The Old Gray Homestead by Frances Parkinson Keyes
CHAPTER II
For several weeks the Grays did not see much of Mrs. Cary. She appearedat dinner and supper, eating little and saying less. She rose very late,having a cup of coffee in bed about ten; the afternoons she spentrambling through the fields and along the river-bank, but never goingnear the highroad on her long walks. She generally read until nearlymidnight, and the book-hungry Grays pounced like tigers on the newspapersand magazines with which she heaped her scrap-baskets, and longed for thetime to come when she would offer to lend them some of the books piledhigh all around her rooms.
Some years before, when vacationists demanded less in the way ofamusement, Hamstead had flourished in a mild way as a summer-resort; butits brief day of prosperity in this respect had passed, and the adventof a wealthy and mysterious stranger, whose mail was larger than that ofall the rest of the population put together, but who never appeared inpublic, or even spoke, apparently, in private, threw the entire villageinto a ferment of excitement. Fred Elliott, who, in his role ofprospective son-in-law, might be expected to know much that was going onat the Grays', was "pumped" in vain; he was obliged to confess hisentire ignorance concerning the history, occupations, and futureintentions of the young widow. Mrs. Gray had to "house-clean" her parlora month earlier than she had intended, because she had so many callerswho came hoping to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Cary, and hear all about her,besides; but they did not see her at all, and Mrs. Gray could tell thembut little.
"She ain't a mite of trouble," the good woman declared to every one, "an'the simplest, gentlest creature I ever see in my life. The girls are alljust crazy over her. No, she ain't told me yet anything about herself,an' I don't like to press her none. Poor lamb, with her heart buried inthe grave, at her age! No, I don't know how long she means to stay,neither, but 'twould be a good while, if I had my way."
To Mrs. Elliott, her best friend and Fred's mother, she was slightly morecommunicative, though she disclosed no vital statistics.
"Edith helped her unpack an' she said she never even imagined anythingequal to what come out of them three great trunks; she said it made herjust long to be a widow. The dresses was all black, of course, but theyhad an awful expensive look, some way, just the same. An' underclothes!Edith said there was at least a dozen of everything, an' two dozen ofmost, lace an' handwork an' silk, from one end of 'em to the other. Shehas a leather box most as big as a suitcase heaped with jewelry--it wasopen one morning when I went in with her breakfast, an' I give you myword, Eliza, that just the little glimpse I got of it was worth walkin'miles to see! An' yet she never wears so much as the simplest ring orpin. She has enough flowers for an elegant funeral sent to her threetimes a week by express, an' throws 'em away before they'rehalf-faded--says she likes the little wild ones that are beginnin' tocome up around here better, anyway. Yes, I don't deny she has some realqueer notions--for instance, she puts all them flowers in plain greenglass vases, an' wouldn't so much as look at the elegant cut-glass onesthey keep up to Wallacetown. She don't eat a particle of breakfast, an'she streaks off for a long walk every day, rain or shine, an' wants theold tin tub carried in so's she can have a hot bath every single night,besides takin' what she calls a 'cold sponge' when she gets up in themornin'--which ain't till nearly noon."
"Well, now, ain't all that strange! An' wouldn't I admire to see all themelegant things! What board did you say she paid?"
"Twenty-five dollars a week for board an' washin' an' mendin'--just thinkof it, Eliza! I feel like a robber, but she wouldn't hear of a cent less.Howard wants I should save every penny, so's at least one of the youngerchildren can have more of an education than James an' Sally an' Austinan' Ruth. I don't look at it that way--seems to me it ain't fair to giveone child more than another. I want to spruce up this place a little, an'lay by to raise the mortgage if we can."
"Which way 've you decided?"
"We've kinder compromised. The house is goin' to be painted outside, an'the kitchen done over. I've had the piano tuned for Molly already--thepoor child is plum crazy over music, but it's a long time since I've seenthe three dollars that I could hand over to a strange man just for comin'an' makin' a lot of screechin' noises on it all day; an' we're goin' tohave a new carry-all to go to meetin' in--the old one is fair fallin' topieces. The rest of the money we're goin' to lay by, an' if it keeps oncomin' in, Thomas can go to the State Agricultural College in, the fall,for a spell, anyway. We've told Sally that she can keep all she earns forher weddin' things, too, as long as Mrs. Cary stays."
