Part 13 (1/2)

”There,” Ellen told the doll, when her mother did not hear ”you look more like the way you ought to, and you ought to be happy, and not ever think you wish you had your silk dress on. Think of all the poor children who never have any silk dresses, or any dresses at all--nothing except their cloth bodies in the coldest weather. You ought to be thankful to have this.” For all which good advice and philosophy the little mother of the doll would often look at the discarded beauty of the wardrobe, with tears in her eyes and fondest pity in her heart; but she never flinched. When the young man Nahum Beals came in, as he often did of an evening, and raised his voice in fierce denunciation against the luxury and extravagance of the rich, Ellen would listen and consider that he would undoubtedly approve of what she had done, did he know, and would allow that she had made her small effort towards righting things.

”Only think what Mr. Beals would say if he saw you in your silk dress; why, I don't know but he would throw you out of the window,”

she told her doll once.

Ellen did not feel any difference in her way of living after her father was out of work. ”She ain't goin' to be stented in one single thing; remember that,” Andrew told f.a.n.n.y, with angry emphasis. ”That little, delicate thing is goin' to have everything she needs, if I spend every cent I've saved and mortgage the place.”

”Oh, you'll get work before it comes to that,” f.a.n.n.y said, consolingly.

”Whether I do or not, it sha'n't make any difference,” declared Andrew. ”I'm goin' to hire a horse and sleigh and take her sleigh-ridin' this afternoon. It'll be good, and she's been talkin'

about a sleigh-ride ever since snow flew.”

”She could do without that,” f.a.n.n.y said, doubtfully.

”Well, she ain't goin' to.”

So it happened that the very day after Lloyd's had shut down, when every man out of employment felt poorer than he did later when he had grown accustomed to the sensation of no money coming in, Andrew Brewster hired a horse and double sleigh, and took Ellen, her mother, grandmother, and aunt out sleigh-riding. Ellen sat on the back seat of the sleigh, full of that radiant happiness felt by a child whose pleasures have not been repeated often enough for satiety. The sleigh slid over the blue levels of snow followed by long creaks like wakes of sound, when the livery-stable horse shook his head proudly and set his bells in a flurry. Ellen drew a long breath of rapture. These unaccustomed sounds held harmonies of happiness which would echo through her future, for no one can estimate the immortality of some little delight of a child. In all her life, Ellen never forgot that sleigh-ride. It was a very cold day, and the virgin snow did not melt at all; the wind blew a soft, steady pressure from the west, and its wings were evident from the glistening crystals which were lifted and borne along. The trees held their s.h.i.+ning boughs against the blue of the sky, and burned and blazed here and there as with lamps of diamonds. The child looked at them, and they lit her soul. Her little face, between the swan's-down puffs of her hood, deepened in color like a rose; her blue eyes shone; she laughed and dimpled silently; she was in too much bliss to speak. The others kept looking at her, then at one another. f.a.n.n.y nudged her mother-in-law, behind the child's back, and the two women exchanged glances of confidential pride. Andrew and Eva kept glancing around at her, and asking if she were having a good time. Eva was smartly dressed in her best hat, gay with bows and red wings bristling as sharply as the head-dress of an Indian chief in the old pictures. She had a red coat, and a long fur boa wound around her throat; the clear crimson of her cheeks, her great black eyes, and her heavy black braids were so striking that people whom they met looked long at her. Eva talked fast to Andrew, and laughed often and loudly.

Whenever that strident laugh of hers rang out, Mrs. Zelotes Brewster, on the seat behind, moved her be-shawled shoulders with a s.h.i.+vering hunch of disgust. ”Can't you tell that girl not to laugh so loud when we're out ridin',” she said to her son that evening; ”I saw folks lookin'.”

”Oh, never mind, mother,” Andrew said; ”the poor girl's got a good deal on her mind.”

”I suppose you mean that Tinny feller,” said Mrs. Zelotes, alluding to something which had happened that afternoon in the course of the sleigh-ride.

The sleighing that day was excellent, for there had been an ice coating on the road before, and the last not very heavy snowfall had been just enough. The Brewsters pa.s.sed and met many others: young men out with their sweethearts, whole families drawn by the sober old horse as old as the grown-up children; rakish young men driving stable teams, leaning forward with long circles of whip over the horses' backs, leaving the scent of cigars behind them; and often, too, two young ladies in dainty turnouts; and sometimes two girls or four girls from Lloyd's, who had clubbed together and hired a sleigh, taking reckless advantage of their enforced vacation.

”There's Daisy and Hat Sears, and--and there's Nell White and Eaat Ryoce in the team behind,” Eva said.

”I should think they better be savin' their money if Lloyd's has shut up,” said Mrs. Zelotes, severely.

”We ain't savin' ours, or Andrew ain't,” Eva retorted, with a laugh.

”It's different with us,” said Mrs. Zelotes, proudly, ”though I shouldn't think it was right for Andrew to hire a team every day.”

”Sometimes I think folks might just as well have a little as they're goin' along, for half the time they never seem to get there,” Eva said, with another hard laugh at her own wit; and just then she saw something which made her turn deathly white, and catch her breath with a gasp in spite of herself, though that was all. She held up her head like a queen and turned her handsome white face full towards Jim Tenny and the girl for whom he had jilted her before, as they drove past, and bowed and smiled in a fas.h.i.+on which made the red flame up over the young man's swarthy cheek, and the pretty girl at his side shrink a little and avert her tousled fair head with a nervous giggle.

Mrs. Zelotes Brewster twisted herself about and looked after them.

”There's John Tibbets and his wife in that sleigh; he's thrown out of work as well as you, Andrew,” said f.a.n.n.y, hastily. ”See that feather in her bonnet blow; it's standin' up straight.” But f.a.n.n.y's manoeuvre to turn the attention of her mother-in-law was of no avail, for nothing short of sudden death could interpose an effectual barrier between Mrs. Zelotes Brewster's tongue and mind set with the purpose of speech. ”Was that the Tinny fellow?” she demanded.

”Yes; I guess so. I didn't notice in particular,” f.a.n.n.y replied, in a low voice. Then she added, pointing to an advancing sleigh. ”Good land, there's that Smith girl. They said she wasn't able to ride out. Seems to me she's taken a queer day for it.”

”Was that that Tinny fellow?” Mrs. Zelotes asked again. She leaned forward and gave Eva a hard nudge on her red-coated elbow.

”Yes, it was,” Eva answered, calmly.

”Who was that girl with him?”

”It was Aggie Bemis.”

Mrs. Zelotes gave a sniff, then she settled back, studying Eva's back with a sort of reflective curiosity. Presently she fumbled under the sleigh cus.h.i.+on for an extra shawl which she had brought, and handed it up to Eva. ”Don't you want this extra shawl?” she asked, while f.a.n.n.y stared at her wonderingly. Mrs. Zelotes's civilities towards her sister had been few and far between.

”No, thank you,” Eva replied, with a start.