" + +"It certainly would," answered Rhoda. "The boy would have no cause to +complain." + +"Well, just so our Lord deals with us. He gives us tasks far beyond +sour natural powers, but he affords us every help—his word, his +example, and his life; and he himself is ready to be with us and help +us by his presence and his strength. + + "'I am with you alway, even to the end of the world,—' + +"I see is one of Aunt Hannah's verses. + + "'I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me,—' + +"said the apostle, and he might well say so. You can no more make +yourself forgiving than you can make yourself well and strong, but +you can put yourself into the hands of One who can make you so if you +really, honestly desire it." + +"I'm afraid that has been the thing," Rhoda. "I haven't felt as if I +wanted to forgive. It seems to me—" + +"It seems to you a terrible wrong, and so it is," said Mrs. +Worthington, as Rhoda paused. "I can hardly think of a greater. They +promised to take care of you as their own, and they had no more right +to turn you off than if you had been born to them. The first thing you +have to do is to ask for the will to forgive; the rest will come in +time. You might be worse off than you are here." + +"Yes, indeed. Everybody is so kind to me." + +"Well, there is one thing to be thankful for, at all events. You may be +sure we shall not turn you off. I won't talk to you any more now, but I +shall come to see you again. Try to get well as soon as you can." + +So saying, Mrs. Worthington kissed Rhoda and went away, leaving the +Bible lying open on the bed. + +Rhoda took it up and turned the leaves over, reading here and there a +passage which she found marked by Aunt Hannah's pencil. Then she lay +still a long while with closed eyes and clasped hands, and at last she +fell asleep. + +She was waked by Mrs. Lambert's coming in with her dinner. + +"Is it dinner-time? What a nice sleep I have had!" said Rhoda, rubbing +her eyes. + +"Good!" said Mrs. Lambert, depositing her tray on the table and +bringing a basin of fresh water to the bedside. "If you begin to fall +asleep in the day-time, you will sleep at night. Don't you want to wash +your face? How do you feel?" + +"Better," answered Rhoda, bathing her eyes. "I believe I could sit up +and eat my dinner." + +"Mrs. Worthington has done you good, I guess," said the nurse, +arranging the rocking-chair and helping Rhoda to rise. "She is a real +comfort in a sick-room or where any one is in trouble." + +"She must have seen a great deal of trouble herself," remarked Rhoda, +"losing all her children so. I remember Cathy and Rosy so well—such +nice pretty little girls with such red, round cheeks." + +"Yes, they all seemed healthy, but they pined and died one after the +other. John lived to be a young man in college, and it did seem as if +he would be spared, but he fell into a decline and died like the rest." + +"And yet she seems so cheerful!" said Rhoda. "I don't see how she can." + +"I expect she has to be," remarked Mrs. Lambert. "People that have had +such great troubles can't afford to nurse and pet them all the time; +they would go crazy if they did. Besides, Mrs. Worthington is always +looking out for chances to help and comfort other people, and so she +gets helped and comforted herself. + + "'He that watereth shall be watered also himself,—' + +"you know the good book says. Do you think you are going to be able to +sit up?" + +"Oh yes I feel a great deal stronger," said Rhoda. + +Nevertheless, when Mrs. Lambert came up for the tray, she found her +patient quite ready to lie down again. + +"I thought I was going to be ever so smart, but I got tired very soon," +said Rhoda. "I wonder how I came to lose my strength so?" + +"You have been very sick, child; and besides, you had a dreadful shock. +It was enough to kill you, I am sure. Can I do any more for you?" + +"No, thank you; only, please, will you ask Mrs. Worthington to come in +a minute before she goes, if it isn't too much trouble?" + +"Oh, she won't think it a trouble. She is sitting with Miss Brown." + +"Did you say Miss Brown was sick? I suppose it is the same Miss Brown I +remember—the one who always had a little dog?" + +"Yes, the very same. She has had a bad fall and broken her leg above +the ankle, and Doctor H— says she won't walk again in a good while, +if ever. She is an old lady, you see. She is confined to her bed, of +course; and as she can't read much lying down, it is pretty dull for +her." + +"I want to tell you one thing, Mrs. Worthington," said Rhoda when that +lady entered: "I don't want you to think that Mr. and Mrs. Bowers ever +abused me. They were always as good to me as they could be till the +baby was born, and even after that, though they never were quite the +same." + +"I understand," said Mrs. Worthington. + +"I suppose they have never been heard from," said Rhoda, wistfully. "Do +they know I have been sick, I wonder?" + +"Yes; Mrs. Mulford wrote, but she never had any answer, except that Mr. +Bowers sent a box of things for you, and also some money. I am afraid +there is nothing to hope for in that quarter, my child." + +"I am sure there is not," said Rhoda. "I don't think I should go back, +even if they wanted me. I do want to forgive them, and I think I shall, +but I can't feel as if I wanted to see them again. But I don't wish +people to think them worse than they are." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_MISS BROWN._ + +"HOW is Miss Brown?" asked Rhoda, one morning, as Mrs. Lambert brought +her breakfast. She had been dressed two or three days, and had even +gone down to tea the night before, but it was not thought advisable for +her to attempt too much at once. + +"Well, she is better, so far as the pain goes, but she has pretty dull +times, poor old soul! If it was some of the folks, they would fret +their heads off; and mine too, but she isn't one of that sort. She +never complains." + +"I was thinking I might go in and sit with her, if you think she would +like to see me," said Rhoda. "I could wait on her and get what she +wants, and perhaps read to her." + +"Oh, my dear, if you could! It would be a great comfort and save me +ever so much trouble. There are so many sick now; and so much to see +to, that I have to be here and there and everywhere at once." + +"I feel as if I ought to begin doing something," said Rhoda; "I have +been waited on long enough. I never knew how much I was in the habit of +doing for myself till I was so weak I couldn't walk across the room. Do +you know, Mrs. Lambert, I never was confined to my bed a day in all my +life before this time? I feel as if I had learned a great deal—as if I +had learned how to feel for other people as I never did before." + +"Then you have been sick to purpose," said the nurse. "A great many +people are sick all their lives and never learn as much as that. But +come, eat your breakfast, and then we will go and see Miss Brown." + +Miss Brown lay in bed in her pretty neat room with her little black dog +beside her, looking so little changed that it seemed to Rhoda as if she +had seen the old lady for the last time yesterday, instead of nearly +nine years before. + +"Rhoda has come to sit with you a while," said Mrs. Lambert. "You +remember her, don't you?" + +"Oh yes," said Miss Brown, evidently very much pleased. "You have grown +into a woman, my dear, but you keep your child's face wonderfully. I +should have known you anywhere." + +"And I am sure I should have known you," said Rhoda. "You have not +changed a bit, nor the room, either. I believe I could tell now exactly +which books have pictures in them. I should almost think that dog was +old Beauty, though I suppose that can hardly be." + +"Oh no; Beauty died several years ago. This is one of her puppies, and +she is growing an old dog too. That is the worst of dogs. They will +grow old and die." + +"I suppose if they lived thirty years, it would be all the harder to +part with them," observed Rhoda. "Anyhow, I would rather people should +die than they should do some other things." + +"Yes, 'a dead sorrow is better than a living one,' the old proverb +says. I have always that feeling about the deaths of people that I +love, especially young people. They are so safe. They never can change +for the worse. But come, sit down and make yourself comfortable, child. +What can I find to entertain you?" + +"I came to entertain you, and not to be entertained," said Rhoda, +smiling. "Shall I read to you? I like to read aloud." + +"Yes, do, if you please. There is a new magazine on the table with some +interesting articles in it. Mrs. Campion sent it in yesterday." + +"Mrs. Campion!" repeated Rhoda. "Don't I remember her? Didn't she have +a little girl named Rose?" + +"Yes, an adopted child." + +"What has become of her?" + +"Oh, she is a fine young lady, and is going to be married, they tell +me. Mrs. Campion has several others, but Rosy has always been the pet, +I think." + +Rhoda sighed deeply, but said nothing. She read for a long time, till +Miss Brown said,— + +"There! That will do. I am sure you must be tired. Besides, I want to +ask you about some people I used to know in Boonville—the Weightmans. +Hannah Weightman was one of my intimate friends when we both went to +the Phelps academy fifty years ago. Is she alive, do you know?" + +"Aunt Hannah Weightman? Yes, indeed—at least she was a few weeks ago," +said Rhoda. + +"Why do you call her aunt?" asked Miss Brown. + +"She was Mrs. Bowers's aunt, you know," said Rhoda; "I was always +taught to call her so. She was my Sunday-school teacher all the time I +lived in Boonville. Oh, what would I give to see her?" said Rhoda, her +eyes filling with sudden tears. "Oh, I wonder what she said when she +came back and found me gone?" + +"Then she did not know of it—of this change, I mean?" + +"No, ma'am, she was away. I don't believe it would have happened if +she had been at home. And yet I don't know. She never had half as much +influence as Uncle Jacob, though she is so good and knows so much. +Uncle Jacob don't know about anything but money, and don't care for +anything else, but everybody gives way to him because he is rich. No, +not everybody, either, but some people do. I heard Jeduthun Cooke say +to him,— + +"'Mr. Weightman, I'd rather be Sammy Makay than you any day.' + +"You see, Sammy is a kind of natural, but just as good as he can be. + +"'I'd rather be Sammy than you,' said Jeduthun, 'whether you take it +now or a hundred years from now.' + +"Oh how angry Uncle Jacob was! He tried to make Mr. Francis discharge +Jeduthun, but Mr. Francis would almost as soon burn down the mills." + +"And what did Uncle Jacob say to your coming away?" asked Miss Brown, +with an appearance of interest. + +"I believe it was all his fault," said she. "He never could bear me +when I first went there, and I remember his saying he wouldn't let +that poorhouse girl call him 'Uncle.' I didn't think so much of it at +the time; but now that I think matters over, I can see that it was +his doing. He never could bear to have Aunt Hannah give me anything, +and I know he made Mr. and Mrs. Bowers think he wouldn't leave them +or the baby any money unless they sent me away. Mother—Mrs. Bowers, I +mean—used to be always talking about the money he had, and how he could +make baby rich. I told her one day that he wouldn't do it—that he would +go on saving all his life, and then leave his property to some charity +at last by way of making amends." + +"It is likely enough," said Miss Brown, sighing. "Is his wife living?" + +"Oh no; she died long ago." + +"What kind of woman was she?" + +"I asked Aunt Hannah once, and she said,— + +"'Harriet was one of the salt of the earth, if she had only been in the +right place.' + +"Afterward mother told me that Aunt Harriet was an open-handed, liberal +woman, but that she and her husband were not happy together. Did you +know Mr. Weightman?" + +"Yes, I knew him when we were all young together," answered Miss Brown, +sighing again, "though he is several years older than I am. My dear, +have you written to your aunt since you have been here?" + +"No, ma'am," answered Rhoda, rather proudly; "I waited for her to write +to me." + +"And has she not done so?" + +"No, ma'am, not a word." + +"Perhaps—it is just possible she does not know where you are," said +Miss Brown. "Miss Carpenter told me that when you left home you thought +you were coming to school. Isn't it just possible that the same idea +may have been carried there?" + +"And that Aunt Hannah thinks I am at school all the time?" said Rhoda, +starting and dropping her book. "I dare say she does. And yet it would +be so mean, I don't like to think they would do so." + +"Nevertheless, I would write to her," said Miss Brown, thinking at the +same time that the people who would play such a trick on an orphan +child would be none too good to save appearances for themselves in the +same way. "She may be wondering why you do not write to her." + +"Yes, it must seem very strange if she thinks I am at school, and—Why, +of course she does," exclaimed Rhoda. "How silly I am! I wrote to her +that they were thinking of sending me to school in Milby, but it was +not settled yet. But would you tell her all about it?" + +"I would. Truth is always best in the end, and she will be sure to hear +it somehow. Besides, you owe it to her. But don't write to-day. You are +tired and excited, and must not undertake too much at once. Lean back +in the chair or lie down on the couch and rest a while." + +"May I bring my writing things in here, Miss Brown?" asked Rhoda the +next day, coming into Miss Brown's room with her desk in her hands. + +"Yes, do, my child. Are you going to write to your aunt?" + +"Yes, ma'am. I have been considering about it, and I asked Miss +Carpenter, and she said I should write by all means." + +"You can take that little table by the window," said Miss Brown. "I +like to have you sit where I can see you. What a pretty little desk you +have!" + +"It was given me last Christmas," said Rhoda, sadly. "I little thought +then where I should be when Christmas came round again." + +"We can none of us tell that, my child." + +"I asked mother whether I should come home at Christmas, and she said +it would be just as the teachers thought best," said Rhoda, after she +had finished her letter, taking out her work and sitting down in the +arm-chair by the bed. "I don't think I ever was happier in my life than +I was that very morning. I was so pleased with the thought of going to +school, for I had set my heart on having a good education. But that is +all over now," she added, sighing. "I must put it all out of my head." + +"Why?" asked Miss Brown. + +"Because I never shall have any chance," answered Rhoda. "I suppose I +shall have to go to work and earn my own living." + +"That need not prevent your getting an education," said Miss Brown. +"If I were you, I would set my heart on it more than ever, and improve +every chance I had. You need not be uneducated because you don't go +to school. Mrs. Thomas Conroy, who used to have the charge of Miss +Dickey's orphan asylum, was one of the most cultivated women I ever +knew, and she never went to school after she was twelve." + +"But what chances shall I be likely to have?" asked Rhoda, doubtfully. + +"Plenty of them," answered Miss Brown, smiling. "You are likely to have +your home here for some time—at least as long as there are so many sick +and helpless. Why shouldn't you learn some lessons and recite them to +me as I lie here doing nothing?" + +"That would be delightful," said Rhoda, with a little of her old +animation; "only I am afraid it would give you too much trouble." + +"On the contrary, it would be a great amusement to me," said Miss +Brown. "Oh no; don't give up the idea of an education, but make up your +mind to improve every opportunity you have, be it ever so small, and +you will be sure to succeed." + +"One can do a good deal in that way," said Rhoda. "I learned all the +music I know by practising on Fanny Badger's piano when I was up there." + +"Then you can play a little?" + +"Yes, ma'am—several pieces; and I have played in Sunday-school +sometimes, but I suppose I shall lose it all. I wonder," exclaimed +Rhoda—"I wonder whether I might practise sometimes on the little piano +down stairs? I don't believe I should hurt it; do you?" + +"I should say there was very little danger," answered Miss Brown, +dryly. "You can ask Miss Carpenter about it. There is a lady in the +house—Miss Wilkins—who plays the piano. I dare say she might help you +along with your music. Meantime, let us talk a little about these same +lessons. Tell me what you have studied." + +The lessons were arranged without any trouble. Miss Brown produced a +good collection of solid, old-fashioned books, remains of her father's +library, and she was herself a well-educated woman, who had read much +and thought more. Rhoda was to learn a geometry lesson every day, +and to continue her readings in Rollin, which she had brought away +with her, and Miss Brown, who had a reverence for the wisdom of our +ancestors, set her to writing out the exercises in Lindley Murray's +English grammar. + +Miss Carpenter was at first a good deal startled by the proposition +that Rhoda should use the piano and take lessons of Miss Wilkins, and +would give no answer till she had consulted Mrs. Mulford. + +Mrs. Mulford was rather surprised and amused, but could see no +objection. + +"We have everything else at 'The Home,' and I don't know why we +shouldn't have a few music-lessons," said she. "It will amuse poor Miss +Wilkins, and can do the child no harm that I can see." + +"It may make some talk," said Miss Carpenter. "I know remarks have been +made because some of the old ladies go in and out of the front door. +They say it shows such a spirit of pride in people who are living on +charity." + +"They may as well say that as anything else," said Mrs. Mulford. "If +they didn't come in at the front door, we should hear of the oppression +exercised in making them go round the back way." + +So it was all settled. Miss Wilkins got out her old instruction-books, +and revived her own knowledge in teaching Rhoda. She was a gentle, +cultivated woman, the daughter of an English clergyman, who, after a +life of governessing in different places, had drifted into this safe +haven to spend the rest of her days. She was sometimes rather shocked, +and even a little alarmed, at the boldness of Rhoda's opinions and the +freedom with which she expressed them, but she soon learned to love her +pupil, who loved her heartily in return, and respected her as well, for +Rhoda was one of the happy people who are capable of respect; and the +two did each other a great deal of good. + +Rhoda posted her letter to Aunt Hannah and after waiting a week or two +she wrote again, but she never received any answer. Why she did not we +shall learn in the next chapter. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_AFFAIRS AT BOONVILLE._ + +WHEN Aunt Hannah came home, which she did about three weeks after +Rhoda's departure, her first question Was about Rhoda. + +"She wrote me she was going to school in Milby," she said to Jeduthun +Cooke, whom she had met at the station, and who had offered to take her +home in his buggy. + +"Oh, she did?" said Jeduthun, in something like a tone of relief. +"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so. It's all right, then." + +"All right? What do you mean, Jeduthun? Of course it's all right. What +should be wrong?" + +"Oh, nothing," said Jeduthun. "I thought all the time it was nothing +but talk; but some of the folks over at the Springs, and even at +Boonville, say that it is all stuff about her going to school—that John +Bowers just took her to 'The Home' where he got her first and left her +there." + +"I dare say he did," answered Miss Weightman. "Rhoda told me in her +letter that there was talk of her boarding at 'The Home' till she could +find some other place." + +"Oh, well, I dare say it's all right. I hope so, I'm sure, for Rhoda is +as nice a girl as ever lived, and I'd hate to think John Bowers would +do such a mean thing. Here comes Uncle Jacob now." + +"So you've caught a ride, I see," said Uncle Jacob. "I calculated to +meet you, but I had business that kept me a spell, and this old horse +hain't got any go in him. I don't see what ails him." + +"I do," said Jeduthun, who stood no ways in awe of the rich man, and +knew his own value too well to be afraid of consequences; "I can see it +right through his ribs. Put some oats into him, Mr. Weightman; that's +the best medicine for his disease." + +"You might as well go on since you have got started," said Mr. +Weightman, not noticing Jeduthun's remark on his steed. "I've got +business over at the Springs, and may not be home till dark." + +"I guess you won't, according to appearances," chuckled Jeduthun. "I +sha'n't charge her anything for the ride, you may be sure," alluding to +a current story that Mr. Weightman had once asked a poor woman to ride +to the Springs with him and then charged her two shillings. + +"I suppose one way the story got out about Rhoda was this," remarked +Jeduthun, after they had gone on a little way in silence: "Mr. Badger, +at the post-office, remarked that nobody got letters from Rhoda. You +see she promised to write to Fanny Badger and Flora Fairchild and two +or three of the girls, and they kept coming after letters, and didn't +get any. + +"'It's very strange, pa,' says Fanny one day. + +"'It ain't any more strange than that she don't write to her own +folks,' says Mr. Badger, 'and they hain't had one letter from her since +she went away: I know Rhoda's writing,' says he, 'and I know there +hasn't been one.' + +"Then at that minute, Mr. Bowers came in, and Flora Fairchild, she asks +him when he had heard from Rhoda. + +"And he colours up, and says, 'Well, not very lately. I expect she +don't have much time to write letters.' + +"And he turned and was going away without his mail, till Mr. Badger +called him back, he seemed so kind of confused. And the next day Aunty +Fairchild was over to the Springs, and she heard it from some one that +knew her that Rhoda was living at 'The Home.' But if she is boarding +there to go to school, it's all right, of course." + +"Of course," echoed Aunt Hannah, but she did not feel perfectly easy. +She said to herself half a dozen times during the five miles' ride that +it was all nonsense—that John and Maria never would do such a thing in +the world, and it was a shame even to think it of them; but she felt +all the same that it would be a great comfort to hear from themselves +that Rhoda was well and happy at school. + +Her adopted grand-niece had crept very near the old woman's warm heart +during these last years. She had done more to form Rhoda's mind than +any one else, and she understood the girl far better than her adopted +parents. + +"It would kill the child or drive her to something desperate," she said +to herself; "but it can't be. I am an old fool, and am just worrying +myself for nothing." + +Nevertheless, when she at last reached home, her first inquiry of Aunt +Sarah for the Bowers family and Rhoda. + +"Oh, Rhoda; well, I don't know," answered the old woman. "They tell +all kinds of stories, but I dare say there isn't no truth in 'em. Some +say she has gone to school—some say Bowers has took her back to 'The +Home,' or done worse. I don't know nothing about it. I've asked Mis' +Bowers two or three times, but she always seems dreadful shy of saying +anything about Rhoda. The girl herself thought she was going to school, +I know, for she came down here and told me so the night before she went +away. + +"'What school are you going to?' says I. + +"'I don't know,' says she. 'Pa says he can't tell till he gets there,' +says she. + +"Well, I thought that was queer too, not to know where she was going +to school, but I never thought no more about it till I heard these +stories." + +"I can't think there is anything in the stories," said Aunt Hannah. "It +is just village talk. Have any letters come for me?' + +"Yes, a lot. Here they are in this drawer. I've been to the office +every day." + +Aunt Hannah looked them over. + +There was one from the grocer who bought her catsup and pickles every +year, one or two from missionary friends and others, but no letter from +Rhoda. + +"There must be something wrong," she said to herself; "and yet perhaps +she is waiting to hear that I have got home." + +"The Bowerses are all gone away and their house is shut up," said Aunt +Sarah, "but I heard Kissy Cooke say they was coming home Saturday. +Hasn't the kitten growed?" + +The days went on, and still no letter came from Rhoda, but on Saturday, +Keziah Cooke stopped in and brought one. + +"John Bowers has got home," said she; "I've just been up and opened the +house for them, and I stayed to get tea, for the baby ain't very well, +and Mrs. Bowers seemed kind of beat out. I was coming by the office, +and Mr. Badger handed me that letter for you. It's from Rhoda, ain't +it?" + +"Yes," said Miss Weightman. + +She opened the letter as she spoke and reading a few lines, she dropped +the paper and clasped her hands with such a look of pain and distress +that Keziah sprang to catch her, thinking she was going to faint. + +"There! Sit down and let me get you a glass of water," said she. "What +is it? Is she dead?" + +"No, no!" said Miss Weightman as soon as she could speak. "I could +almost wish she were. Keziah, they have turned the poor girl off—sent +her back to 'The Home.' She thought to the last minute she was going to +school. She has been very sick, she tells me, and is only now getting +about again." + +"Well," said Keziah, with emphasis, "I know one thing: I wouldn't be in +their place for something. If they don't bring a curse on themselves +and their child, I don't know anything. And she all the same as their +own for so many years. Poor dear! No wonder she was sick. I hope the +folks were kind to her." + +"She says they were," said Aunt Hannah, recurring to the letter. "She +says she was very low—that they thought she would die, and wrote to +Mrs. Bowers, but had no answer. She has found a friend in one of the +old ladies. Dear me! To think of Anne Brown being in a 'Home.' She was +very well off in a house of her own the last I knew of her. + + "'She has been very kind to me, as has everybody else,' Rhoda writes. +'She thinks I had better tell you all about it. Oh, aunty, do come and +see me if you can.'" + +"You will go, won't you?" said Keziah. + +"Indeed I shall, and bring the child home with me," said Aunt Hannah. +"While I have a roof over my head, that child shall never be dependent +on a public charity. I will go to-morrow." + +"Jeduthun is going over to Shortsville, and can take you to the train +as well as not, if you don't mind an early start," said Keziah, full of +kindly sympathy, and at the same time not insensible to the pleasure +of having authentic news of Rhoda to tell Mrs. Antis and her other +friends. "Well, I never could have believed that of Mrs. Bowers. I +wonder whether Rhoda did anything to displease them? I always thought +she was one of the steadiest, piousest, best young girls in the whole +town. I know, when she joined church last winter, Mr. Maynard said he +never seen a young girl of her age that seemed to have a more realizing +sense of religion than she had. Well, when her father and mother +forsake her, the Lord 'll take her up. He don't never get tired of his +adopted ones; that's one comfort, ain't it?" + +"It is indeed," said Aunt Hannah. "I am sure Rhoda is one of his little +ones. Just now I must say I feel worse for John and Maria than for the +child. She will have a home with me as long as I live, and it will go +hard but I will contrive to educate her, so that she can provide for +herself when I am gone." + +"Where are you going now?" asked Keziah as the old lady went into her +bedroom and came out with her bonnet on. + +"I am going up to see Maria," answered Aunt Hannah. "I must know the +whole story before I sleep. Remember, we have only heard one side as +yet." + +"I'm afraid there ain't but one side to hear," said Keziah. "I know I +wondered to see how confused and kind of angry Mrs. Bowers seemed every +time anybody asked her about Rhoda. Poor thing! No wonder she didn't +write to any of the girls. I'll walk with you, Miss Hannah, if you +don't mind." + +For as Keziah said when speaking of it next day, "I mistrusted the old +lady might want help. I didn't like her looks. She was just as gray as +ashes for a while and when her colour came again, it was all on one +side of her face. She was getting an old woman, you see, and her heart +was dreadful set on Rhoda." + +"Why, Aunt Hannah! Who expected to see you here so soon?" said Mrs. +Bowers as her aunt entered. + +"Maria," said Miss Weightman, without any reply to the greeting, "what +have you done with Rhoda?" + +"Rhoda? Oh, she is at school," answered Mrs. Bowers, trying very +unsuccessfully to speak as if nothing were the matter. "You know she +always wanted to go to school." + +"Don't lie to me, child!" said Aunt Hannah, so sternly that Maria +started and turned pale. "I know that she is not at school. I have just +had a letter from her. What has she done that she is turned off in this +way?" + +"I never said she had done anything," answered Mrs. Bowers, beginning +to cry. "I think it is too bad if I am to be called a liar in my own +house. I am sure I never said one word against Rhoda; but when we had +one of our own, it was different. And Uncle Jacob was always at us +about her, and he said we needn't expect anything from him unless we +would be guided by him; and an adopted child isn't the same as one's +own." + +"It is, if possible, a more sacred charge," said Aunt Hannah. "Oh, +Jacob, could not you be satisfied with destroying your own soul without +bringing on yourself and these the curse of the orphan?" + +"I am sure it was all his fault," whimpered Mrs. Bowers; "and we had a +right to do it. And the ladies at 'The Home' treated John shamefully. +And I think Rhoda ought to be ashamed to abuse us so." + +"She has not abused you, nor will she do so, Maria; but the punishment +will surely come, I fear. The wealth for which you and your husband +have sold yourselves will eat as a canker if ever it is yours. You are +bound—sold under sin, and the wages of sin is death. You have cast off +the child you solemnly promised to cherish as your own. Do you think +your boy will be the better for it? Do you think, if you were taken +away, you would like to have him turned over to public charity? You and +your husband have committed a grievous sin; and unless you repent, your +sin will rise against you in the judgment day. What will you say when +you are asked for the child which you were permitted to take into your +charge?" + +"Aunt Hannah, I'll thank you to let my wife alone," said Mr. Bowers, +who had hitherto sat silent. "I don't think it is any of your business. +We took Rhoda and we have given her up again, and she is no worse off +than she was before." + +"And I am sure we gave her five new dresses and ever so many +underclothes, and John sent her all her things that she left here when +she went away," sobbed Mrs. Bowers. "I think it is a shame that I +should be talked to so." + +"I shall say no more to you, Maria, nor to you, John," said Aunt +Hannah, recovering her calmness. "Rhoda is henceforth my charge. I +shall go to the city to-morrow and bring her home with me. Though I am +not rich and never shall be, my precious child shall not be left to +strangers while I have a loaf or a dollar to divide." + +"And then everybody will know the whole story, and there will be no end +of a fuss and a scandal," said Mrs. Bowers. + +"There will be that at any rate," answered Aunt Hannah. "Do you think +you can do such a thing and not have everybody know it? I heard the +story before I had been off the cars ten minutes, but I would not +believe it till I had the child's own letter." + +"What do you think Uncle Jacob will say to you?" asked Mr. Bowers. + +"I neither know nor care. I am not accountable to Jacob, nor in any way +dependent on him. I want nothing that he has to give. Ah, John, John, +you have made the greatest mistake of your life." + +"Well, I don't know but I have, Aunt Hannah," said Mr. Bowers. +"Sometimes I have thought so. It was more Maria's doing than mine, any +way. Only that I didn't know what she might say, I believe I should +have given up at the last minute and brought Rhoda home with me." + +"Oh yes, 'It was all Maria!' It is always 'The woman whom thou gavest +to be with me,'" said Aunt Hannah. "That excuse was one of the first +fruits of the fall, and it will be one of the last." + +"Well, you know, Aunt Hannah, I really couldn't have the girl here +unless Maria was willing," said Mr. Bowers, with some show of reason. +"Rhoda was a good girl, and I was very fond of her; but, after all, our +own had the first claim. But I do wish you would reconsider this matter +before you bring the girl back to make a talk and a fuss. She is well +enough off where she is, and she is sure to make friends." + +"She has made one Friend who I am afraid is not yours, John—even the +Friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and who has said,— + +"'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive.' + +"Oh, why didn't you tell me what you meant to do? Then the poor child +might have been spared some part of this distress which has almost cost +her life." + +"Well, Uncle Jacob thought it would only make a fuss; and besides—Come, +Aunt Hannah, do take a second thought before you send for Rhoda. Second +thoughts are always best, you know." + +"I know people say so, but I don't believe it," said Aunt Hannah. "I +believe, when any person habitually tries to be governed by a sense of +duty, the first thought is almost always the right thought. But there +is no use in talking to me on this matter. I can't consider you at +all. I shall go to town to-morrow morning, and if possible bring Rhoda +home with me. You have done what you saw fit, and you must take the +consequences. They are nothing to me. I can only pray that you may be +brought to a better mind, and that the sins of the parents may not be +visited on the children." + + +When Aunt Hannah went home, she found that Keziah had lighted her fire +and got her tea all ready. + +"I thought you'd be kind of tired and done over, and wouldn't feel +like getting supper," said Kissy, who was aching with curiosity to +learn the result of the interview, though she had too much delicacy to +ask any questions. "I guess I'll go along now, for 'Duthun will want +his supper; but if you don't mind, I'll just run round again before +bedtime—say about nine o'clock—and see how you are. You might be took +faint again." + +"Do," said Miss Hannah; "and, Kissy, bring Jeduthun with you. I want to +see him." + +When she was left alone, even before she drank her tea, Aunt Hannah +went to her desk and took out a paper. She sat down and wrote about +half a page, apparently referring to the other as she did so. Then she +tore up the first and burned the pieces; and leaving the other on the +desk, she sat down to her tea. + + +As Keziah and her husband were finishing their supper, which was +rather later than usual, there was a knock at the door, which was +opened before Jeduthun could reach it by Mr. Bowers. + +"For mercy's sake, Kissy, come to my aunt!" he exclaimed. "And, +Jeduthun, you run for the doctor. I'm afraid Aunt Hannah is dead." + +"Is any one there?" asked Kissy as they hurried toward the house. + +"Only Uncle Jacob. We went over together, and found her sitting by her +desk leaning back in her chair. She was at our house not two hours ago." + +"I know," said Kissy. "She wasn't well, though. It shook her dreadfully +when she got that letter. I thought she would faint away then. It's +gone to her heart, I expect." + +Aunt Hannah was indeed gone to her long home. She had died sitting in +her chair, apparently without pain. Uncle Jacob at once took possession +of the house and gave all the orders about the funeral on a liberal +scale. + +"She sha'n't say that I didn't do what was right by her," he muttered +to himself. "The will wasn't signed, so it wasn't worth anything in +law, and I don't believe she was in her right mind. I'll send all her +clothes to that girl, and that's more than she had any right to in law; +but I will do it. Yes, she shall have the clothes." + +"After all, I don't know that I am sorry," said Mrs. Bowers to her +husband. "Aunt Hannah was an old woman, any way, and it would have been +very awkward to have Rhoda back here. I wonder how she has left her +property?" + +"There wasn't any will, so it all goes to Uncle Jacob," said Mr. +Bowers. "I expected to hear she had left it to Rhoda. It is odd that +there should have been no will. She was always so particular about +business. Uncle Jacob says he shall send Rhoda all her clothes. I am +glad of that." + +"I don't see why he should. Rhoda has enough of her own. But they won't +amount to much, Aunt Hannah always dressed so plainly." + +"She was always giving away. Uncle Jacob says she has sent over four +hundred dollars to foreign missions, besides all she has done at home. +Well, I hope it will all turn out for the best, that's all." + +There was a great wonderment in the little village when it came to be +known that Aunt Hannah had died without a will. Two or three people had +known of her making one some years before, and did not scruple to hint +that Uncle Jacob had destroyed it to get possession of the place, but +nobody could prove anything. + +Of course Keziah told everybody about Rhoda, and how her aunt had meant +to take her home. + +Mr. and Mrs. Bowers found themselves in anything but an enviable +position, and at last Mr. Bowers sold out his interest in the mills and +went to Hobarttown to live, so that Rhoda's last tie to Boonville was +cut off. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_A NEW HOME._ + +THE news of Aunt Hannah's death was a dreadful shock to Rhoda. She had +looked to her return with a vague but strong hope that somehow the +old lady would set matters right. She had felt so sure of seeing her, +especially since she had made up her mind to write, and her heart had +throbbed faster every time the door-bell rung. Now it was all over. +Aunt Hannah was gone, and she felt herself indeed alone in the world. + +"After all, if it was to be so, I am glad she died instead of changing +like the others," said she to Miss Brown. "If mother had died when baby +was born, I should not have been half so sorry about her as I am now." + +"Ah, my dear, there are few people who might not say that of some one," +said Miss Brown, sighing. "But, Rhoda, would there have been nothing to +regret then?" + +"Not on her side," answered Rhoda. "I soon found out that mother was +not the wisest woman that ever lived, but she was always kind to me. I +don't believe any child ever was happier or better taken care of than I +was for those eight years." + +"Then you have at least that much for which to thank Mrs. Bowers," +remarked Miss Brown, "since she gave you eight years of happiness." + +"Yes, I suppose so," said Rhoda, thoughtfully; "and yet, somehow, this +last business seems to have blotted out all the rest. I could find it +in my heart to wish they had let me alone." + +"I understand you," said her friend; "but, Rhoda, you must try to +forgive as you would be forgiven." + +"Indeed, I do, Miss Brown," said Rhoda, earnestly. "You don't know how +much I pray for a forgiving spirit, and sometimes I think I have it, +but then again the tide comes up and sweeps it all away." + +"That is the way with everybody, child. We have to fight our battles +over and over again." + +"It is very strange that Aunt Hannah left no will," said Rhoda, +recurring again to Mr. Weightman's letter. "He says that as his sister +left no will, the property returns to the rightful owner—himself, I +suppose he means: that he sends me her clothes and some other things, +though I have no right, in law, to anything. I don't understand it, +for I am sure that Aunt Hannah had made a will at one time. You don't +suppose Mr. Weightman can have destroyed it, do you?" + +"I think not. He would hardly have ventured on such a crime. Aunt +Hannah may have destroyed it herself, thinking that she would make +another. You know she died very suddenly." + +"I don't know. Mr. Weightman would do almost anything for the sake of +money, I think," said Rhoda. "It was all he cared about. It was that +which spoiled mother more than anything else. She got to think, as +Uncle Jacob did, that money was everything, and she was jealous of +everybody better off than herself. She used to vex me talking about +Aunt Annie—aunt is her sister. She said Annie was so worldly and +extravagant, though I don't think she was, and she said she should +think Annie would feel ashamed to wear so diamonds and keep so many +servants when her own sister had none. + +"I don't think that she loved money so much for its own sake as because +she thought it made people respected and looked up to. She said nobody +cared for poor folks—they never were respected; and she used to fancy +that people felt above her. I know Mrs. Swan came to see her from the +Springs, and she never would return the call, because she said Mrs. +Swan came in a handsome silk dress and a sable cloak, and she had +nothing to wear but a merino." + +"It is a poor kind of spirit, but one meets it everywhere," said Miss +Brown. "Mrs. Merchant won't sit next Mrs. Smithers on Sunday because +Mrs. Smithers wears her black silk dress to tea." + +Rhoda had several letters from the girls in Boonville, and one from +Mrs. Antis offering to give her a home till she could do better. Rhoda +thanked her friend, but declined the invitation. + +"I couldn't do it," she said to Miss Carpenter, to whom she showed the +letter. "Mrs. Antis is very kind, but I think it would break my heart +to go back there now." + +Miss Carpenter sympathized with the feeling, and was secretly glad that +Rhoda did not want to go away. + +"I should hardly know how to do without her, and that is the truth," +said she to Mrs. Mulford, one day when the two were talking over +matters in the house. + +"She makes herself useful, then?" + +"Oh yes, indeed, she does. Not that she accomplishes so very much work, +but she is always at hand, and always ready to help when she is wanted. +Even when I have to call her away from her book or her music to do an +errand or to sit with somebody, she is just as pleasant about it as can +be. + +"And she is one of the kind who save steps instead of making them. +When she waits on the old ladies at table, which she offered to do of +her own accord, she is always on the watch to see whose cup is out +or who wants anything; and if Mrs. Gardener or Mrs. Pratt wants to +rise—you know neither of them can get up alone—Rhoda's arm is always +there ready. Now, Jenny means to do right, for aught I know, as much as +Rhoda, but you have always got to tell her. She don't anticipate one as +Rhoda does." + +"I am glad to hear such a good account of the child," said Mrs. +Mulford. "I was a little afraid she might be 'stuck up,' as they say; +and I have not felt quite sure about the effects of these lessons. Miss +Brown tells me that she is an excellent scholar. I wish we could keep +her here and give her a good education, but I don't see any way to do +it. We have stretched a point in keeping her as long as we have. I am +afraid she must go to a place pretty soon." + +"I am sure I hope it will be a good one, then," said Miss Carpenter. +"That is the worst of our little girls. As soon as we have made them +worth something, we have to let them go." + +"Is that Rhoda playing?" asked Mrs. Mulford as the sound of a piano +reached her ears. + +"Yes; she practises every day. I think she would make a good player if +she had a chance, but the piano is a poor old thing, and some of the +old ladies complain of the noise; so Rhoda doesn't play as much as she +would like to." + +"Well, I must see what can be done, but I fear it won't answer to keep +her here much longer. People say now that the funds are misapplied and +the old ladies half starved. I should think any one might see that they +are not badly used by the way they live on after they come to us. Mrs. +Pratt was nearly eighty when she came to 'The Home,' and she has been +here ten years." + +"It's her good temper keeps her alive," said Miss Carpenter. + +"And what do you think keeps Aunty Parsons alive? Not her good temper, +I am sure." + +"She has got in the habit of living just as she has of smoking, and she +doesn't know how to leave it off," said Mrs. Lambert, who, though the +most faithful and untiring of nurses, was by no means so placid as Miss +Carpenter. "I believe she will wear me out before she dies herself. +Well, we shall dislike to have Rhoda go away but perhaps, if she has to +earn her living, the earlier she sets about it, the better. She is a +girl sure to make friends wherever she goes—that is one thing." + +The box containing Aunt Hannah's clothes arrived in due time, and Rhoda +shed many tears over its contents, particularly over her aunt's Bible, +which she was delighted to find among the things. On turning it over, +she found a two-dollar and a twenty-five-cent bill concealed among the +leaves, and showed them to Miss Brown. + +"That money will just do to get you a new pair of shoes with," said +Mrs. Parsons, who happened to be in the room at the time. "Some folks +has all the luck. Nobody never sends me no money." + +"No," said Rhoda; "I know Aunt Hannah put them in there for the +missionary collection; this paper with them says so. That is the way +she used to do. I mean to get Miss Carpenter to change the money and +keep it to carry to church." + +"That's a good notion, Rhody," said Miss Dean, another old lady, who +had always taken a great interest in Rhoda. "It is strange, now, +how Providence orders things," she continued, reflectively. "Last +week I was worrying because I hadn't a speck of money to send to the +children's hospital fund—and I always did feel such an interest in that +object—and when I was at the worst, my grandnephew came in to see me +and gave me five dollars for a present—he's a dreadful openhearted boy, +Daniel is; just like my father—so there I had a dollar to send to the +hospital directly." + +"Everything comes right for you, don't it, aunty?" asked Rhoda, smiling. + +"Well, yes, child, pretty much." + +"I'm sure I shouldn't think it came very right when you had to be +turned out of your room," said Mrs. Parsons, who, like most grumblers, +resented Miss Dean's contentment as an affront to herself. + +"Well, yes, it did. I was sorry to lose my closet, but then I had a +wardrobe and a register to myself; and then it's a great saving of my +strength not to have to go up and down stairs; and when grandmother was +put into my room, I did feel favoured, indeed." + +"How is grandmother?" + +"Well, her eyes trouble her some, but she is pretty smart for a woman a +hundred and one years old. But I must go, for I promised to make a cap +for Miss Carpenter to-day." + +"And I must go too," said Rhoda, starting. "Miss Wilkins will wonder +what has become of me." + +Rhoda's lessons were not to be uninterrupted much longer. As Mrs. +Mulford remarked, the managers had stretched a point in keeping her +so long, since she was quite well again and her services were really +not needed in the house. The funds of the institution were strictly +tied up to two special objects—the maintenance of the old women and of +the eight little girls, who were to be put out to places at the age +of fifteen. Miss Carpenter often regretted this law, saying that it +obliged them to part with the girls just at the wrong time. + +"Just when they begin to be most useful to us, and when they need the +most care," said she. "Fifteen is about the last age when a girl should +be thrown on her own resources. She is usually a good deal better able +to take care of herself at ten." + +However, the law was a law, and could not be altered. Rhoda was past +sixteen, a stout, healthy, capable girl, and some people had already +begun to talk about favouritism, etc., in the amiable strain in which +many persons who do nothing whatever for their fellow-creatures are apt +to criticise those who are trying to do a little. It was decided that +Rhoda must go, and it fell to the lot of Mrs. Mulford to tell her of +the decision. + +Poor Rhoda felt as if she were being once more torn up by the roots. +She had taken her first transplanting hardly enough, but she had, as it +were, become settled in the new soil, and had struck out rootlets and +tendrils. She had said to herself more than once that it must come to +this some day—that of course she must expect to work for her living; +but as the days and weeks went on, and nothing was said about a change, +the idea had fallen into the background of her mind. She felt herself +once more at home; and when Mrs. Mulford mentioned the matter, which +she did very kindly, Rhoda burst into tears and cried bitterly. + +Mrs. Mulford was rather annoyed. She had done her best to find a place +for Rhoda, and she disliked anything like a scene. Moreover, she did +not quite understand Rhoda's feelings, so she delivered her a little +lecture on false pride. + +"You ought to be thankful for all that has been done for you already," +said she, in conclusion. "Come, now, dry up your tears, and look at it +like a sensible girl." + +"I am sure I am thankful," said Rhoda, trying to compose herself. "I +know how kind everybody has been, and it was very good in you to find +me a nice place; but—but it came over me so suddenly. It seems somehow +to make me feel the change more than anything. And I did so want to get +an education," said the poor girl, with a fresh burst of tears as the +sense of her disappointment overcame her; "I have set my heart on it +all my life. I wouldn't care how hard I worked for it." + +"Yes, yes, I understand," said Mrs. Mulford. "I will try to find you a +place where you can work for your board and go to school by and by; but +really I think you can't do better than to accept this one at present. +It is not so distant but that you can come home pretty often—for you +must always consider this house your home, my dear; and the wages are +good—two dollars a week. You can be laying up money, you see, and by +and by you may be able to accomplish your object. You have a pretty +good stock of clothes, have you not?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am, all I shall want this long time." + +"And some money beforehand, I think Miss Carpenter said?" + +"Yes, ma'am—twenty dollars. But I thought perhaps I ought to pay that +for my board here." + +"Oh dear, no!" said Mrs. Mulford, secretly very much pleased with the +suggestion. "You have done quite enough to pay for your board since you +have been here. I think you had better put your money in the savings +bank, as you don't want to use it. Then it will be safe and drawing +interest, and one is not so much tempted to spend money when one has to +go to the bank for it, as I know by experience," she added, smiling. "I +will go to the bank with you and get you a book, and you can deposit +what part of your wages you don't want to use; and by and by you will +find yourself with quite a little capital—enough to go to school on for +some time." + +"And perhaps I may have time to study where I am going," said Rhoda, +brightening up a little at these suggestions. + +"I dare say you may, if you are quick; though you must remember that +your time is your employer's, and not slight your work. Mrs. Ferrand +is a reasonable woman in the main, and won't expect too much of you. +My Jane has half the time to herself—at least three days in the week; +though I am afraid she spends very little time in studying. She likes +to run in the street better than anything. Miss Carpenter tells me that +you don't care very much about going out." + +"I haven't anywhere to go," said Rhoda, sighing a little. "When will +Mrs. Ferrand want me?" + +"As soon as you can be ready. She usually keeps two girls, but has +nobody at present." + +Rhoda was not sorry to hear this, for one of the things she had dreaded +was the being obliged to associate with uncongenial people, and she +secretly resolved that she would do all in her power to make another +girl unnecessary. The prospect of being able to save money for her +great object was another comfort. Nevertheless, it was not very strange +that after Mrs. Mulford had gone, Rhoda should shut herself up in her +room and have a good cry. + +But Rhoda, young as she was, had learned the way to the only spring of +comfort and peace. She recurred to Aunt Hannah's verses written in the +beginning of her precious Bible, and by degrees she was able to say +honestly and from her heart,— + + "'Not my will, but thine, be done.'" + +There was a great outcry in the house when it was known that Rhoda was +going away. Her quiet helpfulness and cheerfulness had greatly endeared +her to the old ladies, and Miss Brown had come to depend very much upon +her. + +Granny Parsons declared that "it wasn't no more than she expected. +She always knew that Rhoda's pride would have a fall, with her +music-lessons and her history-books, thinking herself a young lady, +when she wasn't nothing but a charity child." Then turning round with +a rapidity quite her own, she declared that it was "a shame and a sin +to make the poor girl live out, just as if the ladies couldn't afford +to support her when they was perfectly rolling in money. It was all of +a piece—just some of Mrs. Lambert's doing, because she, Mrs. Lambert, +knew that granny liked her best of any gal in the house. Just like her +taking away my bottle of whisky with cherry bark into it—the only thing +that is any comfort to me." + +"Because the doctor said it wasn't good for you," said Mrs. Josleyn. +"He said 'twas that made your eyes sore." + +"Just as if he knew anything! I knew his father when he wasn't nothing +but a hired man, living out with old Mr. Mellener. A likely story he +knows what's good for folks!" + + +"Well, Rhody, so we are going to lose you, I hear?" said Miss Dean. +"I'm real sorry, but I suppose it is all ordered for the best. You are +a good girl, and I'm sure the Lord will take care of you. Now, let me +give you one bit of advice, because I'm older than you, and I've seen a +great deal of the world in one place and another. I dare say you will +find some things not quite pleasant—one does everywhere; but you just +make up your mind to take the bitter with the sweet, and don't throw +away your dinner because you happen to find a cinder in it. You might +not get another in a hurry; or if you did, it might have something +worse than a cinder. Of course it ain't the kind of place you've been +used to; but if you respect yourself and mind your business and don't +put yourself forward, but just do your very best in your own part of +the house, there's no fear but your folks will think enough of you. And +don't you give up the notion of getting an education. I feel to believe +that it will be brought about somehow for you." + +"Oh, I don't mean to," said Rhoda, cheerfully. "I mean to learn all I +can about everything, work included." + +"That's right," said Miss Dean. "My mother used to say that there +wasn't any use in neglecting your knitting to-day because you expected +to have some spinning to-morrow. Some folks are always doing that very +thing—neglecting the work just under their hand because they expect to +accomplish something grand byme-by, and they never accomplish anything. + +"Well, the Lord bless you, Rhody, and I'm sure he will. You've had some +pretty hard trials when you was young, and maybe you'll have all the +better times when you are old. Anyhow, as long as you hold on to him, +he won't never leave you. I'm just as sure of that as I am that I'm +alive." + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_MRS. FERRAND'S._ + +AND Rhoda believed it too. She was not, happily for herself, of a +nervous temperament, and was disposed to look on the bright side of +everything. By the time Monday morning came round, she was able to bid +her friends good-bye with tolerable cheerfulness, and to go to her new +home with good courage. + +Mrs. Ferrand received her kindly. She was rather a pretty little woman, +and attractive, in spite of a certain expression of anxiety and a +precise, formal manner. + +"We have a small family just now," said she; "only Mr. Ferrand and +myself and one daughter, who goes to school. I have always kept two +girls, but my cook went away last week, and the other girl was not +contented without her. I shall get another cook as soon as I can find +one to suit me, and in the mean time, we must manage as well as we can." + +"Everything seems very convenient," remarked Rhoda, looking round +at the kitchen, with its sink and range and abundance of tables and +cupboards. + +Mrs. Ferrand looked pleased: + +"Well, yes. Everything is very convenient and nice, but somehow the +girls don't seem to appreciate it. And really there is not much +encouragement to make things right when they won't take any pains to +keep them so. Only a week before Eliza went away, I bought a nice new +clothes-wringer. She used it once, and the next thing I knew it was +lying on the ground, out at the back door. But you look as if you might +be careful. If you will go up these stairs, you will find your room +at the head of them. I hope you will keep it in nice order, for Mr. +Ferrand is very particular." + +"I like to have things in order myself," remarked Rhoda, wondering at +the same time what Mr. Ferrand would have to do with her room. + +She found it a convenient though rather small apartment, having a +pleasant window and comfortable furniture. + +"This will do very well for one, but it would be pretty close quarters +for two," she thought. "I wish I could do all the work myself. I wonder +if I could?" + +Rhoda found her life for the first week or two sufficiently +comfortable. Mr. Ferrand was away, and Isabella, the daughter, was at +school from half-past eight to four. The rest of the time she either +studied or practised on the piano. She was a pretty, amiable girl, but +Rhoda thought she seemed very languid and indifferent. Mrs. Ferrand was +kind, and helped about the work herself. She was excessively nice and +particular, but not unreasonable; and she soon discovered that Rhoda +was bent on doing her best, and treated her accordingly. + +Rhoda was well and strong, and she liked to have things neat and +comfortable for her own sake. Mrs. Bowers had not neglected Rhoda's +education in this respect, as do too many mothers. She had drilled her +charge thoroughly in household work, and taught her to use her time +and strength to the best advantage. Rhoda knew how to calculate her +motions, to save herself steps, and to make her work tell. She felt +that she was giving Mrs. Ferrand satisfaction, and that in itself was a +great help to her. + +She had arranged her room as nicely as possible, with various little +ornaments and books which she had bought, or which had been sent from +her former home, and it was really a very pretty little retreat. She +had usually finished the most of her work by three o'clock, and after +that, the time was her own till six, for Mrs. Ferrand never asked her +to do any sewing. + +Rhoda used to try to spend at least two hours a day over her books; and +though she did not make very great progress, she at least kept what she +had already gained. She deeply regretted the loss of her music, but +there was no help for that. Her fingers used fairly to tingle sometimes +when she was alone in the room with the piano, but she never ventured +to touch it, and refrained from saying a word, even when Isabella +tortured her ears as she did by making the very same blunders in the +same places day after day. + +"Don't forget your practising, Isa," said her mother, one evening, as +she was going out. "Mr. Harvey tells me you ought to practice at least +one hour more every day." + +"Then I wish Mr. Harvey would mind his business," said Isa, sullenly, +as the door closed behind her mother. "I want to learn my Bible-class +lessons and to read, and I haven't one minute's time because of Mr. +Harvey and that tiresome old piano. I wish they were in the Red Sea +together." + +"Don't wish that. Wish I had them," said Rhoda, who was clearing the +tea-table. "I only wish I had your chance, Miss Isa." + +"I'm sure I wish you had if you want it," answered Isa "perhaps you +might make something of it. I know you can sing, for I have heard you, +and I dare say you could learn to play, but I never shall. Fathers has +spent a great deal on my music already, and I don't play decently." + +"Oh, you mustn't be discouraged," said Rhoda. "You have come to +the hard place, I suppose. Aunt Betsy says there must always be a +hard place in everything. Oh, don't cry, please don't," said Rhoda, +dismayed, as Isa's head went down on the piano amid a burst of +hysterical sobs. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." + +"You didn't," sobbed Isa. "But I am so tired and so discouraged, I +can't help crying. It is just school, school, lesson, lesson, all the +time from year's end to year's end. I detest it all, and I wish I was a +Dutch girl working in Uncle John's nursery: so there!" + +"And I only wish I had your chance to go to school and study," said +Rhoda. "I would rather do it than anything else in the world. I +wouldn't care how hard I worked." + +"Wouldn't you?" retorted Isa. "Just look here, Rhoda: do you know any +algebra?" + +"A little. I have been as far as simple equations. I like it too, but +I think it is pretty tough, I must say; especially when I have no +teacher." + +"Well, just look at my lessons for to-morrow. Three pages of examples +in equations—all new, you see—one hundred and fifty lines of Virgil, +besides my exercises and six propositions in geometry, all to be +learned to-morrow, besides my music and walking to and from school with +all my books, more than a mile each way. What do you think of that?" + +[Illustration: _Rhoda's Education._ + "Just look at my lessons for to-morrow * * * besides my music," + said Isa.] + +"I think it is a shame," said Rhoda, warmly. "I have been studying +geometry, and I found one proposition as much as I could very well do +in a day. Why don't you tell your mother about it?" + +"Much use that would be. Besides, it isn't her doing; it's pa. He +thinks I can't be overworked because I have only three studies and +music. And the worst is, I don't see any end to it," said Isa, who +seemed to find comfort in talking. "I shall finish at the academy in a +year if I can only keep on, and then papa says he shall send me to a +French or German school for two or three years." + +"I should think you would like that," said Rhoda. "I read a book about +the Moravian school at Konigsfeld, and I thought it seemed lovely." + +"Yes, I know what you mean. I had the book too, and I asked papa to +send me there. Then he read it—the book, I mean; but he said they did +nothing but play, as far as he could see. He didn't think it would +answer at all. And I don't have one minute's time to myself from one +month's end to another. I do like my Bible lessons—there seems some +use in them—and I like to read, but I can't. Pa don't approve of light +reading. He says the only true use of reading is to gain information +and improve the mind." + +"I have noticed that you don't seem to have any story-books," remarked +Rhoda. + +"No, hardly any; and papa won't even take a magazine for fear I should +get some fun out of it. Oh, you'll see when he comes home. It isn't +like the same house when he is here." + +"Where has he gone?" asked Rhoda. + +"To some educational convention or other. Well, I must go at these +things, I suppose. Can't you come and sit with me when your work is +done? I like to have you even when I can't talk." + +"I am afraid your mother would not like it," said Rhoda. + +"She won't care; and besides, she won't know: she won't be home till +nine. And there's another thing: I like to go to the Wednesday evening +service ever so much; but if I say anything, papa always asks, 'What +about your lessons, Isabella?' in that provoking way of his. Well, +there! You needn't look shocked. I know I ought not to talk so, but it +is a comfort to speak one's mind for once." + +"I will bring over my algebra next time I go home," said Rhoda. "I +should like to go over what I studied. I was always pretty quick at +figures, and perhaps I could help you." + +"Why, you seem to have a real good education," said Isa, surprised. "I +shouldn't think you would be living out. How did it happen?" + +"It is a long story and not a very pleasant one," said Rhoda, flushing +a little. "I'll tell you some time, but not to-night. I must wash +my dishes; and excuse me, Miss Isa, but I think you ought to be +practising." + +"Well, don't I know it?" asked Isa, irritably. And striking a chord, or +discord, which tortured Rhoda's ears, she went on with her music. + +"Poor girl!" thought Rhoda as she retired to the kitchen. "I don't +think I should like lessons myself if they were crammed down my throat +in that way. Oh dear! What work she does make! She can't have the least +bit of an ear. I wonder what her father is like? He must be queer, I +think." + +Rhoda was destined to be fully convinced of Mr. Ferrand's queerness +before she had done with him. One morning Mrs. Ferrand came into the +kitchen, her cheeks a little paler and more than the usual shade of +anxiety in her manner. + +"Mr. Ferrand is coming home to-night, Rhoda," said she. "We must have +everything about the place in order. He is very particular. Be sure to +have the range blackened up and all the ashes taken care of. Don't the +tins want cleaning?" + +"I cleaned them all yesterday and washed all the shelves," said Rhoda, +wondering whether the master of the house was expected to interest +himself in basins and cups. + +Mrs. Ferrand still lingered, picking up odd bits of paper and making +herself anxious over the state of the windows and the fittings of the +range. Rhoda saw that she was nervous and apprehensive, and exerted +herself to have everything in faultless order. + +Mr. Ferrand's expected arrival seemed to discompose the whole +household. Isa, the moment she came home from school, sat down to her +scales and exercises, which in her agitation she played worse than ever. + +"Just hear that child!" said Mrs. Ferrand, who was in the kitchen +superintending the frosting of some cake. "What work she does make of +it! I don't know what her father will say." + +"She is so tired," said Rhoda, whose sensitive ears were being bored +with Isa's discords. "I should think she ought to rest and amuse +herself when she comes from school, instead of sitting down to practise +her music-lessons directly." + +Mrs. Ferrand looked rather surprised: + +"Do you think so? Mr. Ferrand always says change of occupation is +sufficient recreation." + +"Well, I don't know. If I have been washing all day, I don't think I +should find much recreation in going to ironing," said Rhoda. "And I +don't think Miss Isa is very fond of her music. She likes her tatting +better." + +"Mr. Ferrand has a system for all those things," said the lady, +with the same little sigh. "He means that Isa shall have a perfect +education. He has had a good deal of experience too. His oldest son, +Isa's half-brother, was ready to enter college at twelve years old; +only he unluckily took a fever and died. It was just after I was +married. I was very fond of the poor little fellow, and he clung to me +in his illness and would not have his father near him. He thought he +was the indicative mood, and was trying to kill him." + +"Poor little thing!" thought Rhoda. "And with that warning before him, +he goes on just so with Isa." + +"My sister Harriet, Miss Hardy, has a young ladies' school," continued +Mrs. Ferrand, who seemed to find comfort in talking. "She has wished to +have Isa with her for a year, but Mr. Ferrand will not consent, because +he does not approve of her system. He thinks she gives the girls too +much liberty and playtime. I must say, though, that Harriet has good +success with her girls. There was Helen Kane; she never could get on +at the academy and was always being sick, but she has been three years +with Harriet, and her health has improved every year. But Mr. Ferrand +asked her several questions when she was here one day, and she could +not answer any of them." + +"What were the questions?" asked Rhoda. + +"I don't remember them all, only she did not know the latitude and +longitude of San Francisco, nor the year of her reign in which Queen +Elizabeth died; only she said she thought it was the last. Her father +laughed, I remember, but Mr. Ferrand said he could see nothing to laugh +at in such ignorance." + +Rhoda laughed too when she was alone, but she could not help feeling +uneasy. Mr. Ferrand was a coming event which seemed to cast a very cool +shadow before, and she wondered whether she would suit him. + +Mr. Ferrand arrived at six, and Rhoda took a good look at him as she +carried in the tea. He was a rather small man with iron-gray hair, +greenish-gray eyes, and lips that looked, Rhoda thought, as if he were +always saying "cabbage." + +Isa was looking more scared and awkward, and her mother more uneasy, +than usual. + +Rhoda felt herself scrutinized in her turn; and feeling a perverse +inclination to laugh in the great man's face, she set down her teapot +and hastily retreated. + +"Who is that young person?" asked Mr. Ferrand as the door closed behind +Rhoda. + +"She came from 'The Home' to me," answered his wife. "Mrs. Mulford +recommended her, and she is really an excellent girl. With a little +showing, she can cook a nice dinner." + +"I do not approve of showing, as you call it," said Mr. Ferrand. "A +good housekeeper does not show; she gives directions, and has them +obeyed. Is this young person an orphan—one of the beneficiaries of the +institution?" + +Mrs. Ferrand related Rhoda's history as she had heard it from Mrs. +Mulford. + +Mr. Ferrand listened and shook his head. + +"I don't like that," said he. "The girl must have misbehaved in some +way, or she would not have been so summarily turned off." + +"Do you think it is always people's own fault if they are ill-treated, +pa?" asked Isa. + +"If you will put that question into a grammatical and intelligible +form, Isabella, I may perhaps answer it," was the reply. + +Isa relapsed into sulky silence, and did not speak again during the +meal. + +Her father made perpetual comments on her manner of eating, drinking, +and sitting, and the quantity of bread and milk she consumed—she was +not to be allowed tea or butter—and checked her as she was taking a +piece of sponge cake. + +"No more, my daughter. You have already eaten heartily, and it is +far better to rise from the table with appetite. I have been hearing +some admirable lectures on dietetics for young people," he continued, +addressing his wife and passing his cup for the third time. "I think +it would be a good plan to let Isabella have oatmeal porridge for +breakfast and supper." + +"Pa, I can't bear it," said poor Isa, just ready to cry at the idea. + +"You will learn to bear it, Isabella," was the calm reply. "I shall +procure a supply to-morrow." + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_SYSTEM._ + +THE oatmeal was procured and duly prepared for breakfast. Now, to +people who like oatmeal, and with whom it agrees, it is an agreeable +and wholesome diet; but it does not agree with every one, and to those +who dislike it, it is usually downright odious. So it was to Isa. + +"I can't bear it," she said to Rhoda, passionately. "It gives me the +heartburn, and the very smell is disgusting. I can hardly bear to see +you eat it." + +"I wish I could eat your share and mine too," said Rhoda. "I like it +very well if I can have plenty of milk." + +"I'm sure I wish you could. Do give me a piece of bread, Rhoda. I am +ready to faint away." + +Rhoda cut the bread, while Isa put it into her pocket. + +At that moment Mr. Ferrand came into the kitchen. + +"What are you doing here, Isabella?" he asked, in evident though calm +displeasure. "May I ask what brings you into the kitchen at this time?" + +"I came for some hot water," said poor Isa, seizing on the first +pretext which presented itself. + +"I'll get you a pail, Miss Isa," said Rhoda, rising, but Mr. Ferrand +checked her. + +"Miss Ferrand has her own vessels for hot and cold water," said he, "or +should have them. If your room is not properly furnished, Isabella, you +should speak to your mother or me, and have the deficiency rectified. +It is time you were preparing for school." + +"That's just what I want the water for," said Isa, breaking out in +rebellion, as she did now and then. "Do let me get some hot water, pa. +What is the use of making such a fuss for every little thing?" And +snatching a cup from the shelf, she dipped out some hot water and ran +up the back stairs to her own room. + +Mr. Ferrand looked after her with a glance which boded her no good, +and then began a minute investigation of the state of the kitchen. +Cupboards, dishes, towels, were all passed in review and commented on, +and glad was Rhoda when the survey was finished. + +"You seem to have things in tolerable order, though there is not that +degree of system which—But what is this?" he exclaimed, if anything so +calm could be called an exclamation, and laying hold of Rhoda's slate +and algebra, which lay in the kitchen window. "Does Miss Ferrand leave +her books in the kitchen?" + +"Those are mine," answered Rhoda, briefly. + +"Yours! And may I inquire how you came by them and what use you make of +them?" + +"My father bought them, and I use them to study," said Rhoda, rather +crisply, for her patience began to wax threadbare. + +"Indeed! I should suppose that you might find studies more suitable to +your position than algebra," said Mr. Ferrand. "I should say your time +might be more profitably employed." + +"Why should not I study algebra as well as Miss Isa—Miss Ferrand, I +mean?" asked Rhoda, who began to be more amused than angry. "I never +touch it till my work is done, and what harm does it do?" + +"Miss Ferrand's position and yours are very different," answered Mr. +Ferrand, austerely. "She is, or will soon be, a young lady, and your +position is that of a servant—a very different matter. It is proper +that you should read, and I will see that you are furnished with +suitable books, but—but you must see that there is a great difference +between you and Miss Ferrand." + +Rhoda thought there was this difference—that she loved study and Miss +Ferrand hated it; but she had become conscious that she was growing +angry. She therefore prudently held her peace and busied herself with +her dishes, and Mr. Ferrand, after again promising to supply her with +suitable books, left the kitchen, to Rhoda's great relief. Presently, +as she was putting away the dishes, she heard him in conversation with +his wife: + +"The young person in the kitchen seems to have some strange notions, +Mrs. Ferrand. What books do you think I found hidden—that is, not +exactly hidden: I wish to do her no injustice; but lying—in the +kitchen? Nothing less than an algebra and geometry." + +"Was that all?" said Mrs. Ferrand, in tone of relief. "I was afraid you +might have found some bad books, there is so much trash afloat. Yes, I +know Rhoda studies a great deal, though I must say she never neglects +her work for her books. Mrs. Mulford told me that the child was very +desirous to acquire an education, and I thought you would be interested +in her on that account." + +"I am interested in all young persons who try to improve, Mrs. Ferrand, +but they must be content to improve in their proper sphere. I don't +know—I cannot even guess—what my grandmother would have said at finding +one of her maids studying mathematics," said Mr. Ferrand, whose +grandmother had been a baronet's daughter, and who therefore professed +a great love of everything English. + +"Rhoda is a very good girl, and gives me more real help than almost any +servant I ever had," said Mrs. Ferrand. "She seems to make a conscience +of doing everything in the best way, and she is always so pleasant." + +"I would rather hear you say that she is always respectful," said Mr. +Ferrand. "However, if you like the girl, we must try to get on with +her; only I trust you will not let yourself down by holding familiar +conversations with her. It is your place to give directions, and hers +to follow them. I am convinced that most of the multitudinous evils of +our democratic society arise from people's getting out of their proper +spheres. Especially I trust you will see that Isabella does not hold +any intercourse with her. I am mistaken if they were not talking quite +familiarly this morning when I entered the kitchen. Another thing I +wish to mention while I think of it: I met Mr. Harvey on the cars, and +he tells me that Isabella makes very little improvement in her music. I +wish you would see that she gets up in time to practise an hour before +breakfast." + +"Really, Mr. Ferrand, I think that will not answer," said his wife, +roused in behalf of her child even to the point of contradicting her +husband. "Isa's eyes are weak now. She complains of headache, and of +being tired all the time. I think she should be doing less rather than +more while the warm weather lasts." + +Mr. Ferrand smiled superior. + +"I thought you knew by this time that my views for Isa's education +'must' be carried out," said he. + +"Even if it kills her, as it did Charlie, I suppose," said Mrs. Ferrand. + +"My son Charles died of a fever, and not from any over-application," +answered Mr. Ferrand, coldly. "I have nothing to regret where he is +concerned. I expect that Isabella will rise at half-past five and +practise from six till seven hereafter." + +"Then you must call her yourself, for I won't," returned his wife. "The +child has as much to do now as she can bear." + +Mr. Ferrand was amazed. Surely some evil spirit had entered his home +during his absence. Never had he met with so much contradiction during +one day in his own house. He had resolved already that Isabella should +expiate her rebellion by some hours of solitary confinement and low +diet, but he could not very well shut up his wife. He began to be +scared, and thought he would try a little conciliation. + +"Very well. Since you are so decidedly opposed to it, I shall say no +more. I wish nothing but our daughter's good, as you must know, and the +dearest desire of my heart is to see her well-educated, but I do not +wish her to be oppressed. One thing, however, I must insist upon—that +she shall hold no unnecessary communication with the servants in the +kitchen on any subject whatever." + +And having thus saved his dignity, Mr. Ferrand turned for consolation +to his writing-table and his treatise on education—a work which had +occupied him for several years. + + +It was Mr. Ferrand's great misfortune that he was very rich and had +no profession. If he had been obliged to work for a living, his love +of order, accuracy, and system would have found legitimate outlets, +and might have made him an excellent master-mechanic or merchant. +As it was, the qualities which would have been a very moderate dose +if distributed among a hundred workmen were all bestowed on his own +family. No details were too small for his supervision, no neglect or +omission too trifling to annoy him. + +He would talk for a week about an old towel which had been found out of +place, and made as much fuss about the mending of a latch as would be +necessary for the repairing of a steam-engine. As I have said, he liked +everything English, and was very apt to sneer at and contemn "our free +and happy country," as he was fond of saying in a contemptuous tone. He +believed in people keeping their places and being contented in them, +and he had a special horror of servants in particular "getting out of +their proper sphere." + +But Mr. Ferrand's great hobby was education. On that theme he delighted +to dwell for hours, and to his great work on that subject, he gave so +much of his time as was not devoted to superintending family affairs +and acquiring useful information—that is, to storing his mind with +uninteresting facts and dates, arranged in scientific order. Accurate +enumeration, logical deduction, and rigid sequence were the sun and +moon of Mr. Ferrand's intellectual system, and he made no account of +such wandering and comet-like lights as imagination and the poetic +faculty. + +True, certain poets, such as Shakespeare, Milton, Cowper, and +Wordsworth, were to be studied. They were facts in English history, +and it was needful, therefore, to have some acquaintance with them. +But stories of all kinds—"works of fiction," as he comprehensively +classed them—could do nobody any good, and were not to be tolerated for +a moment. One of his pet theories was that change of employment was +sufficient relaxation; and as his own head and nerves were as hard as +cast iron, he never found out the fallacy of his theory. + +His only son had been a prodigy of learning—only he died at thirteen of +a fever which, as Doctor Morton had said at the time, ought not to have +killed a baby. Mr. Ferrand loved his son dearly and mourned for him +deeply, but neither his grief nor his love prevented him from trying +the same system over again with his daughter. + +Isa was of a different stamp from her brother. Charlie had loved study +for its own sake—Isa hated it; Charlie was uncommonly and precociously +intelligent—Isa was by no means bright, and was rather young for her +age: nevertheless, both must be put through exactly the same process. +The system was everything—the individual nothing. Mr. Ferrand had begun +by teaching Isa himself, but he had found the confinement too great, +and he could not make her study unless he were over her. So he gave up +the idea of home education, and sent her to a school whose master was +a man after his own heart—a man who revelled on a plenteous diet of +"facts and figures," and looked upon Virgil and Homer, Milton, Cowper, +and Young, as so much material for parsing. + +Professor Sampson certainly "got his pupils on" wonderfully fast. The +great trouble was that those of them who did not faint by the way—fall +sick and have to be taken out of school—left him with an inexpressible +disgust for books and information of all sorts. + +Professor Sampson had done his best with Isa, feeling quite sure that, +however tightly he might put on the screws, her father would always +be ready to give them another turn. The consequence was that Isa, who +under proper treatment might have turned out a very good woman, with a +healthy body and a sound mind, was fast becoming morose, feverish, and +hysterical, utterly discontented, and ready to consider any change a +gain. Moreover, she became sly and deceitful. + +Rhoda saw this, and it gave her a good deal of trouble. Mr. Ferrand had +said that Isa was not to associate with a servant, and had told Isa +so, yet Isa did not scruple to come to Rhoda's room for help about her +algebra, and to talk to Rhoda on every occasion. + + +One night, as Rhoda was getting ready for bed, Isa came round to her +room in great glee. + +"Marion Campbell is coming back, and oh, ain't I glad?" said she, in a +joyous whisper. + +"Who is Marion Campbell?" asked Rhoda. + +"She is the Scotch cook who used to live here two years ago. She went +away because her sister was sick; and now her sister is dead, she is +coming back. Why, you don't look as if you were glad one bit." + +"I can't say I am," said Rhoda. + +"But why not? She is real good-natured and you won't have half so much +work to do as you have now." + +"I don't mind the work—it is not hard at all," said Rhoda; "and I like +to have my room to myself. It is none too large for one." + +"Oh, but Marion won't sleep in your room. She has the one on the other +side. Don't you know it's part of pa's system that every one should +have a room to themselves?" + +"'Every one having a room to themselves' is a very good system, but it +isn't very good grammar," said Rhoda, smiling. + +"Who cares?" returned Isa. "But I want you to like Marion; she is very +'Scotchy,' but she is awful good-natured. There! I wonder what pa would +say to such a sentence as that? I know," she added, laughing: "he would +say, 'Isabella, will you give me the definition of awful?'" + +"Miss Isa, you ought not to make fun of your father," said Rhoda, +reprovingly; "and you ought not to be here. You know he does not like +it." + +"He isn't home," answered Isa. "Now, Rhoda, do show me how to do these +sums. I know you understand them, and I don't the least in the world. +Come, now, be good. I know I shall fail, and I have failed twice this +week already. I believe I am growing a perfect idiot," said she, +despairingly. "I don't seem to understand anything, especially in the +morning, my head is so dizzy and confused." + +"That's because you don't eat any breakfast or supper," said Rhoda. + +"Well, I can't eat porridge—I fairly loathe it; and if I do eat it, +it makes me sick, so I might as well feel badly for one thing as for +another. Come, do help me, Rhoda, please." + +Rhoda suffered herself to be persuaded. She knew it was not right to +help Isa in deceiving and disobeying her father, but she felt very +sorry for the poor oppressed girl, and she had not strength to resist +her pleadings. Perhaps such strength was hardly to be expected of a +girl of sixteen. Rhoda had been well drilled in common arithmetic, and +she had a natural gift for mathematics, as she had for music. She soon +made Isa's perplexities plain. + +"You are the best girl that ever lived," said Isa, kissing her. "I am +sure you were born for a teacher. But there goes half-past nine, and I +must be in bed before pa comes home. I shall have to hurry." + +"Don't forget your prayers, Miss Isa," said Rhoda. + +And then she turned to her own devotions, but she did not find much +comfort in them. She knew she was doing wrong in keeping up this kind +of secret intercourse with Isa, and yet she could not quite make up +her mind to abandon it. She said to herself that she only did it to +help Isa, but in her secret soul she knew better. She found her own +comprehension and memory greatly assisted by going over the lessons +with another, and she hated to forego the advantage. + +The truth was, Rhoda was getting into a bad way. She had one grand +object in life, and it was a very good object, but she looked at it +till it grew so large as to be in danger of eclipsing everything else. + +Indeed, the atmosphere of the family where she found herself was not +favourable to truthfulness. Mrs. Ferrand, if she did not absolutely +deceive, certainly managed, her husband. Isa had no scruple about +making a false excuse or telling a tolerable sized fib to escape the +penalty of any infraction of Mr. Ferrand's numerous "rules." + +Marion Campbell did not make matters any better when she came. She was +a tall, thin Scotchwoman, an excellent cook, a superlative laundress, +and neat and quick at all sorts of work. She was always good-natured, +even in the agony of dishing up a company dinner, and she was strictly +and scrupulously honest in all that pertained to her employer's +property. + +But she thought it no harm to gain her own way by a little canny +management, and she had no scruple in bestowing on Isa, of whom she was +very fond, all the indulgence that came in her way. Many a delicate +sandwich and dainty cake and savoury pickle found its way into Isa's +school satchel by Marion's means. + +"You would na have me send her away hungry, and she such a slender +lass?" she said, one day, when Rhoda ventured to hint a remonstrance. +"She canna thole the porridge." + +"I know, and it does seem cruel," answered Rhoda, "and yet it can't be +quite right, either, to help her to deceive her father." + +"It's just his ain fault, then, and no hers," said Marion, who had +slipped into Rhoda's room on her way from Isa's. "I'm no that fond of +the oatmeal myself, though I was brought up on it. Laws! How many books +ye have! Are ye fond of reading?" + +"Yes, indeed, I am." + +"Aweel, ye must read to me whiles. I'm fond of a book myself, but my +eyes are failed, and I canna see very well. I have a grand history of +Scotland that I bought cheap at a stall the ither day. I'll bring it +the next time I go home, and we'll have some readings. Eh! What a fine +Bible!" + +"Isn't it?" asked Rhoda. "Dear Aunt Hannah gave it to me the very last +time I ever saw her." And Rhoda's eyes overflowed at the remembrance of +her last interview with Aunt Hannah. + +"Ah, well, dinna greet for her, my doo," said Marion, sympathetically. +"She was a good woman, na doubt, and gane to a better place. Lass, your +room looks fine, with all these pictures and little things about it. +I ay like a young lass to be neat and dainty. I think you and I will +'gree very well." + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_"THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP."