Read A White Heron and Other Stories Online
Authors: Sarah Orne Jewett
A White Heron and Other Stories (13 page)
Miss Porley rapidly recovered her composure, and bent her energies to the preparing of an early tea. She showed her guest to the snug bedroom under the low gambrel roof, and when she apologized for his having to go upstairs, he begged her to remember that it was nothing but a step to a man who was used to four long flights. They were both excited at finding a proper nail for the bird-cage outside the window, though Miss Esther said that she should love to have the pretty bird downstairs where they could see it and hear it sing. She said to herself over and over that if she could have her long-lost brother come home from sea, she should like to have him look and behave as gentle and kind as Mr. Rill. Somehow she found herself singing a cheerful hymn as she mixed and stirred the short-cakes. She could not help wishing that her mother were there to enjoy this surprise, but it did seem very odd, after so many years, to have a man in the house. It had not happened for fifteen years, at least, when they had entertained Deacon Sparks and wife, delegates from the neighboring town of East Wilby to the County Conference.
The neighbors did not laugh at Miss Esther openly or cause her to blush with self-consciousness, however much they may have discussed the situation and smiled behind her back. She took the presence of her guest with delighted simplicity, and the country week was extended to a fortnight, and then to a month. At last, one day Miss Esther and Mr. Rill were seen on their way to the railroad station, with a large bundle apiece beside the carpet-bag, though someone noticed that the bullfinch was left behind. Miss Esther came back alone, looking very woebegone and lonely, and if the truth must be known, she found her house too solitary. She looked into the woodhouse where there was a great store of kindlings, neatly piled, and her water-pail was filled to the brim, her garden-paths were clean of weeds and swept, and yet everywhere she looked it seemed more lonely than ever. She pinned on her shawl again and went along the street to the parsonage.
“My old lady's just gone,” she said to the minister's wife. “I was so lonesome I could not stay in the house.”
“You found him a very pleasant visitor, didn't you, Miss Esther?” asked Mrs. Wayton, laughing a little.
“I did so; he wa'n't like other menâkind and friendly and fatherly, and never stayed round when I was occupied, but entertained himself down street considerable, an' was as industrious as a bee, always asking me if there wa'n't something he could do about house. He and a sister some years older used to keep house together, and it was her long sickness used up what they'd saved, and yet he's got a little somethin', and there are friends he used to work for, jewelers, a big firm, that gives him somethin' regular. He's goin' to see”âand Miss Esther blushed crimsonâ” he's goin' to see if they'd be willin' to pay it just the same if he come to reside in Daleham. He thinks the air agrees with him here.”
“Does he indeed?” inquired the minister's wife, with deep interest and a look of amusement.
“Yes 'm,” said Miss Esther simply; “but don't you go an' say nothin' yet. I don't want folks to make a joke of it. Seems to me if he does feel to come back, and remains of the same mind he went away, we might be judicious to take the stepâ”
“Why, Miss Esther!” exclaimed the listener.
“Not till fallânot till fall,” said Miss Esther hastily. “I ain't going to count on it too much anyway. I expect we could get along; there's considerable goodness left in me, and you can always work better when you've got somebody beside yourself to work for. There, now I've told you I feel as if I was blown away in a gale.”
“Why, I don't know what to say at such a piece of news!” exclaimed Mrs. Wayton again.
“I don't know's there's anything to say,” gravely answered Miss Esther. “But I did laugh just now coming in the gate to think what a twitter I got into the day I fetched you that piece of paper.”
“Why, I must go right and tell Mr. Wayton!” said the minister's wife.
“Oh, don't you, Mis' Wayton; no, no!” begged Miss Esther, looking quite coy and girlish. “I really don't know's it's quite settledâit don't seem's if it could be. I'm going to hear from him in the course of a week. But I suppose
he
thinks it's settled; he's left the bird.”
MRS. PERSIS FLAGG stood in her front doorway taking leave of Miss Cynthia Pickett, who had been making a long call. They were not intimate friends. Miss Pickett always came formerly to the front door and rang when she paid her visits, but, the week before, they had met at the county conference, and happened to be sent to the same house for entertainment, and so had deepened and renewed the pleasures of acquaintance.
It was an afternoon in early June; the syringa-bushes were tall and green on each side of the stone doorsteps, and were covered with their lovely white and golden flowers. Miss Pickett broke off the nearest twig, and held it before her prim face as she talked. She had a pretty childlike smile that came and went suddenly, but her face was not one that bore the marks of many pleasures. Mrs. Flagg was a tall, commanding sort of person, with an air of satisfaction and authority.
“Oh, yes, gather all you want,” she said stiffly, as Miss Pickett took the syringa without having asked beforehand; but she had an amiable expression, and just now her large countenance was lighted up by pleasant anticipation.
“We can tell early what sort of a day it's goin' to be,” she said eagerly. “There ain't a cloud in the sky now. I'll stop for you as I come along, or if there should be anything unforeseen to detain me, I'll send you word. I don't expect you'd want to go if it wa'n't so that I could?”
“Oh my sakes, no!” answered Miss Pickett discreetly, with a timid flush. “You feel certain that Mis' Timms won't be put out? I shouldn't feel free to go unless I went âlong o' you.”
