Part 16 (2/2)
CHAPTER XVII
A Family Council
Luncheon was over and Mrs. Carruth, the girls and Mammy were seated in the library; Mammy's face being full of solicitude for her Miss Jinny.
Mammy could no more have been left out of this family council than could Eleanor.
”An' you haint got dat 'surance money and cyant git hit, Baby?” she asked, when Mrs. Carruth had finished explaining the situation to them.
”No, Mammy; it is impossible. I have hoped until the last moment, but now I must give up all hope.”
”But--but I done _paid_ de prem'ym ter dat little Sniffin's man, an'
_he_ say we _git_ de money all right an' straight,” argued Mammy, loath to give up _her_ hope.
”I know that, Mammy. He told you so in all good faith. It is not his fault in the least. It would have been settled at once, had we not--had we not--” Mrs. Carruth hesitated. She was reluctant to lay the blame upon Eleanor.
”Oh, it is _all_ my fault! All. If I had not brought those hateful acids into the house we would _never_ have had all this trouble. I shall never forgive myself, and I should think you'd all want to kill me,” wailed the cause of the family's misfortune, springing to her feet to pace rapidly up and down the room, quite unconscious that a long feather boa which happened to have been upon the back of her chair, had caught upon her belt-pin and was trailing out behind in a manner to suggest Darwin's theory of the origin of man.
”My child you need not reproach yourself. You were working for our mutual benefit. You knew nothing of the conditions--”
”Knew nothing! Knew nothing!” broke in Eleanor. ”That's just _it_. It was my business to know! And I tell you one thing, in future I _mean_ to know, and not go blundering along in ignorance and wrecking everybody else as well as myself. I'm just no better than a fool with _all_ my poring over books and experimenting. After this I'll find out where my _feet_ are, even if my head _is_ stuck in the clouds. And now, mother, listen: Since I _am_ responsible for this mess it is certainly up to me to help you to pull out of it, and I'm going to _do_ it, I've spoken to Mr. Hillard, and asked him about coaching, and he says he can get me plenty of students who will be only too glad if I can give them the time. And I'm going to do it three afternoons a week. I shall have to do it between four and six, as those are my only free hours, and if I can't coach better than some I've known to undertake it, I'll quit altogether.”
As Eleanor talked, Mammy's expression became more and more horrified.
When she ceased speaking the old woman rose from the ha.s.sock upon which she sat, and crossing the room to Mrs. Carruth's side laid her hand upon her shoulder as she asked in an awed voice:
”Baby you won't _let_ her do no sich t'ing as dat? Cou'se you won't.
Wimmin folks now-a-days has powerful strange ways, dat I kin see myse'f, but we-all don' do sich lak. Miss Nornie wouldn't never in de roun' worl' do _dat_, would she, honey? She jist a projectin', ain't she?”
Mammy's old face was so troubled that Mrs. Carruth was much mystified.
”Why Mammy, I don't know of anything that Eleanor is better qualified to do than coach. And Mammy, dear, we _must_ do something--every one of us, I fear. We can not all live on the small interest I now have, and I shall never touch the princ.i.p.al if I can possibly avoid doing so.
Eleanor can materially help by entering upon this work, and Constance has already shown that she can aid also. Even Baby has helped,” added Mrs. Carruth, laying her arm caressingly across Jean's shoulders, for Jean had stuck to her side like a burr.
”Then you _will_ let me go to East Riveredge with the candy?” cried Jean, quick to place her entering wedge.
”We will see,” replied Mrs. Carruth, but Jean knew from the smile that the day was won.
”I know all dat, honey,” resumed Mammy, ”but dis hyer coachin'
bisness. I ain' got _dat_ settle in my mind. Hit just pure scandal'zation 'cordin' ter my thinkin'. Gawd bress my soul what we-all comin' to when a Blairsdale teken ter drive a nomnibus fer a livin'? Tck! Tck!” and Mammy collapsed upon a chair to clasp her hands and groan.
Then light dawned upon the family.
”Oh, Mammy! I don't intend to become a stage-coach driver,” cried Eleanor, dropping upon her knees beside the perturbed old soul, and laying her own hands upon the clasped ones as she strove hard not to laugh outright. ”You don't understand at _all_, Mammy. A coach is someone who helps other students who can't get on well with their studies. Who gives an hour or two each day to such work. And it is very well paid work, too, Mammy.”
Mammy looked at her incredulously as though she feared she was being made game of. Then she glanced at the others. Their faces puzzled her, as well they might, since the individuals were struggling to repress their mirth lest they wound the old woman's feelings, but still were anxious to rea.s.sure her.
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