Miss Roberts' fortune : a story for girls

Front matter

! NTH Ft OP.

LONDQtM: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE X SONS

Fifth]

Chapter I

WHEN I was a little girl, I had a great fondness for oranges ; not at all the ordinary liking for that agreeable fruit which exists in every well-balanced infantile mind, but something deeper and more absorbing ; so that when I looked forward, as children will, to future glory and affluence, or when, as children will in other moods, I sighed for the unattainable, it was always oranges of which I thought as the prime cause of the bliss or the despair.

I had a constant sense of other people having oranges when I had none, and a belief that as soon as I left any company oranges were immediately passed around ; and I have been captured more than once creeping down stairs in my little night-gown, when I was supposed to be safe in g MISS ROBERTS' FORTUXE.

bed, full of the conviction that I should discover the family indulging in this base festivity, and put them to an open shame.

I was telling the girls this as we sat this evening sucking a trio of lovely Havanas, and toasting our feet at the fire. Of course, we all laughed, but since the girls have gone off to their own room I have sat, still sucking a little and looking at the fire, and more serious thoughts have come into my mind.

Of course these ridiculous notions left me years ago, but I am afraid they were the index to a wrong, unlovely habit of mind which did not leave me so long ago — which I am afraid has not all left me yet. I should be ashamed to tell any one else but you, dear old padlocked book ; but I am really afraid it has not all left me yet.

Somehow it is natural for me still to think of other people as having things that I haven't, and to take it for granted that they are glad to have me out of the way, that they may have their good times without me. For instance, to-night, though we four girls have had a pleasant evening together, and I have been making a fool of myself With the greatest success for their entertainment, I can't avoid a sense of relief now that they are

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gone, and a conviction that they are enjoying themselves a great deal better at this moment, sitting curled up on their bed, as I don't doubt they are, eating the mince pie they bought at the bakery in study-hour to-day. Not that I feel very much cut up about it, or wish in the least that I were one of the party That is almost the worst of it. The fact is, I am far too willing to sit in my own corner, sucking my own private oranges, and not troubling myself with other peoples' concerns.

Sometimes I do feel a little sorry about it, and sigh with poor Glory McWhirk, " So many good times in the world, and I not in them !"

But this is all wrong, I know, for me, a sensible girl, nineteen years old, with plenty of money and some good friends, and a life of what most girls would consider perfect happiness before me.

To be sure, 1 am lame and awkward, but long ago I learned what that was sent me for ; and, besides, I know perfectly well that that fact has no effect whatever on my real position among others, on the liking or disliking of any one whose regard I should care for. So any feeling on that point is mere sensitiveness, and I keep it down pretty well — don't I, good old friend ? — and never let it cloud more than just a moment's sunshine for me.

But on the whole, as I said, I do not feel half troubled enough about these things. I am afraid (to be perfectly honest with myself, and I will-be so to-night) I take it rather as a compliment than anything else, that Lily and Jennie think me " such a queer girl," and feel flattered when they say, " Oh, don't ask Helen, she doesn't care anything about such things." In my secret heart (for I will be honest — " get thee behind me, Satan ") I am apt to think myself rather superior to these girls ; in fact, to most of the girls I know, because I know my lessons better, I suppose, and have different notions of " fun " from theirs. But am I not just as fond of my kind of fun as they are of theirs, and don't I pursue it just as steadily, and more so ? Superior to Lily ! perhaps I am, but she spent all her afternoons last week in dressing dolls for Mary Green to sell at that church fair. I, excusing myself without the slightest compunction, on the ground that I never had any taste about such things, lay on my sofa reading " Nicholas Nickleby." To be sure, I think Lily ought to have been doing her algebra examples, but that is nothing to the case.

It was good nature, chiefly, that made her dress the dolls, and in that good nature I was wanting.

Superior to Jennie ! She is flighty, frightfully overdressed generally, and, according to my usual judgment, shallow ; but she cried like a child, Lily told me, when she went to see Sarah Phelps after her mother's death, and comforted and soothed her more than any one else that she saw- I did not go, because I felt as if it would be intrusion for me even to look in upon such grief; and when I saw Sarah next at school, though I felt for a moment like putting my arms around her neck and kissing her, I was afraid it would make her cry, and all the girls were looking on, and my old awkwardness came upon me, and so I only said, " Good morning," in the ordinary way. Now, Sarah steals up to Jennie at every recess, and they walk off together. I can see that she cares nothing whatever about me, and has no idea how truly I pity her, and how my heart aches when I see her little sad face and black dress coming into school.

