Silas Gower's daughters

Front matter

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V

Chapter I

'DRICKTOP CORNERS was as ugly a little spot as could well be found in the heart of a lovely country. Beyond the hills that encircled it were fresh, sweet pastures, where fat kine stood in the lush grass or waded in the clear shallow river edged with green bulrushes and spicy mint. There were yellow wheat-fields, picturesque woodlands and pretty hill-slopes, over which the summer shadows slipped back and forth at play, while quiet grass-grown roads wound in and out under old elms. But all this beauty was quite outside of Brick top Corners, where clustered the church, the store, the tavern and a few streets of dingy houses.

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mostly brick. There were nowhere the signs of abject poverty, but everywhere evidences of the graceless — the beauty-barren living of people who abide near to Nature without borrowing any of her beauty, and who value existence in a community chiefly on account of being near a grocery, a doctor or a tavern.

One of the largest of the houses was a framed one, standing apart from others in the South Corner.” Its front yard was full of gnarled old apple trees, v/ith here and there a hencoop or a beehive set down at random. A spotted calf, tied to a stake not far from the front door, had demolished a clump of pink hollyhocks, the only flowers on the place. The door itself stood open, showing a square room, evidently the parlor. It had a huge-patterned red and green ingrain carpet, six cane-seated chairs, a slippery black sofa and a slate-colored wooden mantel. On this was a vase of tall grasses, so stiffened with alum as to stand like

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broom-corn, and against the wall were six old-fashioned ambrotypes, all open, while higher up hung a certificate of somebody’s relationship to an agricultural association. The only book there was in the hands of a young girl, who had just come in and stopped a moment to read its concluding page ; this done, she went to the outer door. She was a girl of no very exceptional comeliness of face or figure, yet in spite of a dark homely dress and no pretty girlish adornments her features were attractive. Her delicately moulded chin was firm enough to express considerable character, and her dark blue eyes had in them promise of thoughtfulness; still, the expression of her countenance was childlike and a little discontented.

It was about six o’clock of a summer day, and Neil Gower watched the men coming over the hills from their work on the farms beyond, and the few wagons driven out by the farmers’ wives or daughters who had

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been in to trade. These clumsy vehicles lumbered up the road, leaving thick clouds of dust and awaking echoes after they had disappeared behind it. A quite different carriage rolled lightly along after a while — a pretty phaeton — noiselessly following a cream-colored pony. There was a young girl alone within it, fair and clothed in some blue fleecy fabric. She did not look toward the big frame house or toward the girl in the dark gown. Neil Gower had not expected that she would do so ; she was not thinking of that, only admiring the passer-by. She knew her to be the only daughter of a wealthy manufacturer. She had lately come home after several years of city life in a boarding-school, and was the object of much curiosity at the Corners.

As the young girl passed Neil recalled a description Miss Phipps the dressmaker had given her of this Jessie Bromley’s room, newly furnished for her in blue and gilt — how her curtains were lace over silk, and the

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ceiling all gold stars in the most beautiful faint blue sky, and the lamps were stalks of lovely white lilies. Neil had never in her life seen a really handsome room, and such a report sounded like a tale of far-off splendor. She was picturing it to herself when the strokes of a noisy bell clashed through the room behind her and a loud feminine voice shouted, ‘‘ Supper is ready Neil turned about, for the last glimpse of the blue dress had disappeared over the highest hill-top. She did not go through the house, but walked down the steps and around the house angle, where stood a weather-beaten hogshead under the water-pipe from the eavestrough. On this side lay the kitchen-garden, mostly given up to beets and cabbages. Around one more angle was the long well-sweep, the barns and the open kitchen door.

This kitchen was really the pleasantest room in the whole house, because it was well warmed or ventilated according to the season, and furnished with almost all suitable

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articles for use, and some for comfort. Thence had sounded out the bell for supper, and within the meal was spread. The table had plates for six, but no one was there except Alvira Higgins, who presided in place of the mother who had been dead five years. She was cutting brown bread in glum silence, but in a moment the rest of the family appeared. Janet, aged sixteen, was a healthy, robust girl, with a louder voice than Neil and a certain head-toss and air of selfassertion lacking in her younger sister. She turned abruptly to Bob, her small brother of six, and set him down in his high chair with a forcible suddenness which he resented by striking out at, her ribs with his mite of a hand. Bob looked like a gutta-percha image ; his legs were short and fat, his head as yet too big for him, and his face was a combination of twinkling eyes, upturned nose, puckers and winks. Still, Bob had a good deal of character, such as it was.