_ + +IN the course of a few days Marion produced her book, which turned +out to be a fine edition of Robertson's history of Scotland, a very +charming book, though strongly partisan, as is the case with most +readable histories. Rhoda found it as interesting as a novel, and +Marion was equally pleased. + +"Lass, never mind the things," she would say on ironing days, when it +was Rhoda's business to help her. "I can do your share as well as my +own. Get your book and read." + +Then Rhoda would get out Robertson and read aloud for hours while +Marion, with marvellous dexterity, ironed and pleated and did two +hours' work in the time of one. She listened to the clear, sounding +periods with critical satisfaction, and made her odd remarks. She was a +woman of fine mind; and though her schooling, as she called it, had not +been long, she had always been a reader and a thinker. + +"Eh, but that's grand!" said she, one day, as Rhoda closed the book. +"He would have made a fine preacher, that doctor." + +"He was a preacher," answered Rhoda. "I remember reading about him in +a book Flora Fairchild lent me. It said he had a colleague, and they +did not agree about church discipline, but for all that they never +had a quarrel. I should like to see his sermons. I never read such an +interesting history. + +"But, Marion, Mr. Ferrand does not approve of young people reading +history—I heard him read that out from the book he is writing; and I +am sure he would not think well of my reading it. He said he would +select some books suitable for me, and you ought to see them. Such +silly little stories, all about wicked servant-girls that wore pink +ribbons, and went straight to destruction in consequence, and about +good labourers that were contented on ten shillings a week, and wicked +labourers that wanted more. Do people really live on ten shillings a +week over there, Marion?" + +"Ay, do they, and far less than that," said Marion. "Ten shilling a +week would be high wages in our parts, and it's called very good, even +in England." + +"But what do they live on?" + +"Aweel, they don't see much of butcher's meat or tea and coffee, ye +may guess. If they get kirnmilk—that's buttermilk—for their porridge, +and butter for their potatoes, they ay think themselves well off. But +come, lass, help me with the vegetables, or I shall be late with my +dinner, and yon man's as petted as a bairn if his dinner is behindhand +a minute. He behooves to please his own palate, let what will become of +his daughter." + +"He isn't stingy, either," said Rhoda. + +"No, he is a good provider. It's only these nonsense maggots he gets in +his head. Now, attend and see me make the pudding, and ye 'll know how +yourself. Book-learning is a fine thing, but it's not all the learning +worth knowing. It's fine to be a good cook, specially if you have a man +to manage." + +"Yon man," as Marion usually designated her employer, did not make his +appearance in the kitchen so often, now that it was under the rule of +Mrs. Campbell. In truth, he was a good deal afraid of the Scotch woman, +having come off second best in more than one encounter. He would hardly +have borne so much from any other servant, but Marion was, as I have +said, a superlative cook, and Mr. Ferrand was fond of dinner company +and liked to have a good and elegant table. + +Rhoda, on the contrary, was no favourite with her employer. Mr. Ferrand +had a great horror of feminine independence in any shape, and he felt +quite sure that Rhoda had, as he said, "ideas of her own." He strongly +suspected that she continued her studies in spite of his disapproval, +and it was a real annoyance to him that a servant-girl should love +study for its own sake, while his daughter hated it. + +He watched Rhoda closely, but as yet he had been unable to detect any +flaw in her conduct. She was neat and systematic in her work, and +always respectful in her manners, though there was sometimes a twinkle +in her eye and a movement of the muscles round her mouth which annoyed +Mr. Ferrand. + +She was especially apt in waiting on the table, and never interrupted +his disquisitions with the noise of clashing plates or dropped silver. +She never asked to go out in the evening, except now and then to go +to church, and on these occasions she was at home so promptly that it +was plain she went nowhere else. There was no fault to be found. Mrs. +Ferrand was satisfied, and Mr. Ferrand could not discover any pretext +for quarrelling with Rhoda. + +Rhoda, on her part, was not satisfied with herself; though, thanks to +Marion, she had more leisure than ever for her books, and was making +very fair progress with her studies. There was all the time a little +rankling thorn in her conscience. She knew she was helping Isa to +deceive her father, and no sophistry of her own or Marion's would make +deceit seem right to Aunt Hannah's pupil. + +Nor was this all: her Bible was neglected from evening to evening while +she pored over her mathematics; her prayers were shortened for the same +reason; and when she did pray, her devotions were cold and lifeless, or +else a mere discomfort. Even her visits to "The Home" and to Miss Brown +were few and far between. + +"We don't see you very often now-a-days," said Miss Wilkins, one day. + +"I am so busy," answered Rhoda. "I hardly go out at all." + +"I thought you would have more time, now that there is a cook in the +family," remarked Miss Brown. + +"I should, only we have so much company—dinner company every other day; +and that makes a deal of work, you know. Then there are my lessons, and +Marion likes to have me read for her evenings; her eyes are bad." + +"What do you read?" asked Miss Brown, rather anxiously. + +"History mostly; we have been reading some of Scott's works lately, and +a pretty Scotch story called Magdalen Hepburn. I am going to borrow it +for you, Miss Brown, I am sure you will like it. Oh, you needn't be +afraid. Marion don't like trashy books any better than I do." + +"And your music?" asked Miss Wilkins. + +"Oh, that will have to wait," said Rhoda, starting up and taking the +coal-scuttle from her hand as she moved to replenish the fire. "Mr. +Ferrand thinks it is dreadful for a servant to learn geometry. I don't +know what he would say to music." + +"Then it appears he interests himself about what his servants do?" + +"Don't he?" said Rhoda. "The other day I was altering a waist for +Marion. I had just got it all contrived out, when I heard the clock +strike, so I ran down to set the table, leaving the work lying on my +bed. After dinner, as I was washing the dishes, Mr. Ferrand came into +the pantry. + +"'Rhoda,' said he, 'your room is in great disorder. I do not like to +see a young person's bed covered with rags and pieces of cloth.' + +"He always calls me 'a young person.' I thought I might say that I +didn't like to have an old person prying into my room, particularly a +gentleman. But I didn't. I explained it all as demurely as possible, +and he was pleased to be satisfied, and to say that he liked to see +persons in our position in life helpful to one another. Mrs. Ferrand +is lovely; only she is always in a fidget for fear something should be +wrong, but she don't worry so much since Marion came." + +"I am sorry about your music," remarked Miss Wilkins. "You really have +talent, and you had made a very nice beginning. My dear, how flushed +your face is!" + +"The room is so warm," said Rhoda, "and I have been out in the wind. +Can I do anything for you? I am going down town to do some errands for +Marion." + +Miss Wilkins had several errands connected with worsted, wax, and +leather, and Miss Brown wanted some yarn, so Rhoda executed the +commissions successfully, and took her leave, promising to come soon +again. + + +"It isn't right, I know," she said to herself as she walked homeward; +"I am sure Aunt Hannah would say so. And yet I am getting on so well, +and it does nobody any harm. Marion says what people don't know don't +hurt them, but I can't think that. Well, I will just finish learning +this piece, and then I won't touch it again." + +The flush on Rhoda's face had been more than the reflection of Miss +Wilkins's open fire or of her exposure to the wind. It was a blush +of honest shame. Rhoda had been carrying on a course of deceit on +which she could not think without shame and remorse. A celebrated +lecturer was giving a course of lectures upon one of Mr. Ferrand's +pet sciences—geology. Professor A—'s stay was limited, and in order +to complete his course, he lectured every evening. It was no part of +Mr. Ferrand's system to have Isa attend lectures for the present, and +she was left at home with strict injunctions to practise an hour and a +half, and to give at least half the time to her singing. + +Isa had very little ear, and less voice, but Mr. Ferrand believed that +any person could learn to sing with proper instruction. Her former +teacher had bluntly told him that it was a loss of time and money for +his daughter to take singing lessons. She might possibly learn to play +tolerably, said this impracticable man, though she would never be +anything but a mechanical performer at the best; but as for singing, it +was all nonsense, and he really could not afford to waste his time on +her. + +Mr. Ferrand put on his grandest air of dignity, paid Mr. Tyndale's +bill, and dismissed him, and then looked for another master who would +be more docile. He found one in the person of Mr. Harvey, who was poor +and had a family, two arguments which had much more weight with the +music-master than any of Mr. Ferrand's. + +"She will never learn anything," he said to his wife. "She has no more +voice than a sparrow, and she hates music besides. She sets my teeth +on edge worse than saw-filing. But her father is determined she shall +learn, and two dollars an hour is not to be despised. It is all very +well for Tyndale to set up for frankness. He has more pupils than he +can attend to at forty dollars a quarter. I shall do the best I can +by the girl, and at all events, I sha'n't work her to death, as Brown +would." + +Certainly the atmosphere around Mr. Ferrand did not seem to be +favourable to sincerity. + +One of the first times that Isa was left alone to her music, Rhoda +came into the little back parlour where the piano stood just as Isa, +was blundering over a new piece. It was that pretty little song, +"The Origin of the Harp." The accompaniment is peculiarly simple and +graceful, requiring delicacy of touch and execution, and Rhoda's ears +were distracted by the way in which Isa attacked it. + +"Oh, Isa, you do make such work!" she exclaimed, without ceremony, +which indeed had been long disused between them. + +"I can't help it," returned Isa, pettishly. "I can't see any sense in +it. It is all up and down, without any tune at all. Do see if you can +make anything of it." + +"It can't do any harm just for once," said Rhoda, hesitating, for her +fingers tingled to be at the piano. + +"Of course not. As if anything could hurt this old piano! Come, do try." + +Rhoda sat down. She could sing well at sight, thanks to the pains of +her country singing-school master, and she had that real genius for +music which is born with one in five hundred. She caught the spirit of +the song directly, and in half an hour had mastered the accompaniment; +and Isa listened with honest admiration. + +"Oh dear!" said she, half envyingly, as Rhoda ceased. "If I had such a +voice as that, I wouldn't mind my singing lessons. You don't have to +pick it out a bit. You know just how to make your voice go by looking +at the notes, don't you?" + +"Of course," answered Rhoda. "I can sing any easy music at sight, +and this is very easy, though it wants care and taste. I think it is +lovely, though the words are not much." + +"It is a rather pretty notion, though, to think of the poor things +being turned into a harp," said Isa, who had a certain vein of +poetry in her. "Now, I should never turn to anything but a miserable +hand-organ, or at the best a musical-box, to go when it is wound up. +Do play something else, Rhoda. Try this waltz. I thought it was very +pretty when Mr. Harvey played it." + +This was only the first of a series of surreptitious practisings. It +became a regular thing for Rhoda to sit down to the school-room piano +and occupy at least half of Isa's lesson-time playing over her pieces. +It annoyed Isa that Rhoda would always play the scales first: + +"What is the use of them? They are not a bit pretty." + +"No, but they are useful, and I want to improve myself. Now I will play +this waltz, and then you must play it after me. I must give you some +help to pay for the use of the piano, you know; and besides, Mr. Harvey +will make a fuss and tell your father if you don't know your lesson. +Come, now, do your best." + +Then Isa would sit down, and by dint of patient and careful teaching +and overlooking, Rhoda would get her creditably through the piece. + +"There! That is a great deal better than ever you played it before." + +"Mr. Harvey says I improve," remarked Isa. "He told pa so. Pa found +fault because he gave me such easy lessons, and Mr. Harvey told him +he did it that I might acquire facility of execution. He said it was +a part of his system to teach the true method of execution upon easy +pieces, that the pupil's mind might be occupied with but one thing at a +time; and then pa gave in directly. I think it is a part of his system +to get through the lessons and earn his money the easiest he can," +added Isa, shrewdly; "but I don't care as long as it saves me work. +Come, now, sing this song." + +And Rhoda sung the song, comforting herself by the thought that she +really was helping Isa and doing nobody any hurt—a comfort which +answered tolerably well till she came to say her prayers, when it +vanished away and left her with a miserably burdened conscience and a +sore heart. + +These practisings went on very prosperously for a good while. To the +geological lectures succeeded a chemical course, and then, dearest of +all to Mr. Ferrand's mind, a course of lectures on education. At least +three evenings in the week the girls were left to themselves, and +spent their time over the piano. Marion grumbled a little at the loss +of so much of her readings, but she liked the piano, and she was too +good-natured to interfere with Rhoda's pleasure. + +"This is a miserable piano," said Rhoda, one evening. "Mr. Harvey tuned +it this morning, and now just hear!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" said Isa as Rhoda struck a chord. "I don't +see anything wrong." + +"Eh, lass, you've no more ear than a brown pig," said Marion. + +"Haven't brown pigs as many ears as other pigs?" asked Isa. + +Rhoda laughed. + +"She means a pitcher," said she. "That's the Scotch of it. But really, +Isa, does that sound right to you?" + +"I don't see anything out of the way, honestly. But, Rhoda, you might +as well play on the grand piano if you want to. Nobody will be the +wiser." + +"It would be venturesome," observed Marion. "You see, nobody can hear +this piano from the street, and your father ay makes such a work +scraping his feet that you have time enough to get out of the way. But +in the drawing-room, you would be sure to get caught unless you heard +the gate shut, and that unlucky baker's boy ay leaves it open. You +wouldn't like Mr. Ferrand to come home and catch you?" + +Rhoda's very ears tingled with the burning blush which these words +brought to her face. + +Had it come to that? Was she afraid of being found out, like a boy who +has been stealing apples? Some words of Aunt Hannah's, spoken long ago +in Sunday-school, rose to her mind: + + "Whenever you are afraid of being found out, be sure you are doing +wrong." + +What would Aunt Hannah say to her now? Rhoda had weakened her own +moral sense and powers of resistance very much lately, but she had not +brought herself to think deception right or excusable. She resisted +faintly, however, as Isa continued to urge her to try the grand piano +in the parlour, and only yielded after a struggle. The piano was a +very superior one—by far the finest she had ever seen or touched; and +she forgot everything in the fascination of playing Beethoven's grand +waltz, which she had just learned. + +"I declare, you are beyond everything," said Isa, drawing a long breath +as the piece was concluded. "And just to think that you didn't know +hardly anything when you came here!" + +"Didn't know hardly anything?" repeated Rhoda. "Oh, Isa, what a +sentence! But I did know a good deal, you must remember. I could read +notes very well, and I had learn some pieces before I came from home. +I used to play on Fanny Badger's piano and on the church melodeon, and +Miss Wilkins taught me a great deal. Don't make me out quite a prodigy, +Isa. But oh, I do wish I could have some lessons." + +"Aweel, my dear, don't fret. Maybe they will come some time." And +kind-hearted Marion began to consider the possibility of herself paying +for some music-lessons for her young friend. + + +The grand instrument in the drawing-room made the school-room piano +seem worse than ever by contrast, and Rhoda was easily persuaded to use +it over and over again. + +"But I will never touch it after I have learned this piece, I am +determined I won't," said Rhoda to herself as she walked homeward after +her visit to Miss Brown. "I must learn this piece, so as to show Isa. I +am sure she will never get through it alone. Oh dear! I don't care; I +do think it is a real abominable shame that I should be used so. I wish +I should have been just like the others then. I should not have found +out what was in me. And to think, after all, when they could afford to +educate me as well as not, they should cast me off for the sake of that +miserable baby! It was not his fault, either, poor little fellow! I am +sure I don't wish him any ill, but I wish he had never been born, or +else that I never had. I think that would be best of all." And Rhoda +pulled down her veil to hide the hot tears which would gush out in +spite of her. + +"What's the matter, my dear?" asked Marion, her quick eye perceiving at +once that something was wrong. + +"Nothing," said Rhoda; "only I wish there was no such person as I am, +that's all." + +"Aweel, there's no use wishing that now, ye ken. A man canna unmake +himself by any process that ever I heard of. Best wish for something +you have a chance of getting. But what ails ye, lassie? Come, tell me, +and ease your mind." + +Rhoda poured out all her grief in a flood. + +Marion listened with patience and sympathy. + +"I'll no deny but it's a hard case," said she. "But, my lass, will you +let me tell you one thing? And that's this: if ye mean to give up these +music-lessons—and I'm no easy in my own mind about them—but if ye make +up your mind to give them up, do it at once. Dinna wait to learn one +more tune, no, nor one note more. It's like the poor drunkard that says +he will take only one cup more, and that one cup more is just the ruin +of him." + +"But I do so want to learn this one piece," said Rhoda. "It suits me +exactly, and I am sure Isa will never learn it unless I help her." + +"Let every herring hang by its own head," said Marion. "You are not +Isa's keeper. I said I was no easy in my mind about these lessons, +and I'm not. I heard a grand sermon last Sunday on lying and +leasing-making, and I have been thinking we have all been to blame in +this matter; myself, maybe, worst of all. Come, don't cry any more, but +wash your eyes and be ready to wait at dinner." + + +"Marion just wants me to spend the whole evening reading to her," said +Rhoda to herself as she went up stairs. She knew she was unjust and +that Marion was right, but in her present frame of mind, she found a +certain comfort in blaming everybody. "I don't know but she is right +though, about leaving off the music; only this piece is so lovely. Oh, +I must finish it, and then I won't touch the piano again. Oh dear! It +is too bad." + +Rhoda's eyes overflowed again; she checked her tears as soon as she +could, and tried to bathe away their traces, but this was never +easy. Crying gave her a wretched headache, and made her usually fine +complexion look pale and sallow. + +Mr. Ferrand, who was not deficient in kind feeling when his system was +not in the way, remarked to his wife that the young person was not +looking well. + +"You had better see that she diets and bathes properly," said he. +"Young persons of her class—and indeed of every class—are apt to be +careless about such matters." + +Rhoda heard the remark, and it brought a new sting to her conscience. +She tried to drive it out by resentment at being called a young person, +but it stayed all the same. + +"Now, Isabella, be faithful in your practising," said Mr. Ferrand as he +set out for his customary lecture in the evening. "Mr. Harvey tells me +that you are improving, and I am very glad to hear it." + +"Then, pa, if you want me to improve still more, you must let me +practise in the parlour, or else get a new piano for the school-room," +said Isa, casting a glance of triumph at Rhoda. "Mr. Harvey says +himself that school-room piano won't keep in tune five minutes." + +"I think that must be an exaggeration," remarked Mr. Ferrand. "I should +not suppose any instrument would become disordered in so short a time +as five minutes. However, I will speak to Mr. Harvey on the subject; +and if he thinks it desirable, I will request him to procure a proper +instrument. Meantime, as you will not be subject to interruption from +company this evening, you may practise in the drawing-room." + +"Are ye going at it again?" said Marion as Rhoda turned toward the +drawing-room after putting her dishes away. + +"Only this once," answered Rhoda; "and then, Marion, I'll read to you +all you like." + +"It's not for myself I spoke," said Marion, justly offended. "But take +your own gait. I'll say no more. If a wilful man must have his way, the +byword is doubly true of a wilful lass." + +"Oh, please don't be vexed, Marion," exclaimed Rhoda, ashamed of the +words the moment they were spoken. "I didn't mean anything. Just come +and hear me play this one piece, and I'll sing all the Scotch songs I +know for you." + +But Marion had "got her Scotch up." She retreated to her kitchen; and +shutting the doors between, she sat down to her knitting. Meantime, +Rhoda played piece after piece, excusing herself for taking up all the +time by the thought that she should never touch the piano again. + +"Only one more," pleaded Isa, as Rhoda made a motion to rise. "This is +the last lecture-night, you know, and very likely we shall not have +another chance for ever so long. Sing 'The Origin of the Harp.' I do +think it is so lovely. Come; they won't be here for an hour yet, I +know." + +Isa was mistaken. The lecture had been very much shortened by an +accident to the gas-pipes which had left the hall in darkness. Mr. and +Mrs. Ferrand were alighting from the street-car at the corner at that +very moment, and they entered the gate just as Rhoda began the second +verse of the song. + +"Can that be Isabella singing?" said Mrs. Ferrand, astonished at the +clear, round notes which reached her ears—notes as different from Isa's +as the whistle of the oriole from the twitter of the sparrow. "I never +heard her sing like that, or play like that either." + +"Perhaps your sister Harriet may have arrived unexpectedly," said Mr. +Ferrand. + +"Harriet would not be out of school so near the close of the term; and +besides, she does not sing. No, that is like no voice in our family." + +Mr. Ferrand stepped to the long drawing-room window, which looked out +on the lawn, and opened the blind. He could hardly believe his eyes. +There sat Rhoda at the grand piano, and there, standing by, with her +arm on the "young person's" shoulder, was his own systematically +educated daughter Isa, actually abetting this low-born servant's +crime—so Mr. Ferrand at once called Rhoda's desecration of his +treasured instrument. + +"Mrs. Ferrand," said he, in a voice of calm, concentrated anger, "will +you do me the favour to look into this window?" + +Mrs. Ferrand looked, and at that moment, attracted by some slight +noise, or by that curious sense of being looked at which almost every +one has experienced, both the girls turned round and saw the faces at +the window. + +Isa uttered a shriek of dismay, rushed away to her own room, and bolted +herself in. + +Rhoda stood her ground. She was very much frightened, and equally +ashamed also, but it was not in her nature to run. + +"What are you doing here?" was Mr. Ferrand's first question. + +"I was playing on the piano," answered Rhoda, humbly enough. + +Mr. Ferrand turned to his wife: + +"Mrs. Ferrand, I believe no words are necessary. You must see now—even +you must see, I think—that this young person is no fit inmate of our +household. She may remain to-night, and also to-morrow, as it is +Sunday, but no longer." + +"But, Mr. Ferrand, you know we are expecting company on Monday," +pleaded his wife. "She might at least stay till I can find somebody. It +will be very inconvenient. I don't mean to excuse her, but—" + +"Is it possible?" asked Mr. Ferrand, with sarcastic emphasis. "I +believe I have made myself understood, Mrs. Ferrand. The young person +will leave on Monday. Meantime, you will please send Isabella to me in +the library." + +This, however, was more easily said than done. Isa had locked and +bolted herself into her room, where she was to be heard sobbing +hysterically, but no entreaties of her mother or commands of her father +would induce her to unbar the door or get a word out of her till her +father threatened to break the door down. + +"If you do, I'll jump out of the window and run away," cried Isabella, +and she was heard to open her window as if to put her threat into +execution. She was crying at the top of her voice, and more than one +person had already stopped in the street to listen. + +Mr. Ferrand dreaded nothing so much as any publicity of his family +affairs, and he was at last persuaded by his wife to let Isa alone for +the night. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_AN OLD ENEMY._ + +RHODA went to her room burning with shame and anger. Her first impulse +was to put on her bonnet and go home, but she reflected, as she grew +a little cooler, that it was after nine o'clock of a dark night, and +too late to undertake a walk of a mile alone, and that she could not +possibly take her trunk. And then what would Miss Carpenter say? What +would the ladies of the board say when they came to hear the whole +story? They would think she had disgraced the institution and herself. +Perhaps they would not let her stay there any more. And oh, what would +Aunt Hannah say if she knew? + +The very thought of Aunt Hannah seemed to bring some peace to Rhoda's +tempest-tossed spirit. + +"I know what she would say," thought the poor girl. "She would say that +I had done very wrong, but that was no reason why I should go on doing +wrong. She would tell me to confess my sin and ask forgiveness and +grace to do better. But oh, how can I? I knew I was wrong. I knew I was +deceiving and helping Isa to deceive, and yet I was so selfish, so bent +on having my own way, that I kept on, though something warned me all +the time. And yet—Oh yes, I must ask forgiveness for myself and Isa. +Poor girl! I wonder what her father will do to her? I feel worse about +her than even for myself." + +Rhoda knelt down by her bedside, and humbly and with many tears +confessed her sin and asked forgiveness in His name who said, "Not +seven times, but seventy times seven." She was still kneeling when some +one tapped lightly at the door. She started up and opened it, thinking +of Isa, but it was Mrs. Ferrand who had knocked. She had been crying as +well as Rhoda, and looked even more unhappy. + +"Oh, Rhoda, how could you?" said she, in a half whisper. And then, +with a fresh burst of tears, "I am sure I liked you and trusted you +more than any girl I ever had. I thought you were almost perfect. And +now Mr. Ferrand says it is just what he expected and what I might have +known. Why wouldn't you be contented to read the books he gave you, +and not get out of your station into algebra and geometry and all such +things?" + +Despite her grief and shame, Rhoda could hardly forbear smiling. + +"Mrs. Ferrand, I am very sorry," said she, earnestly—"I am more sorry +than I can tell you. You have been very good to me ever since I came +here, and it was a shame for me to deceive you so. But I do think it +was the deception that was the harm, and not the algebra and geometry, +or the music either, for that matter." + +"But, Rhoda, don't you see that you wouldn't have been tempted to +deceive only for the music?" + +"I am not sure of that, Mrs. Ferrand. Did you never hear of servants +who didn't care about music or books deceiving their employers?" + +"To be sure," said Mrs. Ferrand, considering. "There was Mary Blane. +She couldn't even read, and she stole tea and candles, and baked cakes +on the sly, and got out of the window and ran away to balls, and got +taken up by the police. But I don't think that any excuse for you, +Rhoda." + +"I know it isn't, Mrs. Ferrand, and I don't mean to excuse myself. I +think I was very much to blame—not for playing the piano, but for doing +it slyly and helping Miss Isa to deceive her father. I feel worse about +that than anything." + +"And we all thought she was improving so much," said Mrs. Ferrand, +wiping her eyes. "Mr. Harvey told her father that she had gained more +in the last six weeks than in all the winter." + +"Well, Mrs. Ferrand, honestly, I do think she has; and so far as her +music went, I think I was an advantage to her, for I used to play over +her lessons and show her how to learn them. Miss Isa—" + +"Well, go on," said Mrs. Ferrand, as Rhoda checked herself and +coloured. "What were you going to say?" + +"I was going to say, if you will excuse me, that Miss Isa needs a great +deal of help and showing to learn anything, or so it seems to me. She +gets puzzled, and the harder she works, the more puzzled she grows; +whereas, if she has some one to show her and make things that she don't +understand plain to her, she gets on pretty well." + +"I know it," said Mrs. Ferrand, sighing. "Isa isn't bright. She is +like me, and I never was one bit of a scholar. I was the only dunce in +our family. It used to trouble mother a good deal, but father said it +didn't matter. + +"'You can't make scholars out of everybody,' I remember his saying; +'Lucilla may make a very good and useful woman without knowing anything +about algebra.' + +"That was a great comfort to me." + +"I am sure he was right," said Rhoda, warmly. "I think you are just +as lovely and good as you can be, and it makes me feel all the more +ashamed to think how I have treated you." + +"Oh, my dear, and I was so fond of you, and trusted you so. I always +felt perfectly easy about anything you undertook to do. You never +disappointed me. Now, we are going to have ever so much company next +week, and very particular company too, and I was thinking all the time +what a comfort it was going to be to have you and Marion, and now I +shall have a new girl to teach, and I dare say Marion will go away too." + +"She mustn't do that," said Rhoda. "I will talk to her." Rhoda +swallowed a great lump of pride that rose in her throat at that moment, +and added, "I will stay through the week and help you if Mr. Ferrand is +willing." + +"Oh, if you would! But I am afraid he will not consent, he is so angry +with me and Isa and everybody. I am sure I am at my wit's end what to +do," continued the poor lady. "If Isa gets one of her obstinate fits, +she will half starve before she will give in, and I am afraid she will +make herself sick. Well, I mustn't stay any longer. Mr. Ferrand told me +to talk to you and see if I could make you see your sin; but I am sure +you do see it, don't you, Rhoda?" + +"Yes, ma'am," said Rhoda, swallowing the lump again. "Will you please +tell Mr. Ferrand that I am very sorry I deceived him about the piano, +and that if he is willing I will stay and help you through this week?" + + +The next morning Isa's door was open, and Mrs. Ferrand found her +daughter prostrated with a sick headache, which proved the beginning +of a somewhat serious attack of fever and indigestion. Mr. Ferrand +at first refused to believe in Isa's illness, declaring it was only +another deception—a mere pretext for keeping her room and escaping +merited reproof; but when he came to see her, he was compelled to own +himself mistaken for once, and consented to send for Doctor Morton. + +"She will get over it this time, or so I think," said the blunt doctor, +who stood in no awe of Mr. Ferrand's wealth, family, or theories. "She +has been working too hard and walking too much and living on too low +diet. Her mother tells me that she has been breakfasting on oatmeal, +and that she does not like it. That is all nonsense. Let her have meat +twice a day, and plenty of it; keep her out of school a while, and let +her have plenty of fun and amusement. Get some girl of her own age to +stay with her, buy her a croquet set, or send her to some old woman in +the country who will coddle and pet her and let her run wild. If you +don't mind, she will slip through your fingers some day like the other +one." + +Mr. Ferrand's feelings were deeply wounded, and also his dignity. As +he said to his wife, Dr. Morton really seemed to have no idea of the +respect due to a gentleman of his family and social position. Still, he +did not like to take the responsibility of disregarding the doctor's +advice. + +That remark about "the other one" had touched a sensitive place in Mr. +Ferrand's heart, for he really had a heart. But he could not bear to +give up and own that he had been in the wrong; and as to taking his +daughter out of school and letting her run wild, the idea was not to be +entertained for a moment. But something might perhaps be done by way of +compromise, and Mr. Ferrand began to cast about for a way of saving his +daughter and his dignity at the same time. + +Mr. Ferrand said nothing to Rhoda all day Sunday, though she went about +her work as usual. + + +On Monday morning, Marion came to her with a message. + +"Yon man wants to see you in the library," said she. "He's stalking +about like a midden-cock on pattens. The doctor gave him an awful +take-down yesterday about Miss Isa, and he will have to be extra +dignified to make up for 't. Lass, did ye really tell Mrs. Ferrand you +would stay the week out?" + +"Yes, I did," answered Rhoda. "I thought it was the best I could do, +seeing all the trouble I had made." + +"Aweel, it's very well done, and very pretty of you, and I am glad of +it for the poor lady's sake as well as my own. I'm grown very fond of +you, lass. I think I shall no stop myself when you're gone." + +"Oh, please, Marion, don't go away if you can help it," said Rhoda; +"Mrs. Ferrand will be so sorry. I am sure you are very good to be fond +of me. I haven't treated you very well lately. If I had only taken your +advice, all this wouldn't have happened." + +"Tut, tut!" said Marion. "I was as bad as yourself, and worse, for I +was older. But now, lass, take my advice this time. Speak yon man fair, +and let him have it all his own way, and it will come out all right. +But, above all, don't keep him waiting." + +Mr. Ferrand was in the library, seated in his arm-chair, with his most +decided expression of dignity and importance. But it is not easy to +look dignified and important on purpose without overdoing the matter, +and, consequently, Mr. Ferrand succeeded in being only stiff and +pompous. Rhoda instantly compared him in her own mind to a certain +small bantam cock formerly belonging to Aunt Hannah. + +Mr. Ferrand looked at Rhoda, and Rhoda looked on the floor, vexed at +herself for feeling like laughing. She had not felt in the least like +laughing under Mrs. Ferrand's gentle and somewhat incoherent reproaches. + +"I understand, Rhoda Bowers—I believe that is your name?" said Mr. +Ferrand, pausing for an answer. + +"Yes, sir," answered Rhoda, meekly, thinking, "The old goose! Just as +if he didn't know my name!" + +"I understand from Mrs. Ferrand, Rhoda Bowers, that you repent of your +conduct on Saturday night and other preceding nights in invading my +drawing-room and trespassing upon my daughter's instrument?" + +Mr. Ferrand again paused for a reply, and Rhoda said,— + +"Yes, sir, I am sorry I should have deceived you and helped Miss Isa to +do so. I think it was very wrong, and I beg your pardon." + +"Well," said Mr. Ferrand, "I understand also that you are very desirous +to remain in my family a short time longer, until you can find another +place. Since you see and acknowledge your errors—" + +"Excuse me, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda, modestly. "It was not that I +wished to stay till I can find another place. I can always go back to +'The Home.' But as Mrs. Ferrand was expecting company, and Miss Ferrand +is not very well, I thought I might save her trouble by staying till +she could find another girl. I have made her so much trouble that I +should like to make some amends." + +"Well, well, it comes to much the same thing," said Mr. Ferrand. "You +are at liberty to remain this week, and then we will see. But one thing +I must insist upon—that you shall have no intercourse whatever with +Miss Ferrand. If you would give me your word to abandon those pursuits +which you must be sensible are altogether unfitted for you, and to +be guided by me in your reading, I might perhaps allow you to remain +altogether." + +"I don't think I can do that, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda. "It has always +been my greatest desire to get an education, so as to be able to teach, +and I do not think I can give it up." + +"To teach!" repeated Mr. Ferrand. + +"Yes, sir. I am quite sure I could teach if I only had an education. +I don't want to boast, but I know I have a talent for both music and +mathematics, and I don't think it would be right for me to neglect them +altogether, any more than it was right for me to try to cultivate them +in wrong ways. It would have been wrong for the man in the parable to +use dishonest means to increase his one talent, but that didn't make it +right for him to bury it in the ground." + +Mr. Ferrand looked surprised, but not offended. + +"You really seem to have thought upon the subject," said he. "Sit down. +I should like to converse with you farther on this subject." + +Never before had Mr. Ferrand asked a servant to sit down in that august +apartment, But he was interested, as it were, in spite of himself. + +Rhoda took a seat. She was a very pretty and somewhat +distinguished-looking girl, and always neat in her dress; and as she +sat before him, her face full of animation and thought, Mr. Ferrand was +surprised to find himself admiring her and wishing that Isa looked like +her. + +"You say you think you can teach," he continued. "Why do you think so? +You should be able to give a reason for your conviction." + +"I think so," answered Rhoda, "because I have always succeeded whenever +I have tried." + +"Then you have tried?" + +"Yes, sir. I have taught two or three of the little ones at 'The Home' +to read this last winter. Then there was a little girl in Boonville +whom every one thought was not quite like other children—deficient in +mind, or peculiar, at any rate. She did not learn to read, and her +parents thought she never would, but the poor thing wanted to learn—" + +"Excuse me: wished or desired to learn would be the better expression," +said Mr. Ferrand. "But go on. I am much interested in everything +pertaining to education." + +"She wished very much to learn," continued Rhoda, accepting the +correction, not without some inward amusement, "and I asked Mrs. Bowers +if I might try to teach her. I worked with her nearly three months +before she learned a single thing. If she learned to know a word in one +place, she did not know it in another; and when she had spelled bat +and cat and hat, she had no more idea how to spell rat than if she had +never seen a letter. But she would not give up, and I was ashamed to be +less persevering than a little child, and at last she seemed to start +right off and read without any trouble. It all came to her at once, and +after that, I never saw any child improve so fast." + +"That is a very interesting case," said Mr. Ferrand. "With your +permission, I shall make use of it in my work on education. Have you +ever tried to teach anything but reading?" + +"Only when I was helping Miss Isa—Miss Ferrand, I mean," said Rhoda, +blushing. "I have tried to help her in her music." + +Mr. Ferrand's face darkened a little. + +"I know it was very wrong," said Rhoda, humbly. "It was deceitful, and +deceit can never be right; but Miss Ferrand does work so hard it seemed +almost cruel not to help her when she asked me." + +"Well, well, I am glad you are sensible of your error. We will talk of +this matter again. Meantime, you can go about your duties as usual, for +this week, at any rate. I should wish you to take down and dust all the +vases and other ornaments in the upper hall. I observed several small +cobwebs there yesterday when I had occasion to look behind them." + +"Thank you, sir," said Rhoda, both gratified and surprised at the +result of the interview. + +She longed to intercede for Isa, but something told her that it would +not be best. So she made her curtsey and withdrew, resolved to leave +not the shadow of a cobweb anywhere within her jurisdiction. + +Mr. Ferrand closed the library door, and sat down to meditate upon +an idea which had crossed his mind, and which a week ago he would +have rejected as utterly wild and impracticable. This young person +had certainly a good and clear intellect, however she came by it. She +was really talented, and it was evident that she had no common share +of perseverance to pursue a course of study at home; yet here was a +servant who, with all her work to do and without neglecting the duties +of her position, had made very creditable progress in mathematics and +music. True, she had been much to blame, but she seemed fully sensible +of her error, and we are all human and liable to err, thought Mr. +Ferrand, not even excepting himself from this general principle. + +Doctor Morton had said very decidedly that Isabella must be taken out +of school, and that she ought to have a companion of her own age. + +"Get some girl of her own age to stay with her," was his inelegant +expression, Mr. Ferrand remembered. + +What if he should adopt this young person into his family, procure +a suitable governess, and allow the two to study and associate upon +equal terms? Rhoda was an orphan—that was one great advantage. She +was well-looking and had good taste in dress—that was another. And +though, as was to be expected, she used somewhat common and colloquial +expressions, she was not vulgar or ungrammatical in her speech, +Isabella was fond of her, so was Mrs. Ferrand. + +"I will consider upon it, I really will," said Mr. Ferrand to himself. +"I cannot but think the plan offers some considerable advantages, But +it is not best to act in haste. I will consider upon it." + + +Two or three days after the conversation in the library there came a +ring at the door, and Rhoda opened it, as usual, to be astonished at +the apparition of Uncle Jacob Weightman, who looked no less surprised +at seeing her. + +"Why, Rhoda, is this you?" said he. "What are you doing here?" + +"My work," answered Rhoda. "Whom did you wish to see, Mr. Weightman?" + +"Oh, that is it?" answered the old man, with a smile of sour +satisfaction. "I hope you like your boarding-school." + +"Whom did you wish to see?" repeated Rhoda. She was choked with anger, +grief, and a spasm of homesickness, but not for the world would she +have shed a tear before Uncle Jacob. + +"Does Mr. Ferrand live here?" + +"Yes. Do you wish to see him?" + +"You may tell him I have got some business with him," said Uncle Jacob. +"Tell him a gentleman wants to see him on business about his Hobarttown +property." + +Rhoda knocked at the library door, and said,— + +"Mr. Ferrand, here is a person wants to see you on business, if you +please." + +"Oh, so I am not a gentleman in your eyes, Miss Rhoda? See if I don't +pay you for that," muttered the old man as he went forward into the +library. + +It was not very wise in Rhoda, or perhaps very Christian, but she was +only a child, after all, and she certainly had small reason to love Mr. +Weightman. She was to have still less before the morning was over. + +Mr. Ferrand was polite to everybody for his own sake, and he received +Mr. Weightman with his usual courtesy. + +After they had finished their business, Mr. Weightman remarked, +carelessly,— + +"I see you have that girl that my niece took from the asylum." + +"Your niece!" said Mr. Ferrand. + +"Yes, Mrs. Bowers, of Boonville. She had no children, and adopted this +girl from some home or asylum in the city here. It was against my +advice, and turned out just as I expected." + +"May I ask why your niece did not keep her?" asked Mr. Ferrand. "Please +excuse my curiosity. I have a special reason for asking." + +"Oh, well, the fact is, I don't want to say anything against the +girl, but it did not answer. I don't think such arrangements often +do. The girl was sly and idle, and made mischief in the family. I had +a sister—she is dead now—but she was infirm in mind, and this girl +actually got the poor old woman to make a will leaving her all her +property. It was not signed, and of course was worth no more than so +much waste paper. She made a deal of trouble for me with poor Hannah, +and there were other reasons—in short, they had to get rid of her. But +what can you expect? Crab trees will bear crab apples, you know. If +people will take children of that kind, they must expect to have the +father, and especially the mother, come out in them. You have seen +enough of the world to know that, Mr. Ferrand. However, I don't want to +injure Rhoda. I am glad to see her working honestly for a living, for +there is no knowing what such girls will do." + +Mr. Weightman had no particular intention of lying about Rhoda, +although he did mean to pay her, as he said, for her disrespect to +himself. He had all the time been trying to justify his treatment of +Rhoda to himself by making himself believe that Rhoda was all he had +represented, and he had to some extent succeeded. Was not Aunt Hannah +always making her expensive presents? Had she not made a will at last +leaving Rhoda that estate which was his by all right? True, it was not +witnessed, or even signed, and he had reason to think that nobody knew +of its existence but himself, but that was no thanks to Rhoda. Yes, she +was a wicked, designing girl, and it was right to warn people against +her. + +Rhoda exchanged no words with Uncle Jacob as he went out. She of course +knew nothing of what had passed in the library, but the moment she saw +Mr. Ferrand, she felt there was a change in his manner toward her. He +hardly spoke to her all the rest of the week. When Monday came, he paid +her her wages and a month over, made her a present of a good book, +handsomely bound, and hoped she would do well. He had reconsidered the +matter, and had come to the conclusion that it would not do at all. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_A NEW FRIEND._ + +RHODA did not know for a long time how near she had been to the +accomplishment of her wishes. She took a tearful leave of Mrs. Ferrand +and Isa, and went back to 'The Home' feeling sadly enough. + +She was mortified at being dismissed and ashamed at the circumstances +which led to the dismissal, and she was broken-hearted at parting +with Isa, whom she had learned to love with all the intensity of a +school-girl's affection. She had never been much given to striking up +those sudden and violent intimacies common among girls, and which are +often as short-lived as fervent. She had been a favourite with all +the girls at Boonville, but she had been specially intimate with none +of them except Alice Brown, who had gone away to the far West a year +before. But she loved Isa Ferrand with all her heart, and none the less +that she was not insensible to Isa's faults and weaknesses. And now +they must part, and would probably never see any more of each other. +They might sometimes meet in the street, but there could be no visiting +and no correspondence—they could hardly even stop to talk, because Isa +would be disobeying her father. It was very, very hard. + +Rhoda fell easily enough into her old life at "The Home." Neither Miss +Carpenter nor the good managers were disposed to be hard upon her, +considering the temptations to which she had been exposed. + +"You should not have done it, of course," said Mrs. Mulford. "Deceit +is and must be always wrong. But I think Mr. Ferrand made a very +unnecessary fuss about the matter. I dare say you would have felt twice +as penitent if he had given you permission to practise every day." + +"I don't know. I was very sorry as it was," said Rhoda. "But I did feel +a great deal more so that day he talked so kindly to me." + +"How was that?" asked Mrs. Mulford. + +Rhoda repeated the substance of the conversation which had taken place +in the library. + +"He was just so kind, and even kinder, all that week, till the +afternoon Mr. Weightman called, and after that he never spoke to me +again till he paid me my wages when I came away. I can't help thinking +Mr. Weightman set him against me. He has always been my enemy. I am +quite sure that Mr. and Mrs. Bowers would not have sent me away but for +him." + +"It hardly seems as if any one could be so meanly spiteful as that, +and toward a young girl," remarked Mrs. Mulford. "And yet I know +narrow-minded, ignorant people will carry enmity to great lengths +sometimes." + +"I know he does. There was a woman lived next him with whom he had a +quarrel. She was an ignorant, hot-tempered woman, and used rather hard +language sometimes, but that was the worst of her. Well, he got angry +at her for something about a grapevine, and he went to the man whose +house she lived in and told him such stories about her that he got her +turned out of her house. I don't really think, either, that he means to +tell downright lies, but he thinks that any one who opposes him must be +everything that is bad." + +"He must be a nice person. Well, Rhoda, you did right to come back +here, and you are come in very good time too, for several of the old +ladies are ailing and need a deal of waiting on. Just take hold and +help Mrs. Lambert whenever you see a chance. I suppose you don't give +up your idea of getting an education?" + +"No, ma'am. I don't think I can give it up so long as there is any +'me,'" said Rhoda, smiling somewhat sadly. "But the time is getting on +very fast." + +"Yes, and you are getting on too. Well, study as much as you can, my +dear; and if you want any help in the way of books, come to me about +it. Don't be discouraged. I shall try to find you a place where you can +work for your board and go to school, and in the mean time just make +yourself useful here. This will always be your home, you know." + +Rhoda was very willing to make herself useful. She waited on Granny +Parsons, now sick and confined to her room, and did errands for the +house, and made caps and aprons for the old ladies, and read aloud +to Mrs. Carson, the blind woman, and whenever she had a little time +practised scales and exercises diligently on the little old piano, +compared to which even the school-room piano at Mr. Ferrand's was a +fine instrument. + + +One day, as she was coming home from executing multifarious +commissions, with her hands full of little bundles, she saw Isa +crossing the street, and waited for her to come up. Isa was thinner and +more languid than ever. She had her arms full of books, and seemed so +occupied with her own thoughts that she hardly recognized Rhoda, even +when she spoke. Then, with a cry of joy which made two or three people +look round, and dropping a shower of books, she threw her arms round +her friend's neck and kissed her. + +"Oh how glad I am to see you!" she exclaimed. "I have watched and +watched for you every day since I began to go to school again, but I +never could see you." + +"To school!" said Rhoda, picking up Isa's books with some trouble, for +her own hands were full. "You don't mean to say you are going to school +again, after all the doctor said? I do think your father is crazy." + +"I don't know whether 'he' is crazy, but I know who will be," said Isa. + +"But when the doctor said so much about it—" + +"Oh, pa thinks the doctor was mistaken," said Isa. "He went over and +talked to the teachers, and Miss Black—just like her, the cross, +meddling old thing!—told him that I was always going into Palmer's and +buying ice cream and cake and candy, and that was what made me sick. +I have done it sometimes when ma gave me money because I got so faint +and hungry. So pa believed it all, of course, and here I am grinding +away again. I declare, Rhoda, there isn't a day that I don't wish I was +dead." + +"Oh, Isa! You shouldn't!" + +"I can't help it. I do, and so would you in my place. No, you wouldn't; +you would like it, for you are not a dunce and a fool, as I am." + +"You are not a dunce, nor a fool either," said Rhoda, warmly. "It +doesn't follow that you are a dunce because you can't learn music. A +great many people can't. But how do you get on in school? Can you learn +your lessons?" + +"Yes, some of them. We are reviewing, and the girls help me. But you +don't know how my head feels. There is a place up the back of it that +feels perfectly numb and dead, and some days the feeling goes down my +spine and all over me, and I can't sleep at night. I am just doing +lessons, lessons all the time. Oh, if I could only run away or do +something!" + +The girls had turned into a shady, quiet street by this time, and were +walking slowly along together. + +"What are you thinking about, Rhoda?" asked Isa, a little impatiently, +after a minute's silence. "Why don't you speak?" + +"Because I want to say something, and I don't quite know how," answered +Rhoda. "I am afraid you will think it odd, coming from me, after all +that has happened." + +"I shall think it is just right, whatever it is, I know." + +"Well, then, Isa dear, you know who it was that said,— + + "'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will +give you rest.' + +"Why don't you go to him?" + +"I don't know; I never thought I could. How?" + +"Don't you know the Bible says— + + "'...he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God +by him'? + +"Nobody loves us as our heavenly Father does and if you ask him, I am +sure he will find some way to help you." + +"I shouldn't dare, I am so wicked," said Isa. "I suppose that is only +meant for very good people." + +"No, indeed," answered Rhoda, earnestly. "If it was, I don't know who +in all this world would ever dare to come. Why, Isa, don't you read +your Bible? Don't you know that Jesus Christ came into the world on +purpose to save sinners? Don't you know what he said when the Pharisees +found fault with him for eating with them? I thought you read your +Bible every night." + +"Well, I do, but I am so tired and stupid I can't take any sense of it. +But, Rhoda, the Bible says very hard things about liars, and I do tell +fibs and cheat in my lessons. I should be in disgrace all the time if +Kate Collins and Mary Pomeroy didn't do my sums for me or let me copy +theirs." + +"Then I'd be in disgrace," said Rhoda, undauntedly. "Perhaps that would +be the best way to make your father understand that you can't learn. +Anyhow, Isa, I would pray. I would tell God all about that too, as well +as the rest, and ask him to take you out of temptation. He will find +some way, I know. He isn't like an earthly friend that can only do very +little or perhaps nothing at all." + +"But, Rhoda—" + +"Well, what?" + +"I suppose you must have asked him a great many times to let you get an +education?" + +"Yes, and I am sure he will, if it is best for me," said Rhoda. + +"Yet he let you get found out and sent away from our house." + +"Yes, and good reason why—because I had forgotten him, and was trying +to help myself in my own way. I was like Jacob in the Bible. God had +promised him the birthright, but he wasn't contented to wait. He went +to work to get it in underhand ways—by cheating and deceiving his old +father, and taking a mean advantage of his brother; and just see how +much trouble he made himself. But come now, Isa dear, promise me you +will pray." + +"Well, I will, Rhoda, I truly will. I am sure I 'labour and am heavy +laden' enough, if that is all. I know that it isn't right to cheat, +and it makes me ashamed and miserable all the time; but if I don't +bring home a good report, pa is so mortified and scolds so and ma is so +miserable. But I will try, and you will pray for me, won't you?" + +"Indeed I will! Oh, Isa, you don't know how I miss you and want to see +you." + +"And I am sure I miss you. Have you got a place yet?" + +"No. Mrs. Mulford says I am not to be in a hurry about one, because I +am really needed at 'The Home,' and she does not think they can spare +me just yet." + +"What do you do? Tell me." + +"Oh, a great many different things," said Rhoda. "I carry up breakfast +to Granny Parsons and Mrs. Josleyn when they can't come down; I make +and do up caps, and go on errands; and sometimes I keep the books for +Miss Carpenter. They are talking about having a school in the house +again, when the new wing is done, and perhaps they may let me teach if +Miss Wilkins is not able. And I practise an hour every day—sometimes +more than that. I have plenty to do and plenty of variety, you see." + +"I should like just such a life as that," said Isa. "Well, good-bye, +dear; don't forget me." + +"There is no danger," said Rhoda. "I haven't so many friends that I can +afford to lose any." + +"Oh, I forgot to tell you that Aunt Harriet is coming to make us a +visit," said Isa, turning back. "I wish you could see her. She is +perfectly lovely. I think I should be happy if I could only go to +school to Aunt Harriet Hardy." + +"She has a school, has she?" + +"Yes, a boarding-school in Cohansey—not a large one: she has only +about twenty-five girls; and oh, they do have such good times! I was +there visiting once with mother, and if I didn't envy those girls! But +I mustn't stop another minute, or pa will ask me where I have been. +Good-bye." + +"You are rather late, Isabella," said her father as she entered. "What +detained you?" + +"I walked round with one of the girls. Pa, I'll tell you the truth," +said Isa, with a spasm of frankness, but trembling as she spoke. "I met +Rhoda Bowers and walked part of the way home with her. Now, don't be +angry, please don't." + +"I am not angry, Isabella, but I am grieved and surprised. Why should +you wish to associate with such a girl as that?" + +"Why, pa, you said yourself that Rhoda had an uncommonly clear mind." + +"She is not deficient in intellect," said Mr. Ferrand—"nay, I will +go farther, and say she has an unusually good mind; but she is not +trustworthy. She deceived me here, and the person who has called to see +me on business two or three times lately tells me that she made great +trouble in the family of her adopted parents." + +"I don't believe it," said Isa, boldly, "and I wonder, pa, that you +should let yourself be influenced by such a common man as that, +especially when you said yourself that he tried to take the advantage +of you." + +"There is something in that view of the case, certainly," said Mr. +Ferrand, "and I must say the young person expressed herself very +becomingly in regard to her conduct here. But, Isabella, remember that +I do not wish you to associate with her. You need not mortify her by +refusing to speak when you meet,—we should be courteous to persons in +every position in life; but you must not walk in the street, or stop +to converse, with her. You had better go and dress for dinner, my +daughter. Your aunt Harriet is here." + +"Oh, is she? How glad I am! When did she come?" + +"By the five o'clock train," said Mr. Ferrand, thinking, with a little +something like a pain at his heart, that his daughter had never greeted +his coming with any such show of warmth. + +But he was altogether too well satisfied with himself—too well +balanced, he would have said—to permit himself to be jealous. An +affectionate and faithful father should, of course, have the first +place in his child's affections. He was affectionate and faithful, +therefore it must follow that Isabella loved him better than any one. +He did not care very much for demonstrations of feeling, and it would +certainly have annoyed him very much if Isabella had rushed into his +room, thrown her arms around his neck, and hugged and kissed him as she +did her aunt Harriet. + +Aunt Harriet, however, did not seem to be in the least disturbed, even +though Isa's embrace distressingly crushed her illusion ruffles and +tumbled the rich soft black silk which was her favourite wear. She was +a delicate little woman, well on in the thirties at the least, yet not +old enough to account for the fact that her soft wavy hair was quite +gray. She had clear gray eyes,—the colour of a shaded pond,—eyes not at +all subdued in their expression by a life of school-teaching, but which +could dance with glee or soften with affection or pity, or on occasion +flash alarmingly with indignation. She was always elegantly and rather +richly dressed, and was, on the whole, one of those persons of whom you +naturally say, on seeing them, "Who is that?" + +"There! Sit down and let me look at you," said she when Isa's raptures +were a little calmed down. "Why, child, how thin you are! And how tired +you look! I should not allow you to look like that if you were one of +my girls." + +"Don't you let your girls look tired, Aunt Harriet?" + +"No. When they begin to have that sort of look, I carry them off for a +row up the race and a pic-nic, or some such nonsense." + +"Then I wish I was one of your girls, for I am tired all the time," +said poor Isa. "I am so tired now I should like to go straight to bed." + +"Go to bed, then," said Aunt Harriet. "Lie down here on my bed and +sleep till dinner-time." + +"I can't," said Isa. "I must dress for dinner, and then look over my +Latin. I wish there had never been any ancient Romans, or else that I +had been born one." + +"Then you might have been obliged to learn Greek, and that would have +been worse." + +"Pa says I have got to begin Greek next year," said Isa. "Oh dear! If I +could only see any end to it, I shouldn't mind so much. But I must go +and dress, or I shall not dare to show myself at the dinner-table." + +"Oh dear!" she said to herself as she went to her own room. "I do wish +pa would go away, and then ma and I could have Aunt Harriet all to +ourselves. Pa will be wanting to talk education all the time. I never +was so sick of anything. If I ever have any children, they shall never +be educated at all." + +Miss Hardy was no very great favourite with her brother-in-law; and, +as old-fashioned people say, "there was no love lost between them." +Miss Hardy was by no means one of those vine-like, submissive women who +were Mr. Ferrand's standards of excellence. She had been at the head +of an establishment of her own ever since she was three-and-twenty—an +establishment in which her will was law. She had had great experience +of all sorts of people. She had formed her own opinions and was +prepared to defend them, and she did not defer to Mr. Ferrand's +superior claims in point of intellect, family, and social position so +much as that gentleman thought his wife's sister should have done. + +On the other hand, Miss Hardy thought her brother-in-law conceited +and disposed to be tyrannical both to his wife and daughter, and +perhaps she hardly did justice to his good qualities. However, she +was incapable of treating him with disrespect in the presence of her +sister, and Mr. Ferrand, on his part, could not be rude to a lady +in his own house. Nevertheless, Mrs. Ferrand always felt a secret +uneasiness when the two were together, and it was with a feeling of +relief that she heard her husband apologize to her sister for the +necessity which existed of his leaving town to-morrow to attend to some +property he was about to sell at Hobarttown. + +"So you mean to sell that mill?" said his wife. + +"Yes, I think so. I have a good opportunity, and I prefer to invest +the money where it will take care of itself. You had better take the +carriage and give your sister a view of the different places in the +city. Probably she will like to visit 'The House of Refuge' and 'The +School for Truant Children.'" + +"I want to see your old ladies' 'Home,'" said Miss Hardy. "They are +thinking of getting up a similar institution in Cohansey, and I have +heard this one highly spoken of." + +"I believe the old people are made very comfortable," said Mrs. +Ferrand. "Of course they grumble more or less; but from all I can +learn, I think they must be well cared for." + +"At the same time, there is a lamentable want of system in the +arrangements," remarked Mr. Ferrand. "Their hours are very late, and +there seem to be absolutely no rules about exercising and diet. It +cannot be proper that any persons should have tea three times a day, +and I am credibly informed that several of the old people are allowed +to take snuff." + +"I suppose they have been used to it all their lives, pa," Isa ventured +to say. + +"Do you consider that any argument for criminal indulgence, Isabella?" +asked her father. + +"I shouldn't call it exactly a criminal indulgence to take snuff," +answered Isa, emboldened by her aunt's smile. "I shouldn't think it +best for a young person to begin, because it is a disagreeable habit; +but I should think, when a woman had taken it till she was seventy or +eighty years old, she might be allowed to go on for the rest of her +life." + +"And if a man had gone on stealing till he was eighty, would that be a +reason for his keeping on?" + +"There is a difference between stealing and taking snuff," answered Isa. + +"Decidedly a difference," remarked Miss Hardy. "Did you tell me that +there was a department for children and young people attached to the +institution?" + +"Yes; they have eight little girls, who remain till they are fifteen, +unless they are adopted or bound out to suitable places before that +time." + +"And what becomes of them then?" + +"They go out as servants or seamstresses, and Mrs. Mulford tells me +they usually do very well. They look upon the institution as a real +'home;' and as long as they behave tolerably well, they are allowed +and encouraged to go back there whenever they are out of a place. In +that way the managers are able to keep informed of them, and also to +maintain a certain control over them." + +"A very good plan," said Miss Hardy. + +"Yes, I quite approve of that part of the institution," said Mr. +Ferrand, "though I fear that hardly enough pains is taken to bring +up the children with a proper sense of their position, and of the +deference due to their superiors." + +"I was not without an object in asking," said Miss Hardy. "I am very +much in want of a dining-room girl—one to set and wait on the table and +take care of the dishes, which is in itself no small piece of work in a +family like ours." + +"What has become of that pretty little Margaret you had when I was +there?" asked Mrs. Ferrand. "You thought of taking her into school, I +remember." + +"So I did," answered Miss Hardy. "She did very well for a year and +a half, and then she came to an untimely end. You need not look +distressed, Lucilla; it was nothing very tragical. The last long +vacation she went out to Denver with Mary Nichols—you remember +her—partly as companion, partly to take care of the children. That was +the last of her. A well-to-do farmer saw her, fell in love with her, +and married her. I felt a little uneasy, but Mary writes me she has +done very well and is very happy. Since then I have had a succession of +incapables, and I want somebody I can keep." + +Isa glanced at her mother. Mrs. Ferrand made her a little sign which +she well understood as a signal that she was to say nothing. + + +In compliment to her aunt, and also because the school-room piano had +altogether broken down, Isa was allowed to intermit her practising for +one evening, but she could not on any account be allowed to sit up a +moment later than usual. + +But when Miss Hardy went up to bed, Isa peeped out and called her: + +"Oh, auntie, please come in. I want to talk to you." + +"Get into bed, then, you imprudent child," said Miss Hardy. "Why are +you up in this cold room?" + +"It is cold," said Isa, shivering—"too cold for you to sit here, I am +afraid. But I do want to talk to you about Rhoda. I do want you to take +her so much." + +"Who is Rhoda?" asked Miss Hardy, wrapping herself in a shawl, for it +was one of Mr. Ferrand's maxims that nobody should sleep in a warm +room, no matter what the weather might be. "Tell me about her." + +"She is a girl who used to live here—oh, such a good girl! She used +to help me about my sums and my music, and all, but pa sent her away +because he caught her playing upon the piano, but she is living at +'The Home' now, but she wants a place, and she is so anxious to get an +education. She studies at home all the time, every chance she can get. +Just think, Aunt Harriet—really studies algebra because she likes it; +and she can sing beautifully, and read music, and all. Please ask ma +about her. She can tell you the story better than I can. And she knows +how to work, and she said herself that she was more help to her than +any girl she ever had," said Isa, mixing up her pronouns in a way that +would have horrified her father. "And she wants an education more than +anything else in the world, and that made pa send her away—at least +that wasn't all, for Rhoda herself said she did wrong, but she told pa +she was sorry." + +"I can't say I get any very lucid ideas from your story, Isa," said +Miss Hardy. + +"I never can tell anything straight, especially when I am in a hurry," +said poor Isa. "But you ask ma. She can tell you all about Rhoda, for +she liked her. And I am sure she would suit you, for I love her dearly." + +"A very good reason. Well, my love, it is time you were asleep, so we +won't talk any more to-night. How you are shivering!" + +"I always shiver so when I first go to bed," said Isa, "and then I am +so hot you don't know. Marion brings me a hot brick every night, but I +can't get warm for all." + + +"I really think she might answer your purpose very well," said Mrs. +Ferrand when Miss Hardy applied to her for information about Rhoda. +"She is very neat, and the most trustworthy girl of her age I ever saw. +She never disappointed me." + +"That is a valuable quality, certainly; but why did she go away? Isa +said something about a piano which I did not understand." + +Mrs. Ferrand repeated the story, to which her sister listened with +great interest. + +"Poor child! It was a hard case," said she. "I have known plenty of +girls who cheated to get rid of lessons, but I can't say I ever met +such an instance as this. And you say she is out of a place? Could I +see her, do you think?" + +"Oh yes. We shall probably find her at 'The Home;' and if not, I will +send for her." + +"And won't you give her an education, Aunt Harriet, or let her work for +it?" asked Isa, eagerly. + +"I will see about that, my child. If she seems likely to suit me, I +should prefer to take her as a servant, to begin with, and then I can +observe her for myself. I promise you I will do all I can for her." + +"All right," said Isa. She had perfect confidence in Aunt Harriet, +and not the least doubt of Rhoda's capacity to make her way with +"reasonable people," as she expressed it. + + +Miss Hardy called at "The Home," saw Rhoda, and had a long talk with +her. + +"You think you would like to come?