Yes, my dear, however you may flatter yourself at other times, you shall look the truth in the face to-night, and confess that the lives of these girls you look down upon with contempt

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or regard with perfect, indifference, are, in manyrespects, sweeter and truer lives than yours.

Perhaps it was not altogether the orange story that set me thinking about these things.

Yesterday I was in my room alone with the door ajar, and heard the young gentleman-boarders— disagreeable creatures, chiefly remarkable for very gay neck-ties and loud voices — talking in their room up-stairs.

" You've got some pretty jolly quails here," said one, probably a visitor.

" Yes ; but they're such awful fine ladies you can't have any fun with them," said one of our young men.

" Which of 'em do you like best on the whole, Tom ?" he continued, apparently roused to a contemplation of the subject by the visitor's remark.

" Well, I don't know," said Tom (I'm sure I don't know which one Tom is, very likely the one I particularly object to, who sits next me at table, and puts vanilla, or something very like it, on his hair every Sunday morning). " I used to think I liked the lame one best — the others tittei and giggle so — and she's got a nice face. But I believe she's more stuck-up than any of

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'em. / wish Miss Spenser would come back. She was the nicest little thing ! She would play for a fellow after dinner, and this one never will, though she plays splendidly ; tell you what, I heard her one day when she didn't know it."

" There'll never be anybody like Miss Spenser again," echoed the chorus, dismally. " She used to get up such jolly things ! Do you remember that picnic ?" and they went off into a general jeremiad on the departure of that altogether remarkable young lady, while I got up and shut my door.

I've heard of this Miss Spenser before. The only remark I remember to have heard Mrs. Green make was, that Mary Spenser was the sweetest girl that ever lived ; and our German teacher told me the other day, that he had had only one pupil in this school before (I am going to be honest, I believe, so I will put in the little qualifying word) who had really mastered the declensions, and that was Miss Spenser.

I suppose she was one of those favored little beings who have a faculty for everything, and who carry a little wand in their hands which turns all hearts into love and charity before them.

Now I, Helen Roberts, am not that sort of girl, and never shall be. I am what people call reserved. And so far as this reserve is natural and not too vigorously cultivated by me, I can't help it. So I am not blaming myself for not being Miss Spenser.

Neither do I believe it is my " mission " in Platoville to devote myself to the entertainment of the disagreeable young gentleman-boarders at the Rev. Obadiah Green's " Christian home." So I am not blaming myself for not doing that.

Ah ! but if I only had in my heart that sweet flower of charity, its odor would go out to all that are in the house. If I only did 'love more, it won/d come out, unconsciously, without my trying, and would comfort and bless, as love always does, because it is love.

There is such a thing as a " fellowship with hearts," which I could and ought to " keep and cultivate," but now it seems to me so far off and sometimes so distasteful.

There is only one thing that can be the root of this evil fruit. It is an ugly word, but I think it is the true one. It is selfishness. ; Not that I am always grossly selfish, but it is a way of looking at things through the medium of self; an unloving habit of mind which, like a

smoke fills the atmosphere of my heart and keeps out all the free, pure, heavenly airs, and the flowers that will grow only in them.

I remember One who " pleased not Himself." Men knew Him that He was love, and by a blessed instinct sore hearts stole close up to Him and were healed and comforted. And so they are doing still, and will do till the end of time.

And I call myself His child — His follower !

Helen Roberts wrote these words, sitting by her little round table one winter evening, not a great many years ago. When she had laid down her pen, she bent a very humble head on the writing-desk before her, and sat a long time perfectly still.

The clock ticked loudly on the mantel, and a spent coal occasionally clattered down from the grate to the fender beneath. But Helen noticed nothing outside of her own heart.

When, at last, she lifted her face to the light, something that looked like victory shone out of her eyes.

The orphan girl, very much alone in her mental and spiritual life, was not unaccustomed to quiet moments of looking into her own heart, and iS J/ISS ROBERTS' FORTUNE.

watching the good and evil growing there together. But it was seldom that the search went quite so deep, or was quite so painful as to-night.