Emerging from the tin wash-basin behind

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the door, soon came another countenance, dripping with water ; its owner dried it on a crash towel, then turned it, red with friction, toward the supper-table. This was Tibbits, the elder son and heir. Tibbits was a hardworking, silent fellow, with reddish-yellow hair and sunburned cheeks, accounted by the world of Bricktop Corners as ‘^sensible enough, but nothing uncommon.’’ The children were seated when Silas Gower, their father, appeared in the open door holding something outstretched in his hand.

Who peeled the potatoes this noon ? Let me know that.”

‘‘Neil did,” answered Janet coolly, looking over the not very lavish repast.

“ I thought likely. Look at this skin ! I found the best part of half a dozen potatoes out there in the pigs’ pail — skins sliced off half an inch thick. Always boil them with their skins on to save waste.”

Neil answered wearily, “ I could not pare them thinner without a razor.”

She knew her father’s anger was partly simulated in order to teach what he considered a lesson of vital importance in domestic economy. If it had not been the potatoes before supper, it probably would have been the too thick slices of bread cut during supper.

Alvira Higgins, with a sort of fine disdain on her sallow visage, saw him drop the j)otato-skin into the fire and sit down at the table, after which she poured him a cup of weak green tea and filled a cup with milk for Bob.

“ Alvira, did you see that Bromley girl riding by ?” asked Janet after a while. ‘‘ I’d like to know how it would seem to have nothing to do but to dress up and career around behind a coffee-colored nag.”

‘‘ Nonsense and folly !” grumbled her father, ‘‘ keeping a fancy horse to eat its head off! The girl had better be learning how to earn her salt in case she has to. What would keep her out of the county house to-morrow

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if Bromley lost his money, as I'm all the time doing? What'll keep girls out?"

If the work I have had to do could, that would," retorted Janet, decidedly.

Look at the butter I have made to-day ; and it is the last I shall churn until I get the pay for that I have packed down."

“I paid you," said her father shortly.

He never gave the girls spending-money — he thought it a poor plan — but he let them work for small rewards.

“ No, sir, you are mistaken. — Isn't he, Alvira?"

Yes," said the glum spinster.

Mr. Gower finished his supper, pushed back his plate and drew from his breastpocket an old leather wallet, pushing out of sight the larger bank-bills it held, and looking for change. Finally, after a little contradiction, he paid the sum demanded by his shrewd daughter. Neil looked at the wallet, half opened her lips to speak, and then closed them again. Bob begged for a

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big Canadian penny he espied, and did not get it. Tibbits ate his supper without a word, and then went to the barn to do the evening ’work, his father soon following. As soon as the latter was out of sight Janet ran off to the pantry, and returned with a dish of baked pears. Bob stood up in his chair and waved his knife and fork at sight of them.

What’s up now ?” asked Alvira.

‘‘ Have one. Miss Higgins ?” said Janet.

Alvira glanced at the pears scornfully, and went on removing the dishes, not clearing them ; that had been done already. She did not accept the proffered pear, because she seldom did accept anything pleasant. If she had been a Eoman Catholic, one might have suspected her of a prolonged penance. She was not cross or actually morose, but she would have explained the fact by saying that life in general seemed to her an experience so unpleasant that a little more or less satisfaction did not signify. But Janet and

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Bob ate the pears, for these children usually finished their meals with the regulation

desire for a little more,’’ said by certain authorities to be conducive to sound health.

‘‘That butter-money goes for something new,” said Janet. “ It is about time I had a summer lawn.”

“ What is Neil going to do for a dress ?” asked Alvira.

“That is her lookout,” returned the girl.

The father’s step was heard, and Janet darted into the pantry. Neil helped Alvira put the kitchen in order, while Mr. Gower took his pipe and went out to sit on the doorstep, with the calf for company.

It was yet some time before dark, and Janet appeared to say that she was going to the “ store.” It was Saturday evening, and the little town would be quite lively. She could buy her dress and have it to work on early in the week, besides having a little gossip and making some plan to while away her time on Sunday.

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Of the blessing of a Sabbath kept holy as a day more precious than any of the other six, Janet knew little and cared less.

‘‘ Alvira,’’ said Neil, when they were left together, “ do you suppose there is the least chance that father will let me go to school next week? The academy opens with new teachers.^’

‘‘Is it free?”

“ Yes, or I never would expect to go. Janet don’t want to go, but it seems as if I must, I should have to buy a calico dress, and maybe a book or two.”

“ Then give it up at once. I heerd him vow he’d never pay another cent after the last gogerfy he bought. He said it was perfect nonsense.”

