Part 41 (1/2)
All the time Mrs. Farnham had been standing by the carriage, with her shawl and travelling satchel on one arm. She refused to surrender them to Enoch Sharp, and stood swelling with indignation because the housekeeper did not offer to relieve her. She might as well have expected the cupola to descend from its roof, as any of these menial attentions from Salina Bowles, who possessed very original ideas of her duties as a housekeeper.
”Gracious me! I hadn't the least notion that you had children along!”
cried the good woman, totally oblivious of Mrs. Farnham's flushed face, and pressing closely up to the carriage.
”But allow me to hope that you will grant permission, now that they have come!” said the widow with an attempt at biting satire, which Salina received in solemn good faith.
”It ain't the custom hereabouts to turn any thing out of doors, ma'am, expected or not; and I calcurlate there'll be room in the house for a young 'un or two if they ain't over noisy. Come, little gal, give a jump, and let's see how spry you are.”
Isabel obeyed, and impelled by Miss Bowles' vigorous arm, made a swinging leap out of the carriage.
”Gracious sakes, but she's as hornsome as a pictur, ain't she though?
Not your own darter, marm. I calcurlate.”
The flush deepened on the widow's face, and she began to bite her nether lip furiously, a sure sign that rage was approaching to white heat with her. For occasionally Mrs. Farnham found it difficult to retain a just medium, when her temper was up.
”Come, child, move on, let us go into the house, if this woman will get out of the way and permit us”---
”Out of the way, goodness knows I ain't in it by a long chance,” cried Salina, waving her hand toward the house; ”as for permitting, why the path is open straight to the front door; and the house just as much yours as it is mine, I reckon.”
”Is it indeed?” sneered the lady, lifting a fold of her travelling skirt, as she prepared to ascend the first terrace; ”we shall decide that to-morrow.”
But Salina Bowles sent an admiring glance after them, directed at the beautiful child rather than the lady.
”Well, now, she is a purty critter, ain't she, Judge? them long curls do beat all.”
But the Judge was at Mrs. Farnham's side a.s.sisting her to mount the terrace. When Salina became aware of this, her glance fell inside the carriage again, and she saw Mary Fuller leaning forward and gazing after Isabel with her eyes full of tears. Instantly a change came over the rough manner of the woman--she remembered her encomiums on Isabel's beauty with a quick sense of shame, and leaning forward reached out both hands.
”Come, little gal, let me lift you out; harnsome is as harnsome does, you know. I hope you ain't tired, nor nothing.”
Mary began to weep outright. She tried to smile and force the tears back with her eyelids; but the woman's kind words had unlocked her little grateful heart, and she could only sob out--
”Thank you--thank you very much; but I suppose I'm not to stop here, it's only Isabel.”
”And is she your sister?”
”No; but we've been together so long, and now she's gone; and--and”--
”Gone without speaking a word, or saying good bye?--well, I never did!”
Away darted Miss Bowles up the terraces, leaping from step to step like an old greyhound till she seized on Isabel, and giving her a light shake, bore her back in triumph, much to the terror of both children and the astonishment of the widow, who stood regarding them from the upper terrace in impatient wrath; while the Judge softly rubbed his hands and wondered what would come next.
”There now, just act like a Christian, and say good-bye to the little gal that's left behind,” cried Salina, hissing out a long breath as she plumped little Isabel down into the carriage. ”What's the use of long curls and fine feathers if there's no feeling under them? There, there, have a good kiss and a genuine long cry together; it'll be a refreshment to you both.”
Without another word the house-keeper marched away and ascended the terraces, her freckled face glowing with rude kindness, and the sunbeams glancing around her red hair as we see it around some of the ugly saints, that the old masters stiffened on canvas before Raphael gave ease of movement and freedom of drapery to these heavenly subjects.
”What have you done with the child?” almost shrieked Mrs. Farnham, as the house-keeper drew near with a broad smile on her broader mouth.
”Just put her in her place, that's all,” replied Salina; ”she was a coming off without bidding t'other little thing good-bye. There she sot with her two eyes as wet as periwinkles, looking--looking after you all so wishful. I couldn't stand it; n.o.body about these parts could. We ain't wolves and bears, if we were brought up under the hemlocks. 'Little children should love one another,' that's genuine Scripter, or ought to be if it ain't.”