Part 17 (1/2)
The public opinion, thus advantageously formed, was for once unanimous.
The house overflowed with worthless and unbeautiful junk. To Little Arcady this was a grievous disappointment. It had expected elegance, for Clem had been wont to enlarge upon the splendors of his former home.
When it was finally known that the long-vaunted furnis.h.i.+ngs were coming, the town had prepared to be dazzled by sets of black walnut, ornate with gilt lines, by patent rockers done in plush, by fas.h.i.+onable sofas, gay with upholstery of flowered ingrain, by bedroom sets of ash, stencilled adroitly with pink-and-blue flowers, or set with veneered panels of burl; by writing-desks of maple and music-stands of cherry with many spindles and frettings, by sideboards of finest new oak with bra.s.s handles and mirrors in the backs.
The town had antic.i.p.ated, in short, up to its own high and difficult standards. And along had come a ruck of stuff that was dark and dingy and old-fas.h.i.+oned; awkward articles with a vast dull expanse of mahogany, ending in clumsy claw feet; spindle-legged tables inlaid with white wood; old-fas.h.i.+oned mirrors in scarred gilt frames; awkward-looking highboys and the plainest of sofas and lounges. The chief sideboard boasted not the tiniest bit of bra.s.s; even the handles were of cheap gla.s.s, and Clem had set candle-sticks upon it that were nothing but pewter.
Where Little Arcady had looked for the best Brussels carpets, there came only dull-colored rugs of a most aged and depressing lack of gayety. As for silver, we knew the worst when Aunt Delia McCormick declared, ”They haven't even a swinging ice-pitcher--nothing but thin battered old stuff that was made in the year one!”
Aunt Delia had quite the newest and most fas.h.i.+onable furniture in town; her parlor was a feast of color for any eye, and her fine hardwood sideboard alone had cost twenty-two dollars, so she spoke as one having authority.
By the time that Clem's ancient treasures were all unpacked, Little Arcady felt a genuine if patronizing sympathy for his mistress. If _that_ were the boasted elegance of the ante-bellum South, then Tradition had reported falsely. No plush rockers of the newest patent; no chenille curtains; no art chromos; no hat-racks, not even an imitation bronze mantle clock guarded by its mailed warrior. Such clocks as there were left only honest distress in the mind of the beholder,--tall, outlandish old things in wooden cases.
It was believed that Clem had wasted money in paying freight on this stuff. Certainly no one in Little Arcady would have paid those bills to possess the furniture. As to the folly of those who had originally purchased it, the town was likewise a unit.
If Clem was made aware of this public sentiment, he still did not waver in his loyalty to the old pieces. Day after day he unpacked and dusted and polished them with loving devotion. They spoke to him of other days, and when he was quite sure that the last freight bill had been paid, he seemed really to enjoy them. The unexpected drain had reduced his savings to a pittance, but were not the pullets which he could raise absolutely without number?
It was true that Miss Caroline would have to come alone now, leaving Little Miss still to teach in the school at Baltimore until a day of renewed surplus. This much Clem confided to me in sorrow. I sympathized with him, truly, but I felt it was a fortunate circ.u.mstance. I thought that one of the ladies at a time would be as much as Little Arcady could a.s.similate.
Slowly the house grew into a home awaiting its mistress, a home whose furnished rooms overflowed into others not furnished but merely crowded.
I foresaw, not without a certain wicked cheerfulness, that, even after the coming of Miss Caroline, Clem would be forced to pander to my breakfast appet.i.tes for the slight betterment it made in his fortunes, even must this be done surrept.i.tiously. And at least one dinner was secured to me beyond the coming of this mistress; for Clem had conveyed to me, with appropriate ceremony, an invitation, which I promptly accepted, to dine with Mrs. Caroline Lansdale at six-thirty on the evening of her arrival, she having gleaned from his letters, it appeared, that I had been a rather friendly adviser of her servant.
In the days that followed I saw that Clem was regarding me with an embarra.s.sed, troubled look. Something of weight lay upon his mind. Nor was it easy, to make him speak, but I achieved this at last.
”Well, seh, Mahstah Majah, yo'-all see, Ah ain't eveh told Miss Cahline that yo's a Majah in th' Nawthun ahmy.”
”No?” I said.
”No, seh; Ah ain't even said yo's been a common soljah.”
”Well?”
”'Cause Miss Cahline's tehible heahtfelt 'bout some mattehs. Th'
Lansdales sho'ly kin ca'y a grudge powful long. An' so--seh--Ah ain't neveh tole on yo'.”
”But she'll find it out.”
”Yes, seh, an' she maght fuhgit it, but--Ah crave yo' pahdon, seh--theh's yo' ahm what's gone.”
”It's too late to help that, Clem.”
”Well, seh--now Ah was steddyin'--if yo' kin'ly grant yo' grace of pahdon, seh--lahkly 'twould compliment Miss Cahline ef yo' was to git yo'se'f fitted to one a' them unnatchel limbs, seh. Yo' sho'ly go'n' a'
pesteh huh rec'lections with that theh saggin' sleeve, Mahstah Majah.”
But this kindly meant proposal I felt compelled to reject.
”No, Clem, you'll have to fix it up with Miss Caroline the best you can.”