"My, she's a reg'lar goose layin' a golden egg for you, ain't she? Well,I must be goin'; I'll be over again as soon as spring-cleanin' eases up alittle, but I'm terrible druv just now. Maybe next time I can see her."
"You an' Joe an' Fred all come to dinner on Sunday--then you will."
Mrs. Elliott accepted with alacrity; but alas, for the eagerguests! when Sunday came, Mrs. Cary had a severe headache andremained in bed all day.
She was so "simple and gentle," as Mrs. Gray said, that it came as adistinct shock when it was discovered that little as she talked, sheobserved a great deal. Austin was the first member of the family to findthis out. All the others had gone to church, and he was lounging on theporch one Sunday morning, when she came out of the house, supposing thatshe was quite alone. On finding him there, she hesitated for a minute,and then sat quietly down on the steps, made one or two pleasant,commonplace remarks, and lapsed into silence, her chin resting on herhands, looking out towards the barns. Her expression was non-committal;but Austin's antagonistic spirit was quick to judge it to be critical.
"I suppose you've travelled a good deal, besides living in New York," hesaid, in the bitter tone that was fast becoming his usual one.
"Yes, to a certain extent. I've been around the world once, and to Europeseveral times, and I spent part of last winter South."
"How miserable and shabby this poverty-stricken place must look to you!"
She raised her head and leaned back against a post, looking fixedly athim for a minute. He was conscious, for the first time, that the paleface was extremely lovely, that the great dark eyes were not gray, as hehad supposed, but a very deep blue, and that the slim throat and neck,left bare by the V-cut dress, were the color of a white rose. A swiftcurrent of feeling that he had never known before passed through him likean electric shock, bringing him involuntarily to his feet, in time tohear her say:
"It's shabby, but it isn't miserable. I don't believe any place isthat, where there's a family, and enough food to eat and wood toburn--if the family is happy in itself. Besides, with two hours' work,and without spending one cent, you could make it much less shabby thanit is; and by saving what you already have, you could stave offspending in the future."
She pointed, as she spoke, to the cluttered yard before them, to theunwashed wagons and rusty tools that had not been put away, to theshed-door half off its hinges, and the unpiled wood tossed carelesslyinside the shed. He reddened, as much at the scorn in her gesture as atthe words themselves, and answered angrily, as many persons do when theyare ashamed:
"That's very true; but when you work just as hard as you can, anyway, youhaven't much spirit left over for the frills."
"Excuse me; I didn't realize they were frills. No business man wouldhave his office in an untidy condition, because it wouldn't pay; Ishouldn't think it would pay on a farm either. Just as it seems tome--though, of course, I'm not in a position to judge--that if you soldall those tubercular grade cows, and bought a few good cattle, and keptthem clean and fed them well, you'd get more milk, pay less for grain,and not have to work so hard looking after more animals than you canreally handle well."
As she spoke, she began to unfasten her long, frilled, black sleeves, androse with a smile so winning that it entirely robbed her speech ofsharpness.
"Let's go to work," she said, "and see how much we could do in the way ofmaking things look better before the others get home from church. We'llstart here. Hand me that broom and I'll sweep while you stack u
When the Grays returned from church, their astonished eyes were metwith the spectacle of their boarder, her cheeks glowing, her hair halfdown her back, and her silk dress irretrievably ruined, helping Austinto wash and oil the one wagon which still stood in the yard. She fledat their approach, leaving Austin to retail her conversation andexplain her conduct as best he could, and to ponder over both all theafternoon himself.
"She's dead right about the cows," declared Thomas; "but what would bethe use of getting good stock and putting it in these barns? It wouldsicken in no time. We need new buildings, with proper ventilation, andconcrete floors, and a silo."
"Why don't you say we need a million dollars, and be done with it? Youmight just as well," retorted his brother.
"Because we don't--but we need about ten thousand; half of it forbuildings, and the rest for stock and utensils and fertilizers, and forwhat it would cost to clean up our stumpy old pastures, and make themworth something again."