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am." + +"It is a long journey," said Miss Hardy, "but a very easy one, and I +will send you careful directions. I suppose, if I do not want you till +the first of September, you can remain here?" + +Rhoda looked at Miss Carpenter. + +"Certainly," answered Miss Carpenter. "We shall be very glad to have +her. Rhoda makes herself very useful in the family." + +"Very well; then we will consider the matter settled," said Miss +Hardy—"that is, if I can depend on your not disappointing me and going +off to some other place. You look rather indignant, Rhoda, but that is +the way I have been served a great many times. I keep a place for a +girl and put myself to some inconvenience to keep my engagement to her, +but she does not consider herself in the least bound by her promise to +me if she fancies she can do better." + +"I think you may depend on Rhoda," said Miss Carpenter. + +Rhoda was delighted. She liked the change, and she had imbibed from Isa +a very high idea of Miss Hardy, which was not lessened by seeing her. +Then, best of all, she should be in a school, and it would go hard but +she would benefit thereby. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_MISS DAVIS'S LETTER._ + +"I SHALL probably want you to come down about the first of September, +as our school opens on the thirteenth this year, but I can tell better +when I have consulted Mrs. Hallowell, the housekeeper. At all events, I +will write and let you know in good time." + +These were Miss Hardy's last words on parting with Rhoda. It was now +the last of March, and Rhoda settled down for the summer, as she +supposed, fulfilling her multifarious duties as assistant sick-nurse, +milliner, reader, and factotum in general at the home. + +Miss Carpenter remarked one day, with a sigh, that it would be hard to +fill Rhoda's place when she was gone. + +"I am sure nobody will miss the child more than I shall," said Miss +Brown, echoing the sigh. "She is in and out a dozen times a day, and +always has something pleasant to say. Only that it is so clearly to her +advantage, I should be sorry she was going so far. It don't seem as if +I should ever see her again." + +But Miss Brown was to go first, and on a longer journey than Rhoda's. +She had been ailing for a day or two—not seriously, but so that Mrs. +Lambert thought it best she should keep her room, especially as the +weather was very trying. Rhoda had arranged her for the night, and left +her feeling cheerful and comfortable; but when she went to call her in +the morning, her good old friend was sleeping the quiet sleep which +knows no waking in this world. + +"It is a blessed release to her, I am sure," said Mrs. Lambert, wiping +her eyes. "There isn't one in the house that would be more missed, for +all she was so quiet, and never made any disturbance. Rhoda's 'most +heart-broken, and no wonder. She was like a daughter to the dear old +lady." + +It was indeed a heavy blow to Rhoda—like losing Aunt Hannah over again. + +"She was so good to me. It does seem as though my friends were taken +away from me as soon as I learn to love them," she said to Mrs. +Worthington. + +"You have indeed had a sad experience of the changes of this life for +one so young," replied her friend. "You must try to look all the more +steadfastly at the things which are not seen, my child. It is the only +comfort, and the only way to make affliction work out its good results. +Taken in any other way, it only sours and hardens." + +Rhoda knew that these words were not mere phrases and matter-of-course +consolations, coming as they did from one who had been stricken so +sorely, and she tried to take them to heart; but nevertheless she +missed her dear old friend every day more and more. + +"Well, they've given her a fine funeral," grumbled Granny Parsons, who +had crawled down to see the ceremony—"rose-wood coffin with silver +handles, and fine cashmere shroud, and all. You won't catch 'em giving +me no such coffin as that. Any old pine box will be good enough for me." + +"It won't make no great difference, I expect, whether we have a +rose-wood or pine," remarked Mrs. Josleyn. "So long as we get safe +to the other side of Jordan, we may as well go in a pine boat as a +rose-wood one. And I'm sure Miss Brown has got nicer white robes by +this time than any cashmere, or satin either; for she was a good woman +if ever there was one." + +"Here's a letter for you, Rhoda, with money in it," said Miss +Carpenter, coming into Granny Parsons's room, where Rhoda was sitting +with her work, listening to an interminable story of granny's wrongs +from her first, second, and third husbands, and wondering in her own +mind what anybody should have seen in her to marry. "I expect it is +from Miss Hardy. She lives at Cohansey, don't she?" + +"Yes, ma'am, but I didn't expect to hear so soon, and it isn't Miss +Hardy's writing, either, or at least I think not. I hope nothing has +happened," she continued, studying the address with that odd feeling +which always prompts one to seek information from the outside rather +than the inside of an unexpected letter. + +"Well, do open it and see, child. It won't grow any worse or better by +keeping." + +Rhoda opened and read the letter, and uttered an exclamation of +surprise. + +"What is it?" asked Miss Carpenter. + +"Oh, it is all right. She wants me to come, and has sent the money for +my fare, but she writes me to be at Cohansey the first of June instead +of the first of September." + +"The first of June! Why, that is the day after to-morrow," said Miss +Carpenter. + +"No, the day after. May has thirty-one days, you know. But the notice +is short enough, anyhow. My clothes are all in order, that is one +comfort." + +"Well, I think you needn't complain," grumbled Granny Parsons, "when +she sends you money to go with, and all. Nobody don't send me no money +in letters." + +"You would hardly want to set off on such a journey as Rhoda's if they +did, since you are afraid to ride even on the street cars," remarked +Miss Carpenter. "Is the letter from Miss Hardy herself, Rhoda?" + +"No, ma'am, from Miss Davis—Anna Davis is the signature. She is one of +the teachers, I know. I saw her name in the circular Isa gave me. She +says Miss Hardy requests her to write." + +"Then it is all correct, of course," said Miss Carpenter. "Well, +you must go right to work and get ready, so as not to have too much +to do at the last. You had better go and see Mrs. Mulford and Mrs. +Worthington." + +"And Marion Campbell—I must bid her good-bye; and I dare say Mrs. +Ferrand will have something to send her sister," said Rhoda, thinking, +it must be confessed, more of the chance of seeing Isa than of obliging +her mother. "How strange it will seem starting off on such a long +journey!" + +"I wish you were not going alone," said Miss Carpenter. "However, I +dare say nothing will happen to you." + +Rhoda's packing was all done the next day. She had received a good +travelling outfit when she left Boonville, and had very little to buy. +By Mrs. Mulford's advice, she left her money in the bank, taking only +enough with her to pay her expenses back again if necessary. + + +"And have you all you want? Are you sure?" asked Marion. "A +travelling-bag, now?" + +"Oh yes," answered Rhoda. "My bag is an old one of mother's. It isn't +very smart, but it will do." + +"Awed, I thought you might need a new one, and so I bought this," said +Marion, producing a very nice morocco satchel. "I'd like you to have +everything nice and respectable, as you are going among strangers. But +if you don't like it, you can change it at Pritchard's; I bought it on +that condition, for I know young lasses have their fancies." + +"Indeed, I don't want to change it. I think it is beautiful," said +Rhoda, surveying her present. "But what is this in the pocket. Oh what +a pretty purse! And money in it, too! Oh, Marion, you shouldn't! I +ought not to take it!" + +"Aweel, ye can do as you please, but the purse is no my present, it is +Mrs. Ferrand's," said Marion. "She bade me give it to you from her and +Miss Isa." + +"Can't I see them, then?" said Rhoda. "Are they not at home? Oh how +sorry I am!" + +"No, they're gone away with yon man to some of his nonsense +conventions, or such like. It is Isa's vacation, ye ken." + +"Of course he couldn't let her have any good of it," said Rhoda. "He +would be miserable if he thought the poor child was enjoying herself." + +"Na, na, ye should not say that," said Marion. "The man means no harm." + +"Perhaps not. Aunt Hannah used to say that more than half the mischief +in the world was done by people who meant no harm. Well, good-bye, dear +Marion; you won't forget me, will you?" + +"What should ail me to forget you, lass?" said Marion, a little +gruffly. "There, there! Dinna greet and make me as foolish as yourself. +Ye 'll no forget to drop a line and let me know how you have got on." + + +With all her courage and all her hopes for the future, Rhoda felt +rather forlorn as she started on her journey at three in the afternoon. +She had taken a sleeping car, by Mrs. Mulford's advice, and was +almost alone in it. A part of the road was the same as that she had +travelled in coming from Boonville when she supposed herself bound for +a boarding-school in the city, and a flood of bitterness rushed over +her when she remembered her thoughts and feelings on that occasion. It +required something of a crying fit and a good many prayers to quiet her +spirits. + +But by the time she had reached Caneota, she was sufficiently composed +to look eagerly at the crowd around the dépôt to see if she could find +any one she knew, for a good many people from Boonville came to Caneota +to take the cars. At last her eyes were gladdened by the sight of +Jeduthun Cooke's dark face, and she opened the window and called to him. + +"Why, Rhoda, is that you?" exclaimed Jeduthun, cordially, shaking +hands. "Where you bound?" + +"To Philadelphia first, and then from there to Cohansey, where I am +going to live for a while." + +"Do tell! Going to school?" + +"No," answered Rhoda, colouring; "I am going into a school, but it is +as a servant, not a scholar. Do you know anything about—" + +"About your folks? I heard tell they was going to Hobarttown to live. +They ain't any great favourites in Boonville just now, I can tell you. +But, Rhoda, you'll have company. Boss and his wife's going down." + +"I am so glad!" said Rhoda. "I did dread going alone. Jeduthun, what +has become of Aunt Hannah's cow, and the cats, and all?" + +"Well, General Dent, he bought old Snowball of Mr. Weightman. The old +man was just a-going to sell her to a drover, when the general came +riding up, and kind of rescued her. Oh, she's well off, the old cow is. +And Kissy, she's got Molly and Fuzzyball." + +"Dear old Molly! Jeduthun, if Molly has any more kittens, and you are +going to town some time, will you take one to Miss Carpenter at 'The +Home'? She is so fond of cats." + +"Of course I will. Then they was good to you there?" + +"Yes, indeed; nobody could be better. And, Jeduthun, please persuade +the Boonville folks to send them a nice box this fall. What has become +of Aunt Hannah's house?" + +"Oh, it's all torn down, and Mr. Weightman is building a mill on the +place—means to run us all out, I suppose. Here comes boss, just at the +last minute as usual. I never did see such a man. Well, good-bye, and +good luck to you." + +Under her altered circumstances, Rhoda rather shrank from meeting Mr. +and Mrs. Antis. She had imbibed a strong dread of "putting herself +forward," which, like a great deal of seeming humility, was nothing but +"pride turned inside out." But she could not perceive that they made +the least difference in their manner to her, even after they heard that +she was going to live out as a servant. + +"It is an abominable shame," declared Mrs. Antis, warmly. "Not but that +it is creditable in you to do anything you can, Rhoda, and I am sure +you will turn out all right; but I wish you had come to me instead of +going away so far. Why won't you come now? You would just be one of the +family, you know." + +"You are very kind, Mrs. Antis," said Rhoda, "but there are several +things in the way. One is that I have promised Miss Hardy to stay a +year with her, and the other—Well, Mrs. Antis, the truth is—I suppose +it is foolish pride, but the truth is, I would rather live out anywhere +else than in Boonville." + +"I understand," said Mrs. Antis. "But, Rhoda, I shouldn't wish nor +expect you to be a servant; I should want you to come as a daughter +or younger sister, and just be one of ourselves. I always did like +you, ever since you came to Boonville; and if it hadn't been for the +sickness and death of Mr. Antis's sister, which cramped us for means +at that time, we should have sent for you at once. Of course I should +expect you to help me with the work, as Mary used to, but that would be +all." + +Rhoda sat still, utterly overcome by this unexpected proposition. + +"You mustn't think this is any sudden notion of Cassy's," said Mr. +Antis, misinterpreting Rhoda's silence. "We have often talked it over +since we knew your circumstances, and I don't see why we shouldn't suit +each other very well." + +"I am sure you are very kind—more than kind," said Rhoda, after a +little longer silence. "I don't know how to thank you, but I am afraid +it won't do. I must keep my promise to Miss Hardy, because she depends +upon me, and it would be a great inconvenience to her; and then I do +think I ought to earn my own living. But you don't know how much good +you have done me by just speaking of such a thing. I don't think the +world will ever look so dark to me again. And if I may come and stay +with you sometimes—" + +"Of course you may," said Mrs. Antis, a little disappointed, but at +once understanding and sympathizing with Rhoda. "We shall be glad to +have you any time." + +"And I think all the more of you for wishing to keep your engagement," +said Mr. Antis. "I wish every one was as careful. I begin to think +sometimes that there is no such thing as faithfulness left in the +world. I have had half a dozen boys since Eben Fairchild left me, and +not one that I could leave to measure a bushel of corn and be sure it +would be done." + +"Good old Eben! How is he getting on now?" + +"Just the same steady way. He is going to Philadelphia to attend +lectures next winter." + +And then ensued a flood of news and neighbourhood gossip about +Boonville people. + +"Have you ever heard anything about Aunt Annie—I mean Mr. and Mrs. +Evans?" asked Rhoda, at length. + +"Oh yes. They are in Scotland, so Mr. Evans's brother told me, and +little Harry is so much better for the change that they mean to stay +two or three years. Haven't you ever written to them?" + +"No," answered Rhoda; "I knew how Aunt Annie would feel, and I didn't +want to make trouble in the family, as Mr. Weightman says I did between +him and Aunt Hannah." + +"Did he say so? Well, he is a nice person!" + +The party arrived in Philadelphia without accident. And finding that +Rhoda had a few hours to spare, Mr. Antis took a carriage and showed +his wife and Rhoda part of the city. Rhoda saw the Mint, the stores +in Chestnut street, and the American Sunday-school Union, * and other +places that she had heard of. They had lunch at the Continental. + + * 1122 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, and which all of our readers are +cordially invited to visit.—[EDITOR. + +And when the time came, Mr. Antis went down and saw her across the +river and into the Cohansey train. + +"Now, remember, Rhoda, you have always got a home," said he as he shook +hands with her. + +"Mr. Antis, you don't know how I thank you," said Rhoda, earnestly. "I +couldn't say half what I wanted to Mrs. Antis, but it seems as if you +had made everything easy to me. I hope Mrs. Antis won't think I don't +value her kindness?" + +"No, no! Don't you worry yourself. Mrs. Antis understands, and so do I, +and we shall think all the more of you. But I want you to tell me one +thing, while I think of it. Did you ever know whether your aunt Hannah +made a will?" + +"I know she did," said Rhoda. "She told me a year ago that she had, and +that her affairs were all settled." + +"You don't know who the witnesses were?" + +"No, I never heard." + +"It is very odd. Mr. Weightman declares there was no will." + +"Perhaps Aunt Hannah had burned it up, or something," said Rhoda. + +"Or possibly Mr. Weightman has done the same. I don't think he is any +too good. A man can't be honest and be so fond of money as he is. Well, +good-bye once more." + + +Arrived at Cohansey, Rhoda easily found her way by the omnibus to Miss +Hardy's school. It was a handsome, old-fashioned house, standing well +up from the street, and covered to the chimney-top with luxuriant +English ivy, which lives through the winter in that climate. A wing +of much later date extended to one side, and evidently contained the +school-rooms. + +[Illustration: _Rhoda's Education._ +"It looks very pleasant," thought Rhoda, as she stood waiting.] + +"It looks very pleasant," thought Rhoda as she stood waiting for some +one to answer the bell. "Oh, if I were coming to school! But there! It +won't do to begin thinking about that. Those girls seem to be having a +nice time. I wish poor Isa was here. I should like to hear her laugh +like that for once. Here comes somebody at last. Is Miss Hardy at +home?" she asked as a somewhat pert-looking servant opened the blind of +the door. + +Rhoda was ushered into a small, pleasant room, evidently used as a +library, and surrounded on all sides with low book-cases filled with +books looking as if they were made to be read. She waited several +minutes, and had begun to feel a little uncomfortable, when Miss Hardy +entered the room, followed by another person, whom Rhoda guessed at +once to be the housekeeper. + +"My dear child, what has brought you here now?" was her salutation. +"Did not Miss Davis write?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda, feeling as if she were in a dream. "Miss +Davis wrote that I was to be here the first of June." + +"The first of June! You must be mistaken. I told her to ask you to be +here the first of September." + +For all answer, Rhoda took the letter from her travelling-bag and +handed it to Miss Hardy. The lady read it, while a shade of amusement +and vexation passed over her face. + +"So much for setting a girl who is just going to be married to writing +a business letter!" said she, handing the letter to Mrs. Hallowell. + +"It does say the first of June, sure enough," remarked Mrs. Hallowell. +"Miss Davis was thinking about her own wedding-day." + +"It is an awkward mistake," said Miss Hardy. "You see school closes in +two weeks, and then we shut up the house and have our long vacation. +But never mind," she added, kindly; "we will arrange it somehow. You +did quite right to come." + +"And it will be a great convenience to have you here during the closing +weeks of school," added Mrs. Hallowell. "We always have so much +company. Come, I will show you your room. Would you rather have a very +small room to yourself, or a large one with some one?" + +"A small one by myself, please," answered Rhoda; "I don't care how +small, if I can get into it. + +"Oh what a pretty little room, and what a nice window!" + +"Yes, it is pleasant. Those trees are catalpas, and are lovely when in +blossom. Well, child, make yourself comfortable, and I will send Hester +to call you when your supper is ready." + +"Shall I wait on the table to-night?" asked Rhoda. "I would just as +soon; I am not at all tired." + +"Yes, you may, if you choose. It will be half an hour to tea, so you +will have time to change your dress." + + +"Well, how do you like her?" asked Miss Hardy when Mrs. Hallowell +returned. + +"Very much," was the reply. "She asked me whether she should not wait +on the table to-night, and that looks well. But I must say she looks +much more like taking Miss Davis's place in the school-room than +Tilly's in the kitchen." + +"I think so myself, but we shall see. How could Miss Davis make such a +blunder? I hardly ever let her send away a letter without looking it +over, but I was very busy and it slipped my mind." + +"Well, as I said, it will be nice to have her here through the last two +weeks—that is, if she takes hold well." + +"But what to do with her in vacation-time?" + +"We will see when the time comes. Maybe you can find her a place in +town. I have a feeling that there is a providence in it." + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_WHAT A BIT OF SOAP DID._ + +MRS. HALLOWELL was quite satisfied with Rhoda's way of "taking hold." + +Rhoda's work was to set and wait on the table, to take care of the +dishes, to dust and once or twice a week to sweep the library and +school-room, and to attend to the door. She found it very easy and +not at all disagreeable; but all her philosophy could not prevent her +eyes from filling sometimes, when she heard the girls practising or +saw them tripping into the school-room with their books at the time of +morning prayer. It was hard to dust and arrange the piano and organ and +never touch the keys, but she had laid down a rigid rule for herself +in that matter, and adhered to it. She did venture to ask for a book +to read; and once, when Miss Hardy spoke to her in passing through the +dining-room, she preferred another petition. + +"How do you like your place, Rhoda? Do you feel at home?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am; I like it very much." + +"Mrs. Marshall said you spoke about having something to read. Miss +Adams has the charge of the books, and will let you have anything you +like. Is there anything else?" + +"If you please, Miss Hardy, if I might come in to prayers," said Rhoda, +with a little hesitation; "I generally have my work done by that time, +and it would seem more like home." + +"Certainly you can come," said Miss Hardy. "I am glad you spoke of it." + +And thenceforth Rhoda joined the rest of the family at prayers, just as +if—so Hetty said—she felt herself as good as anybody. + +Hester and Rhoda did not get on very well together. Hester had been +somewhat affronted, in the first place, by Rhoda's preferring "a little +hole," as she said, to a room with her. Then, Rhoda had not been +disposed to encourage the flood of gossip which Hetty poured forth +concerning the teachers, the girls, and the neighbours. Then, Rhoda +preferred sitting in her own room and reading or studying when her work +was done to strolling about the streets. She went once or twice when +Hester asked her to go shopping, and even went into a saloon and got +some ice cream, but the third time she declined. + +"You needn't be afraid," said Hetty. "Ayers's is a very nice place. +Miss Hardy goes there herself and lets the girls go." + +"Yes, I know, and see how much money they spend! Miss Sellers must get +rid of as much as a dollar a week there, I should think." + +"Well, what of it? Her family is rich, and she has lots of money." + +"And I haven't lots of money nor any family," said Rhoda; "and what +little I have I want to save for a special purpose. That is one reason +why I don't like to go shopping. I see things that take my fancy, and +am tempted to spend a quarter here and ten cents there for what I don't +need at all. And 'that's the way the money goes,' you know." + +"Oh, well, if you are such a miser, there's no more to be said; only +I'm thankful I'm not." + +"I don't think I am a miser, Hetty; but I am saving money for a special +reason." + +Then, Rhoda did not show a proper spirit, in Hetty's opinion. She was +always ready to do all sorts of odd jobs, and seemed ambitious of +accomplishing rather more than her allotted task. + +"Let me do that," she said, one day, to Mrs. Hallowell, who was washing +the urn and other silver at breakfast. "I am used to it. I took care of +all the silver at Mrs. Ferrand's, and they used a great deal." + +"I shall be glad if you will," answered Mrs. Hallowell. + +And thenceforth Rhoda had the care of the silver. + +"More fool you!" said Hetty. "Now you will have to do it all the time." + +"That is just what I want," said Rhoda as she lifted the urn to put it +away. + +"Oh yes, no doubt," said Hetty, sarcastically, to Aunt Sarah, a very +efficient and intelligent coloured woman, who was filling the place of +cook for the present. "She just wants to get the blind side of Miss +Hardy: that's what she wants, with her work and reading and going to +prayers." + +"She'll be smart if she does," remarked Aunt Sarah. "I've been working +for Miss Hardy off and on a good many years, and I never found out that +she had any 'blind side.' If you mean that she wants to please Miss +Hardy, I guess you are right, and I guess she'll make it out. That's +the kind Miss Hardy likes, you see. You'd better be taking pattern by +her than finding fault with her, my girl." + +Hetty twisted her head and said she "wasn't going to be a slave to +nobody." + +"You won't be a slave, nor nothing else," declared Sarah, "not if you +don't mend your ways. I never did see a young gal with such slomiking +ways, never. Down goes everything just where you happen to be, and +there you leave it. I'd like to know how long that old petticoat +of yours has been lying on the stairs, and this morning I found a +hairbrush right on the top step. You'll have somebody's life to answer +for some day, you'll see." + + +The time flew quickly, as it generally does with busy people; and there +remained only a few days to the end of school. + +"Well, Rhoda, I believe I have provided a home for you during +vacation," said Miss Hardy, calling Rhoda into her room one evening. +"Mrs. Elsmore, the doctor's wife, is going to take a cottage at Cape +May for the season, and she wants a girl to take care of little Harry. +It will be an easy place; for Harry is a good little fellow, and Mrs. +Elsmore is a very pleasant woman. Do you think you would like to go? +Say just what you think." + +"I should like it ever so much," said Rhoda, with sparkling eyes. "I +love children, and I always did want to see the ocean." + +"You don't ask anything about the wages," said Miss Hardy, smiling. + +"I thought you would settle that," answered Rhoda. "I shouldn't know +how much I ought to ask." + +"You must learn to be a woman of business. Mrs. Elsmore will give you +two dollars a week. It that enough?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am, plenty." + +"You must make yourself a bathing-dress and get all the good out of it +you can," remarked Miss Hardy. "Would you like to take something to +read?" + +"Yes, ma'am. I should like to take the first volume of 'The Pictorial +History of England,' if you have no objection." + +"Certainly I have not. Take two volumes if you like. You seem to be +fond of solid reading." + +"I can't say I am so very fond of it," answered Rhoda, candidly, "but +I don't have much time, and I want to improve myself. I think history +is rather horrid and disgusting a great many times, but I suppose one +needs to know it, especially—I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Rhoda, +becoming conscious that she was, as Mr. Ferrand would have said, +"getting out of her station." + +"For thinking history horrid? You need not do that, for I think so +myself," said Miss Hardy, smiling. "Well, especially what?" + +"Especially if one is thinking of teaching, I was going to say," +answered Rhoda. + +"You are right, Rhoda. Teachers are too apt to be deficient in general +knowledge. They know their own special branches, and often very little +beyond them; and I am afraid the same is true of many school-girls." + +"I am sure it is so with Miss Isa," Rhoda ventured to say. "Her father +never lets her read an amusing book—not even a magazine—for fear of +dissipating her mind. Have you heard from her lately, Miss Hardy?" + +"Not very lately. Her mother wrote that she was taking music and French +lessons from very superior masters. I am afraid she works too hard." + +"Indeed she does, Miss Hardy," said Rhoda; "and the mischief is she +works all the time. She never has any real amusement or any time for +idleness. I never see our young ladies going out with the boat or +botanizing but I wish Miss Isa was with them. I know she will break +down some day, and have fits or something. I like work as well as +anybody, but I think idleness is very nice sometimes." + +"Not only nice, but necessary. Well, Rhoda, I am glad you like my +arrangements for you." + + +"That girl has an uncommon mind," observed Mrs. Marshall, who had been +busy writing, but who had a way of seeing and hearing everything. "She +ought to be doing something better than waiting on the table." + +"I am thinking about her case," replied Miss Hardy. "I almost wish I +had set her to teaching the little ones when she first came. She has +very nice manners." + + +But Rhoda was not destined to see Cape May or to use her new +bathing-suit this season. School had closed with the usual exercises, +and all the scholars had gone. Hester had secured a place in a hotel at +Cape May, much to her own delight. The teachers had gone their several +ways, including Mrs. Marshall, who had set out for a visit to her only +sister, in California; and the day came when the house was to be locked +up and left to its own devices, and to the gambols of the mice and the +centipedes. + +"We will just go over the house once more," said Miss Hardy to Rhoda. +"Then Aunt Sarah can close the shutters and lock up." + +The survey was nearly completed. Miss Hardy had gone through to one of +the back staircases, with which the old house was very well provided, +when Rhoda, who had lingered a moment in the painting-room, heard a +heavy fall. Both Sarah and herself rushed to the spot, to find Miss +Hardy lying at the bottom of the stairs, with one leg doubled under +her, pale as death, and unable to rise, but, as usual, quite collected +and composed. + +"I believe I have broken my leg," said she. "I can't move in the least. +I slipped on something that lay on the top stair and fell all the way +down. Run and bring Doctor Elsmore, Rhoda; and, Sarah, call James to +help you and get me on the drawing-room sofa. That is the nearest +place." + +When Rhoda came back with the doctor, she found Miss Hardy on the sofa, +and Sarah standing over her loosening her dress. + +"It's all that Hester," said she, indignantly, "just going and leaving +a piece of soap on the stairs, of all places in the world." + +"She ought to be whipped, or any one else who leaves things on stairs," +said the doctor. "One of the loveliest wives and mothers I ever knew +was killed by just such a piece of careless stupidity. It was well this +was no worse." + +The leg was set and Miss Hardy made as comfortable as circumstances +admitted, and then arose the question of what was to be done. Aunt +Sarah would stay and do the work, but who was to wait on Miss Hardy? + +"I shall, of course," said Rhoda, quietly—"that is, if Mrs. Elsmore +will release me. I dare say she can find somebody to fill my place +easily enough." + +"More easily than Miss Hardy can, I dare say. Mrs. Elsmore is a +reasonable woman, and won't stand in the way," said the doctor. "But, +my girl, you are young. Do you think you are competent to nurse a woman +with a broken leg?" + +"I think so, doctor, with Aunt Sarah's help," answered Rhoda, modestly. +"I have had a good deal of experience at nursing, and under a +professional nurse. I took most of the care of Miss Brown when she had +her broken leg; and when I don't know what to do, I can always ask, you +know." + +"Can you? Well, perhaps you can. I have known people that couldn't. +Miss Hardy, I don't think you can do better than to accept this young +woman's offer." + +"But it will be such a great disappointment to you, Rhoda," said Miss +Hardy. "I know you wished to go to Cape May, and I am afraid it won't +be very pleasant for you in this great, shut up house with no company." + +"Aunt Hannah used to say 'It isn't pleasant' was no reason at all," +said Rhoda. "I think I ought to stay, Miss Hardy." + +"Aunt Hannah is a sensible woman, as I should expect an Aunt Hannah +to be," said the doctor. "But there must be no talking, or we shall +have our patient in a fever. I think we had better consider the matter +settled, Miss Hardy." + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_MISS THURSTON._ + +FOR a week or two Miss Hardy suffered a good deal, and required +constant care and attention; but after that time matters grew better. +A very famous surgeon, a cousin of Miss Hardy's, came down to see her, +and he and Dr. Elsmore between them contrived an arrangement which +enabled the patient to sit up in bed—a great relief. The case was a +simple one and doing as well as possible, and Rhoda received a blunt +compliment on her handiness from Doctor Douglass: + +"You understand yourself, I see. I like to see people's brains reach to +the ends of their fingers." + +Rhoda found her quiet life far from disagreeable. She read aloud to +Miss Hardy a part of every day, she worked at her algebra, and took a +certain pleasure in rambling over the great solitary house. + +"You must not let yourself get dull and lonely," said Miss Hardy. "How +will you manage to amuse yourself?" + +Rhoda hesitated a moment. + +"After all, it can do no harm to ask," she said to herself; and then +added aloud, "Miss Hardy, if you don't object—if it would not disturb +you—if I might practise on the piano over in the farther class-room—" + +"Certainly," answered Miss Hardy—"practise as much as you like; only +I think you had better use the piano in the little music-room at the +head of the stairs. It is a better instrument, and you will be within +hearing of the bell. I remember Mrs. Ferrand's telling me you were fond +of music. You will find plenty of music there in the little cupboard at +the side of the fireplace." + +Rhoda was now indeed happy. She made her selections of music, and went +up stairs feeling almost as if she were in a dream. The piano was a +very good one, and Miss Hardy listened with pleasure as Rhoda played +and sung. + +"She has real talent," she said to herself. "Not one girl in twenty +plays with such expression, and not one in a hundred has such a voice. +She must certainly have lessons. It is a shame to let such talent be +thrown away." + + +It was not Miss Hardy's way to act in a hurry. She waited for two or +three weeks, letting Rhoda practise every day, hearing her read aloud, +and talking with her on all sorts of subjects. One day, when Rhoda +brought her book as usual, Miss Hardy said,— + +"Never mind the history now, Rhoda. Get your work; I want to talk +to you. But what have you there so very pretty?" she asked as Rhoda +unrolled a parcel of snow-white wool and a pair of long slender needles. + +"I was going to ask you about it," said Rhoda. "I was in Mrs. F—'s +store looking at some little knitted shirts, and she asked me if I knew +any one who could make them. I told her I could, and that I knew a much +prettier pattern than hers. She said she would pay me a dollar a pair, +and I told her I would like to knit them if you had no objection." + +"Not the least," answered Miss Hardy. "It is very pretty work. Do you +know, Rhoda, you have a very straightforward way of telling a story?" + +"Aunt Hannah taught me that," said Rhoda. "She used to say, when I +would begin to tell something, 'Now, don't begin in the middle. Stop +and think what you want to say.'" + +"Aunt Hannah must have been a very wise woman. But now give me your +attention, for I want to talk about a very serious matter. I understand +from my sister and niece, as well as from some things you have said +yourself, that you are very desirous to have a regular education?" + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda, her heart beating fast. "It has been the +greatest desire of my life ever since I was twelve years old." + +"How much have you studied already?" + +"I have been well drilled in the common-school studies," answered +Rhoda, considering. "I have been through the arithmetic and grammar two +or three times, and I have studied American history a little. Besides +that, I have been through three books of Euclid and as far as quadratic +equations in algebra." + +"Did you do that in school?" + +"No, ma'am. After I came back to 'The Home,' I used to recite to Miss +Brown, and while I was at Mrs. Ferrand's I went on by myself. I worked +most at nay algebra, because I wanted to help Isa." + +"What music-lessons have you had?" + +"I learned to read notes and sing church music at sight in the +singing-school, and Miss Emily Willson taught me the notes on the +piano and how to play a little; and once, when we were visiting at Mr. +Evans's, Aunt Annie gave me some lessons. We had no piano at home, but +I used to practise on Miss Emily's till they went away. Father always +said he meant to buy me a piano." + +"Whom do you mean by 'father'?" asked Miss Hardy. "I thought you were +an orphan." + +Rhoda gave Miss Hardy a short account of her life. + +"It was a most heartless and shameful proceeding," said Miss Hardy, who +had a capacity for virtuous indignation. "I never heard anything worse." + +"I believe I should think so if any one else had been the sufferer. And +I don't think I did anything to deserve it, Miss Hardy. Of course I +sometimes did wrong, like other children, but I do think I was as good +as the average, and I am sure not one of the children I knew took more +pains to please their parents than I did, or loved them more." + +"I have no doubt of it. But even if you had not been as good as the +average, it would have been no excuse for turning you off." + +"So it seems to me," remarked Rhoda. "It seems to me that people are as +much bound to children they adopt as to their own by birth. I remember, +when we were at Aunt Annie's, a lady's saying to her,— + +"'My husband and myself adopted a child one time, and had her name +changed, and all, but as she grew older, she showed so many of her +inherited tendencies that we had to let her go.' + +"'Suppose she had been your own child, and had showed the same +tendencies, would you have turned her off?' asked Uncle Evans. + +"But the lady thought that was different." + +"Yes, I dare say. But, Rhoda, not to pursue that matter any further, +suppose I were to take you into the school on the same footing as the +other scholars, giving you the advantage of the professor's lessons in +music, could you contrive to clothe yourself, do you think?" + +The world seemed to turn round with Rhoda for a moment at this +question. Then she steadied herself by picking up a dropped stitch, and +answered, quietly,— + +"Yes, ma'am, I think so. I have a good stock of clothes, and I have +seventy-five dollars in the bank at Milby and twenty-five here. I +should think, with what I have, that ought to dress me for two years. I +should have to be very plain, of course, but I think I could be decent." + +"I have no doubt of it. How old are you?" + +"I was sixteen last Christmas." + +"Well, suppose you make the most of your time for three years; do you +think at the end of that time you could be ready to take hold and help +Mrs. Marshall and myself in the school? Because if you do, I think we +will try it." + +Rhoda tried to speak, but the words would not come. Instead came a +great burst of thankful, joyful tears. + +"Tut, tut!" said Miss Hardy. "That will never do. Don't you know the +doctor said I must be kept quiet?" + +"I am very silly," said Rhoda, striving to compose herself; "but oh, +Miss Hardy, if you knew how I have longed for such a chance when I +have seen the scholars going to their lessons! I felt as if I would +work like a slave only to have their opportunities. I have tried every +way to save money, hoping I might get enough to pay my board at least +a year while I went to the public schools. But I never thought of a +chance like this." + +"It has been no sudden resolution with me," remarked Miss Hardy. "I +have been thinking of it ever since you came here, and observing you +closely." + +"I am glad I did not know it," said Rhoda. "Miss Hardy, I don't know +how to thank you." + +"You may thank me by going down town and finding some fresh lemons," +said Miss Hardy, smiling. "To-morrow we will have a little examination, +to see where it will be best for you to begin." + +A more thankful heart was not under the sun than Rhoda's that day. She +would not even go out for her walk till she had shut herself into her +little room, and there poured out her heart to her heavenly Father and +dedicated her life and talents anew to him and his service. + +"It's all right—just as it ought to be," was Aunt Sarah's comment. "I +always knowed you was meant for a young lady the first minute you came +into the house,—you had such polite, genteel ways of speaking, and +eating, and all; and when you was fixed for Sunday, there wasn't one in +the school looked any nicer than you—not a bit like that loose-ended +Hetty, with her great greasy braids of false hair, and her dress +hitched up and stuck out forty different ways, and her hair frizzled +up like my old feather brush that Tony stuck in the fire. You couldn't +make a lady of her, not if you was to work at her for ever." + +"You know what a lady is, don't you, Aunt Sarah?" + +"Well, I ought to, honey. I've always lived in the first families in +Cumberland county, and my mother before me. Yes, indeed, I know, and I +am just as glad as if you was my own." + +The next day but one Rhoda brought a letter from the post-office which +she felt sure was directed in Mrs. Ferrand's hand, and she lingered in +the room while Miss Hardy opened and read it. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Ferrand and Isa are coming here day after to-morrow," +said Miss Hardy; "we must have everything in order, Rhoda." + +"Are they going to stay here?" asked Rhoda, divided between joy at the +prospect of seeing Isa once more and a certain dread of meeting Mr. +Ferrand. + +"No. My sister says that, considering the state of the case, Mr. +Ferrand thinks they had better take rooms at the hotel, and perhaps it +will be as well." + +"I shall be so glad to see Isa again," said Rhoda. "I never was so fond +of any girl as of her. How I do wish she could come here to school! I +should be perfectly happy if she could." + +"And I wish so too," said Miss Hardy. "However, I think you will find +plenty of friends among our scholars." + +"I was not thinking of myself so much as of Isa," said Rhoda. "It +doesn't seem right to say so, but, Miss Hardy, Isa isn't one bit happy +at home." + +"So I have feared." + +"It isn't Mrs. Ferrand's fault," continued Rhoda—"she is almost the +loveliest person I ever saw—but Mr. Ferrand doesn't understand Isa. He +wants her to be a scholar, and it is not in her. She works harder than +any slave, and, after all, she doesn't succeed. That Mr. Sampson gives +her the longest lessons—just think! Six propositions in geometry—and +then the minute her lessons are done, she must go at her music, and she +has no more ear than—than the tongs," said Rhoda, rather at a loss for +a comparison. + +"But how does she learn her lessons?" + +"She doesn't; that's the worst of it. The girls at school like her and +feel sorry for her, so they do her sums for her and let her copy their +exercises. Isa knows that isn't right, and it makes her unhappy; but +her father is so displeased and so mortified if she has a bad report +that she keeps on doing it. Then she isn't well any of the time." + +"How is she unwell?" + +"She has a headache and a backache, and she is so nervous she can't +sleep, and she is tired all the time. Besides that, I don't know but it +was my fancy, but the last time I saw her I thought she seemed queer. +She was so absent, and every now and then such a dull, vacant kind of +look would come over her face, and for half a minute she would seem to +forget what she was saying." + +"That is bad," said Miss Hardy. + +"Dr. Morton told Mr. Ferrand that he ought to take her out of school +last spring," continued Rhoda, "but he thought there was no need of it. +Mr. Ferrand doesn't approve of amusement. He says change of employment +is the best recreation, and that if one is tired riding the best way to +rest is to walk." + +"Mr. Ferrand is a wise man," said Miss Hardy. "I think we will try to +have Doctor Douglass happen down while Isa is here. Mr. Ferrand is an +old college friend of the doctor's, and thinks highly of him. Did you +bring the daily paper?" + +"Yes, ma'am; here it is," said Rhoda, taking it from her basket. + +"And here is a letter in it, and for you," said Miss Hardy, handing it +to Rhoda. + +"Oh, from Miss Carpenter. I am so glad," exclaimed Rhoda. "She hardly +ever gets time to write." + +She read her letter, and uttered an exclamation of surprise. + +"What now? No bad news, I hope?" said Miss Hardy. + +"No, ma'am—at least I hope not. Miss Carpenter says that an old +gentleman has been at 'The Home' inquiring for me, and by her +description it must be Mr. Weightman. She says he wanted to know where +I was living and what was my real name before I was called Rhoda +Bowers. I can't think what he wants of it." + +"Perhaps he means to leave you a fortune," said Miss Hardy. + +Rhoda laughed heartily at the idea. + +"More likely he wants to do me an ill turn," said she. "I shouldn't be +a bit surprised if he were to write to you telling you what a bad girl +I was." + +"He may save himself the trouble," said Miss Hardy. "I know bad girls +when I see them, and good girls too. But, Rhoda, while I think of it, +what is your real name?" + +"Thurston—Rhoda Mary Thurston. Mrs. Mulford told me all about my +parents. She said my father was a good mechanic, but he was always +unlucky, and finally died by a fall from the roof of a building. I was +born and my mother died at 'The Home.' Mrs. Mulford said mother was one +of the best women she ever knew, and very well-educated. She had charge +of the nursery, but she only lived two years after I was born, and I +don't remember her at all, but they all say I am like her." + +"I think you had better take your real name again," said Miss Hardy. + +"I am sure I would much rather," answered Rhoda, flushing. "I have +tried not to have any hard feeling toward Mr. and Mrs. Bowers, but I +don't like to think of them." + +"Very well. Henceforth you are Miss Thurston. I shall introduce you by +that name, and put it down in the catalogue." + +"But you will let me take care of you all the same?" said Rhoda, +anxiously; "you won't want anybody else?" + +"Oh no; never fear," answered Miss Hardy, smiling. "You are too good a +nurse to be put aside." + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_DOCTOR DOUGLASS._ + +IT was something like a douche of cold water to Mr. Ferrand when Miss +Hardy, with a certain twinkle in her eyes, introduced: + +"Miss Thurston, one of my young ladies." + +But he "accepted the situation" like the gentleman he really was, in +spite of his numerous crochets. + +"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Thurston before," said he, +cordially shaking hands with Rhoda. "I am glad to see her looking so +well, and so pleasantly situated. Mrs. Ferrand, my dear, here is an old +friend." + +But Isa had already thrown herself upon Rhoda's neck with a cry of joy, +which was decidedly hysterical in its sound, and Mr. Ferrand, for a +wonder, did not reprove her, as he certainly would have done if such a +demonstration had taken place in his own home. + +"Suppose, Rhoda, you take Isa up and show her the house," said Miss +Hardy, presently. + +Mr. Ferrand looked a little uneasy, but he did not interfere. + +"Isa is not looking well," remarked Miss Hardy when the girls had left +the room. + +"She is not well," answered her sister. "I hoped Henry Douglass might +come down while we were here. I should like him to see her." + +"I have written to him that you were coming," said Miss Hardy. "I +presume we shall see him before many days." + +"My dear, you are over-anxious about Isabella," remarked Mr. Ferrand. +"The child is essentially well, though perhaps somewhat fatigued with +her late application. We have had a visit in Milby from a very superior +music-master who only stayed a month. I was desirous of having our +daughter profit as far as possible by his instructions, and she has +therefore taken a lesson every day and spent most of her time at the +piano. But she is quite well, and the recreation of travelling will +soon remove any little extra fatigue." + +It struck Miss Hardy that there was a little unnecessary self-assertion +and emphasis in Mr. Ferrand's remarks, as if he were trying to convince +himself as well as his wife. + +"And so you have taken our young friend Rhoda into the number of +your pupils?" continued Mr. Ferrand, as though willing to change the +subject. "Is not that rather a hazardous experiment? I do not mean as +regards Rhoda herself—she has a fine mind, and a real love of study for +its own sake; but will not the parents of your pupils take umbrage at a +young person in her station in life being put on an equality with their +daughters?" + +"If they do, they have their remedy: they can take their daughters +away," said Miss Hardy, smiling. "But I have no fears on that score. It +is not the first time I tried the experiment." + +"I thought you wrote me that you had secured her a place as nurse with +a family going to Cape May?" remarked Mrs. Ferrand. + +"So I had, and a very good place. Rhoda was delighted with the +prospect, but after I was hurt, she would not hear of leaving me; and +indeed I don't know what I should have done without her. She is an +excellent nurse and a most agreeable companion." + +"I had thought, myself, of taking her into the family and educating her +with Isabella," said Mr. Ferrand, "but something occurred which changed +my determination. I found out afterward, however, that the person whose +representations influenced me was untrustworthy. However, it has all +turned out for the best." + + +Meantime, Rhoda and Isa, seated in Rhoda's little room, were pouring +out such a flood of talk as only two such girls are capable of. + +"And Aunt Harriet is going to educate you—is she really?" asked Isa. + +"So she says. I practise two hours a day now, besides reading history +to Miss Hardy, and I have begun the Latin grammar. I can tell you, +Isa, I have to pinch myself sometimes to be sure that I am awake and +not dreaming. And the best of it is that I owe it all to you and your +mother. But what have you been doing lately? Miss Hardy said you had +been taking some wonderful music-lessons." + +"Wonderful! Yes, I should think so," said. Isa, with a groan. "A lesson +every day, and then practise five hours. What do you think of that, +Miss Thurston?" + +"I think it is a shame," said Rhoda, warmly. "You look regularly worn +out." + +"Well, I am," said Isa, wearily. "I think I shouldn't want to go to +heaven if they have music there. I should like to lie down and sleep a +thousand years. And my head—" + +"Well, what about your head?" said Rhoda, as Isa paused. + +There was no answer, and Rhoda looked up from the ruffle she was +arranging. Ira's head had dropped on her breast, her eyes were half +closed, and there was a slight purplish tinge on her lips. Rhoda, +startled, rose from her chair, but before she could speak Isa seemed to +recover herself, and went on as if unconscious of any pause: + +"My head feels so badly I don't know what to do. It doesn't ache, but +it feels heavy and empty at the same time." + +"How I wish you could come here to school!" said Rhoda, a good deal +alarmed by what she had seen, but thinking it better to take no notice, +as Isa seemed unconscious of anything unusual. "The girls do have such +good times." + +"What do they do? Tell me all about it," said Isa. "And may I lie down +on the bed? Oh, you don't know how good it seems to be doing nothing," +she continued, sinking down, and turning her face toward Rhoda. "You +won't mind if I go to sleep, will you? I am so tired and heavy." + +"No. Go to sleep, there's a dear," answered Rhoda. "I will cover you +up, and then I must just run down and see to setting the table and tell +Sarah to make a sweet omelet for desert. I want your father to have a +nice dinner, such as he likes." + +Rhoda betook herself to the dining-room, and busied herself with the +arrangements of the table. She was presently joined by Mrs. Ferrand. + +"Useful and handy as ever, I see," was her comment. "Where is Isa?" + +"She is asleep on my bed," answered Rhoda. "She seems very tired, and I +thought she would enjoy her dinner all the more for a nap." + +"She is tired, poor child! Rhoda, how does she strike you?" + +"I think she looks thin and worn—more so than usual." + +"Do you see any other alteration—anything odd about her? Do tell me," +added Mrs. Ferrand, as Rhoda hesitated. + +"I thought there was something odd about Isa before I left Milby," +answered Rhoda. "She seems to have times of forgetfulness almost as if +she lost herself for a minute." + +"That is it, exactly. I can't make Mr. Ferrand see it. He says she is +listless and absent-minded, and that her hesitation in speaking is only +a trick such as girls are always catching. But I can't think so; I wish +I could. I don't know what it is I fear, but I am afraid." + +"I think Isa would be the better for a change," remarked Rhoda. "I wish +she could come here." + +"And so do I, but I fear her father would never consent. You look very +well, Rhoda." + +"I am well; I never was better. Mrs. Ferrand, you don't know how often +I thank you for introducing me to your sister.' + +"Not at all, child. It is we who should thank you. Harriet says you +have been everything to her since she has been laid up. But about Isa. +I wish you would watch her carefully and tell me what you think of her. +I do hope Doctor Douglass will come down." + +Dr. Douglass came down next day, as he announced, for a three days' +holiday, and made himself very agreeable, especially to the girls. The +second day of his stay, Dr. Elsmore proposed to carry Mr. Ferrand to +see certain lately opened marl-beds in which various interesting animal +remains had been discovered. Dr. Douglass was invited to join the +party, but declined: + +"I am going to carry off these girls for a row up the race to the +Tumbling Dam pond, and show them the scenes of my innocent childhood, +where I used to ensnare the agile turtle and hunt the pensive and +melodious frog. Put on your oldest frocks, young women, and also your +rubbers." + +Mr. Ferrand looked doubtful when appealed to, but he stood a little in +awe of Doctor Douglass, and made no substantial objection. + +"You may find some valuable botanical specimens, and you should observe +the difference in the soil and vegetable growths from those of our +region," said he. "Doubtless our cousin knows how to combine amusement +with instruction." + +"Doubtless 'our cousin' has too much sense to do anything of the kind," +retorted the doctor. "Not one grain of instruction will you get this +afternoon, my young friends, so don't expect it. Come, get your hats, +and lose no time." + +"And don't hurry home," added Miss Hardy. "Tell Sarah to put up a +lunch, Rhoda, and then you can stay as long as you like." + +Cohansey race is a place by itself. It is canal, so to speak, about +a mile long and of various widths, leading through oak woods and +shrubs to a pond large enough to be called a lake, and named, for +some inscrutable reason, the Tumbling Dam. Various sentimental names +have been applied by sentimental young girls to this pretty piece of +water, but none of them ever stick. The Tumbling Dam it remains, and +will remain to the end of time. Calla-like plants grow in the edges of +the water, and hollies, scarlet honeysuckles, and magnolias adorn its +banks. You might think yourself in the depth of a wilderness instead of +within half a mile of great iron-works and mills. + +They were gone the whole afternoon, and came home tired and happy, Isa +delighted with the possession of a very small turtle which the doctor +had captured and given her for a pet. + +"Well, have you had dissipation enough?" asked Mr. Ferrand. + +"Not half enough," answered the doctor. "We are meditating even more. +Miss Hardy, can you spare Miss Thurston for a couple of days? Because, +if you can, I propose to take her and Isa up to town by the boat +to-morrow, keep them two or three days, and show them the lions and +bears of the Quaker City." + +"I can spare her, certainly," said Miss Hardy. "She ought to have a +holiday before school begins." + +"I don't know about Isa," said Mr. Ferrand, doubtfully. "She has not +touched the piano or opened a book for nearly a week. I think she +should settle to some employment." + +"Go and put your turtle in water, Isa," commanded the doctor. "Give him +something to crawl out upon, and he will do very well. + +"The fact is, Ferrand, I want to observe the girl," he added when Isa +and Rhoda had left the room. "There is something radically wrong with +her—very seriously wrong, I fear; but perhaps not. Anyhow, I want to +observe her a little. As for lessons, you ought not to mention the word +to her." + +Mr. Ferrand demurred a little still, but at last consented. + +The expedition was a brilliant affair. The weather was beautiful. The +doctor carried them to the Park, Girard College, and other sights, and +brought them home greatly delighted. + + +"And what do you think of Isa's health?" said Mr. Ferrand when they +were alone together. + +"Bad—very bad," was the answer; "hardly could be worse." + +They were talking in the library. The doctor closed the door carefully, +returned to the table, stood a minute in silence, and then broke out: + +"Ferrand, I do think you have been utterly insane to let that girl +be driven so. What were you thinking of? Couldn't you see with your +own eyes how it was affecting her? Why, she tells me she has been +practising music six hours a day for the last four weeks; and such +tasks in school! That Sampson must be a mule. I wish I had the +arrangement of his hair." + +"We wished our daughter to make the most of her advantages," Mr. +Ferrand began, but his friend interrupted him: + +"Advantages! Yes, fine advantages for working her utter ruin. Can't you +see what ails the girl?" + +And he uttered a word which sent a terrible thrill to Mr. Ferrand's +heart. + +But he was too well entrenched in his own conceit to give up so easily: + +"I cannot but hope you may be mistaken, Henry." + +"Don't you think I know my own business? I have seen hundreds of such +cases." + +"Yet you might be mistaken perhaps the more for that very reason," +said Mr. Ferrand. "I have heard that physicians are apt to see their +pet diseases in all their patients. I do not think Isabella has been +overtasked. I have not wished her to be so, neither do I desire to see +her a dunce." + +"Would you rather see her a dunce or an idiot?" demanded the doctor, +irritably. "For one or the other she must be. I tell you, Ferrand, as +sure as you are born, the girl has epileptic seizures. She has had two +at my house, and Miss Thurston says she had one when she first came +here—clearly marked epilepsy, and that of the worst kind. The fits +are slight as yet, and it is just possible that with an entire change +of air and scene, entire freedom from mental excitement, and cheerful +companionship of her own age, the mischief may go no farther. Why, I +should think you would have observed it yourself." + +"I am not familiar with the symptoms," said Mr. Ferrand. "Can you +describe them to me?" + +Dr. Douglass gave the particulars, and Mr. Ferrand considered. + +"I will not deny that I have noticed something like what you describe +in Isa, but I thought it only one of those awkward tricks that girls +are apt to pick up. Douglass, don't be hard upon me," said the poor +father. "Indeed, I have meant to act for the best. Are you sure?" + +"As sure as that I stand here. As I said, the attacks are slight at +present, but they are none the less to be dreaded. Has Morton seen her? +He is a man of sense." + +"Never since last spring, when she had an attack of fever and headache. +He said then that she should be taken out of school, but I thought +I traced the attack to some improper habits of eating, and I felt +desirous to have her finish the school-year." + +"Another school-year like the last will finish her," said Doctor +Douglass. + +"I fear I have been very blind—culpably blind," said Mr. Ferrand, +almost for the first time in his life admitting that he might be in the +wrong. "I thought Doctor Morton extremely unfeeling in hinting that I +had injured my son, but I fear it is true, and that I have destroyed +both my children." + +"Isa is in no danger of dying," said Doctor Douglass, gravely. "If she +were, it would not matter so much." + +"I understand you," returned Mr. Ferrand. "Death would indeed be +a light calamity compared to—But I cannot think of it. Henry, can +anything be done, or is the case hopeless? I have the fullest +confidence in your judgment, and will spare no trouble or expense. A +journey abroad, now—" + +"I shouldn't advise that," said Doctor Douglass—"it involves too much +fatigue and excitement; and besides, you never could refrain from +'improving her mind.' Let me consider." + +He stood looking out of the window for a few minutes at Isa and Rhoda, +who were playing croquet on the lawn. Then, as if the sight had +inspired him with the idea he wanted, he turned to Mr. Ferrand, who +stood the picture of distress: + +"Why not leave her here with Harriet? She has a deal of sense in +managing delicate girls, and makes a kind of specialty of it. I +made Sellers send his daughter down here, and I never saw a child +improve faster. Isa seems devoted to this Miss Thurston, who is a +fine, sensible young woman, and evidently very much attached to your +daughter. She told me in a conversation I had with her that she would +do anything for Isa. Let Isa stay here and room with Miss Thurston, +who will watch over her and keep her infirmity a secret from herself—a +thing to be desired above all things. Let her have some easy lessons +as a pretence of employment, with abundance of ease and idleness. The +place is healthy and the atmosphere of the house pleasant and cheerful. +I don't think you can do better than that." + +"Perhaps Harriet might not be willing to accept such a charge, or Miss +Thurston, either," said Mr. Ferrand. + +"That we can tell by asking. They ought to understand the whole matter +beforehand." + +Miss Hardy was a little startled at first, but she loved her niece and +sister, and was not one of those who set their own ease and convenience +above everything else. She consented to receive Isa, if Rhoda would +room with her and take charge of her. + +Rhoda, on her part, did not hesitate an instant. She loved Isa dearly, +and felt that to her and her mother she owed all her present advantages. + +"You can have the room which was Miss Farly's last year," said Miss +Hardy. "It is pleasant and sunny, and somewhat out of the way of the +rest of the house. A great deal will depend on you, Rhoda." + +"I know it," said Rhoda. "It is a great trust, but I will do my best; +and even if poor Isa is not cured, she will be happy here." + +"And that is half the battle," observed Doctor Douglass. + +There was no mistaking Isa's delight when she was informed that she was +to go to school to Aunt Harriet and room with Rhoda. + +"You won't let me have hard lessons or music?" she said to her aunt. +"Because, indeed, aunt, I cannot learn it if I try ever so hard." + +"The doctor thinks we had better let the music go, at least for the +present," answered Miss Hardy. "As for the other lessons, we will see. +I think a good deal of play will be the best for the present." + +Mr. Ferrand's eyes were at last opened, and he watched his daughter +with most painful solicitude and with self-reproach, which were not +lessened by the sight of her evident delight in getting away from +him. He seemed to find his only relief in fitting up Isa's room with +everything which he thought could give her pleasure. He was extremely +cordial to Rhoda, and expressed to her in formal but earnest words his +obligations to her. + +"I have requested Miss Hardy to supply all things needful for both +your wardrobes, and she will give to each of you the same allowance of +pocket-money. If any unforeseen occasion for expense arises, you will +please let me know." + +"You are very good, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda, "but indeed it is not +necessary. I have enough to clothe myself for the present." + +"You must allow me to have my own way in the matter," said Mr. Ferrand. +"I choose that my daughter's chosen companion should be fully on an +equality with her school-mates in every respect. You must be content +to be our other child, Rhoda, and Isabella's sister. On no other terms +could I allow you take such a care upon yourself." + +And Rhoda put her pride in her pocket, and let Mr. Ferrand have his own +way. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_SCHOOL._ + +THE school-year opened, as usual, on the second Wednesday in September, +with its full number of pupils. Rhoda was a little embarrassed at first +by the natural surprise of the girls on meeting as a school-mate and +companion one whom they had left in such a different position, but the +awkwardness soon wore off, and she took her natural place among them. +She was soon a favourite with all, especially the younger girls, whom +she was always ready to help on proper occasions. + +Miss Hardy's girls were a well-bred and, for the most part, a +well-principled set. Indeed, there was among them only one of those +black sheep who are to be found in every school. This was a young girl +named Caroline Burtis. She was an orphan and an heiress, according to +her own account, who had come to school during the last quarter. + +Miss Burtis put on very grand airs, considered herself, for some +mysterious reason, quite superior to her companions, and also to her +teachers, and made more fuss about her board and accommodations than +all of the rest of the girls put together. She had begun by being very +haughty toward Rhoda and declaring openly in her hearing that Miss +Hardy had insulted all the other pupils by taking a common servant-girl +into the school. She seemed to conceive a great aversion to Rhoda, and +made no hesitation in saying that Miss Hardy had placed her in the +school as a spy on the other girls. + +Rhoda, on her part, went quietly on her way, working hard at her +lessons, happy in the musical instructions of a first-rate professor, +and in the companionship of Isa, over whom she watched more like a +mother over a child than one girl over another. It was soon discovered +that she was equally handy and obliging in managing a boat, beginning +a piece of crochet-work, or setting to rights a confused bit of +embroidery; and henceforth no rowing- or sewing-party was complete +without Rhoda Thurston. This being the case, Rhoda troubled herself +very little about Miss Burtis and her airs. + +On a sudden Miss Burtis changed her tactics, and became as polite to +Rhoda as she had formerly been rude. One day, as Rhoda was going out on +an errand for Miss Hardy, taking Isa, with her, they met Miss Burtis in +the hall. + +"Oh, girls, are you going out?" said she. "Will you just drop this +letter in the post-office for me? I want it to go by the early mail, +and I forgot to send it by Miss Hood." + +"Certainly," said Rhoda, taking the letter. "Come, Isa, I want to find +Miss Hardy and ask her about this wool." + +"But you mustn't let Miss Hardy see the letter. You know," said Miss +Burtis, in alarm, "she makes no end of fuss if the girls send letters +on the sly. This is only to my cousin, but she is such an old maid she +never will believe that." + +"Excuse me, Caroline, but I can't do anything in that way," said Rhoda, +handing her back the letter; "I don't like doing things 'on the sly,' +as you say." + +"But what harm is it, you goose? The letter is only to my cousin." + +"If it is no harm, why don't you want Aunt Harriet to know?" asked Isa. + +"Just as though one wanted to publish in the newspaper all that one +did!" + +"Letting Aunt Harriet know isn't publishing in the newspaper," said Isa. + +"Really and truly, Caroline, I can't do it," said Rhoda. "If you will +ask Miss Hardy—" + +"Well, I sha'n't ask Miss Hardy, so there!" answered Caroline, +pettishly, snatching the letter from Rhoda's hand. "For my part, I +don't think a servant-girl need be above doing an errand. You would +have been glad to do it and get paid for it three months ago, I dare +say; but I suppose, as you are a charity girl, you think you must be +extra particular." + +"That is it exactly," said Rhoda. "Come, Isa, we shall be late." + +"Mean thing!" said Caroline to herself. "I'll pay her off some way. But +do just wait a minute, Rhoda," she added, aloud. "There! I didn't mean +to hurt your feelings, but I am so disappointed. I do want this letter +to go so much. It is very important indeed. Come, it isn't as if I was +asking you to tell a lie, you know." + +"I think it is all the same," said Isa. + +"Who cares for what you think?" asked Caroline, rudely. "Every one +knows that you haven't common sense, and that Rhoda is your keeper. +Come, Rhoda, do." + +"You might as well talk to the wall, Carry Burtis," answered Rhoda. "I +wouldn't do it any way, and I am not likely to be persuaded by your +insulting my friend. Come, Isa." + +"What did Caroline mean by what she said to me?" asked Isa as they were +walking. + +"Who knows?" answered Rhoda, carelessly. "She meant to say the most +spiteful thing she could think of. All the girls know that you are not +well." + +"You don't think that I am an idiot, do you, Rhoda? Tell me truly." + +"No, unless asking such a silly question proves you one," answered +Rhoda, laughing. "You have been overworked, and your mind needs rest. +Dr. Douglass said such lessons as you had were enough to kill anybody. +Don't let such a notion come into your head for a moment." + +"I suppose pa did it for the best," said Isa. + +"Of course he did. He was mistaken, that was all. Let us go and have +some ice cream; Miss Hardy said we might. We will sit out on the +balcony and watch for the steamer. See, there she comes." + +Isa was diverted for the time, but she recurred to the words several +times afterward, and it was plain they had made a strong impression on +her. They set her to watching the operations of her own mind—a very +undesirable thing in all cases, but particularly to one like Isa. So +easy is it for an angry word to do mischief which nothing can ever mend +again. + +Miss Burtis's career in Cohansey was not a long one. It happened one +night that Isa was feverish and restless, and Rhoda slipped on her +dressing-gown and went down to get her some ice water, which she knew +she should find in the dining-room. The moon shone brightly and the gas +was always kept burning low in the hall, so she did not take a light. +She found what she sought, and was coming back, when just at the head +of the stairs she ran full against somebody who was coming down. + +The unexpected shock knocked her pitcher out of her hand, and it rolled +down stairs, making a great noise, while Rhoda caught hold of the +person, exclaiming, as she did do,— + +"Who are you?" + +"Hush, can't you?" said Caroline's voice, in low but energetic tones. +"You will raise the house. Let me go, I tell you." + +But even if Rhoda had obeyed, it was too late. The alarm was given. +In a moment Miss Hardy was out in the hall. A full blaze of the gas +revealed Rhoda, barefooted and in her dressing-gown, and Caroline +Burtis dressed as for travelling, with her bag in her hand. + +It was not Miss Hardy's way to make a grand scene about anything. She +led Miss Burtis to her room in the third story, and quietly turned the +key on the outside. Then she went back to where Rhoda was picking up +the pieces of the broken pitcher. + +"How did it happen?" she asked. + +Rhoda told the story. + +"Did you see anything unusual when you were down stairs?" + +"No, ma'am; I went to the dining-room, and came straight back again." + +"Are you afraid to go over and call Mrs. Marshall? Don't make any noise +about it." + +Rhoda called Mrs. Marshall, and then went back to Isa, who was +wondering at her delay. + +"What kept you so long?" she asked. "I was getting frightened." + +"Well, you might be, if you heard the noise," answered Rhoda. "I +thought I should rouse the house. I ran against something and dropped +my pitcher all the way down stairs." + +"Didn't any one hear you?" + +"Only Miss Hardy. There! Lie down and go to sleep." + + +The next day there was some telegraphing back and forth, and in the +course of the next, Miss Burtis's guardian appeared and took her +away. There was a rumor of some misbehaviour on her part, and nobody +was sorry when she was gone; but Rhoda kept her own counsel, and the +encounter on the stairs was known to nobody but herself and Miss Hardy. + +This was Rhoda's only serious trouble in school. She would have been +altogether happy, only for her anxiety about Isa, whose health did not +improve, as Rhoda in her ignorance had confidently expected it would +do, when the pressure of lessons was taken off. Only for this care, +Rhoda would have been happier than ever before in her life. + +"Yes, some folks has all the luck," grumbled Hester one day. + +Hester had come back to Cohansey, confidently expecting to take her +former situation with Miss Hardy. She was utterly astonished when she +found her place filled by a quiet, steady young girl, and was informed +that Mrs. Hallowell had no occasion for her services. She could not +perceive or would not own that she was in the least to blame for Miss +Hardy's accident, and could not see any reason why Mrs. Hallowell +should decline to take her on that account. + +"I suppose Rhoda is in the dining-room yet?" she said to Aunt Sarah, +after Mrs. Hallowell had left the kitchen. "I thought she was coming +down to Cape May with Mrs. Elsmore?" + +"She was, but she stayed home to nurse Miss Hardy." + +"It must have been stupid and dull," said Hester. "I should have died +in a week. Where is Rhoda now?" + +"Oh, she's one of the scholars now, and rooms up in eighteen with Miss +Hardy's niece," said Sarah, secretly delighted with the chance of +"taking down" Hester. "The family has adopted her, and she's going to +have a first-rate education." + +"Oh dear me!" said Hester, sarcastically. "She will be more stuck up +than ever. Well, some folks has all the luck." + +"'Twan't all luck, neither," answered Aunt Sarah. "Rhoda was one that +did well all she undertook. When she was working, she gave all her mind +to it, and when she was nursing, she gave all her mind to that. I never +see a girl so handy in a sick-room. As for her education, she'd a had +one any way. She was always learning everything she could. She used to +watch my cooking, and get me to show her how to make nice things; and +when Hannah was doing up the girls' white dresses, Rhoda used to look +at her till she learned her ways. It was just so about everything else. +If you were in the kitchen a year, you'd never improve a bit, because +you wouldn't try; and it would be the same if you were in school." + +Isa, for her part, was as happy as Rhoda, though in exactly a contrary +way. Freedom from hard work and from the dread of fault-finding was +a thing utterly new in her experience. It was thought best that she +should have some pretence of employment, and she was set to reviewing +her English grammar, and to taking lessons in drawing, for which she +really showed some talent. These, with the daily Bible lesson, formed +the whole of her school-duties, and they were made as easy to her as +possible. + +For it became more evident every day that Isa's mind had lost its +spring. Probably that last four weeks of music-lessons had been the +last feather on the camel's back. She could hardly commit the easiest +lesson, and stumbled painfully over the simplest reading. Her great +enjoyment lay in the daily Bible lessons, to which she listened with +interest, though she hardly ever answered a question. + +"You love your Bible, don't you, Isa?" Mrs. Marshall said to her one +day. + +"Yes, ma'am," answered Isa, looking up, with a sweet smile. "I don't +understand it all very well, but it makes me feel quiet and happy, and +it seems so good to have time to read as much as I like. I don't think +He will mind my not understanding, do you?" + +"No, my love. He will see and know, and teach you to know all that is +necessary." + +Isa had one other great enjoyment, and that was in embroidering a +wonderful worsted chair cover for her mother. She had always loved +needlework, but Mr. Ferrand considered that plain work was only fit for +servants, and ornamental needlework was utterly unworthy the attention +of rational beings. Now, however, it was enough that anything gave +pleasure to Isa, and Mr. Ferrand had himself purchased a handsome and +expensive work-box for his daughter, with the materials for her work, +and had told Rhoda to spare no expense in supplying whatever Isa wanted +in that line. He seemed anxious that the two girls should be on a +perfect equality, for he had at the same time presented Rhoda with an +equally beautiful writing-desk, to Isa's delight, no less than Rhoda's. + + +One day, as Rhoda was busily practising a duet with Matty Sellers, +there came a ring at the bell. + +"What made you start so?" asked Matty. + +Rhoda laughed: + +"A very funny thing. Do you know I never hear the bell ring without +thinking that I ought to go to the door?" + +"I think you are a real sensible girl, Rhoda," said Matty, in the +serious tone with which she usually announced her wonderful discoveries. + +"Thank you. Why?" + +"Because you never seem one bit ashamed of having been a servant. I +don't know why you or any one should be, of course, but still a great +many people are, or would be—you know what I mean," said Matty, who was +famous for grammatical entanglements. "There, Rhoda! They are asking +for you." + +"Miss Thurston is wanted in the library," said Annie, putting her head +in at the door. + +"Who is it, Annie?" asked Rhoda. + +"Two gentlemen—one young and one old. The old gentleman sent up his +card, and the name was Francis." + +"It can't surely be Mr. Francis of Hobarttown? I never knew any other," +said Rhoda to herself. + +She arranged her dress a little and hurried down, to find Mr. Francis +himself as well as Mr. Antis in the library with Miss Hardy. + +"Upon my word, little Rhoda, you have grown a fine young woman," said +Mr. Francis. "I should have known you anywhere, however. I suppose I +must call you Miss Thurston, now that you are grown-up and an heiress." + +"She doesn't understand," said Mr. Antis. + +"No, I suppose not. Probably she has not heard that Mr. Jacob Weightman +is dead, and that you and I are his executors?" + +"You don't mean to say, Mr. Francis, that Uncle Jacob has died and left +anything to me!" said Rhoda in amazement. + +"Even so, my girl. He has left you the lot which was his sister's, and +on which he has built a fine mill, and ten thousand dollars besides. +The mill is worth ten thousand—I will pay that if you want to sell it; +so you see you are really an heiress on a small scale." + +"I should think it was a pretty large scale," said Rhoda. "But Uncle +Jacob! I can hardly believe it. He always hated me from the first time +I came to Boonville to live." + +"He did you great injustice," said Mr. Antis; "and so I always +supposed. We found among his papers a will written in Aunt Hannah's +hand, but neither signed nor sealed, leaving you her place and all +her other property. The will was not legal, of course, but under the +circumstances it should have been binding on any honest man; but Uncle +Jacob was too fond of money to be right straight." + +"It always did seem very strange that Aunt Hannah's will should not be +found," said Rhoda. + +"I suppose from the date she had destroyed the first and made another +not two hours before she died," replied Mr. Antis. "Jeduthun tells me +she had asked him and Kissy to come up that evening, and doubtless she +meant they should witness this will." + +"What has he done with the rest of his property?" asked Rhoda. + +"He has left five thousand to the Caneota Bible Society and as much to +the orphan asylum, and a thousand to missions. The rest goes to the +nieces, share and share alike." + +"How much will their parts be?" + +"About eight thousand to each one—Mrs. Bowers, Mrs. Evans, and Mrs. +Chapman." + +"I am glad he remembered poor Mrs. Chapman at last," said Rhoda. "He +never would help her when he was alive, though she used to want for +necessary clothes. Aunt Annie has given her and the children many +an outfit, I know. But I am afraid Mr. Bowers will be dreadfully +disappointed." + +"So he is. He talks of breaking the will, and what not, but that is all +nonsense. He cannot touch it, and that he knows very well. He will have +to take his eight thousand or nothing. That is all he will get." + +"I always supposed Mr. Weightman was much richer," said Rhoda. + +"He was at one time, but he lost a deal in bad investments," said Mr. +Francis. "Well, my girl, what are you going to do?" + +"I haven't learned to feel that the money is mine yet," answered Rhoda. +"Just think! Ten thousand dollars!" + +"Twenty." + +"Of my own! Won't I make a nice tea-party for the old ladies?" + +"Considering already how she can throw it away," said Mr. Francis. + +"That's the Rhoda of it," said Mr. Antis, smiling. "When she was a +child, if any one gave her ten cents, she was always considering how to +buy somebody a present with it." + +"She might do worse. Well, now, my girl, what do you mean to do?" asked +Mr. Francis as Miss Hardy left the room. "You seem to be pretty well +off here. I like the looks of Miss Hardy." + +"You would like her the more if you only knew her," said Rhoda. "I +think I must stay here, Mr. Francis. You see, Miss Hardy took me into +the school when there wasn't the least chance of my being able to make +her any return; and even if I wanted to go anywhere else, I don't think +it would be right." + +"Decidedly not," said Mr. Francis. + +"And then I don't want to go anywhere else," continued Rhoda. "I wish +all the orphan girls in the world were as well off." + +"I wish all the orphan girls one tries to help had as strong a sense of +it," said Mr. Antis, who had had "experiences" in that line. "How is +Mr. Ferrand's daughter? He told me she was a good deal out of health." + +"She is, and I am afraid she will never be much better," said Rhoda, +sadly. "She does not improve at all. And there is another reason why I +could not go away. I could not think of leaving poor Isa." + +"It is a good deal of care for you, though," said Mr. Francis. "So much +nursing must interfere with your studies." + +"Oh, there is very little real nursing; and besides, if there were, my +studies would have to wait. Improving one's mind isn't always one's +first duty, after all." + +"Humph! You seem to have improved yours to some tolerable purpose," +said Mr. Francis. "Well, Rhoda, you must use your own judgment, and I +have no doubt you will decide rightly." + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_THE END._ + +ISA was at first delighted with the news of Rhoda's good fortune, but +presently she grew troubled. + +"You won't go away and leave me, will you?" she asked. + +"No, dear, of course not. Don't think of such a thing," was Rhoda's +reply. + +"Because, really and truly, I don't think I could bear to live if you +did," continued Isa. "You know, Rhoda, pa calls you his other daughter +now, and I can't help thinking, I don't know why, that you will be all +the daughter he has before long." + +"Why do you say that, Isa?" asked Rhoda. "Don't you feel as well as +usual?" + +"I don't feel a bit strong," answered Isa; "but that isn't the reason. +I can't tell you what it is, but I think so. And I do want you to stay +with me so much." + +"Of course I shall stay with you. I never thought of anything else. +You know I am to go home with you for holidays; and won't we get up an +elegant Christmas tree at 'The Home'? I wonder what would be the best +presents for the old ladies? I think shawls would be nice, don't you?" + +The diversion of the Christmas tree proved enough for the time, and Isa +was presently quite happy in planning a crochet shawl for Mrs. Josleyn. +But she recurred to the subject more than once, and Rhoda could see +that her mind dwelt a good deal upon it. + +Rhoda thought it best to mention the matter to Miss Hardy, who sent for +Dr. Douglass. The doctor came down, examined Isa, and made her happy by +the present of a bird. + +"There is no immediate cause for alarm," said he to Rhoda afterward. +"She has certainly lost both strength and flesh since I saw her, and +I think she has a little fever. She is likely enough to go off in a +decline; and you know, my child, that as things are, we could not wish +it otherwise. You can see yourself that her mind fails more and more." + +"Yes, sir," answered Rhoda, sadly. "I wouldn't see it for a good while, +but I have had to give it up." + +"It was to be looked for," said Dr. Douglass. "The poor child has been +utterly and recklessly sacrificed on the altar of her father's deity, +'Education.'" + +"I don't think Isa ever would have made a scholar under any +management," observed Rhoda. "She never liked books. She loved to work +about the house and sew and do little things in the kitchen, but she +never cared even for reading, and she hated the piano. I remember her +saying once that she did not want to go to heaven if it was all music." + +"Do you often have such cases, Dr. Douglass?" asked Miss Hardy. + +"I have similar ones far too often," replied the doctor. "Usually they +are like this. A girl goes on till she is twelve or fourteen, learning +absolutely nothing that she ought. Very likely she will not be able to +read intelligibly or write a page without misspelling half the words. +All at once the parents wake up to the fact that their daughter is a +dunce. Then they proceed to put on the screws. The girl's own ambition +is awakened, and she works with might and main, and all the work that +ought to be spread over ten or fifteen years is crowded into five. +The girl graduates with great honour—at sixteen, very likely; and the +next thing you hear of her, she has gone to a water-cure, or she is +in a decline, or some slight attack of cold or fever carries her off. +Then everybody but the doctor says, 'What a mysterious dispensation of +Providence!' Very much so! The 'mysterious dispensation' to me is that +which gives children to people who have no sense to take care of them." + +"I don't think Isa ever had any easy time," remarked Miss Hardy. "She +has always been driven. I wonder her mother would allow it." + +"She could not help it, Miss Hardy," said Rhoda. "Mr. Ferrand had a +system, and that answered for everything. Isa must sleep on a hard bed, +in a cold room, without a fire, with no carpet, and always with her +windows open in all weathers, because the system required hardening. +She must eat porridge for her breakfast, though she could not bear it; +and if her mother remonstrated, Mr. Ferrand had something to say about +the Spartans and their black broth." + +"The Spartans were a set of blockheads and ruffians," said the doctor, +very conclusively. + +"And the worst of it was there was no 'let up,'" continued Rhoda. "Isa +never had any fun like other girls. I hardly ever heard her laugh +heartily till after she came here. No girls ever came to see her, and +she never visited, because Mr. Ferrand thought their society was not +improving. And yet he meant well; and he is half broken-hearted about +poor Isa now." + +"It is not enough, my young friend, that people 'mean well,'" said +the doctor. "They also need a little sense and some capacity of being +taught. As to Isa, there is nothing to be done. Let her have her own +way as far as possible, and try to keep her cheerfully employed. It was +an excellent move of yours to set her to work for the old women, as she +tells me you have done. Get her out as much as you can. Has she had any +attacks lately?" + +"Not for five or six weeks but I can't help thinking her general health +is not so good as when she had them oftener." + +"Very likely. You are managing her well, for aught I see, but you +must take care of yourself. You look rather tired. Don't let her kill +herself with work, Miss Hardy. She can't be spared just yet." + +Rhoda and Isa went home for holidays, and there they found matters +altered indeed. The cold bare cell which Isa had always occupied was +exchanged for one of the best rooms in the house, newly fitted up with +everything that Isa could be supposed to fancy, including a superb +work-table and a most commodious tank for Diogenes, the turtle, which +Isa had brought along. An adjoining room was prepared for Rhoda. + +Isa was delighted. + +"How good you are, pa!" said she. "I always did want a nice, pretty +room, with an open fire in it, and some plants. You do love me if I am +not awful smart, don't you, pa?" + +Perhaps nothing more showed the change in Mr. Ferrand than the fact +that he allowed this expression to pass without criticism, thinking +with a pang, as he received Isa's offered kiss, how easily he might +have let his simpleminded child grow up a happy and useful woman. + +Isa's holidays were very pleasant. She helped to get up the Christmas +tree at "The Home," which was a great affair; and they had another at +home which Marion pronounced the very bonniest thing she ever saw. + +"Eh, if we had only had such doings before, I'm thinking the dear lass +would have been different the day," said she to Rhoda. "It just breaks +my heart to look at her and her father. Poor gentleman! He has a sore +heart the night." + +Isa went back to school in very good spirits and seeming decidedly +better, but she soon began to droop again. Once or twice Rhoda found +her crying, but could not get at the cause of her grief. + +"Do you want to go home, dear? Is that it?" ask Rhoda, at last. "Tell +your own Rhoda." + +Isa threw her arms around her friend's neck and laid her head down on +her shoulder. + +"Oh, Rhoda, I do, I want to go home, where I needn't hear the piano nor +the girls singing. It goes through and through my head, and I hear it +all night long." + +"Then you shall go home," said Rhoda. "I will speak to Miss Hardy this +very day." + +Miss Hardy was consulted, and in her turn consulted Dr. Douglass. The +result was that Mr. Ferrand was written to and came down as soon as +possible. + +"But you won't think of taking Rhoda away?" said Miss Hardy. "She is +doing wonders with her music and mathematics." + +Mr. Ferrand looked at Rhoda, who answered quietly for herself: + +"I think I shall have to go for the present, Miss Hardy. I don't think +Isa would be happy without me." + +"But your music, my child? You know Isa cannot bear the sound of the +piano or singing. It seems to drive her nearly distracted, and there is +nothing one loses so quickly as music." + +"I can pick it up again," said Rhoda. "My music is not as important as +Isa's comfort." + +"My dear, it is a great sacrifice," said Mr. Ferrand. "I hardly think +we ought to ask it. You have always been so anxious to pursue your +education, and you have just made an admirable beginning." + +"My education can wait," said Rhoda. "I don't know any use in educating +people, except to fit them to do their duty in that state of life to +which it has pleased God to call them; and I do feel that he has given +me a clear call to take care of Isa as long as she wants me. Only for +her, I never should have come here at all, you know." + +"That is true," said Miss Hardy. "Well, my dear, sorry as I am to lose +you, I shall not urge you against your own conscience. 'Not to be +ministered unto, but to minister,' is the motto on our school seal, you +know." + +"So, Mr. Ferrand, unless you utterly refuse to take me, I shall be +ready when Isa is," said Rhoda, smiling. "And if you do, I shall go +back to the home and come asking for a place in the dining-room again." + +"Very well, 'my daughter,'" said Mr. Ferrand, not without emphasis. +"Get your sister ready, and we will go to town to-morrow." + + +Isa bore the journey home pretty well. Once at home, however, she +faded rapidly, and it soon became evident that her days were numbered. +She rarely left her room, though she sat up most of the time. She was +always cheerful and smiling, and suffered very little, though she had +some days and nights of sad restlessness and wandering, her mind always +running upon lessons of impossible length, and, above all, on the +piano. At such times only Rhoda could quiet or control her. Usually, +however, she was very manageable and very happy. + +It was most touching to see Mr. Ferrand putting aside all his usual +employments to read the simple stories and play over and over the +simple games in which Isa took pleasure, and to observe the change in +Isa's feelings toward her father. + +"Pa, I want to talk to you all by ourselves," said she, one day. "You +will let me say all that comes in my head, won't you?" + +"Certainly, my love." + +"You never used to call me by such nice names," said Isa. "I used to +get so tired of hearing you say 'Isabella.' But never mind that, pa; I +want to talk to you about Rhoda." + +"Well, my darling, what of her?" + +"You used to say, a good while ago, that you meant to take me to Europe +some time to finish my musical education with some of the great masters +there," continued Isa. "Didn't you?" + +"Yes, daughter; I had such a plan at one time," answered Mr. Ferrand, +with a sigh that was almost a groan. + +"Well, pa, I want you to do that for Rhoda when I am gone. I shall +be gone before a great while, you know, and then Rhoda will be your +daughter. I never could learn music, but Rhoda can, and she loves it +dearly, She will play and sing splendidly, I am sure. And it was so +good in her to give up all her lessons and her practising for the sake +of taking care of me, wasn't it?" + +"It was indeed, Isa. I shall never forget it." + +"Then you will do this for her and me, won't you?" + +"Yes, my dear," answered Mr. Ferrand. "I promise you that Rhoda shall +never want any advantages that I can give her." + +"And you will let her be your daughter, won't you, pa?" + +"Yes, Isa, if she will. But you know Rhoda has an independent property +of her own now, and perhaps she may prefer some other arrangement." + +"No, she won't, pa," said Isa, eagerly. "I asked her, and she said +she loved you and ma dearly, and would rather live with you than with +anybody." + +"You and Rhoda seem to have settled it nicely between you," said Mr. +Ferrand, with a sad smile. + +"Well, I wanted to have it settled," answered Isa, simply, "because I +know I haven't long to stay. Don't cry, pa. It is all for the best, +I am sure. I never was smart, you know, and, I should not have got +any better. But I shall be very happy in heaven, and we shall all +be together before long. Only, pa, if you finish your book about +education, won't you put in it that people ought to play sometimes and +do nothing sometimes? Because I am sure they ought." + +This was Isa's last long conversation with anybody. In a few days she +passed away, smiling and happy to the last. + + +The evening after her funeral, Rhoda went, after family prayer, to bid +Mr. and Mrs. Ferrand good-night as usual. + +"Good-night, Mr. Ferrand," said she. + +Mr. Ferrand took her hand and kissed her forehead. + +"I think you had better say father and mother, Rhoda," said he. "You +are all the child we have now." + +"Good-night, dear father," said Rhoda, softly, and so the matter was +settled. + + +Three or four years after, Mr. and Mrs. Bowers were attending an +exhibition of flowers at the store of a world-famous florist in +Milby. Mr. Bowers had been very successful in business, "making money +hand over hand," as the saying is, and his wife was quite the most +fashionable lady in Hobarttown. But neither of them looked either happy +or contented. Money and fashion are two things of which people who are +devoted to them do not easily have enough. + +As they stood looking at the flowers, Mr. and Mrs. Antis, their old +neighbours at Boonville, came in, and were met and warmly welcomed by +a very handsome and elegant young girl who had been standing near Mrs. +Bowers. + +"I ought to know that girl," said Mrs. Bowers to her husband. "I have +seen her, but I don't know where. How very pretty and stylish she is! +And how elegantly her dress sets! I should think she got it in Paris. I +wonder who she is? I would like very much to know." + +"The carriage is here, Miss Thurston," said a man-servant, entering the +store. + +Mrs. Bowers looked out, and saw a very elegant and comfortable equipage +containing an elderly gentleman. + +"I must not keep father waiting," said Miss Thurston to her friends. "I +shall come out to see you as soon as Aunt Harriet comes." + +Mrs. Bowers had a little hesitation about speaking to Mrs. Antis, with +whom she had hardly exchanged a word since that little woman spoke +her mind very plainly on the subject of Rhoda's going away, but her +curiosity got the better of her resentment. + +"Who was that young girl?" she asked, after the usual greetings had +passed. "It seems as if I had seen her before, but I could not tell +where." + +"Didn't you recognize her?" asked Mrs. Antis. "That was Rhoda. I don't +think she is so very much altered." + +"What! Not Rhoda Bowers! Not the girl we had, and—" + +"And got rid of," said Mrs. Antis, finishing the sentence. "Yes, the +same. She has been abroad, travelling and taking lessons, and she is +called the best educated young woman in Milby." + +"I suppose Uncle Jacob's money did it all," said Mrs. Bowers, with a +sour smile. + +"Not at all," answered Mr. Antis. "Rhoda has never touched Uncle +Jacob's money. She just lets it accumulate, and means to found some +kind of school or asylum with it as soon as she is of age." + +"But how was it, then? And who is this old gentleman she calls +'father'?" + +"Oh, it is a romantic story. Rhoda worked out at Mr. Ferrand's, it +seems, and went from there to his sister-in-law, who has a girls' +school. She showed so much talent and such a good disposition that Miss +Hardy took her into the school. There she and Ferrand's daughter struck +up a great friendship—" + +"Now you are not quite right, William," said his wife. "They were +attached to each other before that." + +"Well, anyhow, when Miss Ferrand was broken down by 'cramming,' Rhoda +left school and everything for the sake of nursing her, and after her +death, the Ferrands adopted Rhoda in her place." + +"And I suppose she is stuck up to the skies?" sneered Mrs. Bowers. + +"Not a bit of it. She has been to visit us at Boonville since she came +home, and everybody says she is just the same simple, openhearted girl +she always was. She asked about you, and said she had visited your +sister in Scotland." + +"I have always felt that we made a mistake in sending Rhoda away," said +Mr. Bowers, who had hitherto been quite silent. "We took her for our +own, and we ought to have kept her, whatever Uncle Jacob might say. +Then we should have had a child to care for us in our old age, instead +of being left alone. Rhoda was always a good girl, and one that would +have turned out well anywhere, and I am right glad she has had such +good luck. Tell her so, Antis, will you? And tell her that, rich as I +am, I would give it all to get back the child I turned away for the +sake of a little more money." + +"Why not go and see her and tell her so yourself?" asked Mr. Antis. + +"No, it would be only an aggravation. But tell her that I ask her +forgiveness, and that it would be a comfort if she would send it to me." + + + + THE END. + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75471 *** diff --git a/75471-h/75471-h.htm b/75471-h/75471-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c5a0d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-h/75471-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7600 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Rhoda's Education; or, Too Much of a Good Thing, by Lucy Ellen Guernsey │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 535px; + } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 90%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75471 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Rhoda's Education.—Frontispiece.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"And she has written over the flyleaves</b><br> +<b>so that you can't take it back."</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +[The Boonville Series]<br> +<br> +</p> + +<h1>RHODA'S EDUCATION;</h1> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>OR,</b><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +<b>TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AUTHOR OF<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +"IRISH AMY," "COMFORT ALLISON," "THE TATTLER,"<br> +"NELLY; OR THE BEST INHERITANCE," "TWIN ROSES," "ETHEL'S TRIAL,"<br> +"THE FAIRCHILDS," "THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL EXHIBITION," "THE RED PLANT,"<br> +"PERCY'S HOLIDAYS," "ON THE MOUNTAIN; OR, LOST AND FOUND,"<br> +"CLARIBEL; OR, OUT OF PRISON," "JENNY AND THE INSECTS," ETC.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +——————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +PHILADELPHIA:<br> +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +NO. 1122 CHESTNUT STREET.<br> +<br> +——————————<br> +<br> +NEW YORK: NO. 8 AND 10 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +<br> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by the<br> +<br> +AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,<br> +<br> +In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.<br> +<br> +————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +              —————————————————      +                   ————————————————<br> +             WESCOTT & THOMSON    +                             +       HENRY B. ASHMEAD<br> +Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada.                +              Printer, Philada.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +<br> +——————<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CHAP.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1">I. LITTLE BROTHER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. AUNT HANNAH</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. THE CLOUD GROWS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. THE CHANGE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. A NEW LIFE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. MISS BROWN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. AFFAIRS AT BOONVILLE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. A NEW HOME</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. MRS. FERRAND'S</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. SYSTEM</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. AN OLD ENEMY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. A NEW FRIEND</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. MISS DAVIS'S LETTER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. WHAT A BIT OF SOAP DID</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. MISS THURSTON</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. DOCTOR DOUGLASS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. SCHOOL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">XIX. THE END</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +PREFACE.<br> +<br> +——————<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +IF this book does not make its own moral plain, it is a failure.<br> +I merely wish to preclude a certain kind of criticism by saying that all +the most improbable incidents contained in the tale are literally true. +I could point out more than one Professor Sampson, and any manager +of an orphan school or any similar institution can relate stories of +conduct as heartless as that of Mr. and Mrs. Bowers. I hope the book +may be read with profit both by young people and their parents.<br> + <br> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY.</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>RHODA'S EDUCATION.<br> +<br> +——————</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>LITTLE BROTHER.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>RHODA BOWERS stood at the east window of her own room, busily engaged +in "binding off" the neck of a little baby's shirt—one of a set which +had occupied all the spare minutes which she could contrive to spend in +her own room for the past few weeks. They were not many, for she had to +assist her mother in the housework, and yet she had contrived to knit +four little shirts of the softest wool and prettiest design for the new +little brother who had lately come to the household. Rhoda had taken +great pains with them, and she meant, if her mother could spare her, to +go down this very afternoon to Aunt Hannah's and learn of her how to +crochet the scalloped edge round the tops.</p> + +<p>"How pretty they are!" she said as she bound off the last stitch and +held the little garment up before her. "I am so glad Aunt Hannah knew +how to make them. I only hope mother will like them. Heigho! I wonder +if my own mother used to make any such pretty things for me when I +was a baby? How I do wish I could remember the least thing about her! +But I don't. It seems to me that the very first thing I recollect is +Mrs. Munson feeding me with little bits of cold turkey in the nursery +at 'The Home.' I wonder if the old place looks at all as it used to? +Some time I think I will ask mother to let me go back there for a +little visit. I should like to see them all again. But I dare say it +is changed since my time. I think everything and everybody changes in +this world." And Rhoda's face clouded a little as she stood looking out +of the window, but it cleared up again, and she gave herself a kind of +shake, as if to get rid of some incumbrance.</p> + +<p>"There, now, Rhoda Bowers! Didn't I tell you never to let such a +thought come into your head again as long as you lived? What do you +mean by it? Don't you know that it is high time you were off if you +mean to see Aunt Hannah this afternoon? And don't you think you would +be more like a rational being if you went about your business? Answer +me that, now!"</p> + +<p>Having given herself this little lecture, Rhoda put her work into her +pocket, got her hat, and went down stairs to her mother's room. There +was a little fire, though it was a fine, mild day in the fall, and Mrs. +Bowers sat by the stove nursing her baby. She was a pretty woman of +thirty or thereabouts, and would have been pleasing but for a certain +peevishness and, as it were, narrowness of expression which did not +promise well.</p> + +<p>"Dear little fellow!" said Rhoda, stooping down and kissing the baby. +"How he does grow, doesn't he? I am so glad he is a boy. I always did +want a little brother. But sister will be almost an old woman before +you are grown-up, little man."</p> + +<p>"A great many things may happen before he is grown-up," said Mrs. +Bowers, on whom Rhoda's remark seemed to grate a little. "I wish you +would not be always saying such things and looking forward so, Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Rhoda. "I think it is so nice to look forward."</p> + +<p>"It is a good thing to look backward sometimes," said Mrs. Bowers. +"Where are you going now?"</p> + +<p>"You know you said this morning that I might go down and spend the +afternoon with Aunt Hannah," said Rhoda. "She is going away so soon I +may not have another chance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. I do not see what you find so very attractive in Aunt +Hannah, but I suppose almost any place is better than home."</p> + +<p>Rhoda's face clouded again, and she looked as if some sharp answer +might be lurking behind her compressed lips. If so, it was not allowed +to escape, for she said, gently, though with some apparent effort,—</p> + +<p>"I have set the table, and laid the fire all ready to light, and filled +the tea-kettle, but I will come back in time to get the tea if you +like, or I won't go at all if you want me, mother dear. Don't you feel +so well this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers looked a little ashamed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, only I am tired and worried about something. You mustn't +mind if I am cross. You are a good girl, Rhoda, and always have been—I +will say that, whatever happens. There! Run along and have a good long +visit with Aunt Hannah, and stay till dark if you like. As you say, you +may never have another chance—not in a good long time, at least; and +the old lady has always been a kind friend to you. I only wish, for +your sake, she were a little better off."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, because—because she might leave you something one of these days," +answered Mrs. Bowers, arranging the baby's dress as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is pretty poor?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; she has her place and about three hundred a year."</p> + +<p>"How did she come to be left so, when her brother, Uncle Weightman, is +so well off?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the rights of it," answered Mrs. Bowers. "There were two +wills, I know, and by the last one the children were to share alike, +but it wasn't signed or witnessed right, or something, and so they went +by the first will, which gave everything to Jacob—only this little +place and Aunt Hannah's property. But, Rhoda, you must remember not to +call him Uncle Weightman to his face. You know he doesn't like it."</p> + +<p>"No fear," said Rhoda, laughing; "I don't like him well enough for +that. He is so domineering and interfering, I do wonder how father puts +up with his ways so patiently."</p> + +<p>"Well, he is getting an old man now, and your father is his heir by +rights; so he naturally wants to please him. He can make us all rich if +he chooses."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but he won't choose, you'll see. He will go on saving all his +life, and then think to make up by leaving his money to the Bible +society or some such thing, and think himself very generous because he +gives away his money when he can't keep it any longer. I never can see +any goodness in such bequests."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. But anyhow you must be careful, for your +father would be very angry if you should do anything to offend Uncle +Jacob."</p> + +<p>"I'll be careful, never fear," said Rhoda. "But don't you really want +me this afternoon, mother dear?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, child. Run along and have a good time while you can."</p> + +<p>Rhoda kissed her mother and the baby; and putting on her hat, she +walked thoughtfully down the garden, jumped lightly over the rail +fence, and took the path across the meadow which led "'cross-lots" to +Aunt Hannah's little brown house on the edge of the mill-pond.</p> + +<p>Rhoda Bowers was an orphan, but she had never felt the want of a +mother's care, as many children do. Till she was seven years old she +had lived at the old ladies' "Home" in Milby—an excellent institution +founded some thirty years ago by two wealthy old ladies "for the +maintenance of twenty widows or single women of good repute who should +have passed the age of sixty years, and also, should the funds prove +sufficient, of no more than eight poor little girls." The property +belonging to "The Home" had greatly increased in value; and as all the +funds were properly employed, both the old ladies and the little girls +were made very comfortable indeed.</p> + +<p>This institution had been Rhoda's home ever since she could remember, +till one day Mr. and Mrs. Bowers of Boonville, attracted by her bright +gray eyes and pretty curling black hair, had adopted her for their own. +Rhoda had been rather homesick at first, but she soon became reconciled +to the change, and had found her life as happy as that of most children.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers lived on a farm about half a mile from the little village +of Boonville, and had besides an interest in one of the mills on +the Outlet, as the little river was called. He could not be called +rich, but neither was he poor. The farm was a good one, and the mill, +taking one year with another, was fairly productive. Mr. Bowers owned +a nice pair of horses, and his wife dressed well and might have kept +a servant-girl if she had chosen. In short, as Aunt Hannah Weightman +said, James and Martha were about as well off as anybody in the world, +if they could only think so.</p> + +<p>But that was just the thing. They could not think so as long as Uncle +Jacob Weightman counted his money by hundreds of thousands—as long as +Mrs. Bowers's brother-in-law, Mr. Evans, owned one of the finest places +in Hobarttown, and Mrs. Bowers's sister had three new dresses to her +one, and could go to the springs and the seashore, and even to Europe, +every summer of her life if she chose.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers fancied that her sister Anne "felt above her," which was +not true, and that Anne cared for nothing but the things of this world, +which was not true, either; and when Mrs. Evans, who had lost all her +own children but one little delicate boy, proposed that Rhoda should +spend the winter with her and go to school, Mrs. Bowers refused her +consent with some acrimony, saying to her husband afterward that she +thought Anne had enough without trying to get Rhoda away from her.</p> + +<p>"She just wants Rhoda to wait on that boy of hers," said Mr. Bowers.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, I don't think that," answered his wife; "Anne is no hand to +save in that way. But she has always liked Rhoda, and she wanted her +when we first took the child; but Rhoda isn't going, and that is all +about it. She is doing well enough about school here, and I don't want +her set up to feel above me."</p> + +<p>Rhoda had been a good deal disappointed by this decision:—not that +she was at all dissatisfied with her present condition, but she liked +Aunt Anne and Uncle Evans, and she wanted to see a little more of the +world than was to be found at Boonville; and besides that, she was +very desirous of getting a thoroughly good education. She had nearly +exhausted the capabilities of the district school, and Mrs. Maynard, +the minister's wife, who had kindly undertaken to carry her on farther +in her studies, had gone away. Yes, Rhoda would have liked to go to +Hobarttown. But the offer had never been renewed, and now Mr. and Mrs. +Evans were going to Europe, to be absent three or four years.</p> + +<p>It was a disappointment certainly, but there was no help for it, and +there was no use in making herself miserable over it, either—so Rhoda +argued with herself, very sensibly; so she put away the thought of what +she might have done at Hobarttown, and set herself to accomplish as +much as she possibly could at home.</p> + +<p>There was another cloud which had lately appeared in Rhoda's sky. +She had said to herself that this cloud was all in her imagination, +or at least was no more than a passing mist. But this afternoon, as +she walked across the fields toward Aunt Hannah's, it assumed a more +definite shape and consistency than it had ever done before, and she +said to herself that she would ask Aunt Hannah about it.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>AUNT HANNAH.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AUNT HANNAH WEIGHTMAN lived in a little red house near the edge of the +mill-pond, as it was called, though it was little more than a widening +of the Outlet, caused by the dam which supplied Mr. Francis's mills. +The situation was a very pretty one. On one side of the house lay +Aunt Hannah's garden, green with well-conditioned vegetables and gay +with flowers, not only of the commoner but also of the rarer kinds, +for she was one of those people for whom everything grows. On the +other side lay three or four acres of pasture-land, enough, with some +help, to keep Aunt Hannah's white cow, most wonderful of milkers both +for quantity and quality, and where grew in their season the finest +mushrooms in the country.</p> + +<p>The "door-yard" of the little dwelling was crowded with lilacs and +other blossoming shrubs; the plain board fence and rough stone walls +were covered with Virginia creepers, clematis, and morning-glories, and +the turf was so neat and green as to give rise to a report among the +school-boys that Aunt Hannah dressed it every morning with a hairbrush +and a fine-tooth comb. The house was dark red, with rather dusky +and faded green blinds. There were three rooms besides the kitchen +below and two above; and as Aunt Hannah had inherited the household +goods both of mother and grandmother, there was no lack of solid, +respectable, old-fashioned furniture.</p> + +<p>"How pretty it looks!" said Rhoda to herself as she came across the +pasture and stopped a moment to bestow a pat on old Snowball. "It ought +to be put in a picture. One could tell who lived there by the outside +of the house. It looks just like Aunt Hannah herself. What lots of +button mushrooms! I shall have a fine time with them when my work is +done."</p> + +<p>As Rhoda drew near the side window, she heard within what boded no good +to her pleasant afternoon—namely, the sharp, thin, and growling voice +of Mr. Jacob Weightman, Aunt Hannah's brother, of whom she stood in +great fear. Now I am aware that very few voices could succeed in being +sharp and growling at the same time, but Uncle Jacob's accomplished +this feat.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" thought Rhoda. "There goes my nice visit. He will just stay +and scold all the afternoon, I dare say. I wish I hadn't put on my new +dress. He will be sure to say something about it. I mean to go round to +the back door and wait; perhaps he will go away some time or other."</p> + +<p>Rhoda sat down on the step at the back kitchen door, and occupied +herself alternately in watching the lights and shadows on the stream +and in playing with the white Persian kitten Fuzzyball, which romped +about the yard, while her equally white and long-haired mother sat +couched by Rhoda's side in all the calm dignity befitting a lady who +had come all the way from Bombay.</p> + +<p>As Rhoda sat on the step she could not help hearing through the window +parts of Uncle Jacob's exhortation.</p> + +<p>"It is all nonsense, Hannah," she heard him say, "perfect nonsense, for +you to take up so much house-room. The house is arranged just right for +two families, and it is too bad to be so extravagant. You could live in +the east half, if you must keep house, and rent the other part for a +dollar a week. It is quite large enough—quite."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," answered Aunt Hannah, quietly. "I like my house to +myself and I never yet saw the roof large enough to cover two families."</p> + +<p>"Then there is that cow," continued Art Weightman, disregarding the +interruption, "Where is the sense of your keeping a cow?"</p> + +<p>"To give milk," answered Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>"To give milk, indeed!" said Uncle Jacob, in a tone as if Miss Hannah +had said the cow was good to read aloud or to calculate the longitude. +"As if you wanted a cow to give milk! Why, you can't use more than a +quart a day at the outside, and what becomes of the rest, I want to +know? I don't hear of your selling any."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah did not seem to feel obliged to gratify her brother's +curiosity, for she remained silent.</p> + +<p>"Umph!" said Rhoda to herself. "Perhaps if he should ask Widow Makay +and poor old Aunty Sarah, they might tell him something about the milk; +though I don't exactly see what business it is of his."</p> + +<p>But Uncle Jacob was continuing his lecture:</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Hannah, you are no manager at all; you don't know how +to save. The right way would be for you to break up housekeeping and +board somewhere, for two or three dollars a week, fat and kill that old +cow, and rent your house and land. Then it would bring you in a good, +handsome sum, whereas now you don't get your living out of it; and you +might lay up money every year. Why, you might die a rich woman if you +would only be guided by me and take care of things."</p> + +<p>"Possibly, Jacob, but I prefer living a rich woman," said Aunt Hannah. +"I have enough as it is to make me very comfortable, and to help others +a little, and I don't exactly see what good it would do me to die rich, +unless I could take my money along with me, which does not seem very +practicable. I like to have my own house over my head and my own land +around me; and as I have nobody dependent upon me, I don't see that I +have any particular motive for saving more money than will serve to +take care of me if I should be long sick, and bury me when I am dead; +and that I have done already. So you see I feel quite easy on that +score."</p> + +<p>"You might think of somebody besides yourself," said Uncle Jacob. +"There is that boy of John Bowers's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is likely to be well enough off," said Aunt Hannah. "If I were +to save, it would not be for the boy, but for the girl."</p> + +<p>"The girl is no relation to you, or them either," growled Mr. +Weightman. "She has never done work enough to pay for her board, and +she never will. It has all been a piece of nonsense from the taking of +her in the first place to the present time. They ought to have taught +her to work, and kept her at it, instead of sending her to school and +dressing her up as fine as a lady. Why, Mr. Shepherd's bound-girl +does more than half the work, and she is only twelve years old. Mrs. +Shepherd says she can do quite a large washing now."</p> + +<p>Boiling over with indignation, Rhoda jumped up and came into the +kitchen, knocking down a pail as she did so and making a tremendous +clatter. As she was picking it up, Aunt Hannah opened the inner door:</p> + +<p>"Are you there, child. I thought I heard somebody come in a while ago. +Have you been sitting here all the time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Rhoda. "Aunt Hannah, I didn't mean to listen, but I could +not help hearing."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear; there is no harm done."</p> + +<p>"Listeners never hear any good of themselves," said Uncle Jacob, with +an ill-natured sneer.</p> + +<p>"That depends on whom they listen to, Uncle Jacob," answered Rhoda, in +her vexation committing two offences—one in answering at all, and the +other in saying "Uncle." "One might listen to Aunt Hannah all day, and +never hear ill either of himself or anybody else."</p> + +<p>"There! Never mind," interposed Aunt Hannah. "Don't you want to take +the basket and see if you can find any mushrooms? They ought to be +plenty after the rains last night. There! Never mind, dear," she +whispered again, patting Rhoda's hot cheek with her soft withered hand. +"Run away a little. It will be all right when you come back, and we +will have a nice time together."</p> + +<p>From her earliest childhood Rhoda had learned to obey, and she never +thought of disputing with Aunt Hannah. She took the basket and went +out to the pasture, followed by an exasperating laugh from Uncle Jacob +which certainly did not tend to make her cheeks any cooler.</p> + +<p>"Impudent little piece!" said he.</p> + +<p>"She is not impudent, Jacob," answered Aunt Hannah, with more than +common decision, "but she is sensitive and high-spirited, and you +provoked her. Rhoda is very far above listening, or tattling, either."</p> + +<p>"Of course she is a paragon," said Uncle Jacob, rising and taking +his hat; "charity children always are, I believe, according to the +Sunday-school books. Well, sister Hannah, I must bid you good-day, +since you have so much more agreeable company on hand. If you make up +your mind to rent your place, I can find you a good tenant. I advise +you to think over what I have said."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I shall forget it just as soon as I can," thought +Aunt Hannah, but she did not say so; being one of those fortunate +people who can keep their thoughts to themselves.</p> + +<p>She stood looking after her brother for a moment, and then went into +her bedroom and shut the door. When she came out, the cloud of vexation +had passed from her fair, aged face, though she still looked somewhat +sad. She put on a broad hat, and taking a basket, went out to join +Rhoda in her search for mushrooms.</p> + +<p>In the course of an hour both baskets were filled to the brim, and +Rhoda's straw hat besides, and the gatherers returned to the house and +sat down in the kitchen, Aunt Hannah tying on a large calico apron over +her dress.</p> + +<p>"Now I will show you how to do the edge to your shirts, and then you +shall finish them while I prepare my mushrooms," said she. "These +little buttons will make beautiful pickles, and the large ones will do +for catsup. They are the finest we have had this year."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it odd," said Rhoda, "that mushrooms growing in the pastures of +Lake County should be helping to educate a little girl in China?"</p> + +<p>"No more so than that silk grown in China should help to clothe a +little girl living in Lake County," answered Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps not. How much money have you made by your mushrooms +first and last?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, my dear; I have it all down in a book, but I don't +recollect the amount. It varies with different years. Last year was a +bad season for the mushrooms, and this is a good one; but I have never +failed to make my thirty dollars but once."</p> + +<p>"What did you do then?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"I made it up in another way."</p> + +<p>"If you had put all that in the bank, now, you would have saved quite +a sum by this time," said Rhoda, with a mischievous smile. "Why don't +you?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is safer where it is," answered Aunt Hannah, dryly. "It +would never do for me to begin to save in that way; I should grow too +much in earnest about it."</p> + +<p>"You, Aunt Hannah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear. I am naturally very much in earnest and inclined to +persevere in what I undertake; and besides, it is in me to be fond of +money for its own sake. I should never dare to make it an object."</p> + +<p>"But all rich people are not stingy or mean or grasping, Aunt Hannah. I +am sure Uncle Evans is not."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. He is just the man to be rich, for he gives out to all +around him. It is not the being rich that hurts people, child remember +that; it is the trusting in uncertain riches that makes the entrance +hard to the kingdom. It is not money, but the love of money, that is +the root of all evil. The world does us no harm so long as we keep it +at arm's length. It only hurts us when we let it get inside our hearts, +and the poor, and especially folks in moderate circumstances, may do +so, perhaps, quite as much as the rich. I know plenty of women in this +little village who spend far more time and thought, and, according to +their means, more money, on their dress than your aunt Evans does on +hers."</p> + +<p>Rhoda was silent, thinking that this was the case with her own +mother, and wondering whether she were one of the people in moderate +circumstances who were in Aunt Hannah's mind. But she quickly dismissed +the idea, and began on one of the two subjects which she had, as it +were, brought from home to talk over with Aunt Hannah:</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah, there are two things that trouble me."</p> + +<p>"Only two?" asked Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Why, no—only two that I know of," answered Rhoda, considering; "only +two of any importance, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And one of them, perhaps, is not so very important," said Aunt +Hannah. "Are you thinking about what you heard my brother saying this +afternoon? You mustn't let that worry you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't," said Rhoda; "only I am sorry I offended him. I know he +doesn't like to have me call him 'Uncle,' and I am sorry I answered him +back. However, I dare say he will never think of it again; I am too +insignificant to trouble him."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah sighed. She was pretty sure her brother would think of it +again, and she knew that nothing which crossed his wishes or designs +was too insignificant to vex him.</p> + +<p>"Since I have guessed wrong, I won't try to guess again. I will let you +tell me your two troubles."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Rhoda, "one of my troubles is about my education. I +do so very much want an education, and I don't see how I am ever to get +one without going away from Boonville, and I don't see how I go."</p> + +<p>"What is 'an education,' Rhoda?" asked Aunt Hannah. "What do you mean +by it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, an education is—why, going to school and studying—going through +a course of study," answered Rhoda, not very clearly. "I know what I +mean, but I can't put it into words."</p> + +<p>"You don't know whether you know what you mean or not unless you can +put your meaning into words," said Aunt Hannah. "Suppose you bring the +book on the table and let us see what this same word education really +does mean. You will find it in the lower part of the bookcase."</p> + +<p>Rhoda brought the volume on "Mental Discipline" from the east room, and +running over the pages, found what she sought and read aloud:</p> + +<p>"Education, the act of educating; the act of developing and cultivating +the various physical, intellectual, and moral faculties; formation of +the manners and improvement of the mind; instruction, tuition, culture, +breeding."</p> + +<p>"There you have it," said Aunt Hannah; "I suppose that is what you +want. Now, the question is whether it is necessary to go away from +Boonville to obtain it. What do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as to my physical faculties, they are pretty well developed +already," said Rhoda, smiling. "I fancy I can walk and ride and so on, +as well as any girl of my age in the county, and I am not very bad at +doing housework; only mother says I forget what I am about."</p> + +<p>"Well, how about the others?"</p> + +<p>"I think my moral qualities have a good chance enough, considering what +a nice home I have and who has always been my Sunday-school teacher," +said Rhoda, with a loving glance at Aunt Hannah—"a better chance than +they have improved, I am afraid. I wish you were not going away, Aunt +Hannah."</p> + +<p>"It will be only for a few weeks, my dear. Well, now for the +intellectual part."</p> + +<p>"Exactly: and there you must admit, Aunt Hannah, that I have very +little chance. There isn't one bit of use in my going to school to +Miss Smith any more. I only go round and round like a blind horse in a +brickyard; only I don't help to make any bricks, that I see. I thought +I had it all arranged so nicely, and then Mr. Maynard must go and get a +call somewhere else."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was sorry for that. Mrs. Maynard was a very nice woman."</p> + +<p>"And really, Aunt Hannah, I don't see how that part of my education +is to come about. I should like to learn French and German and Latin, +and especially music. I don't think I care so much about drawing and +rhetoric and moral philosophy, and all the other things that girls +learn in school."</p> + +<p>"And I should like to have you. But, Rhoda, you need not be an +uneducated person, even if you have none of these things, and you can +have some of them as well out of school as in—not as easily, perhaps, +but as well."</p> + +<p>"How, Aunt Hannah?"</p> + +<p>"By studying what you can find to study, and thinking about what you +learn."</p> + +<p>"There is one of my great troubles," said Rhoda, candidly; "I never can +think on purpose—regularly, I mean. I try to do it, and the first I +know my thoughts are at the ends of the earth."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better begin your education right there, my dear," said +Aunt Hannah; "for nothing more important than the art of thinking can +be learned at school or anywhere else. Come, now, let me set you a +task. I think you mentioned history as one of the things you wanted to +learn?"</p> + +<p>"It is one, whether I mentioned it or not."</p> + +<p>"Very good. Now, I shall be gone about three weeks. You may take home +my Rollin, and read about ten pages a day; and when I come home, I will +see how much you can tell me about it. You had better take the whole +set. You may want to refer from one volume to another.</p> + +<p>"And, Rhoda, try to educate yourself in another point. Try to learn +to mind what you are about, and to do your best at whatever you +undertake, whether it is reading or housework, or anything else, and +learn all that comes in your way, if it be no more than a mere piece of +fancy-work or a new recipe for cake. You will always find some corner +where such things fit in. If you want any other books while I am gone, +you can come down and get them. Aunt Sarah will stay here and keep +house."</p> + +<p>"I wondered what was to become of Molly and Fuzzyball," said Rhoda. +"But, Aunt Hannah, though all this is very nice, and I shall like it +ever so much, it doesn't help me altogether."</p> + +<p>"I know it, child, I understand you exactly, because I have been in the +same place. At your age I was as ambitious as you are, and I would have +moved heaven and earth, as the saying is, to get just such an education +as you want, but it was not for me, and I had to be content without it."</p> + +<p>"I am sure nobody would think of your wanting an education, Aunt +Hannah," said Rhoda; "I think you know more things than anybody I ever +saw. I mean you have more general information, as Uncle Evans says. He +was talking about some young man in the college one day, and he said +the boy had been to school so constantly that he has never acquired any +general information."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah smiled:</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear; I never thought the fact of my having no regular school +education was any reason for my not learning all I could, and it need +not be so in your case. Make the best of all the opportunities that +come in your way, and you will never be lacking, though you may not +learn all the things you would wish to know. Above all, don't neglect +the things you can do, because you are waiting to do something better. +Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might; and, my dear, +try not to fret or worry about the future, but leave it in the hands of +your heavenly Father.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Trust in the Lord, and do good.'<br> +<br> + "'Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring +it to pass.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Now, what is your second trouble? You said there were two."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am not so sure about the second trouble," said Rhoda. +"Sometimes I think it is only an imagination. I am afraid I am growing +jealous and suspicious, Aunt Hannah."</p> + +<p>"That would be a real trouble, certainly," said Aunt Hannah; "but why +do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Because, Aunt Hannah, I can't help thinking that father and mother are +different to me since the baby has come—that they don't treat me as +they used to. There! The thing is out."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah put down her pan of mushrooms and went into the next room +for a moment. When she came back, she asked, quietly,—</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear, what makes you think so? Because you have more work to +do?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Aunt Hannah: that is not it at all," answered Rhoda, +rather warmly. "Of course I expect to have more to do, and I only wish +mother would let me do a great deal more for her and the dear baby. +But I don't know—she is different somehow. She doesn't seem to like to +leave me with her as she used to; and, Aunt Hannah, I am sure she does +not like to have me call baby my brother. She does not say anything, +but I don't think she likes it."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that is not a fancy?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was at first, Aunt Hannah, and I scolded myself for it, +but I am quite sure it is so. And—" Rhoda's voice failed, and she +winked very hard with both eyes as she bent over her work. "I have +tried very hard to put away the thought, Aunt Hannah," she continued, +after a little pause, and in a low voice; "I have striven and prayed +against it, and I am sure I am not jealous of the baby: dear little +fellow! It has troubled me a great deal, so at last I thought I would +mention it to you."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have done so, Rhoda, and I will tell you what I think +about it as well as I can," said Aunt Hannah. "It often happens in a +family that when a new baby comes, the old one has to be turned off +and put aside in a good many ways. I think this is the case with you +at present. You have been baby a long time, now you are in a manner +dethroned, and you must try to abdicate gracefully and be content with +the place of elder daughter and sister—a much more responsible and +useful position, and in the long run perhaps quite as agreeable."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't mind, if that is all," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"We will try to think that is all," said Aunt Hannah, cheerfully. +"There are women who can never be just to other people's children when +they have little ones of their own, but I do not believe your mother is +one of that kind."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she isn't," said Rhoda, with emphasis. "There! I believe +these are all finished, Aunt Hannah."</p> + +<p>"And very pretty they are. Well, my dear, as you are to learn all sorts +of things, you know, you may make the fire and put on the kettle; and +then, if you will get out the baking things, I will teach you how to +make those cream biscuit you like so much, and you may stop on your way +home and carry a plateful to Mrs. Makay. Sam likes good things to eat, +and they are about the only pleasures he has sense enough to enjoy, +poor fellow!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE CLOUD GROWS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE biscuits were excellent, and Rhoda greatly enjoyed making and +baking them, and afterward milking old Snowball and straining the milk.</p> + +<p>"What beautiful rich milk she does give!" said she. "Aunt Hannah, what +will you do when she dies? She is growing an old cow, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't borrow trouble about it, child."</p> + +<p>"Nor about anything else, do you, Aunt Hannah?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no, my dear, not often. I generally find I have enough as I go +along. There is no need to look ahead for it."</p> + +<p>"I never can see any use in it, anyway," remarked Rhoda. "Either +the things one is worrying about don't come to pass, or they are so +different from what one expects that all the contriving beforehand is +thrown away. I said so to mother, and she told me it was very easy for +any one to talk so who did not know what trouble was. But I am sure you +know what it is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, I have had my share: quite as much as I wanted, without +borrowing any; and so, I dare say, will you, if you live long enough. +Now, my dear, it is time for you to be going. And, Rhoda, I want you +to promise me one thing: I am an old woman, and there is no telling +what may happen before we meet again. I want you to promise me that, +whatever happens, you will never give up your faith in God, and your +trust in his goodness. Never think, however he may suffer you to be +afflicted, that he can be anything but a tender Father to you. I think +you love him, Rhoda, my child?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda answered in a low voice, but without hesitation:</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Hannah, I am sure I do."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, will you always remember these verses?</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how +shall he not with him freely give us all things?'<br> +<br> + "'Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication +with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.'<br> +<br> + "'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I have bought you a new Bible for a parting present," continued Aunt +Hannah, "and I have written these verses in the beginning. Remember, +whatever happens, that your Lord and Saviour has promised to be with +you, that you are not to be anxious, but to let your requests, great +and small, be made known unto him, and that your Father's love can +never fail to give you that which is best, seeing that he spared not +his own Son for you."</p> + +<p>"I won't forget, Aunt Hannah. Oh what a beautiful book!—The nicest I +ever saw. Just see! It has maps and an index, and all."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will find it very convenient. Now, go along, child, and God +bless you!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Rhoda left her plate of good things at Mrs. Makay's, and then walked +rapidly homeward, for it was growing late.</p> + +<p>As she entered the parlour she nearly stumbled over somebody who was +sitting in the rocking-chair, for the room was quite dark.</p> + +<p>"Take care, and mind what you are about, Rhoda!" said her mother. "You +do come in, in such a headlong way."</p> + +<p>"It is so dark coming in from out of doors," apologized Rhoda. "May I +get a light, mother? I have something to show you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do. I have been waiting for you to come."</p> + +<p>Rhoda lighted the lamp and came in, bringing it in one hand and her +little shirts and her new Bible in the other. As she did so, she saw +that the person over whom she had nearly fallen was Mr. Weightman. He +laughed in his usual amiable fashion as he saw her look of discomfiture +and annoyance.</p> + +<p>"You are out rather late, I think, miss," said he. "In my time little +girls stayed at home and helped do the work, instead of running about +town after dark. But come, let us see this wonderful something."</p> + +<p>Rhoda wished herself or Mr. Weightman anywhere else, but there was no +help for it now, and she produced the shirts she had made for the baby.</p> + +<p>"How very nice and pretty they are!" said Mrs. Bowers. "And how neatly +you have made them! See, father, what a pretty present Rhoda has made +for the baby! Who taught you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah," replied Rhoda, her heart beating with pleasure; "but I +did every stitch of them myself, and bought the wool with my own money."</p> + +<p>"Humph! Your money!" said Mr. Weightman. "Pray, how came you by this +money of yours?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda was silent till Mrs. Bowers said, rather sharply,—</p> + +<p>"Don't you hear, Rhoda? Why don't you answer Mr. Weightman's question?"</p> + +<p>Then she said, briefly,—</p> + +<p>"It is money my father gave me to spend for a new sash, Mr. Weightman."</p> + +<p>"So that was the reason you bought the cheap sash?" said her mother. +"I wondered at your changing your mind. I must say it was very nice in +you, my dear. But what pretty book have you there?"</p> + +<p>"A new Bible Aunt Hannah gave me—just what I wanted. Isn't it pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Let me see it," said Mr. Weightman, and Rhoda put it into his hand, +feeling as if his touch would profane her treasure.</p> + +<p>He turned the book over and over, and then looked at the flyleaf where +the price was marked.</p> + +<p>"Five dollars and a half!" said he, in a tone of amazement mingled with +sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Well, if ever! Five dollars and a half! And she might have got one +for nothing if she must give it away. Well, I didn't think even Hannah +would do such a thing as that. She ought to be put under 'gardeens.'"</p> + +<p>Rhoda was boiling over, but she kept silence, and only held out her +hand for her precious book, which Uncle Jacob seemed no ways inclined +to give up.</p> + +<p>"I am sure it was very kind in Aunt Hannah," said Mrs. Bowers, in a +deprecating tone.</p> + +<p>"Kind? Yes! Wonderful kind! I should like to know what business she has +to be so kind, as you call it?"</p> + +<p>"She has a right to do what she likes with her own, I suppose," said +Mrs. Bowers, with some spirit.</p> + +<p>"And she has written all over the flyleaves, so that you can't take it +back or exchange it for anything useful," continued Uncle Jacob: "'To +my dearest niece and pupil.' Do you hear that, Maria? Rhoda is her +dearest niece. Well, I must say I think charity begins at home. I think +she might consider her own family a little. But I suppose you are too +well off to care what your relations do with their money."</p> + +<p>"Will you please give me my book, Mr. Weightman?" said Rhoda, in a +voice which expressed more than her words, and holding out her hand for +the book.</p> + +<p>"Oh ho! So I am Mr. Weightman now, am I?" said he, still retaining the +volume, and evidently enjoying Rhoda's irritation. "I was Uncle Jacob +this afternoon, I remember."</p> + +<p>"It was a mere slip of the tongue, Mr. Weightman," said Rhoda, trying +hard to control her temper. "I am sure I should never call you 'Uncle' +if I knew what I was saying. Will you please give me my book?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Weightman threw it on the table:</p> + +<p>"Take it, then, and learn manners from it, if you can. Niece Maria, I +wish you joy of your adopted daughter. It is easy to see that she will +get on in the world."</p> + +<p>"You may go to your own room, Rhoda," said Mr. Bowers; "and another +time don't stay away all the afternoon and leave your work for your +mother as you did to-night."</p> + +<p>Rhoda could not trust herself to speak. She took up her book and +retreated, smarting under a sense of injustice such as she had never +felt before. It was hard enough to be insulted in that way, but that +her father should take part against her, and her mother should not say +a word for her—it was almost too much to bear. She retreated to the +kitchen, and busied herself in putting away the milk and preparing +things for the night till Mr. Weightman went away and Mr. Bowers came +into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" he asked, harshly. "Didn't you hear me tell +you to go to bed?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I would put things away," Rhoda began, but Mr. Bowers +stopped her. "Oh yes! You thought you would do anything rather than +what you were told. You have got to turn over a new leaf, Rhoda, and +learn to mind, and not spend all your time running about and reading +story-books. And I don't want to hear any excuses or fine speeches. Go +to bed, and another time do as I tell you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers was a man of moods and tenses; and whatever the mood of the +moment might be, he rarely failed to make those about him sensible of +the same. Knowing this to be the case, Rhoda thought less of his words +than she would otherwise have done. Girl-like, she had a good cry when +she got up stairs by herself, but, girl-like, she cried away most of +her trouble, and was prepared to take the best view that was possible.</p> + +<p>"Father was worried about something," she said to herself. "I dare say +Uncle Jacob—I mean Mr. Weightman—had been at him. It will be all right +to-morrow. I didn't leave all the work for mother, and she knows I +didn't; and anyhow, I am glad she liked the shirts."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>But Rhoda did not find it all right on the morrow, nor for a good many +succeeding days. She could not tell what was the matter, though she +taxed herself in every way to see whether she were to blame, and told +herself again and again that she was growing jealous and fanciful; but +all was of no use. There was certainly a great change.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers alternated between fondness and fretfulness. One day +she told Rhoda that she slighted her work, and that she ought to do +more about the house; the next perhaps she found fault with her for +neglecting her book, telling her that there was no saying how long she +might have a chance for study. At times she seemed unwilling to have +Rhoda out of her sight, and again she appeared to seek excuses for +getting rid her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers was almost uniformly cold and repellent in his manners +toward her, though he too now and then melted into tenderness, +especially once, when Mr. Weightman had been away for several days.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Rhoda, taking courage to speak out what was in her mind, +"have I done wrong or offended you in any way?"</p> + +<p>"No, child, no," answered Mr. Bowers, hastily; "why should you think +so?"</p> + +<p>"Because you are so different from what you used to be," answered +Rhoda. "You don't seem the same person sometimes—not a bit like my +father," she added, putting her arms round his neck and sitting down on +his knee as she used to do when a child.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers started as if stung.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't let such notions come into your head," he said, kissing +her with something of his old affection. "I have been worried about +business and other things—no matter what. Nothing that need trouble +you."</p> + +<p>"I can't help being worried when I see you so different, papa," said +Rhoda. "I think you ought to tell me about business now," she added, +with a pretty little assumption of dignity. "I am not the baby any +longer: I am the elder daughter."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers's moustache twitched a little, and his voice was somewhat +husky as he answered,—</p> + +<p>"You are a dear good girl, and always have been, Rhoda. I am sure you +have been the same as our own ever since you came to us."</p> + +<p>"I never remember that I am not your own unless somebody puts me in +mind of it," said Rhoda. "I never think of belonging to anybody else."</p> + +<p>"Not even to Aunt Annie?" asked Mr. Bowers. "Didn't you want to go and +be Aunt Annie's girl?