Neil sadly seated herself by the window to meditate, and concluded she could not do more than put the question to test, particularly as Janet was not by to hinder or interfere. She saw her father rise up and knock the ashes out of his pipe, as if he were going

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away. It was her one chance, and she must improve it ; so she stepped quickly out :

“ Father, could I have a little money V' Money! What for?’’

“ To buy me a dress.”

‘‘ What ails the one you have on ?”

‘‘ It is dark and old, and very thick.”

“ Nonsense! So is my coat, but I ain’t going to throw it away, for all that. When you have a good thing, stick to it. I’ve had to pay a year’s taxes this afternoon.”

“ But, father, I have nothing cool to wear. It would be better economy to save this until winter again.”

‘‘Glad to hear you use the word ‘economy.’ Just try for once to find out its meaning.”

“Then,” continued Neil with a nervous shrinking of her slender frame, “ you know school begins Thursday, and I think I ought to go.”

“And I think,” said Mr. Gower, “the sooner you put that out of your head the better. I know what this superfine educa- 2

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ting does for girls. Look at Bromley ^s. You’d be wanting one of my farm-horses to drive next, and the threshing-machine sold for a coach. No; you girls have just got to come down to hard work and common sense so long as you live under my roof. — Alvira!” he shouted in conclusion, ‘‘have you any eggs for the grocery?”

In answer to the shout, Alvira appeared with six dozen. Mr. Gower took them and went away. Neil did not show any emotion whatever until he was out of sight; then ghe sat down melancholy, and when Alvira joined her the tears were rolling one after the other down her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t fret over a new dress, Neil. You never go anywhere, so you can manage without one.”

“ It isn’t just the dress, Alvira.”

“Well, the school, then. You might, maybe, have more torment a-carryin’ the thing out than you’d get satisfaction. Sometimes ’tain’t no use.”

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“ You have said it now/’ returned Neil.

It isn’t the dress, the school, nor any one thing ; it is the no use in anything. I believe I’m dreadfully sick of being, Janet makes father think I hate work. I don’t like it just for its own sake, as she seems to, but I can and do work. You know, Alvira, it is not that. It is because it comes to nothing, and I don’t get anything out of it to interest me. Now, Janet has got her butter-money, and she will buy new finery of some sort ; and the making and wearing of it will satisfy her until next time. It would not me. I’d want to have something beyond, that I was looking forward to ; but with us there never is any such beyond, no reason for doing anything. It makes me ’most wild sometimes, Alvira. We cook and we scrimp, wash dishes and skim milk, go to bed and get up ; then do it over again, as if it never would end. If we were poor there would seem to be more — I don’t know what — duty or excitement about it ; but we know father

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must be rich. Not that it is money I want. You know I never keep account of my extra work and get pay for it as Janet does; I can’t, some way. I don’t know what I would like unless it — Were ever any of mother’s folks crazy, Alvira?”

Sakes alive ! Not as ever I heard. Do let’s know why.”

Oh, because the only pleasure I know of or imagine seems like crazy people’s freaks.”

‘'What is it?”

“ Well, once when I went on an errand in to old Deacon Clapp’s, he was reading out loud. I thought it was the Bible, only it was like poetry. It was about God and his being so rich ; it seemed as if it was what he himself said. I overheard this : ‘ Every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. If I were hungry I would not tell thee ; for the world is mine and the fullness thereof.’ All like that, in a sort of grand pride. Well, I would like not to be

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afraid of God, as I am wlien I really think of him as having every one of us in his power. If I thought of him as that poetry sounded, I would like to live away from people among hills and woods — to work of course, but not to be driven, and never again while I lived to hear what things cost — to see splendid sunrises, sunsets and quantities of outdoor things that are recklessly common and don’t cost a penny. Oh, I can’t tell you how it came to me that God was rich and yet so generous. It would have been men’s way to have put a price-mark on every unusually handsome tree.”

What would you do, come winter ?” asked Alvira, thinking prosaically of Neil’s ideas.

Oh, I’d choose a climate where it never was cold.”

‘‘ And you wouldn’t have a creature to say boo to. You are mighty independent, it appears to me.”

I would like sometimes to see you, and I would want to know the rest were all well

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without me. I hope I am not hard-hearted, but I do not seem to need many people. I suppose it is because nobody needs me. I do get dreadfully lonesome, though, sometimes.”

“ Yes, it is natural enough to some when they are your age ; they are full of drawin’s here and pullin’s there, and queer notions. If it ain’t iniquity of some sort they are up to, they get minching and sentimental-like.”

