Part 24 (1/2)

She never forgot his responsive look of honest friendliness as he answered, ”The simplest work you do in that spirit will be blessed.

Miss Wetheridge, I hope you will soon find some more people like Mrs. Jocelyn and her daughters. Good-by now for a short time,”

and a moment later Mildred saw him talking just as kindly, but differently, to a very shabby-looking man.

Mr. Wentworth was also a ”fisher of men,” but he fished intelligently, and caught them.

Belle could hardly wait until she was in the street before exclaiming, ”He isn't a bit like our old minister. Why--why--he's a man.”

CHAPTER XXII

SKILLED LABOR

Miss Wetheridge's visit bade fair to occasion important changes for the better in Mildred's prospects. From Mrs. Wheaton the young lady had learned of her protegee's long hours of ill-repaid toil.

She was eager to gain Mildred's confidence to an extent that would warrant some good advice, and after another call early in the week she induced the girl to come and see her and to open her heart fully in the privacy thus secured. Of course there was one secret jealously guarded, and the reader can well understand that Vinton Arnold's name was not mentioned, and the disagreeable episode of Roger Atwood was not deemed worth speaking of. He was now but a fast-fading memory, for even Belle rarely recalled him.

That the Jocelyns did not belong to the ordinary ranks of the poor, and that Mildred was not a commonplace girl, was apparent to Miss Wetheridge from the first; and it was her design to persuade her friend to abandon the overcrowded and ill-paid divisions of labor for something more in accordance with her cultivation and ability.

Mildred soon proved that her education was too general and superficial to admit of teaching except in the primary departments, and as the schools were now in session it might be many months before any opening would occur. With a mingled sigh and laugh she said, ”The one thing I know how to do I shall probably never do--I could make a home, and I could be perfectly happy in taking care of it.”

”Pardon me!” cried Miss Wetheridge roguishly, ”that seems to me your inevitable fate, sooner or later. We are only counselling together how best to fill up the interval. My friend almost made me jealous by the way he talked about you the other evening.”

A faint color stole into Mildred's face. ”All that's past, I fear,”

she said with low, sad emphasis, ”and I would never marry merely for the sake of a home. My future is that of a working-woman unless papa can regain his former means. Even then I should not like to live an idle life. So the question is, What kind of work shall I do? How can I do the most for the family, for I am troubled about papa's health, and mamma is not strong.”

Her warm-hearted friend's eyes grew moist as she looked intently and understandingly into the clouded and beautiful face. In one of her pretty impulses that often broke through her polite restraint she exclaimed, ”Millie, you are a true woman. Please pardon my familiarity, but I can't tell you how much you interest me, how I respect you, and--and--how much I like you.”

”Nor can I tell you,” responded Mildred earnestly, ”how much hope and comfort you have already brought me.”

”Come,” said Miss Wetheridge cheerily, ”we will go down to the rooms of the Young Women's Christian a.s.sociation at once. We may get light there. The thing for you to do is to master thoroughly one or more of the higher forms of labor that are as yet uncrowded.

That is what I would do.”

While she was preparing for the street she observed Mildred's eyes resting wistfully on an upright piano that formed part of the beautiful furniture of her private sanctum. ”You are recognizing an old friend and would like to renew your acquaintance,” she said smilingly. ”Won't you play while I am changing my dress?”

”Perhaps I can best thank you in that way,” answered Mildred, availing herself of the permission with a pleasure she could not disguise. ”I admit that the loss of my piano has been one of my greatest deprivations.”

Miss Wetheridge's sleeping-apartment opened into her sitting-room, and, with the door open, it was the same as if they were still together. The promise of thanks was well kept as the exquisite notes of Mendelssohn's ”Hope” and ”Consolation” filled the rooms with music that is as simple and enduring as the genuine feeling of a good heart.

”I now understand how truly you lost a friend and companion in your piano,” said Miss Wetheridge, ”and I want you to come over here and play whenever you feel like it, whether I am at home or not.”

Mildred smiled, but made no reply. She could accept kindness and help from one who gave them as did Miss Wetheridge, but she was too proud and sensitive to enter upon an intimacy that must of necessity be so one-sided in its favors and advantages, and she instinctively felt that such wide differences in condition would lead to mutual embarra.s.sments that her enthusiastic friend could not foresee. It was becoming her fixed resolve to accept her lot, with all that it involved, and no amount of encouragement could induce her to renew a.s.sociations that could be enjoyed now only through a certain phase of charity, however the fact might be disguised. But she would rather reveal her purpose by the retiring and even tenor of her way than by any explanations of her feelings.

Thus it came about in the future that Miss Wetheridge made three calls, at least, to one that she received, and that in spite of all she could do Mildred shrank from often meeting other members of her family. But this st.u.r.dy self-respect on the part of the young girl--this resolute purpose not to enter a social circle where she would at least fear patronage and surprise at her presence--increased her friend's respect in the secrecy of her heart.

Mildred at once became a member of the Young Women's a.s.sociation, and its library and reading-room promised to become a continued means of pleasure and help. From among the several phases of skilled labor taught under the auspices of the a.s.sociation, she decided to choose the highest--that of stenography--if her father thought he could support the family without much help for a few months. She was already very rapid and correct in her penmans.h.i.+p, and if she could become expert in taking shorthand notes she was a.s.sured that she could find abundant and highly remunerative scope for her skill, and under circ.u.mstances, too, that would not involve unpleasant publicity. She thought very favorably, also, of the suggestion that she should join the bookkeeping cla.s.s. With her fine mental capacity and previous education Miss Wetheridge believed that Mildred could so far master these two arts as to be sure of an independence, and her kind friend proposed to use no little influence in finding opportunities for their exercise.

Mildred, naturally, lost no time in explaining her projects to her father, and it so happened that she spoke at a moment of peculiar exhilaration on his part. ”If it would give you pleasure,” he said, ”to learn these two accomplishments, you may do so, of course, but I foresee no probability of your ever putting them to use. I now have prospects,” etc., etc. Soon after, he was in a deep sleep.

She looked at him with troubled eyes, and promptly entered on her studies the following day, working with the a.s.siduity of one who feels that the knowledge may be needed before it can be acquired.

Belle was in quite a flutter of excitement on the evening named for Mr. Wentworth's visit, and the genial clergyman would have laughed again could he have heard one of her reasons for welcoming him.