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" answered Rhoda, with emphasis. "I never thought of such +a thing. I would have liked well enough to go to Hobarttown to school, +because I always have wanted to get a regular education, but that was +all. I never dreamed of such a thing as living there. I don't believe +you think you have very much of a daughter, papa dear, if you suppose +she could want to run away from you as easily as that. I don't believe +you would like to have me think you wanted to get rid of me."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers's mouth twitched again.</p> + +<p>"I was only joking, child. There! Run over to the post-office and see +whether the mail has come in."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>For three or four days all was fair weather with Rhoda once more. Her +father was kindness itself, and seemed to seek out ways of giving her +pleasure.</p> + +<p>"I can't do it," Rhoda heard him say one day in answer to some +observations of his wife's. "It would break my heart to part with the +girl, and I don't believe it would be right."</p> + +<p>"But if it is our duty toward the child?" said his wife.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it is," answered Mr. Bowers, hastily; "I don't believe +the child will ever be one bit the better for it."</p> + +<p>Rhoda knew she ought not to listen, and turned away, her heart beating +between hope and disappointment. Could it be that they were thinking of +sending her away to school?</p> + +<p>As the time went on, a good many things seemed to confirm this view +of the case. Her father had bought a new sewing-machine and a piece +of nice muslin, and her mother had set Rhoda to making a new set of +underclothing for herself. Her old dresses were all remodelled and +several new ones bought, and, in short, her wardrobe was put in perfect +order.</p> + +<p>Mr. Weightman had returned, and was often at the house, but Rhoda +kept out of his way and seldom saw him. When they did meet, he was +uncommonly gracious to her; and once, encountering her in a store at +the Springs, he actually bestowed upon her a dollar to spend as she +pleased, advising her, at the same time, to buy something useful, and +not to waste it all upon ribbons and laces.</p> + +<p>Rhoda could not help wondering how many ribbons and laces Uncle Jacob +supposed that one dollar would buy; but she liked to be friends with +everybody, so she thanked him for his present and laid it out upon a +box of initial-paper.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE CHANGE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"MOTHER," said Rhoda one evening at the supper-table, "if we should +ever go to the city, I should like to go and see the old ladies' +'Home.'"</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Bowers exchanged glances, and Mrs. Bowers said,—</p> + +<p>"How would you like to make a little visit there?"</p> + +<p>"I should like it ever so much, though I suppose hardly any one is left +in the house that I know, except Miss Carpenter. I wonder what has +become of all the children I used to play with? I hope they are all as +well off as I am. But, mother—"</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Mrs. Bowers as Rhoda paused. "But what?"</p> + +<p>"I thought—I hoped, rather—that I was getting ready to go away to +school."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you may go to school too," said Mrs. Bowers, again glancing at +her husband.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps some arrangement may be made for you to board at 'The Home' +and go to school in the city."</p> + +<p>"Really!" said Rhoda, with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mind, I said 'Perhaps,'" answered her mother. "If you go to school, +you must live somewhere, you know. You can't board at home and go to +school in Milby very well."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. But what school shall I attend?—Mrs. Anderson's?"</p> + +<p>"We will see about that when you get there. We don't know much about +the Milby schools, and shall have to consult somebody. There! Don't be +all upset now, but run down to the mill and ask if Mr. Antis is going +to Hobarttown to-morrow. I want to send by him if he is."</p> + +<p>"Well, Maria, I must say you have a good deal of assurance," said Mr. +Bowers when Rhoda had left the room. "I don't see how you could tell +such a string of stories with such a straight face."</p> + +<p>"I didn't tell any lies," said Mrs. Bowers. "She may go to school, for +aught I know, and she may as well think she is going, and let other +people think so. It will make less of a talk."</p> + +<p>"Well, I wish I could feel sure we were doing right," returned Mr. +Bowers.</p> + +<p>"I declare, I think you are too bad, Mr. Bowers," said his wife. "You +must admit that our first duty is to our own child, and you know what +Uncle Jacob said. When we took Rhoda, we did not suppose we should have +any of our own; and now that we have, of course the case is entirely +altered. I am sure Rhoda has no cause of complaint; and besides, I +don't believe she will care very much. You see how pleased she is at +the mere thought of going away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of going away to school."</p> + +<p>"It would be just the same if she were going away anywhere else. She +would rather be at Aunt Hannah's all day long than at home."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose Aunt Hannah will say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I am glad she is not here. You know she is going to stay +away four weeks longer. Anyhow, you can't help yourself now. You know +what Uncle Jacob made a condition, and he never goes back from his +word."</p> + +<p>"No, there is no help for it now," agreed Mr. Bowers, sighing; "but do +get the child ready and have it over as soon as you can."</p> + + +<p>The next week saw Rhoda and her father on the way to Milby. Rhoda +parted from her mother and the baby with many tears, and Mrs. Bowers +herself was a good deal affected.</p> + +<p>"He will be a great boy before I see him again," said Rhoda as she gave +him back into his mother's arms; "but I suppose I shall come back at +Christmas, shall I not?"</p> + +<p>"That will be just as the teacher thinks best," said Mrs. Bowers. +"There! Hurry, child! You will make your father miss the train."</p> + +<p>Mr. Weightman met Mr. Bowers and Rhoda on the platform of the station +at the Springs, whither they went to catch the train to Milby. "Oh +ho! What fine young lady is this?" he asked, glancing at Rhoda's +travelling-suit, her neat bag, and strapped-up waterproof. "Where are +you going, miss?"</p> + +<p>"To Milby, Uncle Jacob—I mean Mr. Weightman," said Rhoda, correcting +herself—"to Milby, to school; only I am going to make a visit at 'The +Home' first, and perhaps to board there if they will take me."</p> + +<p>The old man laughed.</p> + +<p>"Of course they will take you," said he, "no doubt of that at all. +And so you are going to school, eh? That's a very good idea of your +mother's. I hope you will learn all you can. And, pray, is this fine +new Saratoga trunk yours too?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; papa sent to Hobarttown for it by Mr. Antis."</p> + +<p>"And it is full of new clothes, eh? Well, take good care of them. +School-girls spoil their clothes very fast sometimes."</p> + +<p>"You had better go into the waiting-room and sit down, Rhoda," said Mr. +Bowers, who had appeared unaccountably uneasy during this conference. +"It is beginning to rain a little."</p> + +<p>Rhoda took a seat in the waiting-room, expecting her father would stay +with her, instead of which, to her disappointment, he went outside, +and walked up and down the platform in earnest conversation with Uncle +Jacob.</p> + +<p>"Just like him to go and spoil the last time I shall have!" thought +Rhoda. "I do hope he won't go to town with us."</p> + +<p>The two passed the window, and she heard her father say,—</p> + +<p>"It was the least we could do to make everything as easy as possible."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" was Mr. Weightman's answer. "All useless expense—money +thrown away. Let her begin as she is to go on, and learn to depend on +herself."</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't depend on you, you old bear," thought Rhoda. "I dare say he +is trying to persuade papa not to let me go to school, after all. I do +wish papa would let him alone and not get mixed up in business with +him. I know he doesn't do him any good. He just puts him up to think +that nothing is of any consequence but making money and getting rich."</p> + +<p>"Here comes the train, Rhoda," said her father, putting his head in at +the door. "Come, hurry!"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Jacob is not going, is he?" asked Rhoda, in a tone which was +louder than prudent.</p> + +<p>Mr. Weightman heard her, and answered for himself:</p> + +<p>"Oh no, 'Uncle Jacob' isn't going. You won't be plagued with 'Uncle +Jacob' again for a good long time, if ever. So you can afford to part +friends."</p> + +<p>Rhoda coloured, and then took a sudden resolution.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mr. Weightman," said she, holding out her hand to him. "I am +sorry if I have ever been rude to you, and I hope you will forgive me. +I am sure I had much rather be friends with you than not, for I never +did you any injury, and I don't believe you ever meant to do me any."</p> + +<p>There was no time for Mr. Weightman to answer, if he had been so +disposed, for the train came up in a moment, and Rhoda and her father +were hurried on board. The cars were delayed a few minutes, and to +Rhoda's great, surprise, as she looked out of the window, Mr. Weightman +came round and spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"Here, child—here is some pocket-money for you," said he, putting a +five-dollar bill into her hand. "Take good care of it. Money soon goes +when once you change a bill."</p> + +<p>Rhoda could not have been more surprised if one of the telegraph-poles +had spoken to her. The train started on, and she showed the money to +her father, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Who ever would have thought of Mr. Weightman's making me such a +present?"</p> + +<p>"He can be liberal enough when he is in the humour," said Mr. Bowers. +"Put the money away; and when you get to 'The Home,' give it to Miss +Carpenter to take care of for you. There is another bill to keep it +company."</p> + +<p>"Just think!" exclaimed Rhoda. "I have really ten dollars of my own. I +mean to buy some wool and make baby a nice blanket."</p> + +<p>"You will have enough to do without making blankets for baby," said Mr. +Bowers. "There! Don't talk to me. I want to read my paper."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Mr. Bowers and Rhoda reached Milby in good time, and took a carriage +for "The Home."</p> + +<p>"The street looks just as it used to," said Rhoda. "There is the very +shop where Mrs. Green used to send me to buy her snuff. And this is +'The Home,' I am sure; but how much larger they have made it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they built a new wing last fall. Come, child, don't stand staring +in the street."</p> + +<p>The front hall and reception room looked just as Rhoda remembered them. +There was the little table with the register book, the little old, +rattling, yellow-keyed piano, and the coloured chalk landscape with the +heron standing on one leg in the foreground, just as he did when Rhoda +used to wish he would down his other foot and walk away. There was the +same pervading smell of roast beef; and when Miss Carpenter came in to +welcome them, Rhoda would have said she had on the very same soft gray +merino gown and lace handkerchief in which she had last seen her.</p> + +<p>The good lady welcomed Rhoda with all possible kindness, but looked +rather surprised at the sight of her large trunk and travelling-bag. +Rhoda wondered if she had not expected them, but her wonder was cut +short by Mr. Bowers rising and asking to see Miss Carpenter in another +room for a few minutes.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was left alone in the little reception room, where she waited +till she was tired. Her father and the matron went into the room +opposite, and presently Miss Carpenter came out, and returned with an +elderly lady whose face Rhoda seemed faintly to remember. There was +another long interval of waiting, which Rhoda endeavoured to shorten by +looking out of the window, and by reading the daily paper which lay on +the table.</p> + +<p>Miss Carpenter had closed the reception room door passing, but after +a long hour she heard first the door opposite and then the hall door +open and shut; and glancing out, she saw her father leaving the house, +apparently in a great hurry. She started forward to speak to him, but +before she could reach the door, he had hailed a passing omnibus, and +jumping in, was out of sight directly.</p> + +<p>"How very strange!" thought Rhoda. But her meditations were cut short +by the opening of the parlour door and the voice of the lady whom Miss +Carpenter had called saying emphatically,—</p> + +<p>"A more utterly heartless proceeding I must say I never heard of. I am +only glad he has turned the girl over to us instead of doing worse by +her."</p> + +<p>Then, as she saw Rhoda standing near, she came forward and took her +hand, saying, kindly,—</p> + +<p>"And so you have come back to us, little Rhoda, after all these years? +I suppose you don't remember me?"</p> + +<p>"I remember your face, ma'am, but not your name," answered Rhoda, very +much perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Well, that is no wonder," said the lady. "Miss Carpenter, you might as +well give her a room by herself for the present, as there are several +empty. Don't distress yourself, child. You shall have a home here till +we know what to do with you, and you may be sure we shall not turn you +out."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand," faltered Rhoda, feeling as if she were in a +puzzling dream. "Where has my father gone?"</p> + +<p>"She is all in the dark," said Miss Carpenter. "They have not told her +anything the matter."</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" said Mrs. Mulford, with more indignation than before. +"My dear, what did Mr. Bowers tell you he was going to do with you?"</p> + +<p>"He told me I was going to make a little visit here, and perhaps board +here and go to school," answered Rhoda. "He said he would settle that +when we got here."</p> + +<p>"And nothing was said about your adopted parents giving you up—nothing +about their returning you on our hands?"</p> + +<p>"Giving me up!" repeated Rhoda. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"My poor, dear child, it is even so," said Miss Carpenter, tenderly. +"They have given you up. Your father says he has a family of his own +now, and in justice to them, he cannot keep you any longer. This is +your home for the present, and I grieve to tell you that you have no +other."</p> + +<p>If the solid earth had yawned to swallow Rhoda, she could hardly have +been more astounded. And yet in the very first moment, she felt it was +all true. A hundred hints, a hundred circumstances, were all explained +to her at once. Yes, they had abandoned her. After eight years of +care—eight years in which she had almost forgotten that she had ever +belonged to any one else—they had left her to the mercy of a public +charity.</p> + +<p>Her head turned round, and she put out her hand blindly for help. She +felt herself supported by somebody, and then the world fled from her +and she sank down in a dead faint.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A NEW LIFE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR many days Rhoda was very ill with a kind of nervous fever, and for +many more she lay in her pleasant little room, weak and languid, and +so thoroughly depressed that her friends began to fear for her mind. +She had every care and kindness, for every one in the house knew her +story and felt interested in her, and even Aunty Parsons, who generally +resented whatever was done for anybody else as so much taken from +herself, expressed the opinion that that girl wasn't half taken care +of, and ought to have some real good whisky with cherry bark in it, +that being a cordial to which the old lady was much addicted.</p> + +<p>A few days after Mr. Bowers left Rhoda at "The Home," he sent her by +express a box containing all the books and other possessions she had +left behind her at Boonville, together with an envelope containing ten +dollars, but not a word of a letter.</p> + +<p>Rhoda never asked for news from her former home—never alluded to her +adopted parents in any way. She lay quite still, with her eyes closed +or gazing out of the window opposite her bed, giving very little +trouble and never speaking except when spoken to. All the lady managers +had been to see her; and if there were anything in the old sign, Mr. +Bowers's left ear must have rung like a chime of bells at the opinions +expressed of his conduct.</p> + +<p>Rhoda had been at "The Home" about three weeks when she had one day a +new visitor. Mrs. Worthington was one of the most active managers of +"The Home," but she had been out of town for some time, and this was +her first visit to the institution since her return. Of course she +heard the whole story over in every room she visited.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says she ain't no disease now," remarked Mrs. Josleyn, "but +yet she don't seem to get no strength."</p> + +<p>"No, and she won't so long as she is coddled up so," said Aunty +Parsons, who had grown tired of sympathizing with Rhoda. "She ought to +have some real good whisky with cherry bark in it, and be made to get +up and exercise, and go out in the fresh air. What's the sense of her +lying there when she hain't no disease?"</p> + +<p>"It's just the trouble on her mind, you see," said Mrs. Josleyn, who +was as sweet as her neighbour was sour. "She's had such trials, poor +dear!"</p> + +<p>"Her trials ain't nothing to mine," grumbled Mrs. Parsons; "nobody +never went and signed away all her property. But if I was ever so much +overcome by my troubles, you wouldn't catch Miss Carpenter making no +chicken broth for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Worthington smiled, but made no reply, well knowing from +experience that there was no use in it. Mrs. Parsons was one of those +people whom one finds it hard to think of as being happy in heaven, +since there will be nothing in that locality for them to find fault +with.</p> + +<p>"In what room is this poor child?" Mrs. Worthington asked.</p> + +<p>"She's in twenty-eight—the very room I always wanted; but of course +they never would put me in there."</p> + +<p>"Because they keep it for sick folks," Mrs. Josleyn.</p> + +<p>"Well, and ain't I sick? Have I ever had a well day since I came into +this house? But anything is good enough for me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lambert, the nurse, an experienced and kind-hearted person, +confirmed Mrs. Josleyn's opinion:</p> + +<p>"Dr. H. says she hain't any disease, and I do really think she would be +better for making a little effort, but I don't like to urge her, poor +thing! If we could only find something to interest her!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that would be best. I think I will go in and see her."</p> + +<p>Rhoda lay on the bed, as she had done for the last three weeks, and +turned her eyes listlessly to the door as Mrs. Worthington entered, but +they brightened a little as they rested on the visitor's face.</p> + +<p>"Ah, little Rhoda!" said Mrs. Worthington, coming to the side of the +bed and kissing her. "I think you remember me, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda; "I remember you very well. When we had +the measles in the house, just a little while before I went away, +you took me over to your house, and let me stay two or three days. I +remember how we played under the big tree in the back yard—Cathy and +Rosy and I—and how the boys let out their rabbits. I suppose Cathy and +Rosy are grown-up young ladies now."</p> + +<p>And then, catching Mrs. Lambert's warning glance, she faltered, and +said, "Oh, I am so sorry!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, dear; you have not hurt me at all. I like to hear you talk +about them," said Mrs. Worthington. "Yes, they are all gone—Cathy and +Rosy and the boys. We have a lonely house now, Rhoda. Poor Miss Smith +is not troubled by the noise in our back yard any more."</p> + +<p>"I remember how she came out and scolded us when we were playing +'king's land,'" said Rhoda; "and then, when Cathy cried, she went in +and brought out a great plate of little almond cakes for us. Is she +alive yet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; she is just the same as ever. She gave me a great deal of +efficient help in John's last illness."</p> + +<p>"Your house must seem very lonely," said Mrs. Lambert.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does indeed," said Mrs. Worthington, sadly. "It sometimes +seems as if I could not go on living there, especially as Mr. +Worthington has to be away so much. But I must keep a home for him, you +know," said the bright little woman, brushing away the drops from her +eyelids. "When it gets so that I can't bear it any longer, I just put +on my bonnet and run away up to the hospital or over here and stay all +the morning, and I always go home feeling cheerful again."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will leave you with Rhoda a while," said Mrs. Lambert. "I have +my hands full, now that Miss Brown is so helpless, though the old lady +makes me very little work, considering—not half so much as some who +are better able to wait on themselves. The other night I had just laid +down, after being on my feet till nearly one o'clock, when, just as I +was dropping off to sleep, Miss Martin screamed out to me from the top +of the house that she was dying and wanted a cup of tea directly. You +might have heard her down to the college, I am sure."</p> + +<p>Rhoda laughed—a faint little ghost of a laugh:</p> + +<p>"And was she?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, no, child—not near so much like dying as you were. I +remembered how she had eaten stewed peaches at the supper-table, and I +wasn't at all scared. So I just mixed some essence of ginger and took +it up to her, and she was asleep again in half an hour."</p> + +<p>"Was I really in any danger of dying?" asked Rhoda. "Why didn't you +tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Where would have been the use when you were not able to think clearly, +and when you were so weak that the mere telling might have made all the +difference? But I really must go. Mrs. Worthington, you mean to stay +and take dinner with us, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; I have come for all day," said Mrs. Worthington, producing +her tatting from her pocket. "I will sit here and take care of Rhoda a +while."</p> + +<p>After Mrs. Lambert had left the room, Rhoda lay for some time silently +watching the motions of Mrs. Worthington's fingers. Then she sighed +deeply.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking of, dear?" asked Mrs. Worthington.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking about your little girls, and about myself," answered +Rhoda, sighing again. "I was wondering why I didn't die when I was so +sick."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you what I think was the reason, Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"If you please."</p> + +<p>"I think it was because your work in this world is not finished," said +Mrs. Worthington.</p> + +<p>Rhoda raised herself on her pillow and looked interested.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know what you mean," said she. "Tell me, please."</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear, that our heavenly Father has placed us here and +given to each his or her allotted task, and that he keeps us here till +we have finished it. Or to change the figure, this life is a kind of +school-room in which we have each our lessons to learn. Some are hard, +some are easy, but we must stay in the school-room till we have learned +them as well as we are able. Then he lets us go home. My dear girls +finished theirs very early. Mine, you see, takes longer, and yours are +not done yet, though you have, as I may say, seen the door opened. You +have your education to complete, and so you must stay."</p> + +<p>Rhoda sighed again. The word "education" had sad associations for her.</p> + +<p>"I thought I was going away to school when I came here," said she. +"Mother—I mean Mrs. Bowers—told me so, and I never guessed at anything +else. If they had only told me, I don't think I should have minded so +much. I wonder if Aunt Hannah thought of it?" she continued, musingly. +"I wonder if she thought it probable, and that what made her choose +those texts to write in my Bible?"</p> + +<p>"What texts?" asked Mrs. Worthington.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah gave me a Bible when she went away to the West, and she +wrote some texts in it. She made me promise never to forget them. The +Bible is there on the table, I believe."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Worthington took up the book and read the passages which Miss +Weightman had written on the blank leaves.</p> + +<p>"These are precious words," said she. "I hope they have comforted you?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid they haven't," answered Rhoda, frankly. "Somehow, I +haven't been able to think of anything comforting, only of how I have +been treated."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my poor child, that is an unprofitable subject of thought. Tell +me, have you found grace to forgive Mr. and Mrs. Bowers?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't—I can't!" said Rhoda, in great agitation. "It is not in +human nature to forgive such an injury."</p> + +<p>"Our Father requires us to do a great many things which are not in +human nature," said Mrs. Worthington.</p> + +<p>"I think that is very hard," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"That depends," returned her friend. "If I give a boy, say, a Latin +lesson which is quite beyond his power, and leave him to do it alone, +without help, you would say that was very hard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"But if I give him the same lesson, and say to him, I know very well +that you cannot do this alone, but here are lexicons and grammars and +commentaries and a translation, and, moreover, I will myself sit down +with you and help you over the hard places, would not that alter the +case?"</p> + +<p>"It certainly would," answered Rhoda. "The boy would have no cause to +complain."</p> + +<p>"Well, just so our Lord deals with us. He gives us tasks far beyond +sour natural powers, but he affords us every help—his word, his +example, and his life; and he himself is ready to be with us and help +us by his presence and his strength.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'I am with you alway, even to the end of the world,—'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I see is one of Aunt Hannah's verses.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'I can do all things through Christ, which strengtheneth me,—'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"said the apostle, and he might well say so. You can no more make +yourself forgiving than you can make yourself well and strong, but +you can put yourself into the hands of One who can make you so if you +really, honestly desire it."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that has been the thing," Rhoda. "I haven't felt as if I +wanted to forgive. It seems to me—"</p> + +<p>"It seems to you a terrible wrong, and so it is," said Mrs. +Worthington, as Rhoda paused. "I can hardly think of a greater. They +promised to take care of you as their own, and they had no more right +to turn you off than if you had been born to them. The first thing you +have to do is to ask for the will to forgive; the rest will come in +time. You might be worse off than you are here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. Everybody is so kind to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, there is one thing to be thankful for, at all events. You may be +sure we shall not turn you off. I won't talk to you any more now, but I +shall come to see you again. Try to get well as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>So saying, Mrs. Worthington kissed Rhoda and went away, leaving the +Bible lying open on the bed.</p> + +<p>Rhoda took it up and turned the leaves over, reading here and there a +passage which she found marked by Aunt Hannah's pencil. Then she lay +still a long while with closed eyes and clasped hands, and at last she +fell asleep.</p> + +<p>She was waked by Mrs. Lambert's coming in with her dinner.</p> + +<p>"Is it dinner-time? What a nice sleep I have had!" said Rhoda, rubbing +her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Mrs. Lambert, depositing her tray on the table and +bringing a basin of fresh water to the bedside. "If you begin to fall +asleep in the day-time, you will sleep at night. Don't you want to wash +your face? How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"Better," answered Rhoda, bathing her eyes. "I believe I could sit up +and eat my dinner."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Worthington has done you good, I guess," said the nurse, +arranging the rocking-chair and helping Rhoda to rise. "She is a real +comfort in a sick-room or where any one is in trouble."</p> + +<p>"She must have seen a great deal of trouble herself," remarked Rhoda, +"losing all her children so. I remember Cathy and Rosy so well—such +nice pretty little girls with such red, round cheeks."</p> + +<p>"Yes, they all seemed healthy, but they pined and died one after the +other. John lived to be a young man in college, and it did seem as if +he would be spared, but he fell into a decline and died like the rest."</p> + +<p>"And yet she seems so cheerful!" said Rhoda. "I don't see how she can."</p> + +<p>"I expect she has to be," remarked Mrs. Lambert. "People that have had +such great troubles can't afford to nurse and pet them all the time; +they would go crazy if they did. Besides, Mrs. Worthington is always +looking out for chances to help and comfort other people, and so she +gets helped and comforted herself.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'He that watereth shall be watered also himself,—'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"you know the good book says. Do you think you are going to be able to +sit up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes I feel a great deal stronger," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when Mrs. Lambert came up for the tray, she found her +patient quite ready to lie down again.</p> + +<p>"I thought I was going to be ever so smart, but I got tired very soon," +said Rhoda. "I wonder how I came to lose my strength so?"</p> + +<p>"You have been very sick, child; and besides, you had a dreadful shock. +It was enough to kill you, I am sure. Can I do any more for you?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you; only, please, will you ask Mrs. Worthington to come in +a minute before she goes, if it isn't too much trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she won't think it a trouble. She is sitting with Miss Brown."</p> + +<p>"Did you say Miss Brown was sick? I suppose it is the same Miss Brown I +remember—the one who always had a little dog?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the very same. She has had a bad fall and broken her leg above +the ankle, and Doctor H— says she won't walk again in a good while, +if ever. She is an old lady, you see. She is confined to her bed, of +course; and as she can't read much lying down, it is pretty dull for +her."</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you one thing, Mrs. Worthington," said Rhoda when that +lady entered: "I don't want you to think that Mr. and Mrs. Bowers ever +abused me. They were always as good to me as they could be till the +baby was born, and even after that, though they never were quite the +same."</p> + +<p>"I understand," said Mrs. Worthington.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they have never been heard from," said Rhoda, wistfully. "Do +they know I have been sick, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mrs. Mulford wrote, but she never had any answer, except that Mr. +Bowers sent a box of things for you, and also some money. I am afraid +there is nothing to hope for in that quarter, my child."</p> + +<p>"I am sure there is not," said Rhoda. "I don't think I should go back, +even if they wanted me. I do want to forgive them, and I think I shall, +but I can't feel as if I wanted to see them again. But I don't wish +people to think them worse than they are."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MISS BROWN.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"HOW is Miss Brown?" asked Rhoda, one morning, as Mrs. Lambert brought +her breakfast. She had been dressed two or three days, and had even +gone down to tea the night before, but it was not thought advisable for +her to attempt too much at once.</p> + +<p>"Well, she is better, so far as the pain goes, but she has pretty dull +times, poor old soul! If it was some of the folks, they would fret +their heads off; and mine too, but she isn't one of that sort. She +never complains."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking I might go in and sit with her, if you think she would +like to see me," said Rhoda. "I could wait on her and get what she +wants, and perhaps read to her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, if you could! It would be a great comfort and save me +ever so much trouble. There are so many sick now; and so much to see +to, that I have to be here and there and everywhere at once."</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I ought to begin doing something," said Rhoda; "I have +been waited on long enough. I never knew how much I was in the habit of +doing for myself till I was so weak I couldn't walk across the room. Do +you know, Mrs. Lambert, I never was confined to my bed a day in all my +life before this time? I feel as if I had learned a great deal—as if I +had learned how to feel for other people as I never did before."</p> + +<p>"Then you have been sick to purpose," said the nurse. "A great many +people are sick all their lives and never learn as much as that. But +come, eat your breakfast, and then we will go and see Miss Brown."</p> + +<p>Miss Brown lay in bed in her pretty neat room with her little black dog +beside her, looking so little changed that it seemed to Rhoda as if she +had seen the old lady for the last time yesterday, instead of nearly +nine years before.</p> + +<p>"Rhoda has come to sit with you a while," said Mrs. Lambert. "You +remember her, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Miss Brown, evidently very much pleased. "You have grown +into a woman, my dear, but you keep your child's face wonderfully. I +should have known you anywhere."</p> + +<p>"And I am sure I should have known you," said Rhoda. "You have not +changed a bit, nor the room, either. I believe I could tell now exactly +which books have pictures in them. I should almost think that dog was +old Beauty, though I suppose that can hardly be."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; Beauty died several years ago. This is one of her puppies, and +she is growing an old dog too. That is the worst of dogs. They will +grow old and die."</p> + +<p>"I suppose if they lived thirty years, it would be all the harder to +part with them," observed Rhoda. "Anyhow, I would rather people should +die than they should do some other things."</p> + +<p>"Yes, 'a dead sorrow is better than a living one,' the old proverb +says. I have always that feeling about the deaths of people that I +love, especially young people. They are so safe. They never can change +for the worse. But come, sit down and make yourself comfortable, child. +What can I find to entertain you?"</p> + +<p>"I came to entertain you, and not to be entertained," said Rhoda, +smiling. "Shall I read to you? I like to read aloud."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do, if you please. There is a new magazine on the table with some +interesting articles in it. Mrs. Campion sent it in yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Campion!" repeated Rhoda. "Don't I remember her? Didn't she have +a little girl named Rose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an adopted child."</p> + +<p>"What has become of her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is a fine young lady, and is going to be married, they tell +me. Mrs. Campion has several others, but Rosy has always been the pet, +I think."</p> + +<p>Rhoda sighed deeply, but said nothing. She read for a long time, till +Miss Brown said,—</p> + +<p>"There! That will do. I am sure you must be tired. Besides, I want to +ask you about some people I used to know in Boonville—the Weightmans. +Hannah Weightman was one of my intimate friends when we both went to +the Phelps academy fifty years ago. Is she alive, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah Weightman? Yes, indeed—at least she was a few weeks ago," +said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Why do you call her aunt?" asked Miss Brown.</p> + +<p>"She was Mrs. Bowers's aunt, you know," said Rhoda; "I was always +taught to call her so. She was my Sunday-school teacher all the time I +lived in Boonville. Oh, what would I give to see her?" said Rhoda, her +eyes filling with sudden tears. "Oh, I wonder what she said when she +came back and found me gone?"</p> + +<p>"Then she did not know of it—of this change, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, she was away. I don't believe it would have happened if +she had been at home. And yet I don't know. She never had half as much +influence as Uncle Jacob, though she is so good and knows so much. +Uncle Jacob don't know about anything but money, and don't care for +anything else, but everybody gives way to him because he is rich. No, +not everybody, either, but some people do. I heard Jeduthun Cooke say +to him,—</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Weightman, I'd rather be Sammy Makay than you any day.'</p> + +<p>"You see, Sammy is a kind of natural, but just as good as he can be.</p> + +<p>"'I'd rather be Sammy than you,' said Jeduthun, 'whether you take it +now or a hundred years from now.'</p> + +<p>"Oh how angry Uncle Jacob was! He tried to make Mr. Francis discharge +Jeduthun, but Mr. Francis would almost as soon burn down the mills."</p> + +<p>"And what did Uncle Jacob say to your coming away?" asked Miss Brown, +with an appearance of interest.</p> + +<p>"I believe it was all his fault," said she. "He never could bear me +when I first went there, and I remember his saying he wouldn't let +that poorhouse girl call him 'Uncle.' I didn't think so much of it at +the time; but now that I think matters over, I can see that it was +his doing. He never could bear to have Aunt Hannah give me anything, +and I know he made Mr. and Mrs. Bowers think he wouldn't leave them +or the baby any money unless they sent me away. Mother—Mrs. Bowers, I +mean—used to be always talking about the money he had, and how he could +make baby rich. I told her one day that he wouldn't do it—that he would +go on saving all his life, and then leave his property to some charity +at last by way of making amends."</p> + +<p>"It is likely enough," said Miss Brown, sighing. "Is his wife living?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; she died long ago."</p> + +<p>"What kind of woman was she?"</p> + +<p>"I asked Aunt Hannah once, and she said,—</p> + +<p>"'Harriet was one of the salt of the earth, if she had only been in the +right place.'</p> + +<p>"Afterward mother told me that Aunt Harriet was an open-handed, liberal +woman, but that she and her husband were not happy together. Did you +know Mr. Weightman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I knew him when we were all young together," answered Miss Brown, +sighing again, "though he is several years older than I am. My dear, +have you written to your aunt since you have been here?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," answered Rhoda, rather proudly; "I waited for her to write +to me."</p> + +<p>"And has she not done so?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, not a word."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—it is just possible she does not know where you are," said +Miss Brown. "Miss Carpenter told me that when you left home you thought +you were coming to school. Isn't it just possible that the same idea +may have been carried there?"</p> + +<p>"And that Aunt Hannah thinks I am at school all the time?" said Rhoda, +starting and dropping her book. "I dare say she does. And yet it would +be so mean, I don't like to think they would do so."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, I would write to her," said Miss Brown, thinking at the +same time that the people who would play such a trick on an orphan +child would be none too good to save appearances for themselves in the +same way. "She may be wondering why you do not write to her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it must seem very strange if she thinks I am at school, and—Why, +of course she does," exclaimed Rhoda. "How silly I am! I wrote to her +that they were thinking of sending me to school in Milby, but it was +not settled yet. But would you tell her all about it?"</p> + +<p>"I would. Truth is always best in the end, and she will be sure to hear +it somehow. Besides, you owe it to her. But don't write to-day. You are +tired and excited, and must not undertake too much at once. Lean back +in the chair or lie down on the couch and rest a while."</p> + +<p>"May I bring my writing things in here, Miss Brown?" asked Rhoda the +next day, coming into Miss Brown's room with her desk in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do, my child. Are you going to write to your aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. I have been considering about it, and I asked Miss +Carpenter, and she said I should write by all means."</p> + +<p>"You can take that little table by the window," said Miss Brown. "I +like to have you sit where I can see you. What a pretty little desk you +have!"</p> + +<p>"It was given me last Christmas," said Rhoda, sadly. "I little thought +then where I should be when Christmas came round again."</p> + +<p>"We can none of us tell that, my child."</p> + +<p>"I asked mother whether I should come home at Christmas, and she said +it would be just as the teachers thought best," said Rhoda, after she +had finished her letter, taking out her work and sitting down in the +arm-chair by the bed. "I don't think I ever was happier in my life than +I was that very morning. I was so pleased with the thought of going to +school, for I had set my heart on having a good education. But that is +all over now," she added, sighing. "I must put it all out of my head."</p> + +<p>"Why?" asked Miss Brown.</p> + +<p>"Because I never shall have any chance," answered Rhoda. "I suppose I +shall have to go to work and earn my own living."</p> + +<p>"That need not prevent your getting an education," said Miss Brown. +"If I were you, I would set my heart on it more than ever, and improve +every chance I had. You need not be uneducated because you don't go +to school. Mrs. Thomas Conroy, who used to have the charge of Miss +Dickey's orphan asylum, was one of the most cultivated women I ever +knew, and she never went to school after she was twelve."</p> + +<p>"But what chances shall I be likely to have?" asked Rhoda, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Plenty of them," answered Miss Brown, smiling. "You are likely to have +your home here for some time—at least as long as there are so many sick +and helpless. Why shouldn't you learn some lessons and recite them to +me as I lie here doing nothing?"</p> + +<p>"That would be delightful," said Rhoda, with a little of her old +animation; "only I am afraid it would give you too much trouble."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, it would be a great amusement to me," said Miss +Brown. "Oh no; don't give up the idea of an education, but make up your +mind to improve every opportunity you have, be it ever so small, and +you will be sure to succeed."</p> + +<p>"One can do a good deal in that way," said Rhoda. "I learned all the +music I know by practising on Fanny Badger's piano when I was up there."</p> + +<p>"Then you can play a little?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am—several pieces; and I have played in Sunday-school +sometimes, but I suppose I shall lose it all. I wonder," exclaimed +Rhoda—"I wonder whether I might practise sometimes on the little piano +down stairs? I don't believe I should hurt it; do you?"</p> + +<p>"I should say there was very little danger," answered Miss Brown, +dryly. "You can ask Miss Carpenter about it. There is a lady in the +house—Miss Wilkins—who plays the piano. I dare say she might help you +along with your music. Meantime, let us talk a little about these same +lessons. Tell me what you have studied."</p> + +<p>The lessons were arranged without any trouble. Miss Brown produced a +good collection of solid, old-fashioned books, remains of her father's +library, and she was herself a well-educated woman, who had read much +and thought more. Rhoda was to learn a geometry lesson every day, +and to continue her readings in Rollin, which she had brought away +with her, and Miss Brown, who had a reverence for the wisdom of our +ancestors, set her to writing out the exercises in Lindley Murray's +English grammar.</p> + +<p>Miss Carpenter was at first a good deal startled by the proposition +that Rhoda should use the piano and take lessons of Miss Wilkins, and +would give no answer till she had consulted Mrs. Mulford.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mulford was rather surprised and amused, but could see no +objection.</p> + +<p>"We have everything else at 'The Home,' and I don't know why we +shouldn't have a few music-lessons," said she. "It will amuse poor Miss +Wilkins, and can do the child no harm that I can see."</p> + +<p>"It may make some talk," said Miss Carpenter. "I know remarks have been +made because some of the old ladies go in and out of the front door. +They say it shows such a spirit of pride in people who are living on +charity."</p> + +<p>"They may as well say that as anything else," said Mrs. Mulford. "If +they didn't come in at the front door, we should hear of the oppression +exercised in making them go round the back way."</p> + +<p>So it was all settled. Miss Wilkins got out her old instruction-books, +and revived her own knowledge in teaching Rhoda. She was a gentle, +cultivated woman, the daughter of an English clergyman, who, after a +life of governessing in different places, had drifted into this safe +haven to spend the rest of her days. She was sometimes rather shocked, +and even a little alarmed, at the boldness of Rhoda's opinions and the +freedom with which she expressed them, but she soon learned to love her +pupil, who loved her heartily in return, and respected her as well, for +Rhoda was one of the happy people who are capable of respect; and the +two did each other a great deal of good.</p> + +<p>Rhoda posted her letter to Aunt Hannah and after waiting a week or two +she wrote again, but she never received any answer. Why she did not we +shall learn in the next chapter.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>AFFAIRS AT BOONVILLE.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WHEN Aunt Hannah came home, which she did about three weeks after +Rhoda's departure, her first question Was about Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"She wrote me she was going to school in Milby," she said to Jeduthun +Cooke, whom she had met at the station, and who had offered to take her +home in his buggy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she did?" said Jeduthun, in something like a tone of relief. +"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so. It's all right, then."</p> + +<p>"All right? What do you mean, Jeduthun? Of course it's all right. What +should be wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," said Jeduthun. "I thought all the time it was nothing +but talk; but some of the folks over at the Springs, and even at +Boonville, say that it is all stuff about her going to school—that John +Bowers just took her to 'The Home' where he got her first and left her +there."</p> + +<p>"I dare say he did," answered Miss Weightman. "Rhoda told me in her +letter that there was talk of her boarding at 'The Home' till she could +find some other place."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I dare say it's all right. I hope so, I'm sure, for Rhoda is +as nice a girl as ever lived, and I'd hate to think John Bowers would +do such a mean thing. Here comes Uncle Jacob now."</p> + +<p>"So you've caught a ride, I see," said Uncle Jacob. "I calculated to +meet you, but I had business that kept me a spell, and this old horse +hain't got any go in him. I don't see what ails him."</p> + +<p>"I do," said Jeduthun, who stood no ways in awe of the rich man, and +knew his own value too well to be afraid of consequences; "I can see it +right through his ribs. Put some oats into him, Mr. Weightman; that's +the best medicine for his disease."</p> + +<p>"You might as well go on since you have got started," said Mr. +Weightman, not noticing Jeduthun's remark on his steed. "I've got +business over at the Springs, and may not be home till dark."</p> + +<p>"I guess you won't, according to appearances," chuckled Jeduthun. "I +sha'n't charge her anything for the ride, you may be sure," alluding to +a current story that Mr. Weightman had once asked a poor woman to ride +to the Springs with him and then charged her two shillings.</p> + +<p>"I suppose one way the story got out about Rhoda was this," remarked +Jeduthun, after they had gone on a little way in silence: "Mr. Badger, +at the post-office, remarked that nobody got letters from Rhoda. You +see she promised to write to Fanny Badger and Flora Fairchild and two +or three of the girls, and they kept coming after letters, and didn't +get any.</p> + +<p>"'It's very strange, pa,' says Fanny one day.</p> + +<p>"'It ain't any more strange than that she don't write to her own +folks,' says Mr. Badger, 'and they hain't had one letter from her since +she went away: I know Rhoda's writing,' says he, 'and I know there +hasn't been one.'</p> + +<p>"Then at that minute, Mr. Bowers came in, and Flora Fairchild, she asks +him when he had heard from Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"And he colours up, and says, 'Well, not very lately. I expect she +don't have much time to write letters.'</p> + +<p>"And he turned and was going away without his mail, till Mr. Badger +called him back, he seemed so kind of confused. And the next day Aunty +Fairchild was over to the Springs, and she heard it from some one that +knew her that Rhoda was living at 'The Home.' But if she is boarding +there to go to school, it's all right, of course."</p> + +<p>"Of course," echoed Aunt Hannah, but she did not feel perfectly easy. +She said to herself half a dozen times during the five miles' ride that +it was all nonsense—that John and Maria never would do such a thing in +the world, and it was a shame even to think it of them; but she felt +all the same that it would be a great comfort to hear from themselves +that Rhoda was well and happy at school.</p> + +<p>Her adopted grand-niece had crept very near the old woman's warm heart +during these last years. She had done more to form Rhoda's mind than +any one else, and she understood the girl far better than her adopted +parents.</p> + +<p>"It would kill the child or drive her to something desperate," she said +to herself; "but it can't be. I am an old fool, and am just worrying +myself for nothing."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when she at last reached home, her first inquiry of Aunt +Sarah for the Bowers family and Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda; well, I don't know," answered the old woman. "They tell +all kinds of stories, but I dare say there isn't no truth in 'em. Some +say she has gone to school—some say Bowers has took her back to 'The +Home,' or done worse. I don't know nothing about it. I've asked Mis' +Bowers two or three times, but she always seems dreadful shy of saying +anything about Rhoda. The girl herself thought she was going to school, +I know, for she came down here and told me so the night before she went +away.</p> + +<p>"'What school are you going to?' says I.</p> + +<p>"'I don't know,' says she. 'Pa says he can't tell till he gets there,' +says she.</p> + +<p>"Well, I thought that was queer too, not to know where she was going +to school, but I never thought no more about it till I heard these +stories."</p> + +<p>"I can't think there is anything in the stories," said Aunt Hannah. "It +is just village talk. Have any letters come for me?'</p> + +<p>"Yes, a lot. Here they are in this drawer. I've been to the office +every day."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah looked them over.</p> + +<p>There was one from the grocer who bought her catsup and pickles every +year, one or two from missionary friends and others, but no letter from +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"There must be something wrong," she said to herself; "and yet perhaps +she is waiting to hear that I have got home."</p> + +<p>"The Bowerses are all gone away and their house is shut up," said Aunt +Sarah, "but I heard Kissy Cooke say they was coming home Saturday. +Hasn't the kitten growed?"</p> + +<p>The days went on, and still no letter came from Rhoda, but on Saturday, +Keziah Cooke stopped in and brought one.</p> + +<p>"John Bowers has got home," said she; "I've just been up and opened the +house for them, and I stayed to get tea, for the baby ain't very well, +and Mrs. Bowers seemed kind of beat out. I was coming by the office, +and Mr. Badger handed me that letter for you. It's from Rhoda, ain't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Miss Weightman.</p> + +<p>She opened the letter as she spoke and reading a few lines, she dropped +the paper and clasped her hands with such a look of pain and distress +that Keziah sprang to catch her, thinking she was going to faint.</p> + +<p>"There! Sit down and let me get you a glass of water," said she. "What +is it? Is she dead?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" said Miss Weightman as soon as she could speak. "I could +almost wish she were. Keziah, they have turned the poor girl off—sent +her back to 'The Home.' She thought to the last minute she was going to +school. She has been very sick, she tells me, and is only now getting +about again."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Keziah, with emphasis, "I know one thing: I wouldn't be in +their place for something. If they don't bring a curse on themselves +and their child, I don't know anything. And she all the same as their +own for so many years. Poor dear! No wonder she was sick. I hope the +folks were kind to her."</p> + +<p>"She says they were," said Aunt Hannah, recurring to the letter. "She +says she was very low—that they thought she would die, and wrote to +Mrs. Bowers, but had no answer. She has found a friend in one of the +old ladies. Dear me! To think of Anne Brown being in a 'Home.' She was +very well off in a house of her own the last I knew of her.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'She has been very kind to me, as has everybody else,' Rhoda writes. +'She thinks I had better tell you all about it. Oh, aunty, do come and +see me if you can.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"You will go, won't you?" said Keziah.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I shall, and bring the child home with me," said Aunt Hannah. +"While I have a roof over my head, that child shall never be dependent +on a public charity. I will go to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Jeduthun is going over to Shortsville, and can take you to the train +as well as not, if you don't mind an early start," said Keziah, full of +kindly sympathy, and at the same time not insensible to the pleasure +of having authentic news of Rhoda to tell Mrs. Antis and her other +friends. "Well, I never could have believed that of Mrs. Bowers. I +wonder whether Rhoda did anything to displease them? I always thought +she was one of the steadiest, piousest, best young girls in the whole +town. I know, when she joined church last winter, Mr. Maynard said he +never seen a young girl of her age that seemed to have a more realizing +sense of religion than she had. Well, when her father and mother +forsake her, the Lord 'll take her up. He don't never get tired of his +adopted ones; that's one comfort, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is indeed," said Aunt Hannah. "I am sure Rhoda is one of his little +ones. Just now I must say I feel worse for John and Maria than for the +child. She will have a home with me as long as I live, and it will go +hard but I will contrive to educate her, so that she can provide for +herself when I am gone."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going now?" asked Keziah as the old lady went into her +bedroom and came out with her bonnet on.</p> + +<p>"I am going up to see Maria," answered Aunt Hannah. "I must know the +whole story before I sleep. Remember, we have only heard one side as +yet."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there ain't but one side to hear," said Keziah. "I know I +wondered to see how confused and kind of angry Mrs. Bowers seemed every +time anybody asked her about Rhoda. Poor thing! No wonder she didn't +write to any of the girls. I'll walk with you, Miss Hannah, if you +don't mind."</p> + +<p>For as Keziah said when speaking of it next day, "I mistrusted the old +lady might want help. I didn't like her looks. She was just as gray as +ashes for a while and when her colour came again, it was all on one +side of her face. She was getting an old woman, you see, and her heart +was dreadful set on Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt Hannah! Who expected to see you here so soon?" said Mrs. +Bowers as her aunt entered.</p> + +<p>"Maria," said Miss Weightman, without any reply to the greeting, "what +have you done with Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"Rhoda? Oh, she is at school," answered Mrs. Bowers, trying very +unsuccessfully to speak as if nothing were the matter. "You know she +always wanted to go to school."</p> + +<p>"Don't lie to me, child!" said Aunt Hannah, so sternly that Maria +started and turned pale. "I know that she is not at school. I have just +had a letter from her. What has she done that she is turned off in this +way?"</p> + +<p>"I never said she had done anything," answered Mrs. Bowers, beginning +to cry. "I think it is too bad if I am to be called a liar in my own +house. I am sure I never said one word against Rhoda; but when we had +one of our own, it was different. And Uncle Jacob was always at us +about her, and he said we needn't expect anything from him unless we +would be guided by him; and an adopted child isn't the same as one's +own."</p> + +<p>"It is, if possible, a more sacred charge," said Aunt Hannah. "Oh, +Jacob, could not you be satisfied with destroying your own soul without +bringing on yourself and these the curse of the orphan?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure it was all his fault," whimpered Mrs. Bowers; "and we had a +right to do it. And the ladies at 'The Home' treated John shamefully. +And I think Rhoda ought to be ashamed to abuse us so."</p> + +<p>"She has not abused you, nor will she do so, Maria; but the punishment +will surely come, I fear. The wealth for which you and your husband +have sold yourselves will eat as a canker if ever it is yours. You are +bound—sold under sin, and the wages of sin is death. You have cast off +the child you solemnly promised to cherish as your own. Do you think +your boy will be the better for it? Do you think, if you were taken +away, you would like to have him turned over to public charity? You and +your husband have committed a grievous sin; and unless you repent, your +sin will rise against you in the judgment day. What will you say when +you are asked for the child which you were permitted to take into your +charge?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah, I'll thank you to let my wife alone," said Mr. Bowers, +who had hitherto sat silent. "I don't think it is any of your business. +We took Rhoda and we have given her up again, and she is no worse off +than she was before."</p> + +<p>"And I am sure we gave her five new dresses and ever so many +underclothes, and John sent her all her things that she left here when +she went away," sobbed Mrs. Bowers. "I think it is a shame that I +should be talked to so."</p> + +<p>"I shall say no more to you, Maria, nor to you, John," said Aunt +Hannah, recovering her calmness. "Rhoda is henceforth my charge. I +shall go to the city to-morrow and bring her home with me. Though I am +not rich and never shall be, my precious child shall not be left to +strangers while I have a loaf or a dollar to divide."</p> + +<p>"And then everybody will know the whole story, and there will be no end +of a fuss and a scandal," said Mrs. Bowers.</p> + +<p>"There will be that at any rate," answered Aunt Hannah. "Do you think +you can do such a thing and not have everybody know it? I heard the +story before I had been off the cars ten minutes, but I would not +believe it till I had the child's own letter."</p> + +<p>"What do you think Uncle Jacob will say to you?" asked Mr. Bowers.</p> + +<p>"I neither know nor care. I am not accountable to Jacob, nor in any way +dependent on him. I want nothing that he has to give. Ah, John, John, +you have made the greatest mistake of your life."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know but I have, Aunt Hannah," said Mr. Bowers. +"Sometimes I have thought so. It was more Maria's doing than mine, any +way. Only that I didn't know what she might say, I believe I should +have given up at the last minute and brought Rhoda home with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, 'It was all Maria!' It is always 'The woman whom thou gavest +to be with me,'" said Aunt Hannah. "That excuse was one of the first +fruits of the fall, and it will be one of the last."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, Aunt Hannah, I really couldn't have the girl here +unless Maria was willing," said Mr. Bowers, with some show of reason. +"Rhoda was a good girl, and I was very fond of her; but, after all, our +own had the first claim. But I do wish you would reconsider this matter +before you bring the girl back to make a talk and a fuss. She is well +enough off where she is, and she is sure to make friends."</p> + +<p>"She has made one Friend who I am afraid is not yours, John—even the +Friend that sticketh closer than a brother, and who has said,—</p> + +<p>"'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive.'</p> + +<p>"Oh, why didn't you tell me what you meant to do? Then the poor child +might have been spared some part of this distress which has almost cost +her life."</p> + +<p>"Well, Uncle Jacob thought it would only make a fuss; and besides—Come, +Aunt Hannah, do take a second thought before you send for Rhoda. Second +thoughts are always best, you know."</p> + +<p>"I know people say so, but I don't believe it," said Aunt Hannah. "I +believe, when any person habitually tries to be governed by a sense of +duty, the first thought is almost always the right thought. But there +is no use in talking to me on this matter. I can't consider you at +all. I shall go to town to-morrow morning, and if possible bring Rhoda +home with me. You have done what you saw fit, and you must take the +consequences. They are nothing to me. I can only pray that you may be +brought to a better mind, and that the sins of the parents may not be +visited on the children."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>When Aunt Hannah went home, she found that Keziah had lighted her fire +and got her tea all ready.</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd be kind of tired and done over, and wouldn't feel +like getting supper," said Kissy, who was aching with curiosity to +learn the result of the interview, though she had too much delicacy to +ask any questions. "I guess I'll go along now, for 'Duthun will want +his supper; but if you don't mind, I'll just run round again before +bedtime—say about nine o'clock—and see how you are. You might be took +faint again."</p> + +<p>"Do," said Miss Hannah; "and, Kissy, bring Jeduthun with you. I want to +see him."</p> + +<p>When she was left alone, even before she drank her tea, Aunt Hannah +went to her desk and took out a paper. She sat down and wrote about +half a page, apparently referring to the other as she did so. Then she +tore up the first and burned the pieces; and leaving the other on the +desk, she sat down to her tea.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>As Keziah and her husband were finishing their supper, which was +rather later than usual, there was a knock at the door, which was +opened before Jeduthun could reach it by Mr. Bowers.</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake, Kissy, come to my aunt!" he exclaimed. "And, +Jeduthun, you run for the doctor. I'm afraid Aunt Hannah is dead."</p> + +<p>"Is any one there?" asked Kissy as they hurried toward the house.</p> + +<p>"Only Uncle Jacob. We went over together, and found her sitting by her +desk leaning back in her chair. She was at our house not two hours ago."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Kissy. "She wasn't well, though. It shook her dreadfully +when she got that letter. I thought she would faint away then. It's +gone to her heart, I expect."</p> + +<p>Aunt Hannah was indeed gone to her long home. She had died sitting in +her chair, apparently without pain. Uncle Jacob at once took possession +of the house and gave all the orders about the funeral on a liberal +scale.</p> + +<p>"She sha'n't say that I didn't do what was right by her," he muttered +to himself. "The will wasn't signed, so it wasn't worth anything in +law, and I don't believe she was in her right mind. I'll send all her +clothes to that girl, and that's more than she had any right to in law; +but I will do it. Yes, she shall have the clothes."</p> + +<p>"After all, I don't know that I am sorry," said Mrs. Bowers to her +husband. "Aunt Hannah was an old woman, any way, and it would have been +very awkward to have Rhoda back here. I wonder how she has left her +property?"</p> + +<p>"There wasn't any will, so it all goes to Uncle Jacob," said Mr. +Bowers. "I expected to hear she had left it to Rhoda. It is odd that +there should have been no will. She was always so particular about +business. Uncle Jacob says he shall send Rhoda all her clothes. I am +glad of that."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why he should. Rhoda has enough of her own. But they won't +amount to much, Aunt Hannah always dressed so plainly."</p> + +<p>"She was always giving away. Uncle Jacob says she has sent over four +hundred dollars to foreign missions, besides all she has done at home. +Well, I hope it will all turn out for the best, that's all."</p> + +<p>There was a great wonderment in the little village when it came to be +known that Aunt Hannah had died without a will. Two or three people had +known of her making one some years before, and did not scruple to hint +that Uncle Jacob had destroyed it to get possession of the place, but +nobody could prove anything.</p> + +<p>Of course Keziah told everybody about Rhoda, and how her aunt had meant +to take her home.</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Bowers found themselves in anything but an enviable +position, and at last Mr. Bowers sold out his interest in the mills and +went to Hobarttown to live, so that Rhoda's last tie to Boonville was +cut off.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A NEW HOME.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE news of Aunt Hannah's death was a dreadful shock to Rhoda. She had +looked to her return with a vague but strong hope that somehow the +old lady would set matters right. She had felt so sure of seeing her, +especially since she had made up her mind to write, and her heart had +throbbed faster every time the door-bell rung. Now it was all over. +Aunt Hannah was gone, and she felt herself indeed alone in the world.</p> + +<p>"After all, if it was to be so, I am glad she died instead of changing +like the others," said she to Miss Brown. "If mother had died when baby +was born, I should not have been half so sorry about her as I am now."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear, there are few people who might not say that of some one," +said Miss Brown, sighing. "But, Rhoda, would there have been nothing to +regret then?"</p> + +<p>"Not on her side," answered Rhoda. "I soon found out that mother was +not the wisest woman that ever lived, but she was always kind to me. I +don't believe any child ever was happier or better taken care of than I +was for those eight years."</p> + +<p>"Then you have at least that much for which to thank Mrs. Bowers," +remarked Miss Brown, "since she gave you eight years of happiness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so," said Rhoda, thoughtfully; "and yet, somehow, this +last business seems to have blotted out all the rest. I could find it +in my heart to wish they had let me alone."</p> + +<p>"I understand you," said her friend; "but, Rhoda, you must try to +forgive as you would be forgiven."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do, Miss Brown," said Rhoda, earnestly. "You don't know how +much I pray for a forgiving spirit, and sometimes I think I have it, +but then again the tide comes up and sweeps it all away."</p> + +<p>"That is the way with everybody, child. We have to fight our battles +over and over again."</p> + +<p>"It is very strange that Aunt Hannah left no will," said Rhoda, +recurring again to Mr. Weightman's letter. "He says that as his sister +left no will, the property returns to the rightful owner—himself, I +suppose he means: that he sends me her clothes and some other things, +though I have no right, in law, to anything. I don't understand it, +for I am sure that Aunt Hannah had made a will at one time. You don't +suppose Mr. Weightman can have destroyed it, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. He would hardly have ventured on such a crime. Aunt +Hannah may have destroyed it herself, thinking that she would make +another. You know she died very suddenly."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Mr. Weightman would do almost anything for the sake of +money, I think," said Rhoda. "It was all he cared about. It was that +which spoiled mother more than anything else. She got to think, as +Uncle Jacob did, that money was everything, and she was jealous of +everybody better off than herself. She used to vex me talking about +Aunt Annie—aunt is her sister. She said Annie was so worldly and +extravagant, though I don't think she was, and she said she should +think Annie would feel ashamed to wear so diamonds and keep so many +servants when her own sister had none.</p> + +<p>"I don't think that she loved money so much for its own sake as because +she thought it made people respected and looked up to. She said nobody +cared for poor folks—they never were respected; and she used to fancy +that people felt above her. I know Mrs. Swan came to see her from the +Springs, and she never would return the call, because she said Mrs. +Swan came in a handsome silk dress and a sable cloak, and she had +nothing to wear but a merino."</p> + +<p>"It is a poor kind of spirit, but one meets it everywhere," said Miss +Brown. "Mrs. Merchant won't sit next Mrs. Smithers on Sunday because +Mrs. Smithers wears her black silk dress to tea."</p> + +<p>Rhoda had several letters from the girls in Boonville, and one from +Mrs. Antis offering to give her a home till she could do better. Rhoda +thanked her friend, but declined the invitation.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't do it," she said to Miss Carpenter, to whom she showed the +letter. "Mrs. Antis is very kind, but I think it would break my heart +to go back there now."</p> + +<p>Miss Carpenter sympathized with the feeling, and was secretly glad that +Rhoda did not want to go away.</p> + +<p>"I should hardly know how to do without her, and that is the truth," +said she to Mrs. Mulford, one day when the two were talking over +matters in the house.</p> + +<p>"She makes herself useful, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, indeed, she does. Not that she accomplishes so very much work, +but she is always at hand, and always ready to help when she is wanted. +Even when I have to call her away from her book or her music to do an +errand or to sit with somebody, she is just as pleasant about it as can +be.</p> + +<p>"And she is one of the kind who save steps instead of making them. +When she waits on the old ladies at table, which she offered to do of +her own accord, she is always on the watch to see whose cup is out +or who wants anything; and if Mrs. Gardener or Mrs. Pratt wants to +rise—you know neither of them can get up alone—Rhoda's arm is always +there ready. Now, Jenny means to do right, for aught I know, as much as +Rhoda, but you have always got to tell her. She don't anticipate one as +Rhoda does."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear such a good account of the child," said Mrs. +Mulford. "I was a little afraid she might be 'stuck up,' as they say; +and I have not felt quite sure about the effects of these lessons. Miss +Brown tells me that she is an excellent scholar. I wish we could keep +her here and give her a good education, but I don't see any way to do +it. We have stretched a point in keeping her as long as we have. I am +afraid she must go to a place pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I hope it will be a good one, then," said Miss Carpenter. +"That is the worst of our little girls. As soon as we have made them +worth something, we have to let them go."</p> + +<p>"Is that Rhoda playing?" asked Mrs. Mulford as the sound of a piano +reached her ears.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she practises every day. I think she would make a good player if +she had a chance, but the piano is a poor old thing, and some of the +old ladies complain of the noise; so Rhoda doesn't play as much as she +would like to."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must see what can be done, but I fear it won't answer to keep +her here much longer. People say now that the funds are misapplied and +the old ladies half starved. I should think any one might see that they +are not badly used by the way they live on after they come to us. Mrs. +Pratt was nearly eighty when she came to 'The Home,' and she has been +here ten years."</p> + +<p>"It's her good temper keeps her alive," said Miss Carpenter.</p> + +<p>"And what do you think keeps Aunty Parsons alive? Not her good temper, +I am sure."</p> + +<p>"She has got in the habit of living just as she has of smoking, and she +doesn't know how to leave it off," said Mrs. Lambert, who, though the +most faithful and untiring of nurses, was by no means so placid as Miss +Carpenter. "I believe she will wear me out before she dies herself. +Well, we shall dislike to have Rhoda go away but perhaps, if she has to +earn her living, the earlier she sets about it, the better. She is a +girl sure to make friends wherever she goes—that is one thing."</p> + +<p>The box containing Aunt Hannah's clothes arrived in due time, and Rhoda +shed many tears over its contents, particularly over her aunt's Bible, +which she was delighted to find among the things. On turning it over, +she found a two-dollar and a twenty-five-cent bill concealed among the +leaves, and showed them to Miss Brown.</p> + +<p>"That money will just do to get you a new pair of shoes with," said +Mrs. Parsons, who happened to be in the room at the time. "Some folks +has all the luck. Nobody never sends me no money."</p> + +<p>"No," said Rhoda; "I know Aunt Hannah put them in there for the +missionary collection; this paper with them says so. That is the way +she used to do. I mean to get Miss Carpenter to change the money and +keep it to carry to church."</p> + +<p>"That's a good notion, Rhody," said Miss Dean, another old lady, who +had always taken a great interest in Rhoda. "It is strange, now, +how Providence orders things," she continued, reflectively. "Last +week I was worrying because I hadn't a speck of money to send to the +children's hospital fund—and I always did feel such an interest in that +object—and when I was at the worst, my grandnephew came in to see me +and gave me five dollars for a present—he's a dreadful openhearted boy, +Daniel is; just like my father—so there I had a dollar to send to the +hospital directly."</p> + +<p>"Everything comes right for you, don't it, aunty?" asked Rhoda, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, child, pretty much."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I shouldn't think it came very right when you had to be +turned out of your room," said Mrs. Parsons, who, like most grumblers, +resented Miss Dean's contentment as an affront to herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, it did. I was sorry to lose my closet, but then I had a +wardrobe and a register to myself; and then it's a great saving of my +strength not to have to go up and down stairs; and when grandmother was +put into my room, I did feel favoured, indeed."