Nonsense, Alvira ! I detest sentimental folks ; they are like Sue Clarkson, who wears her hair down her back and writes verses.”

Maybe you would too if you knew how or could spare the time. I wouldn’t insure you agin it ; girls is girls.” Then, seeing the disgust on Neil’s face, she added, more sympathizingly, I do myself think you ought to have a change — school or something.”

That is out of the question,” returned Neil, moodily.

The two sat quietly, while the lingering

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color of the sunset faded quite out of the sky, and the crickets and tree-toads chirruped noisily in the grass and foliage.

In certain respects Alvira Higgins was as unlike Neil Gower as Neil was unlike Janet; but while there never was any real interchange of earnest thought or feeling between the sisters, in some way or another there was just this between Neil and the housekeeper. Janet was Alvira’s “ right-liand man ” in all great household undertakings. It was she who advocated and occasionally brought about innovations in her father’s regime, so that she considered herself simply indispensable to the home as well as to Alvira; and perhaps she was. Still, Neil and the full-grown woman met on grounds never trodden by Janet, and Alvira was far from thinking Neil a superfluous member of the family. To-night, after a long silence, Neil suddenly exclaimed, '‘Alvira, are you pious ?”

The blood flushed up toward Alvira’s high

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cheek-bones. She did not for a moment answer, then she said, I might be one kind, but I won’t ! I don’t know how to be t’other, or I would.”

‘‘ Are there two ways ?” asked Neil, curiously.

‘‘As nigh as I have made out from observation.”

It was Neil’s turn to be silent. She was thinking what were her own ideas of piety, and finding them very vague indeed. It would have been difiicult to have found in a nominally Christian community children more ignorant of religion, either as regards its forms or its spirit.

“ What are these two things ?” she said at last.

“ Well, folks called the widow Simmons pious,” said Alvira. “ I lived with her once, and ’tain’t for me to say she was not, but I don’t feel no call to pattern after her. She went to church regular and she paid her honest debts — when she had to; but that

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knot of a woman hadn’t no more lovin’ kindness in her than a grindstone has honey. She’d scold, scold, all day, and take the evening to tell the rest of the family how wicked they’d been. Maybe they had, because she’d a way of fetching any ugliness there was around right up to the surface. She used to be always explaining j)rophecies, and searching the Bible to find texts to contradict the minister with. I never could admire her.”

I should think not,” said Neil with decision. ‘‘ Now, what was the other kind?”

Alvira hesitated and showed a new sort of embarrassment for her ; it was as if she was abruptly called upon to bring to light something she had thought so much about that secrecy had made the subject sacred.

Well, I never did tell you mucli about little Mrs. Strong I lived with before I came here. She was a widow too, and had four of the beautifulest children you ever saw. I kept house for her and nursed her nigh onto

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three years. She had been high up in society, and knew what fashion meant, and beauty too ; for she had it ; but she never seemed to care for all that, and when her husband died she just lived for her little folks — fine bright children, if ever there were such. Well, I hadn’t been very long with her before I kept asking myself what made her so different from everybody I had known before. She was so good, so tender-hearted to the poor and the sick and the miserable. It was not just that, either — there is plenty as is that : she was patient and forgiving to aggravatin’, ugly persons. If anybody abused her (and folks were envious and the neighbors said hateful things about laziness; for you see she was delicate and couldn’t work), why, she would lay herself out to do them very people some real friendly turn.

By and by she had a cancer. Dear me ! if there is a horrible, horrible thing on the face of this earth, it is for a person to have

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sucli a tiling as that! It was wronglytreated some way, and I pray the Lord I may never see anybody suffer so again. At last it was cut out, and then in six months it came back worse than ever; and she lived eight months longer before she died. You wouldn’t listen to me if I tried to tell you of that sickness ; and that isn’t the pint, either, that I’m gettin’ at. It was that woman’s piety, and what it meant to her, and how I’d give anything to have her kind, and don’t understand it. She never fretted ; she never complained. I’ve seen her, after such agony that I had to stand and wipe drops like rain off her face, — I’ve seen her smile and say, ‘ I’m that much nearer heaven, Alvira.’ It was Bible with her about all the time ; she didn’t read so much ; she did not need to, for it seemed as if she had it at her tongue’s end. Such loving, comforting, happy sort of Bible-talk, too. I never heard her exjilain about vials and seals and prophecies, like Widow Simmons.

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Tlie Bible was a different book to her. It was all about God and Jesus Christ, and nothing gloomy or awful. She didn’t fear death no more than you’d fear to go up stairs to bed after one of our hardest day’s works. She wasn’t self-righteous, either ; I’ve heard her speak of her sinful heai-t. Dear me ! when she did it I felt such a sense of how wicked I must be, I wanted to go and lie right down in the dirt — seemed as if I must be too bad to live if she was sinful.”