The padlocked book had been her best friend and confidante, yet it was, for the most part, only that medley of selected sentiment in prose and verse, taking scraps of legend and history, and pretty, girlish thoughts all her own, which makes up the mental furniture of all bright and thoughtful girls anywhere from fourteen to twenty -

The danger which Helen had to-night discovered herself to be in was a real one. It had been growing with her, and was, perhaps, fostered by the kind of life she had led. But that best Friend who watches all our lives and cares so infinitely more than we do, that they should be right and good, was watching hers ; and gradually, and by one of those simple ways which He often uses, He had called her attention to the fact. Very likely she did not fully understand it yet. Perhaps she exaggerated some of its features, and left others quite as important unnoticed. But the warning was before her. As we know her better we shall see how she heeds it.

You would have thought Helen a pretty picture as, after locking the faithful volume, she

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stood for a moment, the seriousness not yet gone from her face, leaning on the mantel and looking down into the fire. But when she moved to cross the room, the lameness and awkwardness of which she had spoken appeared. There was a sudden plunge forward, a quick effort at recovery, and sometimes a grasp at whatever article of furniture stood nearest to help regain the lost balance. It was painful to see at first, and you felt sorry for her. But the clear, brown eyes looked straightforward, and there was even now, and it grew upon her in later years, an unconsciousness of anything unusual or painful that, to those who loved her, had almost the charm of grace. As she went about the room her face grew brighter, and when she turned down the kerosene lamp and let the winter starlight in, she was singing softly to herself the new song her music teacher had given her that afternoon : " But the Lord is mindful of his own ; He remembers his children."

" We scatter seeds with careless hand,

And dream we ne'er shall see them more : But for a thousand years Their fruit appears, In weeds that mar the land, Or healthful store."

Chapter II

ON the broad main street of Platoville stood the old red brick academy, famous in those parts as the center of elegant learning-. Around the sacred edifice was a patch of earth never green and now browny - white with frequent snows and incessant ball - playing. This was crossed at every possible angle by narrow paths of slightly deeper hues than the general surface, all converging to the rheumatic and much bewhittled cloor. Inside the gloomy portal were to be found respectable recitation rooms and* a light and not unpleasant school -room, but the outer aspect of the noble institution was, to put it at the mildest, truly venerable. Opposite the academy stood the " orthodox" church, flanked by the Baptist, and squinted at in a friendly way from an acute angle by the modest Methodist structure.

Across the small, three-cornered common, which a little above here divided the street into

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two, were the drug-store, which contained the post-office, and the shoe-store with the bakery in its rear. The general " emporium" for drygoods and groceries was a few steps farther tip on that one of the streets which kept the name of Main street. The other road passed off peacefully into the snowy country, and between the two, shortly after they parted, lay one or two narrow and modern looking cross streets.

On one of these (which I learn has since taken the name of Maple avenue), stood a row of small white houses, all just alike, even to the curve of the lightning rods on their square cupolas, and the cramped bay windows on their left sides. Everybody knew who lived in the last but one of these houses. And even the stranger, so unfortunate as to be ignorant on this point, " was ware" some time before reaching the mansion, of the characters, blazing in burnished steel, from the big door-plate — " Rev. O. Green."

Pushing back the little gate which barely escaped the steep and narrow steps, you found yourself between two slender Corinthian columns, confronting this same door-plate. The door, when it was opened, barely escaped the front stairs, and if you were not very tall you did not

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have to dodge the second story in making the ascent. A general odor of cod-fish and fried pork pursued you up-stairs and lingered in the shadowy recesses of the upper hall.

As to this upper hall, the architect had had the best of intentions, and had introduced a merry little parti-colored window on the way up-stairs, but the present occupants of the house were enemies to flies and all creatures that loved light, and had nailed a thick green paper over this one bright spot. Only one ghastly ray of blue light now crept in, and that was through a small orifice made by the irreverent finger of one of the young gentleman - boarders. The rooms of the second story, with one exception, were taken this winter by a party of young ladies from the city of X , new-comers in Plato-

ville. Helen Roberts paid a liberal bonus for the unwonted privilege of occupying the small front chamber alone. Out of its windows lay the broad, white country, checked off by rows of brown trees, and beyond a range of blue, snowy hills, over which the sun came every morning. The back room, commanding the academy and the churches, was occupied by Helen's cousin, Lily Wood, and her particular friend, Jennie Osborne. Dora, Lily's sister, aged thirteen, was the proud occupant of the little room opening out of it, just big enough to contain a bed and a picture. .>