</p> + +<p>"How is grandmother?"</p> + +<p>"Well, her eyes trouble her some, but she is pretty smart for a woman a +hundred and one years old. But I must go, for I promised to make a cap +for Miss Carpenter to-day."</p> + +<p>"And I must go too," said Rhoda, starting. "Miss Wilkins will wonder +what has become of me."</p> + +<p>Rhoda's lessons were not to be uninterrupted much longer. As Mrs. +Mulford remarked, the managers had stretched a point in keeping her +so long, since she was quite well again and her services were really +not needed in the house. The funds of the institution were strictly +tied up to two special objects—the maintenance of the old women and of +the eight little girls, who were to be put out to places at the age +of fifteen. Miss Carpenter often regretted this law, saying that it +obliged them to part with the girls just at the wrong time.</p> + +<p>"Just when they begin to be most useful to us, and when they need the +most care," said she. "Fifteen is about the last age when a girl should +be thrown on her own resources. She is usually a good deal better able +to take care of herself at ten."</p> + +<p>However, the law was a law, and could not be altered. Rhoda was past +sixteen, a stout, healthy, capable girl, and some people had already +begun to talk about favouritism, etc., in the amiable strain in which +many persons who do nothing whatever for their fellow-creatures are apt +to criticise those who are trying to do a little. It was decided that +Rhoda must go, and it fell to the lot of Mrs. Mulford to tell her of +the decision.</p> + +<p>Poor Rhoda felt as if she were being once more torn up by the roots. +She had taken her first transplanting hardly enough, but she had, as it +were, become settled in the new soil, and had struck out rootlets and +tendrils. She had said to herself more than once that it must come to +this some day—that of course she must expect to work for her living; +but as the days and weeks went on, and nothing was said about a change, +the idea had fallen into the background of her mind. She felt herself +once more at home; and when Mrs. Mulford mentioned the matter, which +she did very kindly, Rhoda burst into tears and cried bitterly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mulford was rather annoyed. She had done her best to find a place +for Rhoda, and she disliked anything like a scene. Moreover, she did +not quite understand Rhoda's feelings, so she delivered her a little +lecture on false pride.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be thankful for all that has been done for you already," +said she, in conclusion. "Come, now, dry up your tears, and look at it +like a sensible girl."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I am thankful," said Rhoda, trying to compose herself. "I +know how kind everybody has been, and it was very good in you to find +me a nice place; but—but it came over me so suddenly. It seems somehow +to make me feel the change more than anything. And I did so want to get +an education," said the poor girl, with a fresh burst of tears as the +sense of her disappointment overcame her; "I have set my heart on it +all my life. I wouldn't care how hard I worked for it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I understand," said Mrs. Mulford. "I will try to find you a +place where you can work for your board and go to school by and by; but +really I think you can't do better than to accept this one at present. +It is not so distant but that you can come home pretty often—for you +must always consider this house your home, my dear; and the wages are +good—two dollars a week. You can be laying up money, you see, and by +and by you may be able to accomplish your object. You have a pretty +good stock of clothes, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am, all I shall want this long time."</p> + +<p>"And some money beforehand, I think Miss Carpenter said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am—twenty dollars. But I thought perhaps I ought to pay that +for my board here."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no!" said Mrs. Mulford, secretly very much pleased with the +suggestion. "You have done quite enough to pay for your board since you +have been here. I think you had better put your money in the savings +bank, as you don't want to use it. Then it will be safe and drawing +interest, and one is not so much tempted to spend money when one has to +go to the bank for it, as I know by experience," she added, smiling. "I +will go to the bank with you and get you a book, and you can deposit +what part of your wages you don't want to use; and by and by you will +find yourself with quite a little capital—enough to go to school on for +some time."</p> + +<p>"And perhaps I may have time to study where I am going," said Rhoda, +brightening up a little at these suggestions.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you may, if you are quick; though you must remember that +your time is your employer's, and not slight your work. Mrs. Ferrand +is a reasonable woman in the main, and won't expect too much of you. +My Jane has half the time to herself—at least three days in the week; +though I am afraid she spends very little time in studying. She likes +to run in the street better than anything. Miss Carpenter tells me that +you don't care very much about going out."</p> + +<p>"I haven't anywhere to go," said Rhoda, sighing a little. "When will +Mrs. Ferrand want me?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as you can be ready. She usually keeps two girls, but has +nobody at present."</p> + +<p>Rhoda was not sorry to hear this, for one of the things she had dreaded +was the being obliged to associate with uncongenial people, and she +secretly resolved that she would do all in her power to make another +girl unnecessary. The prospect of being able to save money for her +great object was another comfort. Nevertheless, it was not very strange +that after Mrs. Mulford had gone, Rhoda should shut herself up in her +room and have a good cry.</p> + +<p>But Rhoda, young as she was, had learned the way to the only spring of +comfort and peace. She recurred to Aunt Hannah's verses written in the +beginning of her precious Bible, and by degrees she was able to say +honestly and from her heart,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Not my will, but thine, be done.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>There was a great outcry in the house when it was known that Rhoda was +going away. Her quiet helpfulness and cheerfulness had greatly endeared +her to the old ladies, and Miss Brown had come to depend very much upon +her.</p> + +<p>Granny Parsons declared that "it wasn't no more than she expected. +She always knew that Rhoda's pride would have a fall, with her +music-lessons and her history-books, thinking herself a young lady, +when she wasn't nothing but a charity child." Then turning round with +a rapidity quite her own, she declared that it was "a shame and a sin +to make the poor girl live out, just as if the ladies couldn't afford +to support her when they was perfectly rolling in money. It was all of +a piece—just some of Mrs. Lambert's doing, because she, Mrs. Lambert, +knew that granny liked her best of any gal in the house. Just like her +taking away my bottle of whisky with cherry bark into it—the only thing +that is any comfort to me."</p> + +<p>"Because the doctor said it wasn't good for you," said Mrs. Josleyn. +"He said 'twas that made your eyes sore."</p> + +<p>"Just as if he knew anything! I knew his father when he wasn't nothing +but a hired man, living out with old Mr. Mellener. A likely story he +knows what's good for folks!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Well, Rhody, so we are going to lose you, I hear?" said Miss Dean. +"I'm real sorry, but I suppose it is all ordered for the best. You are +a good girl, and I'm sure the Lord will take care of you. Now, let me +give you one bit of advice, because I'm older than you, and I've seen a +great deal of the world in one place and another. I dare say you will +find some things not quite pleasant—one does everywhere; but you just +make up your mind to take the bitter with the sweet, and don't throw +away your dinner because you happen to find a cinder in it. You might +not get another in a hurry; or if you did, it might have something +worse than a cinder. Of course it ain't the kind of place you've been +used to; but if you respect yourself and mind your business and don't +put yourself forward, but just do your very best in your own part of +the house, there's no fear but your folks will think enough of you. And +don't you give up the notion of getting an education. I feel to believe +that it will be brought about somehow for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean to," said Rhoda, cheerfully. "I mean to learn all I +can about everything, work included."</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Miss Dean. "My mother used to say that there +wasn't any use in neglecting your knitting to-day because you expected +to have some spinning to-morrow. Some folks are always doing that very +thing—neglecting the work just under their hand because they expect to +accomplish something grand byme-by, and they never accomplish anything.</p> + +<p>"Well, the Lord bless you, Rhody, and I'm sure he will. You've had some +pretty hard trials when you was young, and maybe you'll have all the +better times when you are old. Anyhow, as long as you hold on to him, +he won't never leave you. I'm just as sure of that as I am that I'm +alive."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MRS. FERRAND'S.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AND Rhoda believed it too. She was not, happily for herself, of a +nervous temperament, and was disposed to look on the bright side of +everything. By the time Monday morning came round, she was able to bid +her friends good-bye with tolerable cheerfulness, and to go to her new +home with good courage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand received her kindly. She was rather a pretty little woman, +and attractive, in spite of a certain expression of anxiety and a +precise, formal manner.</p> + +<p>"We have a small family just now," said she; "only Mr. Ferrand and +myself and one daughter, who goes to school. I have always kept two +girls, but my cook went away last week, and the other girl was not +contented without her. I shall get another cook as soon as I can find +one to suit me, and in the mean time, we must manage as well as we can."</p> + +<p>"Everything seems very convenient," remarked Rhoda, looking round +at the kitchen, with its sink and range and abundance of tables and +cupboards.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand looked pleased:</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Everything is very convenient and nice, but somehow the +girls don't seem to appreciate it. And really there is not much +encouragement to make things right when they won't take any pains to +keep them so. Only a week before Eliza went away, I bought a nice new +clothes-wringer. She used it once, and the next thing I knew it was +lying on the ground, out at the back door. But you look as if you might +be careful. If you will go up these stairs, you will find your room +at the head of them. I hope you will keep it in nice order, for Mr. +Ferrand is very particular."</p> + +<p>"I like to have things in order myself," remarked Rhoda, wondering at +the same time what Mr. Ferrand would have to do with her room.</p> + +<p>She found it a convenient though rather small apartment, having a +pleasant window and comfortable furniture.</p> + +<p>"This will do very well for one, but it would be pretty close quarters +for two," she thought. "I wish I could do all the work myself. I wonder +if I could?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda found her life for the first week or two sufficiently +comfortable. Mr. Ferrand was away, and Isabella, the daughter, was at +school from half-past eight to four. The rest of the time she either +studied or practised on the piano. She was a pretty, amiable girl, but +Rhoda thought she seemed very languid and indifferent. Mrs. Ferrand was +kind, and helped about the work herself. She was excessively nice and +particular, but not unreasonable; and she soon discovered that Rhoda +was bent on doing her best, and treated her accordingly.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was well and strong, and she liked to have things neat and +comfortable for her own sake. Mrs. Bowers had not neglected Rhoda's +education in this respect, as do too many mothers. She had drilled her +charge thoroughly in household work, and taught her to use her time +and strength to the best advantage. Rhoda knew how to calculate her +motions, to save herself steps, and to make her work tell. She felt +that she was giving Mrs. Ferrand satisfaction, and that in itself was a +great help to her.</p> + +<p>She had arranged her room as nicely as possible, with various little +ornaments and books which she had bought, or which had been sent from +her former home, and it was really a very pretty little retreat. She +had usually finished the most of her work by three o'clock, and after +that, the time was her own till six, for Mrs. Ferrand never asked her +to do any sewing.</p> + +<p>Rhoda used to try to spend at least two hours a day over her books; and +though she did not make very great progress, she at least kept what she +had already gained. She deeply regretted the loss of her music, but +there was no help for that. Her fingers used fairly to tingle sometimes +when she was alone in the room with the piano, but she never ventured +to touch it, and refrained from saying a word, even when Isabella +tortured her ears as she did by making the very same blunders in the +same places day after day.</p> + +<p>"Don't forget your practising, Isa," said her mother, one evening, as +she was going out. "Mr. Harvey tells me you ought to practice at least +one hour more every day."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish Mr. Harvey would mind his business," said Isa, sullenly, +as the door closed behind her mother. "I want to learn my Bible-class +lessons and to read, and I haven't one minute's time because of Mr. +Harvey and that tiresome old piano. I wish they were in the Red Sea +together."</p> + +<p>"Don't wish that. Wish I had them," said Rhoda, who was clearing the +tea-table. "I only wish I had your chance, Miss Isa."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I wish you had if you want it," answered Isa "perhaps you +might make something of it. I know you can sing, for I have heard you, +and I dare say you could learn to play, but I never shall. Fathers has +spent a great deal on my music already, and I don't play decently."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mustn't be discouraged," said Rhoda. "You have come to +the hard place, I suppose. Aunt Betsy says there must always be a +hard place in everything. Oh, don't cry, please don't," said Rhoda, +dismayed, as Isa's head went down on the piano amid a burst of +hysterical sobs. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."</p> + +<p>"You didn't," sobbed Isa. "But I am so tired and so discouraged, I +can't help crying. It is just school, school, lesson, lesson, all the +time from year's end to year's end. I detest it all, and I wish I was a +Dutch girl working in Uncle John's nursery: so there!"</p> + +<p>"And I only wish I had your chance to go to school and study," said +Rhoda. "I would rather do it than anything else in the world. I +wouldn't care how hard I worked."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you?" retorted Isa. "Just look here, Rhoda: do you know any +algebra?"</p> + +<p>"A little. I have been as far as simple equations. I like it too, but +I think it is pretty tough, I must say; especially when I have no +teacher."</p> + +<p>"Well, just look at my lessons for to-morrow. Three pages of examples +in equations—all new, you see—one hundred and fifty lines of Virgil, +besides my exercises and six propositions in geometry, all to be +learned to-morrow, besides my music and walking to and from school with +all my books, more than a mile each way. What do you think of that?"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Rhoda's Education.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"Just look at my lessons for to-morrow * * * besides my music," said Isa.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I think it is a shame," said Rhoda, warmly. "I have been studying +geometry, and I found one proposition as much as I could very well do +in a day. Why don't you tell your mother about it?"</p> + +<p>"Much use that would be. Besides, it isn't her doing; it's pa. He +thinks I can't be overworked because I have only three studies and +music. And the worst is, I don't see any end to it," said Isa, who +seemed to find comfort in talking. "I shall finish at the academy in a +year if I can only keep on, and then papa says he shall send me to a +French or German school for two or three years."</p> + +<p>"I should think you would like that," said Rhoda. "I read a book about +the Moravian school at Konigsfeld, and I thought it seemed lovely."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know what you mean. I had the book too, and I asked papa to +send me there. Then he read it—the book, I mean; but he said they did +nothing but play, as far as he could see. He didn't think it would +answer at all. And I don't have one minute's time to myself from one +month's end to another. I do like my Bible lessons—there seems some +use in them—and I like to read, but I can't. Pa don't approve of light +reading. He says the only true use of reading is to gain information +and improve the mind."</p> + +<p>"I have noticed that you don't seem to have any story-books," remarked +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"No, hardly any; and papa won't even take a magazine for fear I should +get some fun out of it. Oh, you'll see when he comes home. It isn't +like the same house when he is here."</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"To some educational convention or other. Well, I must go at these +things, I suppose. Can't you come and sit with me when your work is +done? I like to have you even when I can't talk."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid your mother would not like it," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"She won't care; and besides, she won't know: she won't be home till +nine. And there's another thing: I like to go to the Wednesday evening +service ever so much; but if I say anything, papa always asks, 'What +about your lessons, Isabella?' in that provoking way of his. Well, +there! You needn't look shocked. I know I ought not to talk so, but it +is a comfort to speak one's mind for once."</p> + +<p>"I will bring over my algebra next time I go home," said Rhoda. "I +should like to go over what I studied. I was always pretty quick at +figures, and perhaps I could help you."</p> + +<p>"Why, you seem to have a real good education," said Isa, surprised. "I +shouldn't think you would be living out. How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"It is a long story and not a very pleasant one," said Rhoda, flushing +a little. "I'll tell you some time, but not to-night. I must wash +my dishes; and excuse me, Miss Isa, but I think you ought to be +practising."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't I know it?" asked Isa, irritably. And striking a chord, or +discord, which tortured Rhoda's ears, she went on with her music.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" thought Rhoda as she retired to the kitchen. "I don't +think I should like lessons myself if they were crammed down my throat +in that way. Oh dear! What work she does make! She can't have the least +bit of an ear. I wonder what her father is like? He must be queer, I +think."</p> + +<p>Rhoda was destined to be fully convinced of Mr. Ferrand's queerness +before she had done with him. One morning Mrs. Ferrand came into the +kitchen, her cheeks a little paler and more than the usual shade of +anxiety in her manner.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ferrand is coming home to-night, Rhoda," said she. "We must have +everything about the place in order. He is very particular. Be sure to +have the range blackened up and all the ashes taken care of. Don't the +tins want cleaning?"</p> + +<p>"I cleaned them all yesterday and washed all the shelves," said Rhoda, +wondering whether the master of the house was expected to interest +himself in basins and cups.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand still lingered, picking up odd bits of paper and making +herself anxious over the state of the windows and the fittings of the +range. Rhoda saw that she was nervous and apprehensive, and exerted +herself to have everything in faultless order.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand's expected arrival seemed to discompose the whole +household. Isa, the moment she came home from school, sat down to her +scales and exercises, which in her agitation she played worse than ever.</p> + +<p>"Just hear that child!" said Mrs. Ferrand, who was in the kitchen +superintending the frosting of some cake. "What work she does make of +it! I don't know what her father will say."</p> + +<p>"She is so tired," said Rhoda, whose sensitive ears were being bored +with Isa's discords. "I should think she ought to rest and amuse +herself when she comes from school, instead of sitting down to practise +her music-lessons directly."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand looked rather surprised:</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? Mr. Ferrand always says change of occupation is +sufficient recreation."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know. If I have been washing all day, I don't think I +should find much recreation in going to ironing," said Rhoda. "And I +don't think Miss Isa is very fond of her music. She likes her tatting +better."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ferrand has a system for all those things," said the lady, +with the same little sigh. "He means that Isa shall have a perfect +education. He has had a good deal of experience too. His oldest son, +Isa's half-brother, was ready to enter college at twelve years old; +only he unluckily took a fever and died. It was just after I was +married. I was very fond of the poor little fellow, and he clung to me +in his illness and would not have his father near him. He thought he +was the indicative mood, and was trying to kill him."</p> + +<p>"Poor little thing!" thought Rhoda. "And with that warning before him, +he goes on just so with Isa."</p> + +<p>"My sister Harriet, Miss Hardy, has a young ladies' school," continued +Mrs. Ferrand, who seemed to find comfort in talking. "She has wished to +have Isa with her for a year, but Mr. Ferrand will not consent, because +he does not approve of her system. He thinks she gives the girls too +much liberty and playtime. I must say, though, that Harriet has good +success with her girls. There was Helen Kane; she never could get on +at the academy and was always being sick, but she has been three years +with Harriet, and her health has improved every year. But Mr. Ferrand +asked her several questions when she was here one day, and she could +not answer any of them."</p> + +<p>"What were the questions?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember them all, only she did not know the latitude and +longitude of San Francisco, nor the year of her reign in which Queen +Elizabeth died; only she said she thought it was the last. Her father +laughed, I remember, but Mr. Ferrand said he could see nothing to laugh +at in such ignorance."</p> + +<p>Rhoda laughed too when she was alone, but she could not help feeling +uneasy. Mr. Ferrand was a coming event which seemed to cast a very cool +shadow before, and she wondered whether she would suit him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand arrived at six, and Rhoda took a good look at him as she +carried in the tea. He was a rather small man with iron-gray hair, +greenish-gray eyes, and lips that looked, Rhoda thought, as if he were +always saying "cabbage."</p> + +<p>Isa was looking more scared and awkward, and her mother more uneasy, +than usual.</p> + +<p>Rhoda felt herself scrutinized in her turn; and feeling a perverse +inclination to laugh in the great man's face, she set down her teapot +and hastily retreated.</p> + +<p>"Who is that young person?" asked Mr. Ferrand as the door closed behind +Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"She came from 'The Home' to me," answered his wife. "Mrs. Mulford +recommended her, and she is really an excellent girl. With a little +showing, she can cook a nice dinner."</p> + +<p>"I do not approve of showing, as you call it," said Mr. Ferrand. "A +good housekeeper does not show; she gives directions, and has them +obeyed. Is this young person an orphan—one of the beneficiaries of the +institution?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand related Rhoda's history as she had heard it from Mrs. +Mulford.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand listened and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't like that," said he. "The girl must have misbehaved in some +way, or she would not have been so summarily turned off."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is always people's own fault if they are ill-treated, +pa?" asked Isa.</p> + +<p>"If you will put that question into a grammatical and intelligible +form, Isabella, I may perhaps answer it," was the reply.</p> + +<p>Isa relapsed into sulky silence, and did not speak again during the +meal.</p> + +<p>Her father made perpetual comments on her manner of eating, drinking, +and sitting, and the quantity of bread and milk she consumed—she was +not to be allowed tea or butter—and checked her as she was taking a +piece of sponge cake.</p> + +<p>"No more, my daughter. You have already eaten heartily, and it is +far better to rise from the table with appetite. I have been hearing +some admirable lectures on dietetics for young people," he continued, +addressing his wife and passing his cup for the third time. "I think +it would be a good plan to let Isabella have oatmeal porridge for +breakfast and supper."</p> + +<p>"Pa, I can't bear it," said poor Isa, just ready to cry at the idea.</p> + +<p>"You will learn to bear it, Isabella," was the calm reply. "I shall +procure a supply to-morrow."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>SYSTEM.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE oatmeal was procured and duly prepared for breakfast. Now, to +people who like oatmeal, and with whom it agrees, it is an agreeable +and wholesome diet; but it does not agree with every one, and to those +who dislike it, it is usually downright odious. So it was to Isa.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear it," she said to Rhoda, passionately. "It gives me the +heartburn, and the very smell is disgusting. I can hardly bear to see +you eat it."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could eat your share and mine too," said Rhoda. "I like it +very well if I can have plenty of milk."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I wish you could. Do give me a piece of bread, Rhoda. I am +ready to faint away."</p> + +<p>Rhoda cut the bread, while Isa put it into her pocket.</p> + +<p>At that moment Mr. Ferrand came into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here, Isabella?" he asked, in evident though calm +displeasure. "May I ask what brings you into the kitchen at this time?"</p> + +<p>"I came for some hot water," said poor Isa, seizing on the first +pretext which presented itself.</p> + +<p>"I'll get you a pail, Miss Isa," said Rhoda, rising, but Mr. Ferrand +checked her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ferrand has her own vessels for hot and cold water," said he, "or +should have them. If your room is not properly furnished, Isabella, you +should speak to your mother or me, and have the deficiency rectified. +It is time you were preparing for school."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I want the water for," said Isa, breaking out in +rebellion, as she did now and then. "Do let me get some hot water, pa. +What is the use of making such a fuss for every little thing?" And +snatching a cup from the shelf, she dipped out some hot water and ran +up the back stairs to her own room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked after her with a glance which boded her no good, +and then began a minute investigation of the state of the kitchen. +Cupboards, dishes, towels, were all passed in review and commented on, +and glad was Rhoda when the survey was finished.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have things in tolerable order, though there is not that +degree of system which—But what is this?" he exclaimed, if anything so +calm could be called an exclamation, and laying hold of Rhoda's slate +and algebra, which lay in the kitchen window. "Does Miss Ferrand leave +her books in the kitchen?"</p> + +<p>"Those are mine," answered Rhoda, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Yours! And may I inquire how you came by them and what use you make of +them?"</p> + +<p>"My father bought them, and I use them to study," said Rhoda, rather +crisply, for her patience began to wax threadbare.</p> + +<p>"Indeed! I should suppose that you might find studies more suitable to +your position than algebra," said Mr. Ferrand. "I should say your time +might be more profitably employed."</p> + +<p>"Why should not I study algebra as well as Miss Isa—Miss Ferrand, I +mean?" asked Rhoda, who began to be more amused than angry. "I never +touch it till my work is done, and what harm does it do?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Ferrand's position and yours are very different," answered Mr. +Ferrand, austerely. "She is, or will soon be, a young lady, and your +position is that of a servant—a very different matter. It is proper +that you should read, and I will see that you are furnished with +suitable books, but—but you must see that there is a great difference +between you and Miss Ferrand."</p> + +<p>Rhoda thought there was this difference—that she loved study and Miss +Ferrand hated it; but she had become conscious that she was growing +angry. She therefore prudently held her peace and busied herself with +her dishes, and Mr. Ferrand, after again promising to supply her with +suitable books, left the kitchen, to Rhoda's great relief. Presently, +as she was putting away the dishes, she heard him in conversation with +his wife:</p> + +<p>"The young person in the kitchen seems to have some strange notions, +Mrs. Ferrand. What books do you think I found hidden—that is, not +exactly hidden: I wish to do her no injustice; but lying—in the +kitchen? Nothing less than an algebra and geometry."</p> + +<p>"Was that all?" said Mrs. Ferrand, in tone of relief. "I was afraid you +might have found some bad books, there is so much trash afloat. Yes, I +know Rhoda studies a great deal, though I must say she never neglects +her work for her books. Mrs. Mulford told me that the child was very +desirous to acquire an education, and I thought you would be interested +in her on that account."</p> + +<p>"I am interested in all young persons who try to improve, Mrs. Ferrand, +but they must be content to improve in their proper sphere. I don't +know—I cannot even guess—what my grandmother would have said at finding +one of her maids studying mathematics," said Mr. Ferrand, whose +grandmother had been a baronet's daughter, and who therefore professed +a great love of everything English.</p> + +<p>"Rhoda is a very good girl, and gives me more real help than almost any +servant I ever had," said Mrs. Ferrand. "She seems to make a conscience +of doing everything in the best way, and she is always so pleasant."</p> + +<p>"I would rather hear you say that she is always respectful," said Mr. +Ferrand. "However, if you like the girl, we must try to get on with +her; only I trust you will not let yourself down by holding familiar +conversations with her. It is your place to give directions, and hers +to follow them. I am convinced that most of the multitudinous evils of +our democratic society arise from people's getting out of their proper +spheres. Especially I trust you will see that Isabella does not hold +any intercourse with her. I am mistaken if they were not talking quite +familiarly this morning when I entered the kitchen. Another thing I +wish to mention while I think of it: I met Mr. Harvey on the cars, and +he tells me that Isabella makes very little improvement in her music. I +wish you would see that she gets up in time to practise an hour before +breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Ferrand, I think that will not answer," said his wife, +roused in behalf of her child even to the point of contradicting her +husband. "Isa's eyes are weak now. She complains of headache, and of +being tired all the time. I think she should be doing less rather than +more while the warm weather lasts."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand smiled superior.</p> + +<p>"I thought you knew by this time that my views for Isa's education +'must' be carried out," said he.</p> + +<p>"Even if it kills her, as it did Charlie, I suppose," said Mrs. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"My son Charles died of a fever, and not from any over-application," +answered Mr. Ferrand, coldly. "I have nothing to regret where he is +concerned. I expect that Isabella will rise at half-past five and +practise from six till seven hereafter."</p> + +<p>"Then you must call her yourself, for I won't," returned his wife. "The +child has as much to do now as she can bear."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand was amazed. Surely some evil spirit had entered his home +during his absence. Never had he met with so much contradiction during +one day in his own house. He had resolved already that Isabella should +expiate her rebellion by some hours of solitary confinement and low +diet, but he could not very well shut up his wife. He began to be +scared, and thought he would try a little conciliation.</p> + +<p>"Very well. Since you are so decidedly opposed to it, I shall say no +more. I wish nothing but our daughter's good, as you must know, and the +dearest desire of my heart is to see her well-educated, but I do not +wish her to be oppressed. One thing, however, I must insist upon—that +she shall hold no unnecessary communication with the servants in the +kitchen on any subject whatever."</p> + +<p>And having thus saved his dignity, Mr. Ferrand turned for consolation +to his writing-table and his treatise on education—a work which had +occupied him for several years.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It was Mr. Ferrand's great misfortune that he was very rich and had +no profession. If he had been obliged to work for a living, his love +of order, accuracy, and system would have found legitimate outlets, +and might have made him an excellent master-mechanic or merchant. +As it was, the qualities which would have been a very moderate dose +if distributed among a hundred workmen were all bestowed on his own +family. No details were too small for his supervision, no neglect or +omission too trifling to annoy him.</p> + +<p>He would talk for a week about an old towel which had been found out of +place, and made as much fuss about the mending of a latch as would be +necessary for the repairing of a steam-engine. As I have said, he liked +everything English, and was very apt to sneer at and contemn "our free +and happy country," as he was fond of saying in a contemptuous tone. He +believed in people keeping their places and being contented in them, +and he had a special horror of servants in particular "getting out of +their proper sphere."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Ferrand's great hobby was education. On that theme he delighted +to dwell for hours, and to his great work on that subject, he gave so +much of his time as was not devoted to superintending family affairs +and acquiring useful information—that is, to storing his mind with +uninteresting facts and dates, arranged in scientific order. Accurate +enumeration, logical deduction, and rigid sequence were the sun and +moon of Mr. Ferrand's intellectual system, and he made no account of +such wandering and comet-like lights as imagination and the poetic +faculty.</p> + +<p>True, certain poets, such as Shakespeare, Milton, Cowper, and +Wordsworth, were to be studied. They were facts in English history, +and it was needful, therefore, to have some acquaintance with them. +But stories of all kinds—"works of fiction," as he comprehensively +classed them—could do nobody any good, and were not to be tolerated for +a moment. One of his pet theories was that change of employment was +sufficient relaxation; and as his own head and nerves were as hard as +cast iron, he never found out the fallacy of his theory.</p> + +<p>His only son had been a prodigy of learning—only he died at thirteen of +a fever which, as Doctor Morton had said at the time, ought not to have +killed a baby. Mr. Ferrand loved his son dearly and mourned for him +deeply, but neither his grief nor his love prevented him from trying +the same system over again with his daughter.</p> + +<p>Isa was of a different stamp from her brother. Charlie had loved study +for its own sake—Isa hated it; Charlie was uncommonly and precociously +intelligent—Isa was by no means bright, and was rather young for her +age: nevertheless, both must be put through exactly the same process. +The system was everything—the individual nothing. Mr. Ferrand had begun +by teaching Isa himself, but he had found the confinement too great, +and he could not make her study unless he were over her. So he gave up +the idea of home education, and sent her to a school whose master was +a man after his own heart—a man who revelled on a plenteous diet of +"facts and figures," and looked upon Virgil and Homer, Milton, Cowper, +and Young, as so much material for parsing.</p> + +<p>Professor Sampson certainly "got his pupils on" wonderfully fast. The +great trouble was that those of them who did not faint by the way—fall +sick and have to be taken out of school—left him with an inexpressible +disgust for books and information of all sorts.</p> + +<p>Professor Sampson had done his best with Isa, feeling quite sure that, +however tightly he might put on the screws, her father would always +be ready to give them another turn. The consequence was that Isa, who +under proper treatment might have turned out a very good woman, with a +healthy body and a sound mind, was fast becoming morose, feverish, and +hysterical, utterly discontented, and ready to consider any change a +gain. Moreover, she became sly and deceitful.</p> + +<p>Rhoda saw this, and it gave her a good deal of trouble. Mr. Ferrand had +said that Isa was not to associate with a servant, and had told Isa +so, yet Isa did not scruple to come to Rhoda's room for help about her +algebra, and to talk to Rhoda on every occasion.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One night, as Rhoda was getting ready for bed, Isa came round to her +room in great glee.</p> + +<p>"Marion Campbell is coming back, and oh, ain't I glad?" said she, in a +joyous whisper.</p> + +<p>"Who is Marion Campbell?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"She is the Scotch cook who used to live here two years ago. She went +away because her sister was sick; and now her sister is dead, she is +coming back. Why, you don't look as if you were glad one bit."</p> + +<p>"I can't say I am," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"But why not? She is real good-natured and you won't have half so much +work to do as you have now."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind the work—it is not hard at all," said Rhoda; "and I like +to have my room to myself. It is none too large for one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Marion won't sleep in your room. She has the one on the other +side. Don't you know it's part of pa's system that every one should +have a room to themselves?"</p> + +<p>"'Every one having a room to themselves' is a very good system, but it +isn't very good grammar," said Rhoda, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Who cares?" returned Isa. "But I want you to like Marion; she is very +'Scotchy,' but she is awful good-natured. There! I wonder what pa would +say to such a sentence as that? I know," she added, laughing: "he would +say, 'Isabella, will you give me the definition of awful?'"</p> + +<p>"Miss Isa, you ought not to make fun of your father," said Rhoda, +reprovingly; "and you ought not to be here. You know he does not like +it."</p> + +<p>"He isn't home," answered Isa. "Now, Rhoda, do show me how to do these +sums. I know you understand them, and I don't the least in the world. +Come, now, be good. I know I shall fail, and I have failed twice this +week already. I believe I am growing a perfect idiot," said she, +despairingly. "I don't seem to understand anything, especially in the +morning, my head is so dizzy and confused."</p> + +<p>"That's because you don't eat any breakfast or supper," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't eat porridge—I fairly loathe it; and if I do eat it, +it makes me sick, so I might as well feel badly for one thing as for +another. Come, do help me, Rhoda, please."</p> + +<p>Rhoda suffered herself to be persuaded. She knew it was not right to +help Isa in deceiving and disobeying her father, but she felt very +sorry for the poor oppressed girl, and she had not strength to resist +her pleadings. Perhaps such strength was hardly to be expected of a +girl of sixteen. Rhoda had been well drilled in common arithmetic, and +she had a natural gift for mathematics, as she had for music. She soon +made Isa's perplexities plain.</p> + +<p>"You are the best girl that ever lived," said Isa, kissing her. "I am +sure you were born for a teacher. But there goes half-past nine, and I +must be in bed before pa comes home. I shall have to hurry."</p> + +<p>"Don't forget your prayers, Miss Isa," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>And then she turned to her own devotions, but she did not find much +comfort in them. She knew she was doing wrong in keeping up this kind +of secret intercourse with Isa, and yet she could not quite make up +her mind to abandon it. She said to herself that she only did it to +help Isa, but in her secret soul she knew better. She found her own +comprehension and memory greatly assisted by going over the lessons +with another, and she hated to forego the advantage.</p> + +<p>The truth was, Rhoda was getting into a bad way. She had one grand +object in life, and it was a very good object, but she looked at it +till it grew so large as to be in danger of eclipsing everything else.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the atmosphere of the family where she found herself was not +favourable to truthfulness. Mrs. Ferrand, if she did not absolutely +deceive, certainly managed, her husband. Isa had no scruple about +making a false excuse or telling a tolerable sized fib to escape the +penalty of any infraction of Mr. Ferrand's numerous "rules."</p> + +<p>Marion Campbell did not make matters any better when she came. She was +a tall, thin Scotchwoman, an excellent cook, a superlative laundress, +and neat and quick at all sorts of work. She was always good-natured, +even in the agony of dishing up a company dinner, and she was strictly +and scrupulously honest in all that pertained to her employer's +property.</p> + +<p>But she thought it no harm to gain her own way by a little canny +management, and she had no scruple in bestowing on Isa, of whom she was +very fond, all the indulgence that came in her way. Many a delicate +sandwich and dainty cake and savoury pickle found its way into Isa's +school satchel by Marion's means.</p> + +<p>"You would na have me send her away hungry, and she such a slender +lass?" she said, one day, when Rhoda ventured to hint a remonstrance. +"She canna thole the porridge."</p> + +<p>"I know, and it does seem cruel," answered Rhoda, "and yet it can't be +quite right, either, to help her to deceive her father."</p> + +<p>"It's just his ain fault, then, and no hers," said Marion, who had +slipped into Rhoda's room on her way from Isa's. "I'm no that fond of +the oatmeal myself, though I was brought up on it. Laws! How many books +ye have! Are ye fond of reading?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, I am."</p> + +<p>"Aweel, ye must read to me whiles. I'm fond of a book myself, but my +eyes are failed, and I canna see very well. I have a grand history of +Scotland that I bought cheap at a stall the ither day. I'll bring it +the next time I go home, and we'll have some readings. Eh! What a fine +Bible!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" asked Rhoda. "Dear Aunt Hannah gave it to me the very last +time I ever saw her." And Rhoda's eyes overflowed at the remembrance of +her last interview with Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, dinna greet for her, my doo," said Marion, sympathetically. +"She was a good woman, na doubt, and gane to a better place. Lass, your +room looks fine, with all these pictures and little things about it. +I ay like a young lass to be neat and dainty. I think you and I will +'gree very well."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>"THE ORIGIN OF THE HARP."</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IN the course of a few days Marion produced her book, which turned +out to be a fine edition of Robertson's history of Scotland, a very +charming book, though strongly partisan, as is the case with most +readable histories. Rhoda found it as interesting as a novel, and +Marion was equally pleased.</p> + +<p>"Lass, never mind the things," she would say on ironing days, when it +was Rhoda's business to help her. "I can do your share as well as my +own. Get your book and read."</p> + +<p>Then Rhoda would get out Robertson and read aloud for hours while +Marion, with marvellous dexterity, ironed and pleated and did two +hours' work in the time of one. She listened to the clear, sounding +periods with critical satisfaction, and made her odd remarks. She was a +woman of fine mind; and though her schooling, as she called it, had not +been long, she had always been a reader and a thinker.</p> + +<p>"Eh, but that's grand!" said she, one day, as Rhoda closed the book. +"He would have made a fine preacher, that doctor."</p> + +<p>"He was a preacher," answered Rhoda. "I remember reading about him in +a book Flora Fairchild lent me. It said he had a colleague, and they +did not agree about church discipline, but for all that they never +had a quarrel. I should like to see his sermons. I never read such an +interesting history.</p> + +<p>"But, Marion, Mr. Ferrand does not approve of young people reading +history—I heard him read that out from the book he is writing; and I +am sure he would not think well of my reading it. He said he would +select some books suitable for me, and you ought to see them. Such +silly little stories, all about wicked servant-girls that wore pink +ribbons, and went straight to destruction in consequence, and about +good labourers that were contented on ten shillings a week, and wicked +labourers that wanted more. Do people really live on ten shillings a +week over there, Marion?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, do they, and far less than that," said Marion. "Ten shilling a +week would be high wages in our parts, and it's called very good, even +in England."</p> + +<p>"But what do they live on?"</p> + +<p>"Aweel, they don't see much of butcher's meat or tea and coffee, ye +may guess. If they get kirnmilk—that's buttermilk—for their porridge, +and butter for their potatoes, they ay think themselves well off. But +come, lass, help me with the vegetables, or I shall be late with my +dinner, and yon man's as petted as a bairn if his dinner is behindhand +a minute. He behooves to please his own palate, let what will become of +his daughter."</p> + +<p>"He isn't stingy, either," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"No, he is a good provider. It's only these nonsense maggots he gets in +his head. Now, attend and see me make the pudding, and ye 'll know how +yourself. Book-learning is a fine thing, but it's not all the learning +worth knowing. It's fine to be a good cook, specially if you have a man +to manage."</p> + +<p>"Yon man," as Marion usually designated her employer, did not make his +appearance in the kitchen so often, now that it was under the rule of +Mrs. Campbell. In truth, he was a good deal afraid of the Scotch woman, +having come off second best in more than one encounter. He would hardly +have borne so much from any other servant, but Marion was, as I have +said, a superlative cook, and Mr. Ferrand was fond of dinner company +and liked to have a good and elegant table.</p> + +<p>Rhoda, on the contrary, was no favourite with her employer. Mr. Ferrand +had a great horror of feminine independence in any shape, and he felt +quite sure that Rhoda had, as he said, "ideas of her own." He strongly +suspected that she continued her studies in spite of his disapproval, +and it was a real annoyance to him that a servant-girl should love +study for its own sake, while his daughter hated it.</p> + +<p>He watched Rhoda closely, but as yet he had been unable to detect any +flaw in her conduct. She was neat and systematic in her work, and +always respectful in her manners, though there was sometimes a twinkle +in her eye and a movement of the muscles round her mouth which annoyed +Mr. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>She was especially apt in waiting on the table, and never interrupted +his disquisitions with the noise of clashing plates or dropped silver. +She never asked to go out in the evening, except now and then to go +to church, and on these occasions she was at home so promptly that it +was plain she went nowhere else. There was no fault to be found. Mrs. +Ferrand was satisfied, and Mr. Ferrand could not discover any pretext +for quarrelling with Rhoda.</p> + +<p>Rhoda, on her part, was not satisfied with herself; though, thanks to +Marion, she had more leisure than ever for her books, and was making +very fair progress with her studies. There was all the time a little +rankling thorn in her conscience. She knew she was helping Isa to +deceive her father, and no sophistry of her own or Marion's would make +deceit seem right to Aunt Hannah's pupil.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all: her Bible was neglected from evening to evening while +she pored over her mathematics; her prayers were shortened for the same +reason; and when she did pray, her devotions were cold and lifeless, or +else a mere discomfort. Even her visits to "The Home" and to Miss Brown +were few and far between.</p> + +<p>"We don't see you very often now-a-days," said Miss Wilkins, one day.</p> + +<p>"I am so busy," answered Rhoda. "I hardly go out at all."</p> + +<p>"I thought you would have more time, now that there is a cook in the +family," remarked Miss Brown.</p> + +<p>"I should, only we have so much company—dinner company every other day; +and that makes a deal of work, you know. Then there are my lessons, and +Marion likes to have me read for her evenings; her eyes are bad."</p> + +<p>"What do you read?" asked Miss Brown, rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>"History mostly; we have been reading some of Scott's works lately, and +a pretty Scotch story called Magdalen Hepburn. I am going to borrow it +for you, Miss Brown, I am sure you will like it. Oh, you needn't be +afraid. Marion don't like trashy books any better than I do."</p> + +<p>"And your music?" asked Miss Wilkins.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will have to wait," said Rhoda, starting up and taking the +coal-scuttle from her hand as she moved to replenish the fire. "Mr. +Ferrand thinks it is dreadful for a servant to learn geometry. I don't +know what he would say to music."</p> + +<p>"Then it appears he interests himself about what his servants do?"</p> + +<p>"Don't he?" said Rhoda. "The other day I was altering a waist for +Marion. I had just got it all contrived out, when I heard the clock +strike, so I ran down to set the table, leaving the work lying on my +bed. After dinner, as I was washing the dishes, Mr. Ferrand came into +the pantry.</p> + +<p>"'Rhoda,' said he, 'your room is in great disorder. I do not like to +see a young person's bed covered with rags and pieces of cloth.'</p> + +<p>"He always calls me 'a young person.' I thought I might say that I +didn't like to have an old person prying into my room, particularly a +gentleman. But I didn't. I explained it all as demurely as possible, +and he was pleased to be satisfied, and to say that he liked to see +persons in our position in life helpful to one another. Mrs. Ferrand +is lovely; only she is always in a fidget for fear something should be +wrong, but she don't worry so much since Marion came."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry about your music," remarked Miss Wilkins. "You really have +talent, and you had made a very nice beginning. My dear, how flushed +your face is!"</p> + +<p>"The room is so warm," said Rhoda, "and I have been out in the wind. +Can I do anything for you? I am going down town to do some errands for +Marion."</p> + +<p>Miss Wilkins had several errands connected with worsted, wax, and +leather, and Miss Brown wanted some yarn, so Rhoda executed the +commissions successfully, and took her leave, promising to come soon +again.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"It isn't right, I know," she said to herself as she walked homeward; +"I am sure Aunt Hannah would say so. And yet I am getting on so well, +and it does nobody any harm. Marion says what people don't know don't +hurt them, but I can't think that. Well, I will just finish learning +this piece, and then I won't touch it again."</p> + +<p>The flush on Rhoda's face had been more than the reflection of Miss +Wilkins's open fire or of her exposure to the wind. It was a blush +of honest shame. Rhoda had been carrying on a course of deceit on +which she could not think without shame and remorse. A celebrated +lecturer was giving a course of lectures upon one of Mr. Ferrand's +pet sciences—geology. Professor A—'s stay was limited, and in order +to complete his course, he lectured every evening. It was no part of +Mr. Ferrand's system to have Isa attend lectures for the present, and +she was left at home with strict injunctions to practise an hour and a +half, and to give at least half the time to her singing.</p> + +<p>Isa had very little ear, and less voice, but Mr. Ferrand believed that +any person could learn to sing with proper instruction. Her former +teacher had bluntly told him that it was a loss of time and money for +his daughter to take singing lessons. She might possibly learn to play +tolerably, said this impracticable man, though she would never be +anything but a mechanical performer at the best; but as for singing, it +was all nonsense, and he really could not afford to waste his time on +her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand put on his grandest air of dignity, paid Mr. Tyndale's +bill, and dismissed him, and then looked for another master who would +be more docile. He found one in the person of Mr. Harvey, who was poor +and had a family, two arguments which had much more weight with the +music-master than any of Mr. Ferrand's.</p> + +<p>"She will never learn anything," he said to his wife. "She has no more +voice than a sparrow, and she hates music besides. She sets my teeth +on edge worse than saw-filing. But her father is determined she shall +learn, and two dollars an hour is not to be despised. It is all very +well for Tyndale to set up for frankness. He has more pupils than he +can attend to at forty dollars a quarter. I shall do the best I can +by the girl, and at all events, I sha'n't work her to death, as Brown +would."</p> + +<p>Certainly the atmosphere around Mr. Ferrand did not seem to be +favourable to sincerity.</p> + +<p>One of the first times that Isa was left alone to her music, Rhoda +came into the little back parlour where the piano stood just as Isa, +was blundering over a new piece. It was that pretty little song, +"The Origin of the Harp." The accompaniment is peculiarly simple and +graceful, requiring delicacy of touch and execution, and Rhoda's ears +were distracted by the way in which Isa attacked it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Isa, you do make such work!" she exclaimed, without ceremony, +which indeed had been long disused between them.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," returned Isa, pettishly. "I can't see any sense in +it. It is all up and down, without any tune at all. Do see if you can +make anything of it."</p> + +<p>"It can't do any harm just for once," said Rhoda, hesitating, for her +fingers tingled to be at the piano.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. As if anything could hurt this old piano! Come, do try."</p> + +<p>Rhoda sat down. She could sing well at sight, thanks to the pains of +her country singing-school master, and she had that real genius for +music which is born with one in five hundred. She caught the spirit of +the song directly, and in half an hour had mastered the accompaniment; +and Isa listened with honest admiration.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" said she, half envyingly, as Rhoda ceased. "If I had such a +voice as that, I wouldn't mind my singing lessons. You don't have to +pick it out a bit. You know just how to make your voice go by looking +at the notes, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," answered Rhoda. "I can sing any easy music at sight, +and this is very easy, though it wants care and taste. I think it is +lovely, though the words are not much."</p> + +<p>"It is a rather pretty notion, though, to think of the poor things +being turned into a harp," said Isa, who had a certain vein of +poetry in her. "Now, I should never turn to anything but a miserable +hand-organ, or at the best a musical-box, to go when it is wound up. +Do play something else, Rhoda. Try this waltz. I thought it was very +pretty when Mr. Harvey played it."</p> + +<p>This was only the first of a series of surreptitious practisings. It +became a regular thing for Rhoda to sit down to the school-room piano +and occupy at least half of Isa's lesson-time playing over her pieces. +It annoyed Isa that Rhoda would always play the scales first:</p> + +<p>"What is the use of them? They are not a bit pretty."</p> + +<p>"No, but they are useful, and I want to improve myself. Now I will play +this waltz, and then you must play it after me. I must give you some +help to pay for the use of the piano, you know; and besides, Mr. Harvey +will make a fuss and tell your father if you don't know your lesson. +Come, now, do your best."</p> + +<p>Then Isa would sit down, and by dint of patient and careful teaching +and overlooking, Rhoda would get her creditably through the piece.</p> + +<p>"There! That is a great deal better than ever you played it before."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Harvey says I improve," remarked Isa. "He told pa so. Pa found +fault because he gave me such easy lessons, and Mr. Harvey told him +he did it that I might acquire facility of execution. He said it was +a part of his system to teach the true method of execution upon easy +pieces, that the pupil's mind might be occupied with but one thing at a +time; and then pa gave in directly. I think it is a part of his system +to get through the lessons and earn his money the easiest he can," +added Isa, shrewdly; "but I don't care as long as it saves me work. +Come, now, sing this song."</p> + +<p>And Rhoda sung the song, comforting herself by the thought that she +really was helping Isa and doing nobody any hurt—a comfort which +answered tolerably well till she came to say her prayers, when it +vanished away and left her with a miserably burdened conscience and a +sore heart.</p> + +<p>These practisings went on very prosperously for a good while. To the +geological lectures succeeded a chemical course, and then, dearest of +all to Mr. Ferrand's mind, a course of lectures on education. At least +three evenings in the week the girls were left to themselves, and +spent their time over the piano. Marion grumbled a little at the loss +of so much of her readings, but she liked the piano, and she was too +good-natured to interfere with Rhoda's pleasure.</p> + +<p>"This is a miserable piano," said Rhoda, one evening. "Mr. Harvey tuned +it this morning, and now just hear!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" said Isa as Rhoda struck a chord. "I don't +see anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"Eh, lass, you've no more ear than a brown pig," said Marion.</p> + +<p>"Haven't brown pigs as many ears as other pigs?" asked Isa.</p> + +<p>Rhoda laughed.</p> + +<p>"She means a pitcher," said she. "That's the Scotch of it. But really, +Isa, does that sound right to you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything out of the way, honestly. But, Rhoda, you might +as well play on the grand piano if you want to. Nobody will be the +wiser."</p> + +<p>"It would be venturesome," observed Marion. "You see, nobody can hear +this piano from the street, and your father ay makes such a work +scraping his feet that you have time enough to get out of the way. But +in the drawing-room, you would be sure to get caught unless you heard +the gate shut, and that unlucky baker's boy ay leaves it open. You +wouldn't like Mr. Ferrand to come home and catch you?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda's very ears tingled with the burning blush which these words +brought to her face.</p> + +<p>Had it come to that? Was she afraid of being found out, like a boy who +has been stealing apples? Some words of Aunt Hannah's, spoken long ago +in Sunday-school, rose to her mind:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Whenever you are afraid of being found out, be sure you are doing +wrong."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>What would Aunt Hannah say to her now? Rhoda had weakened her own +moral sense and powers of resistance very much lately, but she had not +brought herself to think deception right or excusable. She resisted +faintly, however, as Isa continued to urge her to try the grand piano +in the parlour, and only yielded after a struggle. The piano was a +very superior one—by far the finest she had ever seen or touched; and +she forgot everything in the fascination of playing Beethoven's grand +waltz, which she had just learned.</p> + +<p>"I declare, you are beyond everything," said Isa, drawing a long breath +as the piece was concluded. "And just to think that you didn't know +hardly anything when you came here!"</p> + +<p>"Didn't know hardly anything?" repeated Rhoda. "Oh, Isa, what a +sentence! But I did know a good deal, you must remember. I could read +notes very well, and I had learn some pieces before I came from home. +I used to play on Fanny Badger's piano and on the church melodeon, and +Miss Wilkins taught me a great deal. Don't make me out quite a prodigy, +Isa. But oh, I do wish I could have some lessons."</p> + +<p>"Aweel, my dear, don't fret. Maybe they will come some time." And +kind-hearted Marion began to consider the possibility of herself paying +for some music-lessons for her young friend.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The grand instrument in the drawing-room made the school-room piano +seem worse than ever by contrast, and Rhoda was easily persuaded to use +it over and over again.</p> + +<p>"But I will never touch it after I have learned this piece, I am +determined I won't," said Rhoda to herself as she walked homeward after +her visit to Miss Brown. "I must learn this piece, so as to show Isa. I +am sure she will never get through it alone. Oh dear! I don't care; I +do think it is a real abominable shame that I should be used so. I wish +I should have been just like the others then. I should not have found +out what was in me. And to think, after all, when they could afford to +educate me as well as not, they should cast me off for the sake of that +miserable baby! It was not his fault, either, poor little fellow! I am +sure I don't wish him any ill, but I wish he had never been born, or +else that I never had. I think that would be best of all." And Rhoda +pulled down her veil to hide the hot tears which would gush out in +spite of her.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, my dear?" asked Marion, her quick eye perceiving at +once that something was wrong.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Rhoda; "only I wish there was no such person as I am, +that's all."</p> + +<p>"Aweel, there's no use wishing that now, ye ken. A man canna unmake +himself by any process that ever I heard of. Best wish for something +you have a chance of getting. But what ails ye, lassie? Come, tell me, +and ease your mind."</p> + +<p>Rhoda poured out all her grief in a flood.</p> + +<p>Marion listened with patience and sympathy.</p> + +<p>"I'll no deny but it's a hard case," said she. "But, my lass, will you +let me tell you one thing? And that's this: if ye mean to give up these +music-lessons—and I'm no easy in my own mind about them—but if ye make +up your mind to give them up, do it at once. Dinna wait to learn one +more tune, no, nor one note more. It's like the poor drunkard that says +he will take only one cup more, and that one cup more is just the ruin +of him."</p> + +<p>"But I do so want to learn this one piece," said Rhoda. "It suits me +exactly, and I am sure Isa will never learn it unless I help her."</p> + +<p>"Let every herring hang by its own head," said Marion. "You are not +Isa's keeper. I said I was no easy in my mind about these lessons, +and I'm not. I heard a grand sermon last Sunday on lying and +leasing-making, and I have been thinking we have all been to blame in +this matter; myself, maybe, worst of all. Come, don't cry any more, but +wash your eyes and be ready to wait at dinner."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Marion just wants me to spend the whole evening reading to her," said +Rhoda to herself as she went up stairs. She knew she was unjust and +that Marion was right, but in her present frame of mind, she found a +certain comfort in blaming everybody. "I don't know but she is right +though, about leaving off the music; only this piece is so lovely. Oh, +I must finish it, and then I won't touch the piano again. Oh dear! It +is too bad."</p> + +<p>Rhoda's eyes overflowed again; she checked her tears as soon as she +could, and tried to bathe away their traces, but this was never +easy. Crying gave her a wretched headache, and made her usually fine +complexion look pale and sallow.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand, who was not deficient in kind feeling when his system was +not in the way, remarked to his wife that the young person was not +looking well.</p> + +<p>"You had better see that she diets and bathes properly," said he. +"Young persons of her class—and indeed of every class—are apt to be +careless about such matters."</p> + +<p>Rhoda heard the remark, and it brought a new sting to her conscience. +She tried to drive it out by resentment at being called a young person, +but it stayed all the same.</p> + +<p>"Now, Isabella, be faithful in your practising," said Mr. Ferrand as he +set out for his customary lecture in the evening. "Mr. Harvey tells me +that you are improving, and I am very glad to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Then, pa, if you want me to improve still more, you must let me +practise in the parlour, or else get a new piano for the school-room," +said Isa, casting a glance of triumph at Rhoda. "Mr. Harvey says +himself that school-room piano won't keep in tune five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I think that must be an exaggeration," remarked Mr. Ferrand. "I should +not suppose any instrument would become disordered in so short a time +as five minutes. However, I will speak to Mr. Harvey on the subject; +and if he thinks it desirable, I will request him to procure a proper +instrument. Meantime, as you will not be subject to interruption from +company this evening, you may practise in the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>"Are ye going at it again?" said Marion as Rhoda turned toward the +drawing-room after putting her dishes away.</p> + +<p>"Only this once," answered Rhoda; "and then, Marion, I'll read to you +all you like."</p> + +<p>"It's not for myself I spoke," said Marion, justly offended. "But take +your own gait. I'll say no more. If a wilful man must have his way, the +byword is doubly true of a wilful lass."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't be vexed, Marion," exclaimed Rhoda, ashamed of the +words the moment they were spoken. "I didn't mean anything. Just come +and hear me play this one piece, and I'll sing all the Scotch songs I +know for you."</p> + +<p>But Marion had "got her Scotch up." She retreated to her kitchen; and +shutting the doors between, she sat down to her knitting. Meantime, +Rhoda played piece after piece, excusing herself for taking up all the +time by the thought that she should never touch the piano again.</p> + +<p>"Only one more," pleaded Isa, as Rhoda made a motion to rise. "This is +the last lecture-night, you know, and very likely we shall not have +another chance for ever so long. Sing 'The Origin of the Harp.' I do +think it is so lovely. Come; they won't be here for an hour yet, I +know."</p> + +<p>Isa was mistaken. The lecture had been very much shortened by an +accident to the gas-pipes which had left the hall in darkness. Mr. and +Mrs. Ferrand were alighting from the street-car at the corner at that +very moment, and they entered the gate just as Rhoda began the second +verse of the song.</p> + +<p>"Can that be Isabella singing?" said Mrs. Ferrand, astonished at the +clear, round notes which reached her ears—notes as different from Isa's +as the whistle of the oriole from the twitter of the sparrow. "I never +heard her sing like that, or play like that either."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your sister Harriet may have arrived unexpectedly," said Mr. +Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"Harriet would not be out of school so near the close of the term; and +besides, she does not sing. No, that is like no voice in our family."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand stepped to the long drawing-room window, which looked out +on the lawn, and opened the blind. He could hardly believe his eyes. +There sat Rhoda at the grand piano, and there, standing by, with her +arm on the "young person's" shoulder, was his own systematically +educated daughter Isa, actually abetting this low-born servant's +crime—so Mr. Ferrand at once called Rhoda's desecration of his +treasured instrument.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ferrand," said he, in a voice of calm, concentrated anger, "will +you do me the favour to look into this window?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand looked, and at that moment, attracted by some slight +noise, or by that curious sense of being looked at which almost every +one has experienced, both the girls turned round and saw the faces at +the window.</p> + +<p>Isa uttered a shriek of dismay, rushed away to her own room, and bolted +herself in.</p> + +<p>Rhoda stood her ground. She was very much frightened, and equally +ashamed also, but it was not in her nature to run.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing here?" was Mr. Ferrand's first question.</p> + +<p>"I was playing on the piano," answered Rhoda, humbly enough.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand turned to his wife:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ferrand, I believe no words are necessary. You must see now—even +you must see, I think—that this young person is no fit inmate of our +household. She may remain to-night, and also to-morrow, as it is +Sunday, but no longer."</p> + +<p>"But, Mr. Ferrand, you know we are expecting company on Monday," +pleaded his wife. "She might at least stay till I can find somebody. It +will be very inconvenient. I don't mean to excuse her, but—"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" asked Mr. Ferrand, with sarcastic emphasis. "I +believe I have made myself understood, Mrs. Ferrand. The young person +will leave on Monday. Meantime, you will please send Isabella to me in +the library."</p> + +<p>This, however, was more easily said than done. Isa had locked and +bolted herself into her room, where she was to be heard sobbing +hysterically, but no entreaties of her mother or commands of her father +would induce her to unbar the door or get a word out of her till her +father threatened to break the door down.</p> + +<p>"If you do, I'll jump out of the window and run away," cried Isabella, +and she was heard to open her window as if to put her threat into +execution. She was crying at the top of her voice, and more than one +person had already stopped in the street to listen.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand dreaded nothing so much as any publicity of his family +affairs, and he was at last persuaded by his wife to let Isa alone for +the night.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>AN OLD ENEMY.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>RHODA went to her room burning with shame and anger. Her first impulse +was to put on her bonnet and go home, but she reflected, as she grew +a little cooler, that it was after nine o'clock of a dark night, and +too late to undertake a walk of a mile alone, and that she could not +possibly take her trunk. And then what would Miss Carpenter say? What +would the ladies of the board say when they came to hear the whole +story? They would think she had disgraced the institution and herself. +Perhaps they would not let her stay there any more. And oh, what would +Aunt Hannah say if she knew?</p> + +<p>The very thought of Aunt Hannah seemed to bring some peace to Rhoda's +tempest-tossed spirit.</p> + +<p>"I know what she would say," thought the poor girl. "She would say that +I had done very wrong, but that was no reason why I should go on doing +wrong. She would tell me to confess my sin and ask forgiveness and +grace to do better. But oh, how can I? I knew I was wrong. I knew I was +deceiving and helping Isa to deceive, and yet I was so selfish, so bent +on having my own way, that I kept on, though something warned me all +the time. And yet—Oh yes, I must ask forgiveness for myself and Isa. +Poor girl! I wonder what her father will do to her? I feel worse about +her than even for myself."</p> + +<p>Rhoda knelt down by her bedside, and humbly and with many tears +confessed her sin and asked forgiveness in His name who said, "Not +seven times, but seventy times seven." She was still kneeling when some +one tapped lightly at the door. She started up and opened it, thinking +of Isa, but it was Mrs. Ferrand who had knocked. She had been crying as +well as Rhoda, and looked even more unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda, how could you?" said she, in a half whisper. And then, +with a fresh burst of tears, "I am sure I liked you and trusted you +more than any girl I ever had. I thought you were almost perfect. And +now Mr. Ferrand says it is just what he expected and what I might have +known. Why wouldn't you be contented to read the books he gave you, +and not get out of your station into algebra and geometry and all such +things?"</p> + +<p>Despite her grief and shame, Rhoda could hardly forbear smiling.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ferrand, I am very sorry," said she, earnestly—"I am more sorry +than I can tell you. You have been very good to me ever since I came +here, and it was a shame for me to deceive you so. But I do think it +was the deception that was the harm, and not the algebra and geometry, +or the music either, for that matter."</p> + +<p>"But, Rhoda, don't you see that you wouldn't have been tempted to +deceive only for the music?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure of that, Mrs. Ferrand. Did you never hear of servants +who didn't care about music or books deceiving their employers?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Mrs. Ferrand, considering. "There was Mary Blane. +She couldn't even read, and she stole tea and candles, and baked cakes +on the sly, and got out of the window and ran away to balls, and got +taken up by the police. But I don't think that any excuse for you, +Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"I know it isn't, Mrs. Ferrand, and I don't mean to excuse myself. I +think I was very much to blame—not for playing the piano, but for doing +it slyly and helping Miss Isa to deceive her father. I feel worse about +that than anything."</p> + +<p>"And we all thought she was improving so much," said Mrs. Ferrand, +wiping her eyes. "Mr. Harvey told her father that she had gained more +in the last six weeks than in all the winter."</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Ferrand, honestly, I do think she has; and so far as her +music went, I think I was an advantage to her, for I used to play over +her lessons and show her how to learn them. Miss Isa—"</p> + +<p>"Well, go on," said Mrs. Ferrand, as Rhoda checked herself and +coloured. "What were you going to say?