She must have been born so,” said Neil. ‘‘She never could have made herself that way. I know I never could. I have read of a few such people, and it is discouraging. Was she all taken up with talking about heaven and death when she was well ? I suppose she never liked fun or the things of this world.”

“She always seemed to like to think of heaven, but she liked everything pretty and cheerful. The very day she died she asked me to fill her a vase with roses, and told me

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where to find some gay bows and beads for the children’s dolls. They would come and fetch her all their funny notions and contrivances to laugh at, and up to the very last she would try to do it if the pain would let her.”

Why, then she didn’t make hard work of being pious, or do it with a great fuss and ceremony ?”

‘‘No, she did not.”

“ I wonder how she made herself lihe reading the Bible ?” said Neil, remembering the perfectly fresh paper and shining black cover of the large book that for years had lain undisturbed on the little stand in the dark corner of the parlor. — “ Alvira, do you love Bible-reading ?”

Alvira blushed again : “ No, I can’t truly say I do. About a year ago I said to myself, ‘Alvira Higgins, you shalU ” She hesitated, then went on: “‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you shall begin at the first word, and study the sense of every line till you understand the

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whole of it/ I went at it that way every night, no matter if I was tired as a dog. I got three-fourths through Leviticus, and I come to the conclusion if I was a-getting pious at all, it was in Mrs. Simmons’s way, instead of in Mrs. Strong’s, and so I held up my efforts at reading.”

“ What do you suppose was the trouble ?” asked Neil.

It passes me to tell. I’m fearful thickheaded about book-learnin’, and ain’t got no — what you might call range of idees. I just wanted to find out how to be gentle and kind and forgivin’, and that didn’t seem to tell me. I wanted to know what would keep cold shivers from creepin’ all over me when I saw a coffin and an open grave, and thought of the judgment-day, and when I woke up nights and thought over my sins; but I haven’t got to it yet. Or even if I could put that all out of my head, I wanted something to make this life I am a-livin’ a little more than just a breathin’ up so mucli air, eatin’ so mucli provision, and standing just so many dull days.”

Oh, Alvira !” cried Neil, passionately, “ have you felt all that too ? Do you think there is anything you or I could do or be ? or is it only for a few who are made so, this happiness and goodness?” Then less confusedly, but not less vehemently, she continued : Some days I think there must be a way of living and thinking better a great deal than any we know; then it grows all dull again — scrimping, saving, and getting so tired of it all, maybe quarreling with Janet. Do you think there is any help, Alvira?”

“If there is anything better I haven’t found it yet, and I’ve wanted it long enough,” said Alvira. gloomily. “ It is no use. What you are, that you are — at least seems so to me. You, being young, maybe can make something of yourself.”

“ I should not know where to begin,” said Neil sadly.

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Alvira was carrying on a sombre retrospect of lier past life, and did not heed the girFs precise words. She said, ‘‘Yes, with me it is different : I never had much of a chance or a choice at anything. If you think yourself cramped, you ought to have known me at your age. Father was one of the earliest settlers here, poor as poverty, and sick besides. Mother died when I was thirteen, and left me to take care of seven children. We all weathered it through, but when I came of age my hands were horny with hard work, and if I knew how to read and spell, it wasn’t by reason of my schoolin’. There wasn’t no church, or maybe I’d ha’ got into the way of goin’ and not neglected it since : folks learn that way. I s’pose I’m too old now.”

At this moment Neil heard Janet’s voice at the gate. From some undefined impulse she slipped back through the open door, and left Alvira to listen alone to the narration of her exploits, her wonderful bargains and all

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the village gossip. Alvira received it in silence, until at last, just in the middle of Janet’s telling how she beat down the dry-goods clerk on her pink muslin dress,” the housekeeper rose up, saying,

“ It is Saturday night, and I’m going to bed ; I’m tired.”

Espying Bob gayly chasing fireflies in the long grass, she called, Come, Bob ! it is time you were asleep;” but Bob just then discovered the light, not of an insect, but from his father’s pipe as Mr. Gower came down the hill toward home. He rushed out of the yard and up the path to meet him. There are few men whose hearts are without some soft corner. Mr. Gower had one such, and Bob knew the straight road to it. When the child’s mother died she said to Silas, ^^Be good to the 5a%;” and Bob was likely to keep his power long after the right to his title had departed. He seized his father’s hand and trotted back, chattering briskly.