At that moment Mrs. Cary entered the room for dinner, and the discussionof unpossessed resources came to an abrupt end. Her color was stillhigh, and she ate her first hearty meal since her arrival; but her dressand her hair were irreproachably demure again, and she talked even lessthan usual.
That evening Molly begged off from doing her share with the dishes, andwent to play on her newly tuned piano. She loved music dearly, and hadgenuine talent; but it seemed as if she had never realized half so keenlybefore how little she knew about it, and how much she needed help andinstruction. A particularly unsuccessful struggle with a difficultpassage finally proved too much for her courage, and shutting the pianowith a bang, she leaned her head on it and burst out crying.
A moment later she sat up with a sudden jerk, realizing that the parlordoor had opened and closed, and tried to wipe away the tears before anyone saw them; then a hot blush of embarrassment and shame flooded her wetcheeks, as she realized that the intruder was not one of her sisters, butMrs. Cary.
"What a good touch you have!" she said, sitting down by the piano, andapparently quite unaware of the storm. "I love music dearly, and Ithought perhaps you'd let me come and listen to your playing for a littlewhile. The fingering of that 'Serenade' is awfully hard, isn't it? Ithought I should never get it, myself--never did, really well, in fact!Do you like your teacher?"
"I never had a lesson in my life," replied Molly, the sobs rising in herthroat again; "there are two good ones in Wallacetown, but, you see, wenever could af--"
"Well, some teachers do more harm than good," interrupted her visitor,"probably you've escaped a great deal. Play something else, won't you? Doyou mind this dim light? I like it so much."
So Molly opened the piano and began again, doing her very best. She chosethe simple things she knew by heart, and put all her will-power as wellas all her skill into playing them well. It was only when she stopped,confessing that she knew no more, that Mrs. Gary stirred.
"I used to play a good deal myself," she said, speaking very low;"perhaps I could take it up again. Do you think you could help me,Molly?"
"_I_! help _you_! However in the world--"
"By letting _me_ be your teacher! I'm getting rested now, and I find I'vea lot of superfluous energy at my disposal--your brother had a dose of itthis morning! I want something to do--something to keep mebusy--something to keep me from thinking. I haven't half as much talentas you, but I've had more chances to learn. Listen! This is the way that'Serenade' ought to go"--and Mrs. Cary began to play. The dusk turned tomoonlight around them, and the Grays sat in the dining-room, hesitatingto intrude, and listening with all their ears; and still she sat,talking, explaining, illustrating to Molly, and finally ended by playing,one after another, the old familiar hymns which they all loved.
"It's settled, then--I'll give you your first real lesson to-morrow, andsend to New York at once for music. You'll have to do lots of scales andfinger-exercises, I warn you! Now come into _my_ parlor--there'ssomething else I wanted to talk to you about."
"Do you see that great trunk?" she went on, after she had drawn Molly inafter her and lighted the lamp; "I sent for it a week ago, but it onlygot here yesterday. It's full of all my--all the clothes I had to stopwearing a little while ago."
Molly's heart began to thump with excitement.
"You and Edith are little, like me," whispered Mrs. Cary. "If you wouldtake the dresses and use them, it would be--be such a _favor_ to me! Someof them are brand-new! Some of them wouldn't be useful or suitable foryou, but there are firms in every big city that buy such things, so youcould sell those, if you care to; and, besides the made-up clothes thereare several dress-lengths--a piece of pink silk that would be sweet forSally, and some embroidered linens, and--and so on. I'm going to bednow--I've had so much exercise to-day, and you've given me such apleasant evening that I shan't have to read myself to sleep to-night, andwhen I've shut my bedroom door, if you truly would like the trunk, haveyour brothers come in and carry it off, and promise me never--never tospeak about it again."
Monday and Tuesday passed by without further excitement; but Wednesdaymorning, while Mr. Gray was planting his newly ploughed vegetable-garden,Mrs. Cary sauntered out, and sat down beside the place where he wasworking, apparently oblivious of the fact that damp ground is supposedto be as detrimental to feminine wearing apparel as it is to feminineconstitutions.