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to say, if you will excuse me, that Miss Isa needs a great +deal of help and showing to learn anything, or so it seems to me. She +gets puzzled, and the harder she works, the more puzzled she grows; +whereas, if she has some one to show her and make things that she don't +understand plain to her, she gets on pretty well."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Mrs. Ferrand, sighing. "Isa isn't bright. She is +like me, and I never was one bit of a scholar. I was the only dunce in +our family. It used to trouble mother a good deal, but father said it +didn't matter.</p> + +<p>"'You can't make scholars out of everybody,' I remember his saying; +'Lucilla may make a very good and useful woman without knowing anything +about algebra.'</p> + +<p>"That was a great comfort to me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he was right," said Rhoda, warmly. "I think you are just +as lovely and good as you can be, and it makes me feel all the more +ashamed to think how I have treated you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, and I was so fond of you, and trusted you so. I always +felt perfectly easy about anything you undertook to do. You never +disappointed me. Now, we are going to have ever so much company next +week, and very particular company too, and I was thinking all the time +what a comfort it was going to be to have you and Marion, and now I +shall have a new girl to teach, and I dare say Marion will go away too."</p> + +<p>"She mustn't do that," said Rhoda. "I will talk to her." Rhoda +swallowed a great lump of pride that rose in her throat at that moment, +and added, "I will stay through the week and help you if Mr. Ferrand is +willing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you would! But I am afraid he will not consent, he is so angry +with me and Isa and everybody. I am sure I am at my wit's end what to +do," continued the poor lady. "If Isa gets one of her obstinate fits, +she will half starve before she will give in, and I am afraid she will +make herself sick. Well, I mustn't stay any longer. Mr. Ferrand told me +to talk to you and see if I could make you see your sin; but I am sure +you do see it, don't you, Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Rhoda, swallowing the lump again. "Will you please +tell Mr. Ferrand that I am very sorry I deceived him about the piano, +and that if he is willing I will stay and help you through this week?"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next morning Isa's door was open, and Mrs. Ferrand found her +daughter prostrated with a sick headache, which proved the beginning +of a somewhat serious attack of fever and indigestion. Mr. Ferrand +at first refused to believe in Isa's illness, declaring it was only +another deception—a mere pretext for keeping her room and escaping +merited reproof; but when he came to see her, he was compelled to own +himself mistaken for once, and consented to send for Doctor Morton.</p> + +<p>"She will get over it this time, or so I think," said the blunt doctor, +who stood in no awe of Mr. Ferrand's wealth, family, or theories. "She +has been working too hard and walking too much and living on too low +diet. Her mother tells me that she has been breakfasting on oatmeal, +and that she does not like it. That is all nonsense. Let her have meat +twice a day, and plenty of it; keep her out of school a while, and let +her have plenty of fun and amusement. Get some girl of her own age to +stay with her, buy her a croquet set, or send her to some old woman in +the country who will coddle and pet her and let her run wild. If you +don't mind, she will slip through your fingers some day like the other +one."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand's feelings were deeply wounded, and also his dignity. As +he said to his wife, Dr. Morton really seemed to have no idea of the +respect due to a gentleman of his family and social position. Still, he +did not like to take the responsibility of disregarding the doctor's +advice.</p> + +<p>That remark about "the other one" had touched a sensitive place in Mr. +Ferrand's heart, for he really had a heart. But he could not bear to +give up and own that he had been in the wrong; and as to taking his +daughter out of school and letting her run wild, the idea was not to be +entertained for a moment. But something might perhaps be done by way of +compromise, and Mr. Ferrand began to cast about for a way of saving his +daughter and his dignity at the same time.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand said nothing to Rhoda all day Sunday, though she went about +her work as usual.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>On Monday morning, Marion came to her with a message.</p> + +<p>"Yon man wants to see you in the library," said she. "He's stalking +about like a midden-cock on pattens. The doctor gave him an awful +take-down yesterday about Miss Isa, and he will have to be extra +dignified to make up for 't. Lass, did ye really tell Mrs. Ferrand you +would stay the week out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," answered Rhoda. "I thought it was the best I could do, +seeing all the trouble I had made."</p> + +<p>"Aweel, it's very well done, and very pretty of you, and I am glad of +it for the poor lady's sake as well as my own. I'm grown very fond of +you, lass. I think I shall no stop myself when you're gone."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Marion, don't go away if you can help it," said Rhoda; +"Mrs. Ferrand will be so sorry. I am sure you are very good to be fond +of me. I haven't treated you very well lately. If I had only taken your +advice, all this wouldn't have happened."</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" said Marion. "I was as bad as yourself, and worse, for I +was older. But now, lass, take my advice this time. Speak yon man fair, +and let him have it all his own way, and it will come out all right. +But, above all, don't keep him waiting."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand was in the library, seated in his arm-chair, with his most +decided expression of dignity and importance. But it is not easy to +look dignified and important on purpose without overdoing the matter, +and, consequently, Mr. Ferrand succeeded in being only stiff and +pompous. Rhoda instantly compared him in her own mind to a certain +small bantam cock formerly belonging to Aunt Hannah.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked at Rhoda, and Rhoda looked on the floor, vexed at +herself for feeling like laughing. She had not felt in the least like +laughing under Mrs. Ferrand's gentle and somewhat incoherent reproaches.</p> + +<p>"I understand, Rhoda Bowers—I believe that is your name?" said Mr. +Ferrand, pausing for an answer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Rhoda, meekly, thinking, "The old goose! Just as +if he didn't know my name!"</p> + +<p>"I understand from Mrs. Ferrand, Rhoda Bowers, that you repent of your +conduct on Saturday night and other preceding nights in invading my +drawing-room and trespassing upon my daughter's instrument?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand again paused for a reply, and Rhoda said,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, I am sorry I should have deceived you and helped Miss Isa to +do so. I think it was very wrong, and I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Ferrand, "I understand also that you are very desirous +to remain in my family a short time longer, until you can find another +place. Since you see and acknowledge your errors—"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda, modestly. "It was not that I +wished to stay till I can find another place. I can always go back to +'The Home.' But as Mrs. Ferrand was expecting company, and Miss Ferrand +is not very well, I thought I might save her trouble by staying till +she could find another girl. I have made her so much trouble that I +should like to make some amends."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, it comes to much the same thing," said Mr. Ferrand. "You +are at liberty to remain this week, and then we will see. But one thing +I must insist upon—that you shall have no intercourse whatever with +Miss Ferrand. If you would give me your word to abandon those pursuits +which you must be sensible are altogether unfitted for you, and to +be guided by me in your reading, I might perhaps allow you to remain +altogether."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I can do that, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda. "It has always +been my greatest desire to get an education, so as to be able to teach, +and I do not think I can give it up."</p> + +<p>"To teach!" repeated Mr. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I am quite sure I could teach if I only had an education. +I don't want to boast, but I know I have a talent for both music and +mathematics, and I don't think it would be right for me to neglect them +altogether, any more than it was right for me to try to cultivate them +in wrong ways. It would have been wrong for the man in the parable to +use dishonest means to increase his one talent, but that didn't make it +right for him to bury it in the ground."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked surprised, but not offended.</p> + +<p>"You really seem to have thought upon the subject," said he. "Sit down. +I should like to converse with you farther on this subject."</p> + +<p>Never before had Mr. Ferrand asked a servant to sit down in that august +apartment, But he was interested, as it were, in spite of himself.</p> + +<p>Rhoda took a seat. She was a very pretty and somewhat +distinguished-looking girl, and always neat in her dress; and as she +sat before him, her face full of animation and thought, Mr. Ferrand was +surprised to find himself admiring her and wishing that Isa looked like +her.</p> + +<p>"You say you think you can teach," he continued. "Why do you think so? +You should be able to give a reason for your conviction."</p> + +<p>"I think so," answered Rhoda, "because I have always succeeded whenever +I have tried."</p> + +<p>"Then you have tried?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. I have taught two or three of the little ones at 'The Home' +to read this last winter. Then there was a little girl in Boonville +whom every one thought was not quite like other children—deficient in +mind, or peculiar, at any rate. She did not learn to read, and her +parents thought she never would, but the poor thing wanted to learn—"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me: wished or desired to learn would be the better expression," +said Mr. Ferrand. "But go on. I am much interested in everything +pertaining to education."</p> + +<p>"She wished very much to learn," continued Rhoda, accepting the +correction, not without some inward amusement, "and I asked Mrs. Bowers +if I might try to teach her. I worked with her nearly three months +before she learned a single thing. If she learned to know a word in one +place, she did not know it in another; and when she had spelled bat +and cat and hat, she had no more idea how to spell rat than if she had +never seen a letter. But she would not give up, and I was ashamed to be +less persevering than a little child, and at last she seemed to start +right off and read without any trouble. It all came to her at once, and +after that, I never saw any child improve so fast."</p> + +<p>"That is a very interesting case," said Mr. Ferrand. "With your +permission, I shall make use of it in my work on education. Have you +ever tried to teach anything but reading?"</p> + +<p>"Only when I was helping Miss Isa—Miss Ferrand, I mean," said Rhoda, +blushing. "I have tried to help her in her music."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand's face darkened a little.</p> + +<p>"I know it was very wrong," said Rhoda, humbly. "It was deceitful, and +deceit can never be right; but Miss Ferrand does work so hard it seemed +almost cruel not to help her when she asked me."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I am glad you are sensible of your error. We will talk of +this matter again. Meantime, you can go about your duties as usual, for +this week, at any rate. I should wish you to take down and dust all the +vases and other ornaments in the upper hall. I observed several small +cobwebs there yesterday when I had occasion to look behind them."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," said Rhoda, both gratified and surprised at the +result of the interview.</p> + +<p>She longed to intercede for Isa, but something told her that it would +not be best. So she made her curtsey and withdrew, resolved to leave +not the shadow of a cobweb anywhere within her jurisdiction.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand closed the library door, and sat down to meditate upon +an idea which had crossed his mind, and which a week ago he would +have rejected as utterly wild and impracticable. This young person +had certainly a good and clear intellect, however she came by it. She +was really talented, and it was evident that she had no common share +of perseverance to pursue a course of study at home; yet here was a +servant who, with all her work to do and without neglecting the duties +of her position, had made very creditable progress in mathematics and +music. True, she had been much to blame, but she seemed fully sensible +of her error, and we are all human and liable to err, thought Mr. +Ferrand, not even excepting himself from this general principle.</p> + +<p>Doctor Morton had said very decidedly that Isabella must be taken out +of school, and that she ought to have a companion of her own age.</p> + +<p>"Get some girl of her own age to stay with her," was his inelegant +expression, Mr. Ferrand remembered.</p> + +<p>What if he should adopt this young person into his family, procure +a suitable governess, and allow the two to study and associate upon +equal terms? Rhoda was an orphan—that was one great advantage. She +was well-looking and had good taste in dress—that was another. And +though, as was to be expected, she used somewhat common and colloquial +expressions, she was not vulgar or ungrammatical in her speech, +Isabella was fond of her, so was Mrs. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"I will consider upon it, I really will," said Mr. Ferrand to himself. +"I cannot but think the plan offers some considerable advantages, But +it is not best to act in haste. I will consider upon it."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Two or three days after the conversation in the library there came a +ring at the door, and Rhoda opened it, as usual, to be astonished at +the apparition of Uncle Jacob Weightman, who looked no less surprised +at seeing her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Rhoda, is this you?" said he. "What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>"My work," answered Rhoda. "Whom did you wish to see, Mr. Weightman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is it?" answered the old man, with a smile of sour +satisfaction. "I hope you like your boarding-school."</p> + +<p>"Whom did you wish to see?" repeated Rhoda. She was choked with anger, +grief, and a spasm of homesickness, but not for the world would she +have shed a tear before Uncle Jacob.</p> + +<p>"Does Mr. Ferrand live here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Do you wish to see him?"</p> + +<p>"You may tell him I have got some business with him," said Uncle Jacob. +"Tell him a gentleman wants to see him on business about his Hobarttown +property."</p> + +<p>Rhoda knocked at the library door, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ferrand, here is a person wants to see you on business, if you +please."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so I am not a gentleman in your eyes, Miss Rhoda? See if I don't +pay you for that," muttered the old man as he went forward into the +library.</p> + +<p>It was not very wise in Rhoda, or perhaps very Christian, but she was +only a child, after all, and she certainly had small reason to love Mr. +Weightman. She was to have still less before the morning was over.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand was polite to everybody for his own sake, and he received +Mr. Weightman with his usual courtesy.</p> + +<p>After they had finished their business, Mr. Weightman remarked, +carelessly,—</p> + +<p>"I see you have that girl that my niece took from the asylum."</p> + +<p>"Your niece!" said Mr. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Bowers, of Boonville. She had no children, and adopted this +girl from some home or asylum in the city here. It was against my +advice, and turned out just as I expected."</p> + +<p>"May I ask why your niece did not keep her?" asked Mr. Ferrand. "Please +excuse my curiosity. I have a special reason for asking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, the fact is, I don't want to say anything against the +girl, but it did not answer. I don't think such arrangements often +do. The girl was sly and idle, and made mischief in the family. I had +a sister—she is dead now—but she was infirm in mind, and this girl +actually got the poor old woman to make a will leaving her all her +property. It was not signed, and of course was worth no more than so +much waste paper. She made a deal of trouble for me with poor Hannah, +and there were other reasons—in short, they had to get rid of her. But +what can you expect? Crab trees will bear crab apples, you know. If +people will take children of that kind, they must expect to have the +father, and especially the mother, come out in them. You have seen +enough of the world to know that, Mr. Ferrand. However, I don't want to +injure Rhoda. I am glad to see her working honestly for a living, for +there is no knowing what such girls will do."</p> + +<p>Mr. Weightman had no particular intention of lying about Rhoda, +although he did mean to pay her, as he said, for her disrespect to +himself. He had all the time been trying to justify his treatment of +Rhoda to himself by making himself believe that Rhoda was all he had +represented, and he had to some extent succeeded. Was not Aunt Hannah +always making her expensive presents? Had she not made a will at last +leaving Rhoda that estate which was his by all right? True, it was not +witnessed, or even signed, and he had reason to think that nobody knew +of its existence but himself, but that was no thanks to Rhoda. Yes, she +was a wicked, designing girl, and it was right to warn people against +her.</p> + +<p>Rhoda exchanged no words with Uncle Jacob as he went out. She of course +knew nothing of what had passed in the library, but the moment she saw +Mr. Ferrand, she felt there was a change in his manner toward her. He +hardly spoke to her all the rest of the week. When Monday came, he paid +her her wages and a month over, made her a present of a good book, +handsomely bound, and hoped she would do well. He had reconsidered the +matter, and had come to the conclusion that it would not do at all.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>A NEW FRIEND.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>RHODA did not know for a long time how near she had been to the +accomplishment of her wishes. She took a tearful leave of Mrs. Ferrand +and Isa, and went back to 'The Home' feeling sadly enough.</p> + +<p>She was mortified at being dismissed and ashamed at the circumstances +which led to the dismissal, and she was broken-hearted at parting +with Isa, whom she had learned to love with all the intensity of a +school-girl's affection. She had never been much given to striking up +those sudden and violent intimacies common among girls, and which are +often as short-lived as fervent. She had been a favourite with all +the girls at Boonville, but she had been specially intimate with none +of them except Alice Brown, who had gone away to the far West a year +before. But she loved Isa Ferrand with all her heart, and none the less +that she was not insensible to Isa's faults and weaknesses. And now +they must part, and would probably never see any more of each other. +They might sometimes meet in the street, but there could be no visiting +and no correspondence—they could hardly even stop to talk, because Isa +would be disobeying her father. It was very, very hard.</p> + +<p>Rhoda fell easily enough into her old life at "The Home." Neither Miss +Carpenter nor the good managers were disposed to be hard upon her, +considering the temptations to which she had been exposed.</p> + +<p>"You should not have done it, of course," said Mrs. Mulford. "Deceit +is and must be always wrong. But I think Mr. Ferrand made a very +unnecessary fuss about the matter. I dare say you would have felt twice +as penitent if he had given you permission to practise every day."</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I was very sorry as it was," said Rhoda. "But I did feel +a great deal more so that day he talked so kindly to me."</p> + +<p>"How was that?" asked Mrs. Mulford.</p> + +<p>Rhoda repeated the substance of the conversation which had taken place +in the library.</p> + +<p>"He was just so kind, and even kinder, all that week, till the +afternoon Mr. Weightman called, and after that he never spoke to me +again till he paid me my wages when I came away. I can't help thinking +Mr. Weightman set him against me. He has always been my enemy. I am +quite sure that Mr. and Mrs. Bowers would not have sent me away but for +him."</p> + +<p>"It hardly seems as if any one could be so meanly spiteful as that, +and toward a young girl," remarked Mrs. Mulford. "And yet I know +narrow-minded, ignorant people will carry enmity to great lengths +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"I know he does. There was a woman lived next him with whom he had a +quarrel. She was an ignorant, hot-tempered woman, and used rather hard +language sometimes, but that was the worst of her. Well, he got angry +at her for something about a grapevine, and he went to the man whose +house she lived in and told him such stories about her that he got her +turned out of her house. I don't really think, either, that he means to +tell downright lies, but he thinks that any one who opposes him must be +everything that is bad."</p> + +<p>"He must be a nice person. Well, Rhoda, you did right to come back +here, and you are come in very good time too, for several of the old +ladies are ailing and need a deal of waiting on. Just take hold and +help Mrs. Lambert whenever you see a chance. I suppose you don't give +up your idea of getting an education?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. I don't think I can give it up so long as there is any +'me,'" said Rhoda, smiling somewhat sadly. "But the time is getting on +very fast."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you are getting on too. Well, study as much as you can, my +dear; and if you want any help in the way of books, come to me about +it. Don't be discouraged. I shall try to find you a place where you can +work for your board and go to school, and in the mean time just make +yourself useful here. This will always be your home, you know."</p> + +<p>Rhoda was very willing to make herself useful. She waited on Granny +Parsons, now sick and confined to her room, and did errands for the +house, and made caps and aprons for the old ladies, and read aloud +to Mrs. Carson, the blind woman, and whenever she had a little time +practised scales and exercises diligently on the little old piano, +compared to which even the school-room piano at Mr. Ferrand's was a +fine instrument.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One day, as she was coming home from executing multifarious +commissions, with her hands full of little bundles, she saw Isa +crossing the street, and waited for her to come up. Isa was thinner and +more languid than ever. She had her arms full of books, and seemed so +occupied with her own thoughts that she hardly recognized Rhoda, even +when she spoke. Then, with a cry of joy which made two or three people +look round, and dropping a shower of books, she threw her arms round +her friend's neck and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"Oh how glad I am to see you!" she exclaimed. "I have watched and +watched for you every day since I began to go to school again, but I +never could see you."</p> + +<p>"To school!" said Rhoda, picking up Isa's books with some trouble, for +her own hands were full. "You don't mean to say you are going to school +again, after all the doctor said? I do think your father is crazy."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether 'he' is crazy, but I know who will be," said Isa.</p> + +<p>"But when the doctor said so much about it—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, pa thinks the doctor was mistaken," said Isa. "He went over and +talked to the teachers, and Miss Black—just like her, the cross, +meddling old thing!—told him that I was always going into Palmer's and +buying ice cream and cake and candy, and that was what made me sick. +I have done it sometimes when ma gave me money because I got so faint +and hungry. So pa believed it all, of course, and here I am grinding +away again. I declare, Rhoda, there isn't a day that I don't wish I was +dead."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Isa! You shouldn't!"</p> + +<p>"I can't help it. I do, and so would you in my place. No, you wouldn't; +you would like it, for you are not a dunce and a fool, as I am."</p> + +<p>"You are not a dunce, nor a fool either," said Rhoda, warmly. "It +doesn't follow that you are a dunce because you can't learn music. A +great many people can't. But how do you get on in school? Can you learn +your lessons?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, some of them. We are reviewing, and the girls help me. But you +don't know how my head feels. There is a place up the back of it that +feels perfectly numb and dead, and some days the feeling goes down my +spine and all over me, and I can't sleep at night. I am just doing +lessons, lessons all the time. Oh, if I could only run away or do +something!"</p> + +<p>The girls had turned into a shady, quiet street by this time, and were +walking slowly along together.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking about, Rhoda?" asked Isa, a little impatiently, +after a minute's silence. "Why don't you speak?"</p> + +<p>"Because I want to say something, and I don't quite know how," answered +Rhoda. "I am afraid you will think it odd, coming from me, after all +that has happened."</p> + +<p>"I shall think it is just right, whatever it is, I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Isa dear, you know who it was that said,—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will +give you rest.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go to him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I never thought I could. How?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know the Bible says—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'...he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God +by him'?<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Nobody loves us as our heavenly Father does and if you ask him, I am +sure he will find some way to help you."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't dare, I am so wicked," said Isa. "I suppose that is only +meant for very good people."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," answered Rhoda, earnestly. "If it was, I don't know who +in all this world would ever dare to come. Why, Isa, don't you read +your Bible? Don't you know that Jesus Christ came into the world on +purpose to save sinners? Don't you know what he said when the Pharisees +found fault with him for eating with them? I thought you read your +Bible every night."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do, but I am so tired and stupid I can't take any sense of it. +But, Rhoda, the Bible says very hard things about liars, and I do tell +fibs and cheat in my lessons. I should be in disgrace all the time if +Kate Collins and Mary Pomeroy didn't do my sums for me or let me copy +theirs."</p> + +<p>"Then I'd be in disgrace," said Rhoda, undauntedly. "Perhaps that would +be the best way to make your father understand that you can't learn. +Anyhow, Isa, I would pray. I would tell God all about that too, as well +as the rest, and ask him to take you out of temptation. He will find +some way, I know. He isn't like an earthly friend that can only do very +little or perhaps nothing at all."</p> + +<p>"But, Rhoda—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you must have asked him a great many times to let you get an +education?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I am sure he will, if it is best for me," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Yet he let you get found out and sent away from our house."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and good reason why—because I had forgotten him, and was trying +to help myself in my own way. I was like Jacob in the Bible. God had +promised him the birthright, but he wasn't contented to wait. He went +to work to get it in underhand ways—by cheating and deceiving his old +father, and taking a mean advantage of his brother; and just see how +much trouble he made himself. But come now, Isa dear, promise me you +will pray."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will, Rhoda, I truly will. I am sure I 'labour and am heavy +laden' enough, if that is all. I know that it isn't right to cheat, +and it makes me ashamed and miserable all the time; but if I don't +bring home a good report, pa is so mortified and scolds so and ma is so +miserable. But I will try, and you will pray for me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will! Oh, Isa, you don't know how I miss you and want to see +you."</p> + +<p>"And I am sure I miss you. Have you got a place yet?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mrs. Mulford says I am not to be in a hurry about one, because I +am really needed at 'The Home,' and she does not think they can spare +me just yet."</p> + +<p>"What do you do? Tell me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, a great many different things," said Rhoda. "I carry up breakfast +to Granny Parsons and Mrs. Josleyn when they can't come down; I make +and do up caps, and go on errands; and sometimes I keep the books for +Miss Carpenter. They are talking about having a school in the house +again, when the new wing is done, and perhaps they may let me teach if +Miss Wilkins is not able. And I practise an hour every day—sometimes +more than that. I have plenty to do and plenty of variety, you see."</p> + +<p>"I should like just such a life as that," said Isa. "Well, good-bye, +dear; don't forget me."</p> + +<p>"There is no danger," said Rhoda. "I haven't so many friends that I can +afford to lose any."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot to tell you that Aunt Harriet is coming to make us a +visit," said Isa, turning back. "I wish you could see her. She is +perfectly lovely. I think I should be happy if I could only go to +school to Aunt Harriet Hardy."</p> + +<p>"She has a school, has she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a boarding-school in Cohansey—not a large one: she has only +about twenty-five girls; and oh, they do have such good times! I was +there visiting once with mother, and if I didn't envy those girls! But +I mustn't stop another minute, or pa will ask me where I have been. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"You are rather late, Isabella," said her father as she entered. "What +detained you?"</p> + +<p>"I walked round with one of the girls. Pa, I'll tell you the truth," +said Isa, with a spasm of frankness, but trembling as she spoke. "I met +Rhoda Bowers and walked part of the way home with her. Now, don't be +angry, please don't."</p> + +<p>"I am not angry, Isabella, but I am grieved and surprised. Why should +you wish to associate with such a girl as that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, pa, you said yourself that Rhoda had an uncommonly clear mind."</p> + +<p>"She is not deficient in intellect," said Mr. Ferrand—"nay, I will +go farther, and say she has an unusually good mind; but she is not +trustworthy. She deceived me here, and the person who has called to see +me on business two or three times lately tells me that she made great +trouble in the family of her adopted parents."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Isa, boldly, "and I wonder, pa, that you +should let yourself be influenced by such a common man as that, +especially when you said yourself that he tried to take the advantage +of you."</p> + +<p>"There is something in that view of the case, certainly," said Mr. +Ferrand, "and I must say the young person expressed herself very +becomingly in regard to her conduct here. But, Isabella, remember that +I do not wish you to associate with her. You need not mortify her by +refusing to speak when you meet,—we should be courteous to persons in +every position in life; but you must not walk in the street, or stop +to converse, with her. You had better go and dress for dinner, my +daughter. Your aunt Harriet is here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is she? How glad I am! When did she come?"</p> + +<p>"By the five o'clock train," said Mr. Ferrand, thinking, with a little +something like a pain at his heart, that his daughter had never greeted +his coming with any such show of warmth.</p> + +<p>But he was altogether too well satisfied with himself—too well +balanced, he would have said—to permit himself to be jealous. An +affectionate and faithful father should, of course, have the first +place in his child's affections. He was affectionate and faithful, +therefore it must follow that Isabella loved him better than any one. +He did not care very much for demonstrations of feeling, and it would +certainly have annoyed him very much if Isabella had rushed into his +room, thrown her arms around his neck, and hugged and kissed him as she +did her aunt Harriet.</p> + +<p>Aunt Harriet, however, did not seem to be in the least disturbed, even +though Isa's embrace distressingly crushed her illusion ruffles and +tumbled the rich soft black silk which was her favourite wear. She was +a delicate little woman, well on in the thirties at the least, yet not +old enough to account for the fact that her soft wavy hair was quite +gray. She had clear gray eyes,—the colour of a shaded pond,—eyes not at +all subdued in their expression by a life of school-teaching, but which +could dance with glee or soften with affection or pity, or on occasion +flash alarmingly with indignation. She was always elegantly and rather +richly dressed, and was, on the whole, one of those persons of whom you +naturally say, on seeing them, "Who is that?"</p> + +<p>"There! Sit down and let me look at you," said she when Isa's raptures +were a little calmed down. "Why, child, how thin you are! And how tired +you look! I should not allow you to look like that if you were one of +my girls."</p> + +<p>"Don't you let your girls look tired, Aunt Harriet?"</p> + +<p>"No. When they begin to have that sort of look, I carry them off for a +row up the race and a pic-nic, or some such nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish I was one of your girls, for I am tired all the time," +said poor Isa. "I am so tired now I should like to go straight to bed."</p> + +<p>"Go to bed, then," said Aunt Harriet. "Lie down here on my bed and +sleep till dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"I can't," said Isa. "I must dress for dinner, and then look over my +Latin. I wish there had never been any ancient Romans, or else that I +had been born one."</p> + +<p>"Then you might have been obliged to learn Greek, and that would have +been worse."</p> + +<p>"Pa says I have got to begin Greek next year," said Isa. "Oh dear! If I +could only see any end to it, I shouldn't mind so much. But I must go +and dress, or I shall not dare to show myself at the dinner-table."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" she said to herself as she went to her own room. "I do wish +pa would go away, and then ma and I could have Aunt Harriet all to +ourselves. Pa will be wanting to talk education all the time. I never +was so sick of anything. If I ever have any children, they shall never +be educated at all."</p> + +<p>Miss Hardy was no very great favourite with her brother-in-law; and, +as old-fashioned people say, "there was no love lost between them." +Miss Hardy was by no means one of those vine-like, submissive women who +were Mr. Ferrand's standards of excellence. She had been at the head +of an establishment of her own ever since she was three-and-twenty—an +establishment in which her will was law. She had had great experience +of all sorts of people. She had formed her own opinions and was +prepared to defend them, and she did not defer to Mr. Ferrand's +superior claims in point of intellect, family, and social position so +much as that gentleman thought his wife's sister should have done.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Miss Hardy thought her brother-in-law conceited +and disposed to be tyrannical both to his wife and daughter, and +perhaps she hardly did justice to his good qualities. However, she +was incapable of treating him with disrespect in the presence of her +sister, and Mr. Ferrand, on his part, could not be rude to a lady +in his own house. Nevertheless, Mrs. Ferrand always felt a secret +uneasiness when the two were together, and it was with a feeling of +relief that she heard her husband apologize to her sister for the +necessity which existed of his leaving town to-morrow to attend to some +property he was about to sell at Hobarttown.</p> + +<p>"So you mean to sell that mill?" said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. I have a good opportunity, and I prefer to invest +the money where it will take care of itself. You had better take the +carriage and give your sister a view of the different places in the +city. Probably she will like to visit 'The House of Refuge' and 'The +School for Truant Children.'"</p> + +<p>"I want to see your old ladies' 'Home,'" said Miss Hardy. "They are +thinking of getting up a similar institution in Cohansey, and I have +heard this one highly spoken of."</p> + +<p>"I believe the old people are made very comfortable," said Mrs. +Ferrand. "Of course they grumble more or less; but from all I can +learn, I think they must be well cared for."</p> + +<p>"At the same time, there is a lamentable want of system in the +arrangements," remarked Mr. Ferrand. "Their hours are very late, and +there seem to be absolutely no rules about exercising and diet. It +cannot be proper that any persons should have tea three times a day, +and I am credibly informed that several of the old people are allowed +to take snuff."</p> + +<p>"I suppose they have been used to it all their lives, pa," Isa ventured +to say.</p> + +<p>"Do you consider that any argument for criminal indulgence, Isabella?" +asked her father.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't call it exactly a criminal indulgence to take snuff," +answered Isa, emboldened by her aunt's smile. "I shouldn't think it +best for a young person to begin, because it is a disagreeable habit; +but I should think, when a woman had taken it till she was seventy or +eighty years old, she might be allowed to go on for the rest of her +life."</p> + +<p>"And if a man had gone on stealing till he was eighty, would that be a +reason for his keeping on?"</p> + +<p>"There is a difference between stealing and taking snuff," answered Isa.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly a difference," remarked Miss Hardy. "Did you tell me that +there was a department for children and young people attached to the +institution?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; they have eight little girls, who remain till they are fifteen, +unless they are adopted or bound out to suitable places before that +time."</p> + +<p>"And what becomes of them then?"</p> + +<p>"They go out as servants or seamstresses, and Mrs. Mulford tells me +they usually do very well. They look upon the institution as a real +'home;' and as long as they behave tolerably well, they are allowed +and encouraged to go back there whenever they are out of a place. In +that way the managers are able to keep informed of them, and also to +maintain a certain control over them."</p> + +<p>"A very good plan," said Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I quite approve of that part of the institution," said Mr. +Ferrand, "though I fear that hardly enough pains is taken to bring +up the children with a proper sense of their position, and of the +deference due to their superiors."</p> + +<p>"I was not without an object in asking," said Miss Hardy. "I am very +much in want of a dining-room girl—one to set and wait on the table and +take care of the dishes, which is in itself no small piece of work in a +family like ours."</p> + +<p>"What has become of that pretty little Margaret you had when I was +there?" asked Mrs. Ferrand. "You thought of taking her into school, I +remember."</p> + +<p>"So I did," answered Miss Hardy. "She did very well for a year and +a half, and then she came to an untimely end. You need not look +distressed, Lucilla; it was nothing very tragical. The last long +vacation she went out to Denver with Mary Nichols—you remember +her—partly as companion, partly to take care of the children. That was +the last of her. A well-to-do farmer saw her, fell in love with her, +and married her. I felt a little uneasy, but Mary writes me she has +done very well and is very happy. Since then I have had a succession of +incapables, and I want somebody I can keep."</p> + +<p>Isa glanced at her mother. Mrs. Ferrand made her a little sign which +she well understood as a signal that she was to say nothing.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>In compliment to her aunt, and also because the school-room piano had +altogether broken down, Isa was allowed to intermit her practising for +one evening, but she could not on any account be allowed to sit up a +moment later than usual.</p> + +<p>But when Miss Hardy went up to bed, Isa peeped out and called her:</p> + +<p>"Oh, auntie, please come in. I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>"Get into bed, then, you imprudent child," said Miss Hardy. "Why are +you up in this cold room?"</p> + +<p>"It is cold," said Isa, shivering—"too cold for you to sit here, I am +afraid. But I do want to talk to you about Rhoda. I do want you to take +her so much."</p> + +<p>"Who is Rhoda?" asked Miss Hardy, wrapping herself in a shawl, for it +was one of Mr. Ferrand's maxims that nobody should sleep in a warm +room, no matter what the weather might be. "Tell me about her."</p> + +<p>"She is a girl who used to live here—oh, such a good girl! She used +to help me about my sums and my music, and all, but pa sent her away +because he caught her playing upon the piano, but she is living at +'The Home' now, but she wants a place, and she is so anxious to get an +education. She studies at home all the time, every chance she can get. +Just think, Aunt Harriet—really studies algebra because she likes it; +and she can sing beautifully, and read music, and all. Please ask ma +about her. She can tell you the story better than I can. And she knows +how to work, and she said herself that she was more help to her than +any girl she ever had," said Isa, mixing up her pronouns in a way that +would have horrified her father. "And she wants an education more than +anything else in the world, and that made pa send her away—at least +that wasn't all, for Rhoda herself said she did wrong, but she told pa +she was sorry."</p> + +<p>"I can't say I get any very lucid ideas from your story, Isa," said +Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"I never can tell anything straight, especially when I am in a hurry," +said poor Isa. "But you ask ma. She can tell you all about Rhoda, for +she liked her. And I am sure she would suit you, for I love her dearly."</p> + +<p>"A very good reason. Well, my love, it is time you were asleep, so we +won't talk any more to-night. How you are shivering!"</p> + +<p>"I always shiver so when I first go to bed," said Isa, "and then I am +so hot you don't know. Marion brings me a hot brick every night, but I +can't get warm for all."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I really think she might answer your purpose very well," said Mrs. +Ferrand when Miss Hardy applied to her for information about Rhoda. +"She is very neat, and the most trustworthy girl of her age I ever saw. +She never disappointed me."</p> + +<p>"That is a valuable quality, certainly; but why did she go away? Isa +said something about a piano which I did not understand."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ferrand repeated the story, to which her sister listened with +great interest.</p> + +<p>"Poor child! It was a hard case," said she. "I have known plenty of +girls who cheated to get rid of lessons, but I can't say I ever met +such an instance as this. And you say she is out of a place? Could I +see her, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. We shall probably find her at 'The Home;' and if not, I will +send for her."</p> + +<p>"And won't you give her an education, Aunt Harriet, or let her work for +it?" asked Isa, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I will see about that, my child. If she seems likely to suit me, I +should prefer to take her as a servant, to begin with, and then I can +observe her for myself. I promise you I will do all I can for her."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Isa. She had perfect confidence in Aunt Harriet, +and not the least doubt of Rhoda's capacity to make her way with +"reasonable people," as she expressed it.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Miss Hardy called at "The Home," saw Rhoda, and had a long talk with +her.</p> + +<p>"You think you would like to come?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"It is a long journey," said Miss Hardy, "but a very easy one, and I +will send you careful directions. I suppose, if I do not want you till +the first of September, you can remain here?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda looked at Miss Carpenter.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Miss Carpenter. "We shall be very glad to have +her. Rhoda makes herself very useful in the family."</p> + +<p>"Very well; then we will consider the matter settled," said Miss +Hardy—"that is, if I can depend on your not disappointing me and going +off to some other place. You look rather indignant, Rhoda, but that is +the way I have been served a great many times. I keep a place for a +girl and put myself to some inconvenience to keep my engagement to her, +but she does not consider herself in the least bound by her promise to +me if she fancies she can do better."</p> + +<p>"I think you may depend on Rhoda," said Miss Carpenter.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was delighted. She liked the change, and she had imbibed from Isa +a very high idea of Miss Hardy, which was not lessened by seeing her. +Then, best of all, she should be in a school, and it would go hard but +she would benefit thereby.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MISS DAVIS'S LETTER.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I SHALL probably want you to come down about the first of September, +as our school opens on the thirteenth this year, but I can tell better +when I have consulted Mrs. Hallowell, the housekeeper. At all events, I +will write and let you know in good time."</p> + +<p>These were Miss Hardy's last words on parting with Rhoda. It was now +the last of March, and Rhoda settled down for the summer, as she +supposed, fulfilling her multifarious duties as assistant sick-nurse, +milliner, reader, and factotum in general at the home.</p> + +<p>Miss Carpenter remarked one day, with a sigh, that it would be hard to +fill Rhoda's place when she was gone.</p> + +<p>"I am sure nobody will miss the child more than I shall," said Miss +Brown, echoing the sigh. "She is in and out a dozen times a day, and +always has something pleasant to say. Only that it is so clearly to her +advantage, I should be sorry she was going so far. It don't seem as if +I should ever see her again."</p> + +<p>But Miss Brown was to go first, and on a longer journey than Rhoda's. +She had been ailing for a day or two—not seriously, but so that Mrs. +Lambert thought it best she should keep her room, especially as the +weather was very trying. Rhoda had arranged her for the night, and left +her feeling cheerful and comfortable; but when she went to call her in +the morning, her good old friend was sleeping the quiet sleep which +knows no waking in this world.</p> + +<p>"It is a blessed release to her, I am sure," said Mrs. Lambert, wiping +her eyes. "There isn't one in the house that would be more missed, for +all she was so quiet, and never made any disturbance. Rhoda's 'most +heart-broken, and no wonder. She was like a daughter to the dear old +lady."</p> + +<p>It was indeed a heavy blow to Rhoda—like losing Aunt Hannah over again.</p> + +<p>"She was so good to me. It does seem as though my friends were taken +away from me as soon as I learn to love them," she said to Mrs. +Worthington.</p> + +<p>"You have indeed had a sad experience of the changes of this life for +one so young," replied her friend. "You must try to look all the more +steadfastly at the things which are not seen, my child. It is the only +comfort, and the only way to make affliction work out its good results. +Taken in any other way, it only sours and hardens."</p> + +<p>Rhoda knew that these words were not mere phrases and matter-of-course +consolations, coming as they did from one who had been stricken so +sorely, and she tried to take them to heart; but nevertheless she +missed her dear old friend every day more and more.</p> + +<p>"Well, they've given her a fine funeral," grumbled Granny Parsons, who +had crawled down to see the ceremony—"rose-wood coffin with silver +handles, and fine cashmere shroud, and all. You won't catch 'em giving +me no such coffin as that. Any old pine box will be good enough for me."</p> + +<p>"It won't make no great difference, I expect, whether we have a +rose-wood or pine," remarked Mrs. Josleyn. "So long as we get safe +to the other side of Jordan, we may as well go in a pine boat as a +rose-wood one. And I'm sure Miss Brown has got nicer white robes by +this time than any cashmere, or satin either; for she was a good woman +if ever there was one."</p> + +<p>"Here's a letter for you, Rhoda, with money in it," said Miss +Carpenter, coming into Granny Parsons's room, where Rhoda was sitting +with her work, listening to an interminable story of granny's wrongs +from her first, second, and third husbands, and wondering in her own +mind what anybody should have seen in her to marry. "I expect it is +from Miss Hardy. She lives at Cohansey, don't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, but I didn't expect to hear so soon, and it isn't Miss +Hardy's writing, either, or at least I think not. I hope nothing has +happened," she continued, studying the address with that odd feeling +which always prompts one to seek information from the outside rather +than the inside of an unexpected letter.</p> + +<p>"Well, do open it and see, child. It won't grow any worse or better by +keeping."</p> + +<p>Rhoda opened and read the letter, and uttered an exclamation of +surprise.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked Miss Carpenter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is all right. She wants me to come, and has sent the money for +my fare, but she writes me to be at Cohansey the first of June instead +of the first of September."</p> + +<p>"The first of June! Why, that is the day after to-morrow," said Miss +Carpenter.</p> + +<p>"No, the day after. May has thirty-one days, you know. But the notice +is short enough, anyhow. My clothes are all in order, that is one +comfort."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think you needn't complain," grumbled Granny Parsons, "when +she sends you money to go with, and all. Nobody don't send me no money +in letters."</p> + +<p>"You would hardly want to set off on such a journey as Rhoda's if they +did, since you are afraid to ride even on the street cars," remarked +Miss Carpenter. "Is the letter from Miss Hardy herself, Rhoda?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, from Miss Davis—Anna Davis is the signature. She is one of +the teachers, I know. I saw her name in the circular Isa gave me. She +says Miss Hardy requests her to write."</p> + +<p>"Then it is all correct, of course," said Miss Carpenter. "Well, +you must go right to work and get ready, so as not to have too much +to do at the last. You had better go and see Mrs. Mulford and Mrs. +Worthington."</p> + +<p>"And Marion Campbell—I must bid her good-bye; and I dare say Mrs. +Ferrand will have something to send her sister," said Rhoda, thinking, +it must be confessed, more of the chance of seeing Isa than of obliging +her mother. "How strange it will seem starting off on such a long +journey!"</p> + +<p>"I wish you were not going alone," said Miss Carpenter. "However, I +dare say nothing will happen to you."</p> + +<p>Rhoda's packing was all done the next day. She had received a good +travelling outfit when she left Boonville, and had very little to buy. +By Mrs. Mulford's advice, she left her money in the bank, taking only +enough with her to pay her expenses back again if necessary.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"And have you all you want? Are you sure?" asked Marion. "A +travelling-bag, now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," answered Rhoda. "My bag is an old one of mother's. It isn't +very smart, but it will do."</p> + +<p>"Awed, I thought you might need a new one, and so I bought this," said +Marion, producing a very nice morocco satchel. "I'd like you to have +everything nice and respectable, as you are going among strangers. But +if you don't like it, you can change it at Pritchard's; I bought it on +that condition, for I know young lasses have their fancies."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I don't want to change it. I think it is beautiful," said +Rhoda, surveying her present. "But what is this in the pocket. Oh what +a pretty purse! And money in it, too! Oh, Marion, you shouldn't! I +ought not to take it!"</p> + +<p>"Aweel, ye can do as you please, but the purse is no my present, it is +Mrs. Ferrand's," said Marion. "She bade me give it to you from her and +Miss Isa."</p> + +<p>"Can't I see them, then?" said Rhoda. "Are they not at home? Oh how +sorry I am!"</p> + +<p>"No, they're gone away with yon man to some of his nonsense +conventions, or such like. It is Isa's vacation, ye ken."</p> + +<p>"Of course he couldn't let her have any good of it," said Rhoda. "He +would be miserable if he thought the poor child was enjoying herself."</p> + +<p>"Na, na, ye should not say that," said Marion. "The man means no harm."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. Aunt Hannah used to say that more than half the mischief +in the world was done by people who meant no harm. Well, good-bye, dear +Marion; you won't forget me, will you?"</p> + +<p>"What should ail me to forget you, lass?" said Marion, a little +gruffly. "There, there! Dinna greet and make me as foolish as yourself. +Ye 'll no forget to drop a line and let me know how you have got on."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>With all her courage and all her hopes for the future, Rhoda felt +rather forlorn as she started on her journey at three in the afternoon. +She had taken a sleeping car, by Mrs. Mulford's advice, and was +almost alone in it. A part of the road was the same as that she had +travelled in coming from Boonville when she supposed herself bound for +a boarding-school in the city, and a flood of bitterness rushed over +her when she remembered her thoughts and feelings on that occasion. It +required something of a crying fit and a good many prayers to quiet her +spirits.</p> + +<p>But by the time she had reached Caneota, she was sufficiently composed +to look eagerly at the crowd around the dépôt to see if she could find +any one she knew, for a good many people from Boonville came to Caneota +to take the cars. At last her eyes were gladdened by the sight of +Jeduthun Cooke's dark face, and she opened the window and called to him.</p> + +<p>"Why, Rhoda, is that you?" exclaimed Jeduthun, cordially, shaking +hands. "Where you bound?"</p> + +<p>"To Philadelphia first, and then from there to Cohansey, where I am +going to live for a while."</p> + +<p>"Do tell! Going to school?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Rhoda, colouring; "I am going into a school, but it is +as a servant, not a scholar. Do you know anything about—"</p> + +<p>"About your folks? I heard tell they was going to Hobarttown to live. +They ain't any great favourites in Boonville just now, I can tell you. +But, Rhoda, you'll have company. Boss and his wife's going down."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad!" said Rhoda. "I did dread going alone. Jeduthun, what +has become of Aunt Hannah's cow, and the cats, and all?"</p> + +<p>"Well, General Dent, he bought old Snowball of Mr. Weightman. The old +man was just a-going to sell her to a drover, when the general came +riding up, and kind of rescued her. Oh, she's well off, the old cow is. +And Kissy, she's got Molly and Fuzzyball."</p> + +<p>"Dear old Molly! Jeduthun, if Molly has any more kittens, and you are +going to town some time, will you take one to Miss Carpenter at 'The +Home'? She is so fond of cats."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will. Then they was good to you there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed; nobody could be better. And, Jeduthun, please persuade +the Boonville folks to send them a nice box this fall. What has become +of Aunt Hannah's house?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all torn down, and Mr. Weightman is building a mill on the +place—means to run us all out, I suppose. Here comes boss, just at the +last minute as usual. I never did see such a man. Well, good-bye, and +good luck to you."</p> + +<p>Under her altered circumstances, Rhoda rather shrank from meeting Mr. +and Mrs. Antis. She had imbibed a strong dread of "putting herself +forward," which, like a great deal of seeming humility, was nothing but +"pride turned inside out." But she could not perceive that they made +the least difference in their manner to her, even after they heard that +she was going to live out as a servant.</p> + +<p>"It is an abominable shame," declared Mrs. Antis, warmly. "Not but that +it is creditable in you to do anything you can, Rhoda, and I am sure +you will turn out all right; but I wish you had come to me instead of +going away so far. Why won't you come now? You would just be one of the +family, you know."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, Mrs. Antis," said Rhoda, "but there are several +things in the way. One is that I have promised Miss Hardy to stay a +year with her, and the other—Well, Mrs. Antis, the truth is—I suppose +it is foolish pride, but the truth is, I would rather live out anywhere +else than in Boonville."</p> + +<p>"I understand," said Mrs. Antis. "But, Rhoda, I shouldn't wish nor +expect you to be a servant; I should want you to come as a daughter +or younger sister, and just be one of ourselves. I always did like +you, ever since you came to Boonville; and if it hadn't been for the +sickness and death of Mr. Antis's sister, which cramped us for means +at that time, we should have sent for you at once. Of course I should +expect you to help me with the work, as Mary used to, but that would be +all."</p> + +<p>Rhoda sat still, utterly overcome by this unexpected proposition.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't think this is any sudden notion of Cassy's," said Mr. +Antis, misinterpreting Rhoda's silence. "We have often talked it over +since we knew your circumstances, and I don't see why we shouldn't suit +each other very well."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are very kind—more than kind," said Rhoda, after a +little longer silence. "I don't know how to thank you, but I am afraid +it won't do. I must keep my promise to Miss Hardy, because she depends +upon me, and it would be a great inconvenience to her; and then I do +think I ought to earn my own living. But you don't know how much good +you have done me by just speaking of such a thing. I don't think the +world will ever look so dark to me again. And if I may come and stay +with you sometimes—"</p> + +<p>"Of course you may," said Mrs. Antis, a little disappointed, but at +once understanding and sympathizing with Rhoda. "We shall be glad to +have you any time."</p> + +<p>"And I think all the more of you for wishing to keep your engagement," +said Mr. Antis. "I wish every one was as careful. I begin to think +sometimes that there is no such thing as faithfulness left in the +world. I have had half a dozen boys since Eben Fairchild left me, and +not one that I could leave to measure a bushel of corn and be sure it +would be done."</p> + +<p>"Good old Eben! How is he getting on now?"</p> + +<p>"Just the same steady way. He is going to Philadelphia to attend +lectures next winter."</p> + +<p>And then ensued a flood of news and neighbourhood gossip about +Boonville people.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever heard anything about Aunt Annie—I mean Mr. and Mrs. +Evans?" asked Rhoda, at length.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. They are in Scotland, so Mr. Evans's brother told me, and +little Harry is so much better for the change that they mean to stay +two or three years. Haven't you ever written to them?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Rhoda; "I knew how Aunt Annie would feel, and I didn't +want to make trouble in the family, as Mr. Weightman says I did between +him and Aunt Hannah."</p> + +<p>"Did he say so? Well, he is a nice person!"</p> + +<p>The party arrived in Philadelphia without accident. And finding that +Rhoda had a few hours to spare, Mr. Antis took a carriage and showed +his wife and Rhoda part of the city. Rhoda saw the Mint, the stores +in Chestnut street, and the American Sunday-school Union, * and other +places that she had heard of. They had lunch at the Continental.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<br>* 1122 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, and which all of our readers are +cordially invited to visit.—[EDITOR.<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And when the time came, Mr. Antis went down and saw her across the +river and into the Cohansey train.</p> + +<p>"Now, remember, Rhoda, you have always got a home," said he as he shook +hands with her.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Antis, you don't know how I thank you," said Rhoda, earnestly. "I +couldn't say half what I wanted to Mrs. Antis, but it seems as if you +had made everything easy to me. I hope Mrs. Antis won't think I don't +value her kindness?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Don't you worry yourself. Mrs. Antis understands, and so do I, +and we shall think all the more of you. But I want you to tell me one +thing, while I think of it. Did you ever know whether your aunt Hannah +made a will?"</p> + +<p>"I know she did," said Rhoda. "She told me a year ago that she had, and +that her affairs were all settled."</p> + +<p>"You don't know who the witnesses were?"</p> + +<p>"No, I never heard."</p> + +<p>"It is very odd. Mr. Weightman declares there was no will."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Aunt Hannah had burned it up, or something," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Or possibly Mr. Weightman has done the same. I don't think he is any +too good. A man can't be honest and be so fond of money as he is. Well, +good-bye once more."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Arrived at Cohansey, Rhoda easily found her way by the omnibus to Miss +Hardy's school. It was a handsome, old-fashioned house, standing well +up from the street, and covered to the chimney-top with luxuriant +English ivy, which lives through the winter in that climate. A wing +of much later date extended to one side, and evidently contained the +school-rooms.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 30.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"> +</figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b><em>Rhoda's Education.</em></b><br> +<br> +<b>"It looks very pleasant," thought Rhoda, as she stood waiting.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"It looks very pleasant," thought Rhoda as she stood waiting for some +one to answer the bell. "Oh, if I were coming to school! But there! It +won't do to begin thinking about that. Those girls seem to be having a +nice time. I wish poor Isa was here. I should like to hear her laugh +like that for once. Here comes somebody at last. Is Miss Hardy at +home?" she asked as a somewhat pert-looking servant opened the blind of +the door.</p> + +<p>Rhoda was ushered into a small, pleasant room, evidently used as a +library, and surrounded on all sides with low book-cases filled with +books looking as if they were made to be read. She waited several +minutes, and had begun to feel a little uncomfortable, when Miss Hardy +entered the room, followed by another person, whom Rhoda guessed at +once to be the housekeeper.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, what has brought you here now?" was her salutation. +"Did not Miss Davis write?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda, feeling as if she were in a dream. "Miss +Davis wrote that I was to be here the first of June."</p> + +<p>"The first of June! You must be mistaken. I told her to ask you to be +here the first of September."</p> + +<p>For all answer, Rhoda took the letter from her travelling-bag and +handed it to Miss Hardy. The lady read it, while a shade of amusement +and vexation passed over her face.</p> + +<p>"So much for setting a girl who is just going to be married to writing +a business letter!" said she, handing the letter to Mrs. Hallowell.</p> + +<p>"It does say the first of June, sure enough," remarked Mrs. Hallowell. +"Miss Davis was thinking about her own wedding-day."</p> + +<p>"It is an awkward mistake," said Miss Hardy. "You see school closes in +two weeks, and then we shut up the house and have our long vacation. +But never mind," she added, kindly; "we will arrange it somehow. You +did quite right to come."</p> + +<p>"And it will be a great convenience to have you here during the closing +weeks of school," added Mrs. Hallowell. "We always have so much +company. Come, I will show you your room. Would you rather have a very +small room to yourself, or a large one with some one?"</p> + +<p>"A small one by myself, please," answered Rhoda; "I don't care how +small, if I can get into it.</p> + +<p>"Oh what a pretty little room, and what a nice window!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is pleasant. Those trees are catalpas, and are lovely when in +blossom. Well, child, make yourself comfortable, and I will send Hester +to call you when your supper is ready."</p> + +<p>"Shall I wait on the table to-night?" asked Rhoda. "I would just as +soon; I am not at all tired."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may, if you choose. It will be half an hour to tea, so you +will have time to change your dress."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Well, how do you like her?" asked Miss Hardy when Mrs. Hallowell +returned.</p> + +<p>"Very much," was the reply. "She asked me whether she should not wait +on the table to-night, and that looks well. But I must say she looks +much more like taking Miss Davis's place in the school-room than +Tilly's in the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"I think so myself, but we shall see. How could Miss Davis make such a +blunder? I hardly ever let her send away a letter without looking it +over, but I was very busy and it slipped my mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, as I said, it will be nice to have her here through the last two +weeks—that is, if she takes hold well."</p> + +<p>"But what to do with her in vacation-time?"</p> + +<p>"We will see when the time comes. Maybe you can find her a place in +town. I have a feeling that there is a providence in it."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>WHAT A BIT OF SOAP DID.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>MRS. HALLOWELL was quite satisfied with Rhoda's way of "taking hold."</p> + +<p>Rhoda's work was to set and wait on the table, to take care of the +dishes, to dust and once or twice a week to sweep the library and +school-room, and to attend to the door. She found it very easy and +not at all disagreeable; but all her philosophy could not prevent her +eyes from filling sometimes, when she heard the girls practising or +saw them tripping into the school-room with their books at the time of +morning prayer. It was hard to dust and arrange the piano and organ and +never touch the keys, but she had laid down a rigid rule for herself +in that matter, and adhered to it. She did venture to ask for a book +to read; and once, when Miss Hardy spoke to her in passing through the +dining-room, she preferred another petition.</p> + +<p>"How do you like your place, Rhoda? Do you feel at home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am; I like it very much."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Marshall said you spoke about having something to read. Miss +Adams has the charge of the books, and will let you have anything you +like. Is there anything else?"</p> + +<p>"If you please, Miss Hardy, if I might come in to prayers," said Rhoda, +with a little hesitation; "I generally have my work done by that time, +and it would seem more like home."</p> + +<p>"Certainly you can come," said Miss Hardy. "I am glad you spoke of it."</p> + +<p>And thenceforth Rhoda joined the rest of the family at prayers, just as +if—so Hetty said—she felt herself as good as anybody.</p> + +<p>Hester and Rhoda did not get on very well together. Hester had been +somewhat affronted, in the first place, by Rhoda's preferring "a little +hole," as she said, to a room with her. Then, Rhoda had not been +disposed to encourage the flood of gossip which Hetty poured forth +concerning the teachers, the girls, and the neighbours. Then, Rhoda +preferred sitting in her own room and reading or studying when her work +was done to strolling about the streets. She went once or twice when +Hester asked her to go shopping, and even went into a saloon and got +some ice cream, but the third time she declined.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid," said Hetty. "Ayers's is a very nice place. +Miss Hardy goes there herself and lets the girls go."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know, and see how much money they spend! Miss Sellers must get +rid of as much as a dollar a week there, I should think."</p> + +<p>"Well, what of it? Her family is rich, and she has lots of money."</p> + +<p>"And I haven't lots of money nor any family," said Rhoda; "and what +little I have I want to save for a special purpose. That is one reason +why I don't like to go shopping. I see things that take my fancy, and +am tempted to spend a quarter here and ten cents there for what I don't +need at all. And 'that's the way the money goes,' you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, if you are such a miser, there's no more to be said; only +I'm thankful I'm not."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I am a miser, Hetty; but I am saving money for a special +reason."</p> + +<p>Then, Rhoda did not show a proper spirit, in Hetty's opinion. She was +always ready to do all sorts of odd jobs, and seemed ambitious of +accomplishing rather more than her allotted task.</p> + +<p>"Let me do that," she said, one day, to Mrs. Hallowell, who was washing +the urn and other silver at breakfast. "I am used to it. I took care of +all the silver at Mrs. Ferrand's, and they used a great deal."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad if you will," answered Mrs. Hallowell.</p> + +<p>And thenceforth Rhoda had the care of the silver.</p> + +<p>"More fool you!" said Hetty. "Now you will have to do it all the time."</p> + +<p>"That is just what I want," said Rhoda as she lifted the urn to put it +away.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, no doubt," said Hetty, sarcastically, to Aunt Sarah, a very +efficient and intelligent coloured woman, who was filling the place of +cook for the present. "She just wants to get the blind side of Miss +Hardy: that's what she wants, with her work and reading and going to +prayers."</p> + +<p>"She'll be smart if she does," remarked Aunt Sarah. "I've been working +for Miss Hardy off and on a good many years, and I never found out that +she had any 'blind side.' If you mean that she wants to please Miss +Hardy, I guess you are right, and I guess she'll make it out. That's +the kind Miss Hardy likes, you see. You'd better be taking pattern by +her than finding fault with her, my girl."</p> + +<p>Hetty twisted her head and said she "wasn't going to be a slave to +nobody."</p> + +<p>"You won't be a slave, nor nothing else," declared Sarah, "not if you +don't mend your ways. I never did see a young gal with such slomiking +ways, never. Down goes everything just where you happen to be, and +there you leave it. I'd like to know how long that old petticoat +of yours has been lying on the stairs, and this morning I found a +hairbrush right on the top step. You'll have somebody's life to answer +for some day, you'll see."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The time flew quickly, as it generally does with busy people; and there +remained only a few days to the end of school.</p> + +<p>"Well, Rhoda, I believe I have provided a home for you during +vacation," said Miss Hardy, calling Rhoda into her room one evening. +"Mrs. Elsmore, the doctor's wife, is going to take a cottage at Cape +May for the season, and she wants a girl to take care of little Harry. +It will be an easy place; for Harry is a good little fellow, and Mrs. +Elsmore is a very pleasant woman. Do you think you would like to go? +Say just what you think."</p> + +<p>"I should like it ever so much," said Rhoda, with sparkling eyes. "I +love children, and I always did want to see the ocean."</p> + +<p>"You don't ask anything about the wages," said Miss Hardy, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would settle that," answered Rhoda. "I shouldn't know +how much I ought to ask."</p> + +<p>"You must learn to be a woman of business. Mrs. Elsmore will give you +two dollars a week. It that enough?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am, plenty."</p> + +<p>"You must make yourself a bathing-dress and get all the good out of it +you can," remarked Miss Hardy. "Would you like to take something to +read?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am. I should like to take the first volume of 'The Pictorial +History of England,' if you have no objection."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I have not. Take two volumes if you like. You seem to be +fond of solid reading."</p> + +<p>"I can't say I am so very fond of it," answered Rhoda, candidly, "but +I don't have much time, and I want to improve myself. I think history +is rather horrid and disgusting a great many times, but I suppose one +needs to know it, especially—I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Rhoda, +becoming conscious that she was, as Mr. Ferrand would have said, +"getting out of her station."</p> + +<p>"For thinking history horrid? You need not do that, for I think so +myself," said Miss Hardy, smiling. "Well, especially what?"</p> + +<p>"Especially if one is thinking of teaching, I was going to say," +answered Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Rhoda. Teachers are too apt to be deficient in general +knowledge. They know their own special branches, and often very little +beyond them; and I am afraid the same is true of many school-girls."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is so with Miss Isa," Rhoda ventured to say. "Her father +never lets her read an amusing book—not even a magazine—for fear of +dissipating her mind. Have you heard from her lately, Miss Hardy?"</p> + +<p>"Not very lately. Her mother wrote that she was taking music and French +lessons from very superior masters. I am afraid she works too hard."</p> + +<p>"Indeed she does, Miss Hardy," said Rhoda; "and the mischief is she +works all the time. She never has any real amusement or any time for +idleness. I never see our young ladies going out with the boat or +botanizing but I wish Miss Isa was with them. I know she will break +down some day, and have fits or something. I like work as well as +anybody, but I think idleness is very nice sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Not only nice, but necessary. Well, Rhoda, I am glad you like my +arrangements for you."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"That girl has an uncommon mind," observed Mrs. Marshall, who had been +busy writing, but who had a way of seeing and hearing everything. "She +ought to be doing something better than waiting on the table."</p> + +<p>"I am thinking about her case," replied Miss Hardy. "I almost wish I +had set her to teaching the little ones when she first came. She has +very nice manners."