What freak of fortune should have sent these four city girls to winter in that inclement village, was a question which might have interested the curious, and which, in fact, did puzzle some of the less wise heads of Platoville itself. But when a papa and mamma must go to Europe with their eldest daughter, and there are three incumbrances to be disposed of, what is to be done ? And when Madame de Moliere, to whom they are forthwith taken in a body, is " more than full already, my dear lady, and positeefly cannot promise a single vacancy before next July," what but a very disconsolate and unsettled party must that be that leaves her door to take the train for nowhere, and wait for something to turn up? And, under these circumstances, when the Rev. Obadiah Green, in the peaceful pursuit of his travels and his duty, (and having gathered from the conversation of the party something of their situation,) falls into discourse with Mr. Wood, and, in the course of conversation, hands him one of his little cards, settin°-

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forth the attractions of his " Christian home for young persons desirous of pursuing a course of study at the well-known academy of Platoville," what, I say, under such circumstances, is more natural than that the result which we have already contemplated should come to pass?

" Why, Matilda, here is just the very thing for us," says Mr. Wood, introducing the Rev. Obadiah to a short parley with his pretty wife.

" Yes, indeed, how fortunate we are !" reiterated that graceful lady, leaving the gentlemen to drop into the seat back of the girls, and laying her pretty little braceletted wrist lightly over Lily's shoulder.

" Girls, I think you are to be congratulated. Such a nice, quiet place — so much better than a fashionable boarding - school. I shall feel perfectly easy about you. Now there is nothing to be done but for me to take the train for home at Springfield— yes, I'll see about Jennie's coming, dear — and your father will go with you and see you nicely settled at Mr. Green's."

" Be sure and make Jennie come, won't you, mother?" said Lily, a trifle dismally -

" Yes, 1 will. I'll see Mrs. Osborne this evening. You trust me for that." And she kept her promise.

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" We have found such a nice place for the girls, Mrs. Osborne — a good, quiet, Christian family, and the school close by. Lily will be perfectly happy if you will only let Jennie go, t« >■■ >. Dora is so young, you know, and Helen — well, she's a fine girl, you know — a very fine girl, but she's so quiet, and she can't go out as much as Lily likes to, and the fact is— you will let Jennie go, won't you?"

While this matter was being settled, the girls were still on their way up into the dreary north. The October night grew chilly, and darkness came down over the hills. The two gentlemen sat opposite the girls, their hats jogging up and down together in a friendly way in the now almost deserted car.

" Well, sir," said the man of business, after several vain attempts to come to terms, " now if you will be so kind as to name your price."

"The price— ah— yes," said the Rev. Obadiah, who had been meditating on this very subject ever since he first fell in with the party. " Though I regard it as one of the minor considerations, yet it is one of those things which— a— the fact is, I am accustomed to view this matter so much in the light of— a — if I may say — benevolence "

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" Yes, yes, Mr. Green, I appreciate your delicacy, sir, and your — your benevolence, but what is your regular price for board?"

Mr. Green smiled. " Indeed, sir, as I was remarking— that is the very point, sir — indigent young persons in the pursuit of — a — "

" But we are not indigent young persons, sir. We expect to pay a fair price and get a fair article, as we say in trade, sir. Now, what will you take this party for?"

The merchant was beginning to be a little nettled, and inclined to think it rather hasty of Matilda (Matilda always was hasty) to decide this matter without more consideration.

" They will take three rooms, did you say, sir ? — and, being from the city, they will probably require some privileges which — a — really, I hardly know what to say, sir."

" Well, what do you say to twelve dollars a week ?" said Mr. Wood, getting desperate. " Will that do ?"

Mr. Green's regular price was seven dollars. He looked at the merchant warily from under his spectacles. " Well — sir, — a — perhaps you did not intend to include washing, sir?"

" Well no; washing extra, if you say so."

Mr. Green took another wary look. "Now, sir, — it may seem a small matter to you — but to a clergyman, sir, one not rich in this world's goods, — a — if you could say fuel and light extra — (washing, fuel and light, yes, sir. I think that will be all) — a — I think I should be able to accept your terms."

" Very good, sir, very good. We'll consider the matter settled. The money for my daughters will be forwarded to you monthly by my book-keeper. Here is our card, sir. Miss Roberts' guardian is just now in California, but I will make arrangements with his house to have her business attended to, — here is their card, sir — Saxton & Co. Well, girls, pretty tired ? We're almost there, I believe."