"I've been watching you from the window as long as I could stand it," shesaid, "now I've come to beg. I want a garden, too, a flower-garden. Doyou mind if I dig up your front yard?"
He laughed, supposing that she was joking. "Dig all you want to," hesaid; "I don't believe you'll do much harm."
"Thanks. I'll try not to. Have I your full permission to try myhand and see?"
"You certainly have."
"Is there some boy in the village I could hire to do the first heavywork and the mowing, and pull up the weeds from time to time if they getahead of me?"
Howard Gray leaned on his hoe. "You don't need to hire a boy," he saidgravely; "we'll be only too glad to help you all you need."
"Thank you. But, you see, you've got too much to do already, and I can'tadd to your burdens, or feel free to ask favors, unless you'll let me doit in a business way."
Mr. Gray turned his hoe over, and began to hack at the ground. "I see howyou feel," he began, "but--"
"If Thomas could do it evenings, at whatever the rate is around here bythe hour, I should be very glad. If not, please find me a boy."
"She has a way of saying things," explained Howard Gray, who hadfaltered along in a state of dreary indecision for nearly sixty years, intelling his wife about it afterwards,--"as if they were all settledalready. What could I say, but 'Yes, Mrs. Cary'? And then she went on, ascool as a cucumber, 'As long as you've got an extra stall, may I send forone of my horses? The usual board around here is five dollars a week,isn't it?' And what could I say again but 'Yes, Mrs. Cary'? though youmay believe I fairly itched to ask, 'Send _where_?' and, 'For the love ofHeaven, how _many_ horses have you?'"
"I could stand her actin' as if things was all settled," replied hiswife; "I like to see folks up an' comin', even if I ain't made that waymyself, an' it's a satisfaction to me to see the poor child kinderpickin' up an' takin' notice again; but what beats me is, she acts as ifall these things were special favors to _her_! The garden an' the horseis all very well, but what do you think she lit into me to-day for?'You'll let me stay all summer, won't you, Mrs. Gray?' she said, comin'into the kitchen, where I was ironin' away for dear life, liftin' a pileof sheets off a chair, an' settlin' down, comfortable-like. 'Bless yourheart, you can stay forever, as far as I'm concerned,' says I. 'Well,perhaps I will,' says she, leanin' back an' laughin'--she's got asweet-pretty laugh, hev you noticed, Howard?--'and so you won't think I'
"Well?" demanded her husband, as she paused for breath.
"Well, Howard Gray, the first of them little changes is to be a great bigpiazza, to go across the whole front of the house! 'The kitchen porch isso small an' crowded,' says she, 'an' you can't see the river from there;I want a place to sit out evenings. Can't I have the fireplaces in myrooms unbricked,' she went on, 'an' the rooms re-papered an' painted?An', oh,--I've never lived in a house where there wasn't a bathroombefore, an' I want to make that big closet with a window off my bedroominto one. We'll have a door cut through it into the hall, too,' says she,'an' isn't there a closet just like it overhead? If we can get a plumberhere--they're such slippery customers--he might as well put in twobathrooms as one, while he's about it, an' you shan't do my greatwashin's any more without some good set-tubs. An' Mrs. Gray, kerosenelamps do heat up the rooms so in summer,--if there's an electriciananywhere around here--' 'Mrs. Cary,' says I, 'you're an angel right outof Heaven, but we can't accept all this from you. It means two thousanddollars, straight.' 'About what I should pay in two months for my livingexpenses anywhere else,' says she. 'Favors! It's you who are kind to letme stay here, an' not mind my tearin' your house all to pieces. Thomas isgoin' to drive me up to Wallacetown this evenin' to see if we can findsome mechanics'; an' she got up, an' kissed me, an' strolled off."
"Thomas thinks she's the eighth wonder of the world," said his father;"she can just wind him around her little finger."
"She's windin' us all," replied his wife, "an' we're standin'grateful-like, waitin' to be wound."
"That's so--all except Austin. Austin's mad as a hatter at what she gothim to do Sunday morning; he doesn't like her, Mary."
"Humph!" said his wife.