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>But Rhoda was not destined to see Cape May or to use her new +bathing-suit this season. School had closed with the usual exercises, +and all the scholars had gone. Hester had secured a place in a hotel at +Cape May, much to her own delight. The teachers had gone their several +ways, including Mrs. Marshall, who had set out for a visit to her only +sister, in California; and the day came when the house was to be locked +up and left to its own devices, and to the gambols of the mice and the +centipedes.</p> + +<p>"We will just go over the house once more," said Miss Hardy to Rhoda. +"Then Aunt Sarah can close the shutters and lock up."</p> + +<p>The survey was nearly completed. Miss Hardy had gone through to one of +the back staircases, with which the old house was very well provided, +when Rhoda, who had lingered a moment in the painting-room, heard a +heavy fall. Both Sarah and herself rushed to the spot, to find Miss +Hardy lying at the bottom of the stairs, with one leg doubled under +her, pale as death, and unable to rise, but, as usual, quite collected +and composed.</p> + +<p>"I believe I have broken my leg," said she. "I can't move in the least. +I slipped on something that lay on the top stair and fell all the way +down. Run and bring Doctor Elsmore, Rhoda; and, Sarah, call James to +help you and get me on the drawing-room sofa. That is the nearest +place."</p> + +<p>When Rhoda came back with the doctor, she found Miss Hardy on the sofa, +and Sarah standing over her loosening her dress.</p> + +<p>"It's all that Hester," said she, indignantly, "just going and leaving +a piece of soap on the stairs, of all places in the world."</p> + +<p>"She ought to be whipped, or any one else who leaves things on stairs," +said the doctor. "One of the loveliest wives and mothers I ever knew +was killed by just such a piece of careless stupidity. It was well this +was no worse."</p> + +<p>The leg was set and Miss Hardy made as comfortable as circumstances +admitted, and then arose the question of what was to be done. Aunt +Sarah would stay and do the work, but who was to wait on Miss Hardy?</p> + +<p>"I shall, of course," said Rhoda, quietly—"that is, if Mrs. Elsmore +will release me. I dare say she can find somebody to fill my place +easily enough."</p> + +<p>"More easily than Miss Hardy can, I dare say. Mrs. Elsmore is a +reasonable woman, and won't stand in the way," said the doctor. "But, +my girl, you are young. Do you think you are competent to nurse a woman +with a broken leg?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, doctor, with Aunt Sarah's help," answered Rhoda, modestly. +"I have had a good deal of experience at nursing, and under a +professional nurse. I took most of the care of Miss Brown when she had +her broken leg; and when I don't know what to do, I can always ask, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Can you? Well, perhaps you can. I have known people that couldn't. +Miss Hardy, I don't think you can do better than to accept this young +woman's offer."</p> + +<p>"But it will be such a great disappointment to you, Rhoda," said Miss +Hardy. "I know you wished to go to Cape May, and I am afraid it won't +be very pleasant for you in this great, shut up house with no company."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah used to say 'It isn't pleasant' was no reason at all," +said Rhoda. "I think I ought to stay, Miss Hardy."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah is a sensible woman, as I should expect an Aunt Hannah +to be," said the doctor. "But there must be no talking, or we shall +have our patient in a fever. I think we had better consider the matter +settled, Miss Hardy."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>MISS THURSTON.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>FOR a week or two Miss Hardy suffered a good deal, and required +constant care and attention; but after that time matters grew better. +A very famous surgeon, a cousin of Miss Hardy's, came down to see her, +and he and Dr. Elsmore between them contrived an arrangement which +enabled the patient to sit up in bed—a great relief. The case was a +simple one and doing as well as possible, and Rhoda received a blunt +compliment on her handiness from Doctor Douglass:</p> + +<p>"You understand yourself, I see. I like to see people's brains reach to +the ends of their fingers."</p> + +<p>Rhoda found her quiet life far from disagreeable. She read aloud to +Miss Hardy a part of every day, she worked at her algebra, and took a +certain pleasure in rambling over the great solitary house.</p> + +<p>"You must not let yourself get dull and lonely," said Miss Hardy. "How +will you manage to amuse yourself?"</p> + +<p>Rhoda hesitated a moment.</p> + +<p>"After all, it can do no harm to ask," she said to herself; and then +added aloud, "Miss Hardy, if you don't object—if it would not disturb +you—if I might practise on the piano over in the farther class-room—"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered Miss Hardy—"practise as much as you like; only +I think you had better use the piano in the little music-room at the +head of the stairs. It is a better instrument, and you will be within +hearing of the bell. I remember Mrs. Ferrand's telling me you were fond +of music. You will find plenty of music there in the little cupboard at +the side of the fireplace."</p> + +<p>Rhoda was now indeed happy. She made her selections of music, and went +up stairs feeling almost as if she were in a dream. The piano was a +very good one, and Miss Hardy listened with pleasure as Rhoda played +and sung.</p> + +<p>"She has real talent," she said to herself. "Not one girl in twenty +plays with such expression, and not one in a hundred has such a voice. +She must certainly have lessons. It is a shame to let such talent be +thrown away."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>It was not Miss Hardy's way to act in a hurry. She waited for two or +three weeks, letting Rhoda practise every day, hearing her read aloud, +and talking with her on all sorts of subjects. One day, when Rhoda +brought her book as usual, Miss Hardy said,—</p> + +<p>"Never mind the history now, Rhoda. Get your work; I want to talk +to you. But what have you there so very pretty?" she asked as Rhoda +unrolled a parcel of snow-white wool and a pair of long slender needles.</p> + +<p>"I was going to ask you about it," said Rhoda. "I was in Mrs. F—'s +store looking at some little knitted shirts, and she asked me if I knew +any one who could make them. I told her I could, and that I knew a much +prettier pattern than hers. She said she would pay me a dollar a pair, +and I told her I would like to knit them if you had no objection."</p> + +<p>"Not the least," answered Miss Hardy. "It is very pretty work. Do you +know, Rhoda, you have a very straightforward way of telling a story?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah taught me that," said Rhoda. "She used to say, when I +would begin to tell something, 'Now, don't begin in the middle. Stop +and think what you want to say.'"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Hannah must have been a very wise woman. But now give me your +attention, for I want to talk about a very serious matter. I understand +from my sister and niece, as well as from some things you have said +yourself, that you are very desirous to have a regular education?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Rhoda, her heart beating fast. "It has been the +greatest desire of my life ever since I was twelve years old."</p> + +<p>"How much have you studied already?"</p> + +<p>"I have been well drilled in the common-school studies," answered +Rhoda, considering. "I have been through the arithmetic and grammar two +or three times, and I have studied American history a little. Besides +that, I have been through three books of Euclid and as far as quadratic +equations in algebra."</p> + +<p>"Did you do that in school?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. After I came back to 'The Home,' I used to recite to Miss +Brown, and while I was at Mrs. Ferrand's I went on by myself. I worked +most at nay algebra, because I wanted to help Isa."</p> + +<p>"What music-lessons have you had?"</p> + +<p>"I learned to read notes and sing church music at sight in the +singing-school, and Miss Emily Willson taught me the notes on the +piano and how to play a little; and once, when we were visiting at Mr. +Evans's, Aunt Annie gave me some lessons. We had no piano at home, but +I used to practise on Miss Emily's till they went away. Father always +said he meant to buy me a piano."</p> + +<p>"Whom do you mean by 'father'?" asked Miss Hardy. "I thought you were +an orphan."</p> + +<p>Rhoda gave Miss Hardy a short account of her life.</p> + +<p>"It was a most heartless and shameful proceeding," said Miss Hardy, who +had a capacity for virtuous indignation. "I never heard anything worse."</p> + +<p>"I believe I should think so if any one else had been the sufferer. And +I don't think I did anything to deserve it, Miss Hardy. Of course I +sometimes did wrong, like other children, but I do think I was as good +as the average, and I am sure not one of the children I knew took more +pains to please their parents than I did, or loved them more."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it. But even if you had not been as good as the +average, it would have been no excuse for turning you off."</p> + +<p>"So it seems to me," remarked Rhoda. "It seems to me that people are as +much bound to children they adopt as to their own by birth. I remember, +when we were at Aunt Annie's, a lady's saying to her,—</p> + +<p>"'My husband and myself adopted a child one time, and had her name +changed, and all, but as she grew older, she showed so many of her +inherited tendencies that we had to let her go.'</p> + +<p>"'Suppose she had been your own child, and had showed the same +tendencies, would you have turned her off?' asked Uncle Evans.</p> + +<p>"But the lady thought that was different."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I dare say. But, Rhoda, not to pursue that matter any further, +suppose I were to take you into the school on the same footing as the +other scholars, giving you the advantage of the professor's lessons in +music, could you contrive to clothe yourself, do you think?"</p> + +<p>The world seemed to turn round with Rhoda for a moment at this +question. Then she steadied herself by picking up a dropped stitch, and +answered, quietly,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, I think so. I have a good stock of clothes, and I have +seventy-five dollars in the bank at Milby and twenty-five here. I +should think, with what I have, that ought to dress me for two years. I +should have to be very plain, of course, but I think I could be decent."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it. How old are you?"</p> + +<p>"I was sixteen last Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose you make the most of your time for three years; do you +think at the end of that time you could be ready to take hold and help +Mrs. Marshall and myself in the school? Because if you do, I think we +will try it."</p> + +<p>Rhoda tried to speak, but the words would not come. Instead came a +great burst of thankful, joyful tears.</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" said Miss Hardy. "That will never do. Don't you know the +doctor said I must be kept quiet?"</p> + +<p>"I am very silly," said Rhoda, striving to compose herself; "but oh, +Miss Hardy, if you knew how I have longed for such a chance when I +have seen the scholars going to their lessons! I felt as if I would +work like a slave only to have their opportunities. I have tried every +way to save money, hoping I might get enough to pay my board at least +a year while I went to the public schools. But I never thought of a +chance like this."</p> + +<p>"It has been no sudden resolution with me," remarked Miss Hardy. "I +have been thinking of it ever since you came here, and observing you +closely."</p> + +<p>"I am glad I did not know it," said Rhoda. "Miss Hardy, I don't know +how to thank you."</p> + +<p>"You may thank me by going down town and finding some fresh lemons," +said Miss Hardy, smiling. "To-morrow we will have a little examination, +to see where it will be best for you to begin."</p> + +<p>A more thankful heart was not under the sun than Rhoda's that day. She +would not even go out for her walk till she had shut herself into her +little room, and there poured out her heart to her heavenly Father and +dedicated her life and talents anew to him and his service.</p> + +<p>"It's all right—just as it ought to be," was Aunt Sarah's comment. "I +always knowed you was meant for a young lady the first minute you came +into the house,—you had such polite, genteel ways of speaking, and +eating, and all; and when you was fixed for Sunday, there wasn't one in +the school looked any nicer than you—not a bit like that loose-ended +Hetty, with her great greasy braids of false hair, and her dress +hitched up and stuck out forty different ways, and her hair frizzled +up like my old feather brush that Tony stuck in the fire. You couldn't +make a lady of her, not if you was to work at her for ever."</p> + +<p>"You know what a lady is, don't you, Aunt Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I ought to, honey. I've always lived in the first families in +Cumberland county, and my mother before me. Yes, indeed, I know, and I +am just as glad as if you was my own."</p> + +<p>The next day but one Rhoda brought a letter from the post-office which +she felt sure was directed in Mrs. Ferrand's hand, and she lingered in +the room while Miss Hardy opened and read it.</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Ferrand and Isa are coming here day after to-morrow," +said Miss Hardy; "we must have everything in order, Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Are they going to stay here?" asked Rhoda, divided between joy at the +prospect of seeing Isa once more and a certain dread of meeting Mr. +Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"No. My sister says that, considering the state of the case, Mr. +Ferrand thinks they had better take rooms at the hotel, and perhaps it +will be as well."</p> + +<p>"I shall be so glad to see Isa again," said Rhoda. "I never was so fond +of any girl as of her. How I do wish she could come here to school! I +should be perfectly happy if she could."</p> + +<p>"And I wish so too," said Miss Hardy. "However, I think you will find +plenty of friends among our scholars."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of myself so much as of Isa," said Rhoda. "It +doesn't seem right to say so, but, Miss Hardy, Isa isn't one bit happy +at home."</p> + +<p>"So I have feared."</p> + +<p>"It isn't Mrs. Ferrand's fault," continued Rhoda—"she is almost the +loveliest person I ever saw—but Mr. Ferrand doesn't understand Isa. He +wants her to be a scholar, and it is not in her. She works harder than +any slave, and, after all, she doesn't succeed. That Mr. Sampson gives +her the longest lessons—just think! Six propositions in geometry—and +then the minute her lessons are done, she must go at her music, and she +has no more ear than—than the tongs," said Rhoda, rather at a loss for +a comparison.</p> + +<p>"But how does she learn her lessons?"</p> + +<p>"She doesn't; that's the worst of it. The girls at school like her and +feel sorry for her, so they do her sums for her and let her copy their +exercises. Isa knows that isn't right, and it makes her unhappy; but +her father is so displeased and so mortified if she has a bad report +that she keeps on doing it. Then she isn't well any of the time."</p> + +<p>"How is she unwell?"</p> + +<p>"She has a headache and a backache, and she is so nervous she can't +sleep, and she is tired all the time. Besides that, I don't know but it +was my fancy, but the last time I saw her I thought she seemed queer. +She was so absent, and every now and then such a dull, vacant kind of +look would come over her face, and for half a minute she would seem to +forget what she was saying."</p> + +<p>"That is bad," said Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Morton told Mr. Ferrand that he ought to take her out of school +last spring," continued Rhoda, "but he thought there was no need of it. +Mr. Ferrand doesn't approve of amusement. He says change of employment +is the best recreation, and that if one is tired riding the best way to +rest is to walk."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ferrand is a wise man," said Miss Hardy. "I think we will try to +have Doctor Douglass happen down while Isa is here. Mr. Ferrand is an +old college friend of the doctor's, and thinks highly of him. Did you +bring the daily paper?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am; here it is," said Rhoda, taking it from her basket.</p> + +<p>"And here is a letter in it, and for you," said Miss Hardy, handing it +to Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Oh, from Miss Carpenter. I am so glad," exclaimed Rhoda. "She hardly +ever gets time to write."</p> + +<p>She read her letter, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> + +<p>"What now? No bad news, I hope?" said Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am—at least I hope not. Miss Carpenter says that an old +gentleman has been at 'The Home' inquiring for me, and by her +description it must be Mr. Weightman. She says he wanted to know where +I was living and what was my real name before I was called Rhoda +Bowers. I can't think what he wants of it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he means to leave you a fortune," said Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>Rhoda laughed heartily at the idea.</p> + +<p>"More likely he wants to do me an ill turn," said she. "I shouldn't be +a bit surprised if he were to write to you telling you what a bad girl +I was."</p> + +<p>"He may save himself the trouble," said Miss Hardy. "I know bad girls +when I see them, and good girls too. But, Rhoda, while I think of it, +what is your real name?"</p> + +<p>"Thurston—Rhoda Mary Thurston. Mrs. Mulford told me all about my +parents. She said my father was a good mechanic, but he was always +unlucky, and finally died by a fall from the roof of a building. I was +born and my mother died at 'The Home.' Mrs. Mulford said mother was one +of the best women she ever knew, and very well-educated. She had charge +of the nursery, but she only lived two years after I was born, and I +don't remember her at all, but they all say I am like her."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better take your real name again," said Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I would much rather," answered Rhoda, flushing. "I have +tried not to have any hard feeling toward Mr. and Mrs. Bowers, but I +don't like to think of them."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Henceforth you are Miss Thurston. I shall introduce you by +that name, and put it down in the catalogue."</p> + +<p>"But you will let me take care of you all the same?" said Rhoda, +anxiously; "you won't want anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; never fear," answered Miss Hardy, smiling. "You are too good a +nurse to be put aside."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>DOCTOR DOUGLASS.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was something like a douche of cold water to Mr. Ferrand when Miss +Hardy, with a certain twinkle in her eyes, introduced:</p> + +<p>"Miss Thurston, one of my young ladies."</p> + +<p>But he "accepted the situation" like the gentleman he really was, in +spite of his numerous crochets.</p> + +<p>"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Thurston before," said he, +cordially shaking hands with Rhoda. "I am glad to see her looking so +well, and so pleasantly situated. Mrs. Ferrand, my dear, here is an old +friend."</p> + +<p>But Isa had already thrown herself upon Rhoda's neck with a cry of joy, +which was decidedly hysterical in its sound, and Mr. Ferrand, for a +wonder, did not reprove her, as he certainly would have done if such a +demonstration had taken place in his own home.</p> + +<p>"Suppose, Rhoda, you take Isa up and show her the house," said Miss +Hardy, presently.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked a little uneasy, but he did not interfere.</p> + +<p>"Isa is not looking well," remarked Miss Hardy when the girls had left +the room.</p> + +<p>"She is not well," answered her sister. "I hoped Henry Douglass might +come down while we were here. I should like him to see her."</p> + +<p>"I have written to him that you were coming," said Miss Hardy. "I +presume we shall see him before many days."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you are over-anxious about Isabella," remarked Mr. Ferrand. +"The child is essentially well, though perhaps somewhat fatigued with +her late application. We have had a visit in Milby from a very superior +music-master who only stayed a month. I was desirous of having our +daughter profit as far as possible by his instructions, and she has +therefore taken a lesson every day and spent most of her time at the +piano. But she is quite well, and the recreation of travelling will +soon remove any little extra fatigue."</p> + +<p>It struck Miss Hardy that there was a little unnecessary self-assertion +and emphasis in Mr. Ferrand's remarks, as if he were trying to convince +himself as well as his wife.</p> + +<p>"And so you have taken our young friend Rhoda into the number of +your pupils?" continued Mr. Ferrand, as though willing to change the +subject. "Is not that rather a hazardous experiment? I do not mean as +regards Rhoda herself—she has a fine mind, and a real love of study for +its own sake; but will not the parents of your pupils take umbrage at a +young person in her station in life being put on an equality with their +daughters?"</p> + +<p>"If they do, they have their remedy: they can take their daughters +away," said Miss Hardy, smiling. "But I have no fears on that score. It +is not the first time I tried the experiment."</p> + +<p>"I thought you wrote me that you had secured her a place as nurse with +a family going to Cape May?" remarked Mrs. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"So I had, and a very good place. Rhoda was delighted with the +prospect, but after I was hurt, she would not hear of leaving me; and +indeed I don't know what I should have done without her. She is an +excellent nurse and a most agreeable companion."</p> + +<p>"I had thought, myself, of taking her into the family and educating her +with Isabella," said Mr. Ferrand, "but something occurred which changed +my determination. I found out afterward, however, that the person whose +representations influenced me was untrustworthy. However, it has all +turned out for the best."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Meantime, Rhoda and Isa, seated in Rhoda's little room, were pouring +out such a flood of talk as only two such girls are capable of.</p> + +<p>"And Aunt Harriet is going to educate you—is she really?" asked Isa.</p> + +<p>"So she says. I practise two hours a day now, besides reading history +to Miss Hardy, and I have begun the Latin grammar. I can tell you, +Isa, I have to pinch myself sometimes to be sure that I am awake and +not dreaming. And the best of it is that I owe it all to you and your +mother. But what have you been doing lately? Miss Hardy said you had +been taking some wonderful music-lessons."</p> + +<p>"Wonderful! Yes, I should think so," said. Isa, with a groan. "A lesson +every day, and then practise five hours. What do you think of that, +Miss Thurston?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is a shame," said Rhoda, warmly. "You look regularly worn +out."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am," said Isa, wearily. "I think I shouldn't want to go to +heaven if they have music there. I should like to lie down and sleep a +thousand years. And my head—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what about your head?" said Rhoda, as Isa paused.</p> + +<p>There was no answer, and Rhoda looked up from the ruffle she was +arranging. Ira's head had dropped on her breast, her eyes were half +closed, and there was a slight purplish tinge on her lips. Rhoda, +startled, rose from her chair, but before she could speak Isa seemed to +recover herself, and went on as if unconscious of any pause:</p> + +<p>"My head feels so badly I don't know what to do. It doesn't ache, but +it feels heavy and empty at the same time."</p> + +<p>"How I wish you could come here to school!" said Rhoda, a good deal +alarmed by what she had seen, but thinking it better to take no notice, +as Isa seemed unconscious of anything unusual. "The girls do have such +good times."</p> + +<p>"What do they do? Tell me all about it," said Isa. "And may I lie down +on the bed? Oh, you don't know how good it seems to be doing nothing," +she continued, sinking down, and turning her face toward Rhoda. "You +won't mind if I go to sleep, will you? I am so tired and heavy."</p> + +<p>"No. Go to sleep, there's a dear," answered Rhoda. "I will cover you +up, and then I must just run down and see to setting the table and tell +Sarah to make a sweet omelet for desert. I want your father to have a +nice dinner, such as he likes."</p> + +<p>Rhoda betook herself to the dining-room, and busied herself with the +arrangements of the table. She was presently joined by Mrs. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"Useful and handy as ever, I see," was her comment. "Where is Isa?"</p> + +<p>"She is asleep on my bed," answered Rhoda. "She seems very tired, and I +thought she would enjoy her dinner all the more for a nap."</p> + +<p>"She is tired, poor child! Rhoda, how does she strike you?"</p> + +<p>"I think she looks thin and worn—more so than usual."</p> + +<p>"Do you see any other alteration—anything odd about her? Do tell me," +added Mrs. Ferrand, as Rhoda hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I thought there was something odd about Isa before I left Milby," +answered Rhoda. "She seems to have times of forgetfulness almost as if +she lost herself for a minute."</p> + +<p>"That is it, exactly. I can't make Mr. Ferrand see it. He says she is +listless and absent-minded, and that her hesitation in speaking is only +a trick such as girls are always catching. But I can't think so; I wish +I could. I don't know what it is I fear, but I am afraid."</p> + +<p>"I think Isa would be the better for a change," remarked Rhoda. "I wish +she could come here."</p> + +<p>"And so do I, but I fear her father would never consent. You look very +well, Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"I am well; I never was better. Mrs. Ferrand, you don't know how often +I thank you for introducing me to your sister.'</p> + +<p>"Not at all, child. It is we who should thank you. Harriet says you +have been everything to her since she has been laid up. But about Isa. +I wish you would watch her carefully and tell me what you think of her. +I do hope Doctor Douglass will come down."</p> + +<p>Dr. Douglass came down next day, as he announced, for a three days' +holiday, and made himself very agreeable, especially to the girls. The +second day of his stay, Dr. Elsmore proposed to carry Mr. Ferrand to +see certain lately opened marl-beds in which various interesting animal +remains had been discovered. Dr. Douglass was invited to join the +party, but declined:</p> + +<p>"I am going to carry off these girls for a row up the race to the +Tumbling Dam pond, and show them the scenes of my innocent childhood, +where I used to ensnare the agile turtle and hunt the pensive and +melodious frog. Put on your oldest frocks, young women, and also your +rubbers."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked doubtful when appealed to, but he stood a little in +awe of Doctor Douglass, and made no substantial objection.</p> + +<p>"You may find some valuable botanical specimens, and you should observe +the difference in the soil and vegetable growths from those of our +region," said he. "Doubtless our cousin knows how to combine amusement +with instruction."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless 'our cousin' has too much sense to do anything of the kind," +retorted the doctor. "Not one grain of instruction will you get this +afternoon, my young friends, so don't expect it. Come, get your hats, +and lose no time."</p> + +<p>"And don't hurry home," added Miss Hardy. "Tell Sarah to put up a +lunch, Rhoda, and then you can stay as long as you like."</p> + +<p>Cohansey race is a place by itself. It is canal, so to speak, about +a mile long and of various widths, leading through oak woods and +shrubs to a pond large enough to be called a lake, and named, for +some inscrutable reason, the Tumbling Dam. Various sentimental names +have been applied by sentimental young girls to this pretty piece of +water, but none of them ever stick. The Tumbling Dam it remains, and +will remain to the end of time. Calla-like plants grow in the edges of +the water, and hollies, scarlet honeysuckles, and magnolias adorn its +banks. You might think yourself in the depth of a wilderness instead of +within half a mile of great iron-works and mills.</p> + +<p>They were gone the whole afternoon, and came home tired and happy, Isa +delighted with the possession of a very small turtle which the doctor +had captured and given her for a pet.</p> + +<p>"Well, have you had dissipation enough?" asked Mr. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"Not half enough," answered the doctor. "We are meditating even more. +Miss Hardy, can you spare Miss Thurston for a couple of days? Because, +if you can, I propose to take her and Isa up to town by the boat +to-morrow, keep them two or three days, and show them the lions and +bears of the Quaker City."</p> + +<p>"I can spare her, certainly," said Miss Hardy. "She ought to have a +holiday before school begins."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about Isa," said Mr. Ferrand, doubtfully. "She has not +touched the piano or opened a book for nearly a week. I think she +should settle to some employment."</p> + +<p>"Go and put your turtle in water, Isa," commanded the doctor. "Give him +something to crawl out upon, and he will do very well.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Ferrand, I want to observe the girl," he added when Isa +and Rhoda had left the room. "There is something radically wrong with +her—very seriously wrong, I fear; but perhaps not. Anyhow, I want to +observe her a little. As for lessons, you ought not to mention the word +to her."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand demurred a little still, but at last consented.</p> + +<p>The expedition was a brilliant affair. The weather was beautiful. The +doctor carried them to the Park, Girard College, and other sights, and +brought them home greatly delighted.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"And what do you think of Isa's health?" said Mr. Ferrand when they +were alone together.</p> + +<p>"Bad—very bad," was the answer; "hardly could be worse."</p> + +<p>They were talking in the library. The doctor closed the door carefully, +returned to the table, stood a minute in silence, and then broke out:</p> + +<p>"Ferrand, I do think you have been utterly insane to let that girl +be driven so. What were you thinking of? Couldn't you see with your +own eyes how it was affecting her? Why, she tells me she has been +practising music six hours a day for the last four weeks; and such +tasks in school! That Sampson must be a mule. I wish I had the +arrangement of his hair."</p> + +<p>"We wished our daughter to make the most of her advantages," Mr. +Ferrand began, but his friend interrupted him:</p> + +<p>"Advantages! Yes, fine advantages for working her utter ruin. Can't you +see what ails the girl?"</p> + +<p>And he uttered a word which sent a terrible thrill to Mr. Ferrand's +heart.</p> + +<p>But he was too well entrenched in his own conceit to give up so easily:</p> + +<p>"I cannot but hope you may be mistaken, Henry."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think I know my own business? I have seen hundreds of such +cases."</p> + +<p>"Yet you might be mistaken perhaps the more for that very reason," +said Mr. Ferrand. "I have heard that physicians are apt to see their +pet diseases in all their patients. I do not think Isabella has been +overtasked. I have not wished her to be so, neither do I desire to see +her a dunce."</p> + +<p>"Would you rather see her a dunce or an idiot?" demanded the doctor, +irritably. "For one or the other she must be. I tell you, Ferrand, as +sure as you are born, the girl has epileptic seizures. She has had two +at my house, and Miss Thurston says she had one when she first came +here—clearly marked epilepsy, and that of the worst kind. The fits +are slight as yet, and it is just possible that with an entire change +of air and scene, entire freedom from mental excitement, and cheerful +companionship of her own age, the mischief may go no farther. Why, I +should think you would have observed it yourself."</p> + +<p>"I am not familiar with the symptoms," said Mr. Ferrand. "Can you +describe them to me?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Douglass gave the particulars, and Mr. Ferrand considered.</p> + +<p>"I will not deny that I have noticed something like what you describe +in Isa, but I thought it only one of those awkward tricks that girls +are apt to pick up. Douglass, don't be hard upon me," said the poor +father. "Indeed, I have meant to act for the best. Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"As sure as that I stand here. As I said, the attacks are slight at +present, but they are none the less to be dreaded. Has Morton seen her? +He is a man of sense."</p> + +<p>"Never since last spring, when she had an attack of fever and headache. +He said then that she should be taken out of school, but I thought +I traced the attack to some improper habits of eating, and I felt +desirous to have her finish the school-year."</p> + +<p>"Another school-year like the last will finish her," said Doctor +Douglass.</p> + +<p>"I fear I have been very blind—culpably blind," said Mr. Ferrand, +almost for the first time in his life admitting that he might be in the +wrong. "I thought Doctor Morton extremely unfeeling in hinting that I +had injured my son, but I fear it is true, and that I have destroyed +both my children."</p> + +<p>"Isa is in no danger of dying," said Doctor Douglass, gravely. "If she +were, it would not matter so much."</p> + +<p>"I understand you," returned Mr. Ferrand. "Death would indeed be +a light calamity compared to—But I cannot think of it. Henry, can +anything be done, or is the case hopeless? I have the fullest +confidence in your judgment, and will spare no trouble or expense. A +journey abroad, now—"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't advise that," said Doctor Douglass—"it involves too much +fatigue and excitement; and besides, you never could refrain from +'improving her mind.' Let me consider."</p> + +<p>He stood looking out of the window for a few minutes at Isa and Rhoda, +who were playing croquet on the lawn. Then, as if the sight had +inspired him with the idea he wanted, he turned to Mr. Ferrand, who +stood the picture of distress:</p> + +<p>"Why not leave her here with Harriet? She has a deal of sense in +managing delicate girls, and makes a kind of specialty of it. I +made Sellers send his daughter down here, and I never saw a child +improve faster. Isa seems devoted to this Miss Thurston, who is a +fine, sensible young woman, and evidently very much attached to your +daughter. She told me in a conversation I had with her that she would +do anything for Isa. Let Isa stay here and room with Miss Thurston, +who will watch over her and keep her infirmity a secret from herself—a +thing to be desired above all things. Let her have some easy lessons +as a pretence of employment, with abundance of ease and idleness. The +place is healthy and the atmosphere of the house pleasant and cheerful. +I don't think you can do better than that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Harriet might not be willing to accept such a charge, or Miss +Thurston, either," said Mr. Ferrand.</p> + +<p>"That we can tell by asking. They ought to understand the whole matter +beforehand."</p> + +<p>Miss Hardy was a little startled at first, but she loved her niece and +sister, and was not one of those who set their own ease and convenience +above everything else. She consented to receive Isa, if Rhoda would +room with her and take charge of her.</p> + +<p>Rhoda, on her part, did not hesitate an instant. She loved Isa dearly, +and felt that to her and her mother she owed all her present advantages.</p> + +<p>"You can have the room which was Miss Farly's last year," said Miss +Hardy. "It is pleasant and sunny, and somewhat out of the way of the +rest of the house. A great deal will depend on you, Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Rhoda. "It is a great trust, but I will do my best; +and even if poor Isa is not cured, she will be happy here."</p> + +<p>"And that is half the battle," observed Doctor Douglass.</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking Isa's delight when she was informed that she was +to go to school to Aunt Harriet and room with Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"You won't let me have hard lessons or music?" she said to her aunt. +"Because, indeed, aunt, I cannot learn it if I try ever so hard."</p> + +<p>"The doctor thinks we had better let the music go, at least for the +present," answered Miss Hardy. "As for the other lessons, we will see. +I think a good deal of play will be the best for the present."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand's eyes were at last opened, and he watched his daughter +with most painful solicitude and with self-reproach, which were not +lessened by the sight of her evident delight in getting away from +him. He seemed to find his only relief in fitting up Isa's room with +everything which he thought could give her pleasure. He was extremely +cordial to Rhoda, and expressed to her in formal but earnest words his +obligations to her.</p> + +<p>"I have requested Miss Hardy to supply all things needful for both +your wardrobes, and she will give to each of you the same allowance of +pocket-money. If any unforeseen occasion for expense arises, you will +please let me know."</p> + +<p>"You are very good, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda, "but indeed it is not +necessary. I have enough to clothe myself for the present."</p> + +<p>"You must allow me to have my own way in the matter," said Mr. Ferrand. +"I choose that my daughter's chosen companion should be fully on an +equality with her school-mates in every respect. You must be content +to be our other child, Rhoda, and Isabella's sister. On no other terms +could I allow you take such a care upon yourself."</p> + +<p>And Rhoda put her pride in her pocket, and let Mr. Ferrand have his own +way.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>SCHOOL.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE school-year opened, as usual, on the second Wednesday in September, +with its full number of pupils. Rhoda was a little embarrassed at first +by the natural surprise of the girls on meeting as a school-mate and +companion one whom they had left in such a different position, but the +awkwardness soon wore off, and she took her natural place among them. +She was soon a favourite with all, especially the younger girls, whom +she was always ready to help on proper occasions.</p> + +<p>Miss Hardy's girls were a well-bred and, for the most part, a +well-principled set. Indeed, there was among them only one of those +black sheep who are to be found in every school. This was a young girl +named Caroline Burtis. She was an orphan and an heiress, according to +her own account, who had come to school during the last quarter.</p> + +<p>Miss Burtis put on very grand airs, considered herself, for some +mysterious reason, quite superior to her companions, and also to her +teachers, and made more fuss about her board and accommodations than +all of the rest of the girls put together. She had begun by being very +haughty toward Rhoda and declaring openly in her hearing that Miss +Hardy had insulted all the other pupils by taking a common servant-girl +into the school. She seemed to conceive a great aversion to Rhoda, and +made no hesitation in saying that Miss Hardy had placed her in the +school as a spy on the other girls.</p> + +<p>Rhoda, on her part, went quietly on her way, working hard at her +lessons, happy in the musical instructions of a first-rate professor, +and in the companionship of Isa, over whom she watched more like a +mother over a child than one girl over another. It was soon discovered +that she was equally handy and obliging in managing a boat, beginning +a piece of crochet-work, or setting to rights a confused bit of +embroidery; and henceforth no rowing- or sewing-party was complete +without Rhoda Thurston. This being the case, Rhoda troubled herself +very little about Miss Burtis and her airs.</p> + +<p>On a sudden Miss Burtis changed her tactics, and became as polite to +Rhoda as she had formerly been rude. One day, as Rhoda was going out on +an errand for Miss Hardy, taking Isa, with her, they met Miss Burtis in +the hall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, girls, are you going out?" said she. "Will you just drop this +letter in the post-office for me? I want it to go by the early mail, +and I forgot to send it by Miss Hood."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Rhoda, taking the letter. "Come, Isa, I want to find +Miss Hardy and ask her about this wool."</p> + +<p>"But you mustn't let Miss Hardy see the letter. You know," said Miss +Burtis, in alarm, "she makes no end of fuss if the girls send letters +on the sly. This is only to my cousin, but she is such an old maid she +never will believe that."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Caroline, but I can't do anything in that way," said Rhoda, +handing her back the letter; "I don't like doing things 'on the sly,' +as you say."</p> + +<p>"But what harm is it, you goose? The letter is only to my cousin."</p> + +<p>"If it is no harm, why don't you want Aunt Harriet to know?" asked Isa.</p> + +<p>"Just as though one wanted to publish in the newspaper all that one +did!"</p> + +<p>"Letting Aunt Harriet know isn't publishing in the newspaper," said Isa.</p> + +<p>"Really and truly, Caroline, I can't do it," said Rhoda. "If you will +ask Miss Hardy—"</p> + +<p>"Well, I sha'n't ask Miss Hardy, so there!" answered Caroline, +pettishly, snatching the letter from Rhoda's hand. "For my part, I +don't think a servant-girl need be above doing an errand. You would +have been glad to do it and get paid for it three months ago, I dare +say; but I suppose, as you are a charity girl, you think you must be +extra particular."</p> + +<p>"That is it exactly," said Rhoda. "Come, Isa, we shall be late."</p> + +<p>"Mean thing!" said Caroline to herself. "I'll pay her off some way. But +do just wait a minute, Rhoda," she added, aloud. "There! I didn't mean +to hurt your feelings, but I am so disappointed. I do want this letter +to go so much. It is very important indeed. Come, it isn't as if I was +asking you to tell a lie, you know."</p> + +<p>"I think it is all the same," said Isa.</p> + +<p>"Who cares for what you think?" asked Caroline, rudely. "Every one +knows that you haven't common sense, and that Rhoda is your keeper. +Come, Rhoda, do."</p> + +<p>"You might as well talk to the wall, Carry Burtis," answered Rhoda. "I +wouldn't do it any way, and I am not likely to be persuaded by your +insulting my friend. Come, Isa."</p> + +<p>"What did Caroline mean by what she said to me?" asked Isa as they were +walking.</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" answered Rhoda, carelessly. "She meant to say the most +spiteful thing she could think of. All the girls know that you are not +well."</p> + +<p>"You don't think that I am an idiot, do you, Rhoda? Tell me truly."</p> + +<p>"No, unless asking such a silly question proves you one," answered +Rhoda, laughing. "You have been overworked, and your mind needs rest. +Dr. Douglass said such lessons as you had were enough to kill anybody. +Don't let such a notion come into your head for a moment."</p> + +<p>"I suppose pa did it for the best," said Isa.</p> + +<p>"Of course he did. He was mistaken, that was all. Let us go and have +some ice cream; Miss Hardy said we might. We will sit out on the +balcony and watch for the steamer. See, there she comes."</p> + +<p>Isa was diverted for the time, but she recurred to the words several +times afterward, and it was plain they had made a strong impression on +her. They set her to watching the operations of her own mind—a very +undesirable thing in all cases, but particularly to one like Isa. So +easy is it for an angry word to do mischief which nothing can ever mend +again.</p> + +<p>Miss Burtis's career in Cohansey was not a long one. It happened one +night that Isa was feverish and restless, and Rhoda slipped on her +dressing-gown and went down to get her some ice water, which she knew +she should find in the dining-room. The moon shone brightly and the gas +was always kept burning low in the hall, so she did not take a light. +She found what she sought, and was coming back, when just at the head +of the stairs she ran full against somebody who was coming down.</p> + +<p>The unexpected shock knocked her pitcher out of her hand, and it rolled +down stairs, making a great noise, while Rhoda caught hold of the +person, exclaiming, as she did do,—</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Hush, can't you?" said Caroline's voice, in low but energetic tones. +"You will raise the house. Let me go, I tell you."</p> + +<p>But even if Rhoda had obeyed, it was too late. The alarm was given. +In a moment Miss Hardy was out in the hall. A full blaze of the gas +revealed Rhoda, barefooted and in her dressing-gown, and Caroline +Burtis dressed as for travelling, with her bag in her hand.</p> + +<p>It was not Miss Hardy's way to make a grand scene about anything. She +led Miss Burtis to her room in the third story, and quietly turned the +key on the outside. Then she went back to where Rhoda was picking up +the pieces of the broken pitcher.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Rhoda told the story.</p> + +<p>"Did you see anything unusual when you were down stairs?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am; I went to the dining-room, and came straight back again."</p> + +<p>"Are you afraid to go over and call Mrs. Marshall? Don't make any noise +about it."</p> + +<p>Rhoda called Mrs. Marshall, and then went back to Isa, who was +wondering at her delay.</p> + +<p>"What kept you so long?" she asked. "I was getting frightened."</p> + +<p>"Well, you might be, if you heard the noise," answered Rhoda. "I +thought I should rouse the house. I ran against something and dropped +my pitcher all the way down stairs."</p> + +<p>"Didn't any one hear you?"</p> + +<p>"Only Miss Hardy. There! Lie down and go to sleep."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next day there was some telegraphing back and forth, and in the +course of the next, Miss Burtis's guardian appeared and took her +away. There was a rumor of some misbehaviour on her part, and nobody +was sorry when she was gone; but Rhoda kept her own counsel, and the +encounter on the stairs was known to nobody but herself and Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>This was Rhoda's only serious trouble in school. She would have been +altogether happy, only for her anxiety about Isa, whose health did not +improve, as Rhoda in her ignorance had confidently expected it would +do, when the pressure of lessons was taken off. Only for this care, +Rhoda would have been happier than ever before in her life.</p> + +<p>"Yes, some folks has all the luck," grumbled Hester one day.</p> + +<p>Hester had come back to Cohansey, confidently expecting to take her +former situation with Miss Hardy. She was utterly astonished when she +found her place filled by a quiet, steady young girl, and was informed +that Mrs. Hallowell had no occasion for her services. She could not +perceive or would not own that she was in the least to blame for Miss +Hardy's accident, and could not see any reason why Mrs. Hallowell +should decline to take her on that account.</p> + +<p>"I suppose Rhoda is in the dining-room yet?" she said to Aunt Sarah, +after Mrs. Hallowell had left the kitchen. "I thought she was coming +down to Cape May with Mrs. Elsmore?"</p> + +<p>"She was, but she stayed home to nurse Miss Hardy."</p> + +<p>"It must have been stupid and dull," said Hester. "I should have died +in a week. Where is Rhoda now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's one of the scholars now, and rooms up in eighteen with Miss +Hardy's niece," said Sarah, secretly delighted with the chance of +"taking down" Hester. "The family has adopted her, and she's going to +have a first-rate education."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear me!" said Hester, sarcastically. "She will be more stuck up +than ever. Well, some folks has all the luck."</p> + +<p>"'Twan't all luck, neither," answered Aunt Sarah. "Rhoda was one that +did well all she undertook. When she was working, she gave all her mind +to it, and when she was nursing, she gave all her mind to that. I never +see a girl so handy in a sick-room. As for her education, she'd a had +one any way. She was always learning everything she could. She used to +watch my cooking, and get me to show her how to make nice things; and +when Hannah was doing up the girls' white dresses, Rhoda used to look +at her till she learned her ways. It was just so about everything else. +If you were in the kitchen a year, you'd never improve a bit, because +you wouldn't try; and it would be the same if you were in school."</p> + +<p>Isa, for her part, was as happy as Rhoda, though in exactly a contrary +way. Freedom from hard work and from the dread of fault-finding was +a thing utterly new in her experience. It was thought best that she +should have some pretence of employment, and she was set to reviewing +her English grammar, and to taking lessons in drawing, for which she +really showed some talent. These, with the daily Bible lesson, formed +the whole of her school-duties, and they were made as easy to her as +possible.</p> + +<p>For it became more evident every day that Isa's mind had lost its +spring. Probably that last four weeks of music-lessons had been the +last feather on the camel's back. She could hardly commit the easiest +lesson, and stumbled painfully over the simplest reading. Her great +enjoyment lay in the daily Bible lessons, to which she listened with +interest, though she hardly ever answered a question.</p> + +<p>"You love your Bible, don't you, Isa?" Mrs. Marshall said to her one +day.</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," answered Isa, looking up, with a sweet smile. "I don't +understand it all very well, but it makes me feel quiet and happy, and +it seems so good to have time to read as much as I like. I don't think +He will mind my not understanding, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, my love. He will see and know, and teach you to know all that is +necessary."</p> + +<p>Isa had one other great enjoyment, and that was in embroidering a +wonderful worsted chair cover for her mother. She had always loved +needlework, but Mr. Ferrand considered that plain work was only fit for +servants, and ornamental needlework was utterly unworthy the attention +of rational beings. Now, however, it was enough that anything gave +pleasure to Isa, and Mr. Ferrand had himself purchased a handsome and +expensive work-box for his daughter, with the materials for her work, +and had told Rhoda to spare no expense in supplying whatever Isa wanted +in that line. He seemed anxious that the two girls should be on a +perfect equality, for he had at the same time presented Rhoda with an +equally beautiful writing-desk, to Isa's delight, no less than Rhoda's.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>One day, as Rhoda was busily practising a duet with Matty Sellers, +there came a ring at the bell.</p> + +<p>"What made you start so?" asked Matty.</p> + +<p>Rhoda laughed:</p> + +<p>"A very funny thing. Do you know I never hear the bell ring without +thinking that I ought to go to the door?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are a real sensible girl, Rhoda," said Matty, in the +serious tone with which she usually announced her wonderful discoveries.</p> + +<p>"Thank you. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because you never seem one bit ashamed of having been a servant. I +don't know why you or any one should be, of course, but still a great +many people are, or would be—you know what I mean," said Matty, who was +famous for grammatical entanglements. "There, Rhoda! They are asking +for you."</p> + +<p>"Miss Thurston is wanted in the library," said Annie, putting her head +in at the door.</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Annie?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"Two gentlemen—one young and one old. The old gentleman sent up his +card, and the name was Francis."</p> + +<p>"It can't surely be Mr. Francis of Hobarttown? I never knew any other," +said Rhoda to herself.</p> + +<p>She arranged her dress a little and hurried down, to find Mr. Francis +himself as well as Mr. Antis in the library with Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, little Rhoda, you have grown a fine young woman," said +Mr. Francis. "I should have known you anywhere, however. I suppose I +must call you Miss Thurston, now that you are grown-up and an heiress."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't understand," said Mr. Antis.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not. Probably she has not heard that Mr. Jacob Weightman +is dead, and that you and I are his executors?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say, Mr. Francis, that Uncle Jacob has died and left +anything to me!" said Rhoda in amazement.</p> + +<p>"Even so, my girl. He has left you the lot which was his sister's, and +on which he has built a fine mill, and ten thousand dollars besides. +The mill is worth ten thousand—I will pay that if you want to sell it; +so you see you are really an heiress on a small scale."</p> + +<p>"I should think it was a pretty large scale," said Rhoda. "But Uncle +Jacob! I can hardly believe it. He always hated me from the first time +I came to Boonville to live."</p> + +<p>"He did you great injustice," said Mr. Antis; "and so I always +supposed. We found among his papers a will written in Aunt Hannah's +hand, but neither signed nor sealed, leaving you her place and all +her other property. The will was not legal, of course, but under the +circumstances it should have been binding on any honest man; but Uncle +Jacob was too fond of money to be right straight."</p> + +<p>"It always did seem very strange that Aunt Hannah's will should not be +found," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"I suppose from the date she had destroyed the first and made another +not two hours before she died," replied Mr. Antis. "Jeduthun tells me +she had asked him and Kissy to come up that evening, and doubtless she +meant they should witness this will."</p> + +<p>"What has he done with the rest of his property?" asked Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"He has left five thousand to the Caneota Bible Society and as much to +the orphan asylum, and a thousand to missions. The rest goes to the +nieces, share and share alike."</p> + +<p>"How much will their parts be?"</p> + +<p>"About eight thousand to each one—Mrs. Bowers, Mrs. Evans, and Mrs. +Chapman."</p> + +<p>"I am glad he remembered poor Mrs. Chapman at last," said Rhoda. "He +never would help her when he was alive, though she used to want for +necessary clothes. Aunt Annie has given her and the children many +an outfit, I know. But I am afraid Mr. Bowers will be dreadfully +disappointed."</p> + +<p>"So he is. He talks of breaking the will, and what not, but that is all +nonsense. He cannot touch it, and that he knows very well. He will have +to take his eight thousand or nothing. That is all he will get."</p> + +<p>"I always supposed Mr. Weightman was much richer," said Rhoda.</p> + +<p>"He was at one time, but he lost a deal in bad investments," said Mr. +Francis. "Well, my girl, what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't learned to feel that the money is mine yet," answered Rhoda. +"Just think! Ten thousand dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Twenty."</p> + +<p>"Of my own! Won't I make a nice tea-party for the old ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Considering already how she can throw it away," said Mr. Francis.</p> + +<p>"That's the Rhoda of it," said Mr. Antis, smiling. "When she was a +child, if any one gave her ten cents, she was always considering how to +buy somebody a present with it."</p> + +<p>"She might do worse. Well, now, my girl, what do you mean to do?" asked +Mr. Francis as Miss Hardy left the room. "You seem to be pretty well +off here. I like the looks of Miss Hardy."</p> + +<p>"You would like her the more if you only knew her," said Rhoda. "I +think I must stay here, Mr. Francis. You see, Miss Hardy took me into +the school when there wasn't the least chance of my being able to make +her any return; and even if I wanted to go anywhere else, I don't think +it would be right."</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not," said Mr. Francis.</p> + +<p>"And then I don't want to go anywhere else," continued Rhoda. "I wish +all the orphan girls in the world were as well off."</p> + +<p>"I wish all the orphan girls one tries to help had as strong a sense of +it," said Mr. Antis, who had had "experiences" in that line. "How is +Mr. Ferrand's daughter? He told me she was a good deal out of health."</p> + +<p>"She is, and I am afraid she will never be much better," said Rhoda, +sadly. "She does not improve at all. And there is another reason why I +could not go away. I could not think of leaving poor Isa."</p> + +<p>"It is a good deal of care for you, though," said Mr. Francis. "So much +nursing must interfere with your studies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is very little real nursing; and besides, if there were, my +studies would have to wait. Improving one's mind isn't always one's +first duty, after all."</p> + +<p>"Humph! You seem to have improved yours to some tolerable purpose," +said Mr. Francis. "Well, Rhoda, you must use your own judgment, and I +have no doubt you will decide rightly."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h3><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h3> + +<p class="t3"> +<b><em>THE END.</em></b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>ISA was at first delighted with the news of Rhoda's good fortune, but +presently she grew troubled.</p> + +<p>"You won't go away and leave me, will you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No, dear, of course not. Don't think of such a thing," was Rhoda's +reply.</p> + +<p>"Because, really and truly, I don't think I could bear to live if you +did," continued Isa. "You know, Rhoda, pa calls you his other daughter +now, and I can't help thinking, I don't know why, that you will be all +the daughter he has before long."</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that, Isa?" asked Rhoda. "Don't you feel as well as +usual?"</p> + +<p>"I don't feel a bit strong," answered Isa; "but that isn't the reason. +I can't tell you what it is, but I think so. And I do want you to stay +with me so much."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall stay with you. I never thought of anything else. +You know I am to go home with you for holidays; and won't we get up an +elegant Christmas tree at 'The Home'? I wonder what would be the best +presents for the old ladies? I think shawls would be nice, don't you?"</p> + +<p>The diversion of the Christmas tree proved enough for the time, and Isa +was presently quite happy in planning a crochet shawl for Mrs. Josleyn. +But she recurred to the subject more than once, and Rhoda could see +that her mind dwelt a good deal upon it.</p> + +<p>Rhoda thought it best to mention the matter to Miss Hardy, who sent for +Dr. Douglass. The doctor came down, examined Isa, and made her happy by +the present of a bird.</p> + +<p>"There is no immediate cause for alarm," said he to Rhoda afterward. +"She has certainly lost both strength and flesh since I saw her, and +I think she has a little fever. She is likely enough to go off in a +decline; and you know, my child, that as things are, we could not wish +it otherwise. You can see yourself that her mind fails more and more."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Rhoda, sadly. "I wouldn't see it for a good while, +but I have had to give it up."</p> + +<p>"It was to be looked for," said Dr. Douglass. "The poor child has been +utterly and recklessly sacrificed on the altar of her father's deity, +'Education.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't think Isa ever would have made a scholar under any +management," observed Rhoda. "She never liked books. She loved to work +about the house and sew and do little things in the kitchen, but she +never cared even for reading, and she hated the piano. I remember her +saying once that she did not want to go to heaven if it was all music."</p> + +<p>"Do you often have such cases, Dr. Douglass?" asked Miss Hardy.</p> + +<p>"I have similar ones far too often," replied the doctor. "Usually they +are like this. A girl goes on till she is twelve or fourteen, learning +absolutely nothing that she ought. Very likely she will not be able to +read intelligibly or write a page without misspelling half the words. +All at once the parents wake up to the fact that their daughter is a +dunce. Then they proceed to put on the screws. The girl's own ambition +is awakened, and she works with might and main, and all the work that +ought to be spread over ten or fifteen years is crowded into five. +The girl graduates with great honour—at sixteen, very likely; and the +next thing you hear of her, she has gone to a water-cure, or she is +in a decline, or some slight attack of cold or fever carries her off. +Then everybody but the doctor says, 'What a mysterious dispensation of +Providence!' Very much so! The 'mysterious dispensation' to me is that +which gives children to people who have no sense to take care of them."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Isa ever had any easy time," remarked Miss Hardy. "She +has always been driven. I wonder her mother would allow it."</p> + +<p>"She could not help it, Miss Hardy," said Rhoda. "Mr. Ferrand had a +system, and that answered for everything. Isa must sleep on a hard bed, +in a cold room, without a fire, with no carpet, and always with her +windows open in all weathers, because the system required hardening. +She must eat porridge for her breakfast, though she could not bear it; +and if her mother remonstrated, Mr. Ferrand had something to say about +the Spartans and their black broth."</p> + +<p>"The Spartans were a set of blockheads and ruffians," said the doctor, +very conclusively.</p> + +<p>"And the worst of it was there was no 'let up,'" continued Rhoda. "Isa +never had any fun like other girls. I hardly ever heard her laugh +heartily till after she came here. No girls ever came to see her, and +she never visited, because Mr. Ferrand thought their society was not +improving. And yet he meant well; and he is half broken-hearted about +poor Isa now."</p> + +<p>"It is not enough, my young friend, that people 'mean well,'" said +the doctor. "They also need a little sense and some capacity of being +taught. As to Isa, there is nothing to be done. Let her have her own +way as far as possible, and try to keep her cheerfully employed. It was +an excellent move of yours to set her to work for the old women, as she +tells me you have done. Get her out as much as you can. Has she had any +attacks lately?"</p> + +<p>"Not for five or six weeks but I can't help thinking her general health +is not so good as when she had them oftener."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. You are managing her well, for aught I see, but you +must take care of yourself. You look rather tired. Don't let her kill +herself with work, Miss Hardy. She can't be spared just yet."</p> + +<p>Rhoda and Isa went home for holidays, and there they found matters +altered indeed. The cold bare cell which Isa had always occupied was +exchanged for one of the best rooms in the house, newly fitted up with +everything that Isa could be supposed to fancy, including a superb +work-table and a most commodious tank for Diogenes, the turtle, which +Isa had brought along. An adjoining room was prepared for Rhoda.</p> + +<p>Isa was delighted.</p> + +<p>"How good you are, pa!" said she. "I always did want a nice, pretty +room, with an open fire in it, and some plants. You do love me if I am +not awful smart, don't you, pa?"</p> + +<p>Perhaps nothing more showed the change in Mr. Ferrand than the fact +that he allowed this expression to pass without criticism, thinking +with a pang, as he received Isa's offered kiss, how easily he might +have let his simpleminded child grow up a happy and useful woman.</p> + +<p>Isa's holidays were very pleasant. She helped to get up the Christmas +tree at "The Home," which was a great affair; and they had another at +home which Marion pronounced the very bonniest thing she ever saw.</p> + +<p>"Eh, if we had only had such doings before, I'm thinking the dear lass +would have been different the day," said she to Rhoda. "It just breaks +my heart to look at her and her father. Poor gentleman! He has a sore +heart the night."</p> + +<p>Isa went back to school in very good spirits and seeming decidedly +better, but she soon began to droop again. Once or twice Rhoda found +her crying, but could not get at the cause of her grief.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to go home, dear? Is that it?" ask Rhoda, at last. "Tell +your own Rhoda."</p> + +<p>Isa threw her arms around her friend's neck and laid her head down on +her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rhoda, I do, I want to go home, where I needn't hear the piano nor +the girls singing. It goes through and through my head, and I hear it +all night long."</p> + +<p>"Then you shall go home," said Rhoda. "I will speak to Miss Hardy this +very day."</p> + +<p>Miss Hardy was consulted, and in her turn consulted Dr. Douglass. The +result was that Mr. Ferrand was written to and came down as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p>"But you won't think of taking Rhoda away?" said Miss Hardy. "She is +doing wonders with her music and mathematics."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand looked at Rhoda, who answered quietly for herself:</p> + +<p>"I think I shall have to go for the present, Miss Hardy. I don't think +Isa would be happy without me."</p> + +<p>"But your music, my child? You know Isa cannot bear the sound of the +piano or singing. It seems to drive her nearly distracted, and there is +nothing one loses so quickly as music."</p> + +<p>"I can pick it up again," said Rhoda. "My music is not as important as +Isa's comfort."</p> + +<p>"My dear, it is a great sacrifice," said Mr. Ferrand. "I hardly think +we ought to ask it. You have always been so anxious to pursue your +education, and you have just made an admirable beginning."</p> + +<p>"My education can wait," said Rhoda. "I don't know any use in educating +people, except to fit them to do their duty in that state of life to +which it has pleased God to call them; and I do feel that he has given +me a clear call to take care of Isa as long as she wants me. Only for +her, I never should have come here at all, you know."</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Miss Hardy. "Well, my dear, sorry as I am to lose +you, I shall not urge you against your own conscience. 'Not to be +ministered unto, but to minister,' is the motto on our school seal, you +know."</p> + +<p>"So, Mr. Ferrand, unless you utterly refuse to take me, I shall be +ready when Isa is," said Rhoda, smiling. "And if you do, I shall go +back to the home and come asking for a place in the dining-room again."</p> + +<p>"Very well, 'my daughter,'" said Mr. Ferrand, not without emphasis. +"Get your sister ready, and we will go to town to-morrow."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Isa bore the journey home pretty well. Once at home, however, she +faded rapidly, and it soon became evident that her days were numbered. +She rarely left her room, though she sat up most of the time. She was +always cheerful and smiling, and suffered very little, though she had +some days and nights of sad restlessness and wandering, her mind always +running upon lessons of impossible length, and, above all, on the +piano. At such times only Rhoda could quiet or control her. Usually, +however, she was very manageable and very happy.</p> + +<p>It was most touching to see Mr. Ferrand putting aside all his usual +employments to read the simple stories and play over and over the +simple games in which Isa took pleasure, and to observe the change in +Isa's feelings toward her father.</p> + +<p>"Pa, I want to talk to you all by ourselves," said she, one day. "You +will let me say all that comes in my head, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my love."</p> + +<p>"You never used to call me by such nice names," said Isa. "I used to +get so tired of hearing you say 'Isabella.' But never mind that, pa; I +want to talk to you about Rhoda."</p> + +<p>"Well, my darling, what of her?"</p> + +<p>"You used to say, a good while ago, that you meant to take me to Europe +some time to finish my musical education with some of the great masters +there," continued Isa. "Didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, daughter; I had such a plan at one time," answered Mr. Ferrand, +with a sigh that was almost a groan.</p> + +<p>"Well, pa, I want you to do that for Rhoda when I am gone. I shall +be gone before a great while, you know, and then Rhoda will be your +daughter. I never could learn music, but Rhoda can, and she loves it +dearly, She will play and sing splendidly, I am sure. And it was so +good in her to give up all her lessons and her practising for the sake +of taking care of me, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It was indeed, Isa. I shall never forget it."</p> + +<p>"Then you will do this for her and me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear," answered Mr. Ferrand. "I promise you that Rhoda shall +never want any advantages that I can give her."</p> + +<p>"And you will let her be your daughter, won't you, pa?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Isa, if she will. But you know Rhoda has an independent property +of her own now, and perhaps she may prefer some other arrangement."</p> + +<p>"No, she won't, pa," said Isa, eagerly. "I asked her, and she said +she loved you and ma dearly, and would rather live with you than with +anybody."</p> + +<p>"You and Rhoda seem to have settled it nicely between you," said Mr. +Ferrand, with a sad smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wanted to have it settled," answered Isa, simply, "because I +know I haven't long to stay. Don't cry, pa. It is all for the best, +I am sure. I never was smart, you know, and, I should not have got +any better. But I shall be very happy in heaven, and we shall all +be together before long. Only, pa, if you finish your book about +education, won't you put in it that people ought to play sometimes and +do nothing sometimes? Because I am sure they ought."</p> + +<p>This was Isa's last long conversation with anybody. In a few days she +passed away, smiling and happy to the last.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The evening after her funeral, Rhoda went, after family prayer, to bid +Mr. and Mrs. Ferrand good-night as usual.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Mr. Ferrand," said she.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ferrand took her hand and kissed her forehead.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better say father and mother, Rhoda," said he. "You +are all the child we have now."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, dear father," said Rhoda, softly, and so the matter was +settled.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Three or four years after, Mr. and Mrs. Bowers were attending an +exhibition of flowers at the store of a world-famous florist in +Milby. Mr. Bowers had been very successful in business, "making money +hand over hand," as the saying is, and his wife was quite the most +fashionable lady in Hobarttown. But neither of them looked either happy +or contented. Money and fashion are two things of which people who are +devoted to them do not easily have enough.</p> + +<p>As they stood looking at the flowers, Mr. and Mrs. Antis, their old +neighbours at Boonville, came in, and were met and warmly welcomed by +a very handsome and elegant young girl who had been standing near Mrs. +Bowers.</p> + +<p>"I ought to know that girl," said Mrs. Bowers to her husband. "I have +seen her, but I don't know where. How very pretty and stylish she is! +And how elegantly her dress sets! I should think she got it in Paris. I +wonder who she is? I would like very much to know."</p> + +<p>"The carriage is here, Miss Thurston," said a man-servant, entering the +store.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers looked out, and saw a very elegant and comfortable equipage +containing an elderly gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I must not keep father waiting," said Miss Thurston to her friends. "I +shall come out to see you as soon as Aunt Harriet comes."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers had a little hesitation about speaking to Mrs. Antis, with +whom she had hardly exchanged a word since that little woman spoke +her mind very plainly on the subject of Rhoda's going away, but her +curiosity got the better of her resentment.</p> + +<p>"Who was that young girl?" she asked, after the usual greetings had +passed. "It seems as if I had seen her before, but I could not tell +where."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you recognize her?" asked Mrs. Antis. "That was Rhoda. I don't +think she is so very much altered."</p> + +<p>"What! Not Rhoda Bowers! Not the girl we had, and—"</p> + +<p>"And got rid of," said Mrs. Antis, finishing the sentence. "Yes, the +same. She has been abroad, travelling and taking lessons, and she is +called the best educated young woman in Milby."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Uncle Jacob's money did it all," said Mrs. Bowers, with a +sour smile.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," answered Mr. Antis. "Rhoda has never touched Uncle +Jacob's money. She just lets it accumulate, and means to found some +kind of school or asylum with it as soon as she is of age."</p> + +<p>"But how was it, then? And who is this old gentleman she calls +'father'?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is a romantic story. Rhoda worked out at Mr. Ferrand's, it +seems, and went from there to his sister-in-law, who has a girls' +school. She showed so much talent and such a good disposition that Miss +Hardy took her into the school. There she and Ferrand's daughter struck +up a great friendship—"</p> + +<p>"Now you are not quite right, William," said his wife. "They were +attached to each other before that."</p> + +<p>"Well, anyhow, when Miss Ferrand was broken down by 'cramming,' Rhoda +left school and everything for the sake of nursing her, and after her +death, the Ferrands adopted Rhoda in her place."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose she is stuck up to the skies?" sneered Mrs. Bowers.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. She has been to visit us at Boonville since she came +home, and everybody says she is just the same simple, openhearted girl +she always was. She asked about you, and said she had visited your +sister in Scotland."</p> + +<p>"I have always felt that we made a mistake in sending Rhoda away," said +Mr. Bowers, who had hitherto been quite silent. "We took her for our +own, and we ought to have kept her, whatever Uncle Jacob might say. +Then we should have had a child to care for us in our old age, instead +of being left alone. Rhoda was always a good girl, and one that would +have turned out well anywhere, and I am right glad she has had such +good luck. Tell her so, Antis, will you? And tell her that, rich as I +am, I would give it all to get back the child I turned away for the +sake of a little more money."</p> + +<p>"Why not go and see her and tell her so yourself?" asked Mr. Antis.</p> + +<p>"No, it would be only an aggravation. But tell her that I ask her +forgiveness, and that it would be a comfort if she would send it to me."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +THE END.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75471 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75471-h/images/image001.jpg b/75471-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f1e60e --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/75471-h/images/image002.jpg b/75471-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a47088c --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/75471-h/images/image003.jpg b/75471-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a4e18fd --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/75471-h/images/image004.jpg b/75471-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9df0d47 --- /dev/null +++ b/75471-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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