The appearance of our young ladies in Platoville caused a pleasant little breeze of excitement in that quiet community. For a moment the village girls stood aghast in their high waterfalls and last year's hats, but they quickly recovered themselves, in the eager pursuit of the fashions brought by the new-comers. Chatelaine braids went like wildfire through the school, and last year's hats took on an upper story and French roof in a marvelously short time.

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The gravest of heads turned around to see the city girls walk into church. The demurest of eves looked with ill-concealed interest at their rich dresses and pretty waving plumes.

They were scrutinized and questioned by old ladies around the stove, at the church-door. They were discussed at sewing society. Their probable wealth (increased to a fabulous degree), the number of their dresses, and the quality of their under-clothing (as ascertained from the washerwoman), were revealed and commented on. Their lightest sayings and doings were reported by the school-girls.

A few, indeed, frowned upon them and their finery, and bewailed the day that had brought such frivolity before the eyes of Platoville youth. But even they turned around in the street to count the ruffles on their dresses. A few were scornful, and wished them to know that they knew something of city ways, too, and invited them to their houses to show them that they had Brussels carpets and pianos as well as city folks. But these poor little hearts burned with a bitter discontent and envy which the innocent causers never suspected.

Nobody in the village was really indifferent to them. The apothecary left his mortar, with a smile, to hand out their letters and papers, and the grocer felt an uncommon sense of elevation after they had been in, with their free, pretty ways, to buy a few apples, or a comb.

Not because they were handsome, not because they were famous, not because they were rich, were these things so, but because they carried with them that nameless grace that marks the city-bred.

At the time our story commences, the girls had begun to feel quite like old inhabitants of Platoville. They had experienced all the heights and depths of homesickness, and settled down into a philosophic resolve to get all the fun they could out of the winter. Christmas and New- Year's had passed, made endurable by a generous box from Jennie's mother. They had formed a few acquaintances, — the Phelps, who were not rich, but were well-bred ; the Johnsons, who were richer, but not so well-bred. Probably there were many whom they would have been proud to call friends, if there could only have been a mutual opening of eyes, if the city girls could have seen through the homely exterior so new to them, and the rustics could have seen

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through the poplins, and velvets, and feathers. They were all some years older before they knew how real a lady it was Sarah Phelps took them to see one day, who did not look at their dresses nor question them about their relatives, but sat in her calico dress talking pleasantly to them, showing them her only rarities, the magnificent roses and callas in her window, and then got tea right before them, in the same room — the delicious farmer's tea — rye bread and Dutch cheese, mince pie, baked apples and cream — while her husband, just come in from some out-door work,warmed his big, hard hands before the fire, and looked over the weekly paper.

At home, in the Green establishment, the girls could never feel, and that family long remained more or less of a problem to them, unique in their observation and experience. Mr. Green was said to be an " agent," but if that word means what from its derivation one might suppose it to mean, it is far from expressing what seemed to be the distinguishing feature of that gentleman's calling. About once a month he " traveled," in the phrase of the family, but for what purpose was not definitely known. Jennie Osborne, who confessed to great curiosity on this point, never found any one who could tell her. The greater part of the remaining time he spent, in a flowerydressing-gown, reading the " Herald of Evangelical Freedom," in the warm corner of his sitting-room, and imparting wisdom to the young persons committed to his care.

At the table, he dealt out lofty sentiments, as he did the meat and vegetables in well-considered quantities, and in the midst of almost unbroken silence on the part of the recipients of his favors.

Mrs. Green's voice was seldom heard on these festive occasions, except in a hoarse whisper behind her apron to the distracted maid-of-all-work " Lucindy " She always appeared at the table in close pursuit of the beef- steak, flushed and tired-looking, and the girls, if they thought of her at all, felt sorry for her. Otherwise, she was chiefly known to the up-stairs community by the distant sound of beating eggs and the occasional audible difference of opinion between herself and Bobby, the youthful scion of the house of Green.

Mary, the daughter, was an unhappy maiden of fifteen, who wore the cast-off bows of the young lady -boarders, and envied them their

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other privileges. At this period her life was made a burden to her by Bobby's unremitting mischief, by her mother's peevish and ill-timed but just complaints of her laziness, and by her father's moral lectures — most of all by a lively sense of these and all the discomforts of her home. Let us hope that better things may come to the poor child with coming years and wisdom.