“Why, nothin' could be plainer than her words,” said Mrs. Flagg in a tone of reproval. “You saw how she urged me, an' had over all that talk about how we used to see each other often when we both lived to Longport, and told how she'd been thinkin' of writin', and askin' if it wa'n't so I should be able to come over and stop three or four days as soon as settled weather come, because she couldn't make no fire in her best chamber on account of the chimbley smokin' if the wind wa'n't just right. You see how she felt toward me, kissin' of me comin' and goin'? Why, she even asked me who I employed to do over my bonnet, Miss Pickett, just as interested as if she was a sister; an' she remarked she should look for us any pleasant day after we all got home, an' were settled after the conference.”
Miss Pickett smiled, but did not speak, as if she expected more arguments still.
“An' she seemed just about as much gratified to meet with you again. She seemed to desire to meet you again very particular,” continued Mrs. Flagg. “She really urged us to come together an' have a real good day talkin' over old timesâthere, don't le' 's go all over it again! I've always heard she'd made that old house of her Aunt Bascoms' where she lives look real handsome. I once heard her best parlor carpet described as being an elegant carpet, different from any there was round here. Why, nobody couldn't be more cordial, Miss Pickett; you ain't goin' to give out just at the last?”
“Oh, no!” answered the visitor hastily; “no, 'm! I want to go full as much as you do, Mis' Flagg, but you see I never was so well acquainted with Mis' Cap'n Timms, an' I always seem to dread putting myself for'ard. She certain was very urgent, an' she said plain enough to come any day next week, an' here 't is Wednesday, though of course she wouldn't look for us either Monday or Tuesday. 'T will be a real pleasant occasion, an' now we've been to the conference it don't seem near so much effort to start.”
“Why, I don't think nothin' of it,” said Mrs. Flagg proudly. “We shall have a grand good time, goin' together an' all, I feel sure.”
Miss Pickett still played with her syringa flower, tapping her thin cheek, and twirling the stem with her fingers. She looked as if she were going to say something more, but after a moment's hesitation she turned away.
“Good-afternoon, Mis' Flagg,” she said formally, looking up with a quick little smile; “I enjoyed my call; I hope I ain't kep' you too late; I don't know but what it's âmost tea-time. Well, I shall look for you in the mornin'.”
“Good-afternoon, Miss Pickett; I'm glad I was in when you came. Call again, won't you?” said Mrs. Flagg. “Yes; you may expect me in good season,” and so they parted. Miss Pickett went out at the neat clicking gate in the white fence, and Mrs. Flagg a moment later looked out of her sitting-room window to see if the gate were latched, and felt the least bit disappointed to find that it was. She sometimes went out after the departure of a guest, and fastened the gate herself with a loud, rebuking sound. Both of these Woodville women lived alone, and were very precise in their way of doing things.
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The next morning dawned clear and bright, and Miss Pickett rose even earlier than usual. She found it most difficult to decide which of her dresses would be best to wear. Summer was still so young that the day had all the freshness of spring, but when the two friends walked away together along the shady street, with a chorus of golden robins singing high overhead in the elms, Miss Pickett decided that she had made a wise choice of her second-best black silk gown, which she had just turned again and freshened. It was neither too warm for the season nor too cool, nor did it look overdressed. She wore her large cameo pin, and this, with a long watch-chain, gave an air of proper mural decoration. She was a straight, flat little person, as if, when not in use, she kept herself, silk dress and all, between the leaves of a book. She carried a noticeable parasol with a fringe, and a small shawl, with a pretty border, neatly folded over her left arm. Mrs. Flagg always dressed in black cashmere, and looked, to hasty observers, much the same one day as another; but her companion recognized the fact that this was the best black cashmere of all, and for a moment quailed at the thought that Mrs. Flagg was paying such extreme deference to their prospective hostess. The visit turned for a moment into an unexpectedly solemn formality, and pleasure seemed to wane before Cynthia Pickett's eyes, yet with great courage she never slackened a single step. Miss Flagg carried a somewhat worn black leather handbag, which Miss Pickett regretted; it did not give the visit that casual and unpremeditated air which she felt to be more elegant.
“Sha'n't I carry your bag for you?” she asked timidly. Mrs. Flagg was the older and more important person.
“Oh, dear me, no,” answered Mrs. Flagg. “My pocket's so remote, in case I should desire to sneeze or anything, that I thought't would be convenient for carrying my handkerchief and pocket-book; an' then I just tucked in a couple o' glasses o' my crab-apple jelly for Mis' Timms. She used to be a great hand for preserves of every sort, an' I thought't would be a kind of an attention, an' give rise to conversation. I know she used to make excellent drop-cakes when we was both residin' to Longport; folks used to say she never would give the right receipt, but if I get a real good chance, I mean to ask her. Or why can't you, if I start talkin' about receiptsâwhy can't you say, sort of innocent, that I have always spoken frequently of her drop-cakes, an' ask for the rule? She would be very sensible to the compliment, and could pass it off if she didn't feel to indulge us. There, I do so wish you would!”
“Yes, 'm,” said Miss Pickett doubtfully; “I'll try to make the opportunity. I'm very partial to drop-cakes. Was they flour or rye, Mis' Flagg?”
“They was flour, dear,” replied Mrs. Flagg approvingly; “crisp an' light as any you ever see.”
“I wish I had thought to carry somethin' to make it pleasant,” said Miss Pickett, after they had walked a little farther; “but there, I don't know's 't would look just right, this first visit, to offer anything to such a person as Mis' Timms. In case I ever go over to Baxter again I won't forget to make her some little present, as nice as I've got. 'T was certain very polite of her to urge me to come with you. I did feel very doubtful at first. I didn't know but she thought it behooved her, because I was in your company at the conference, and she wanted to save my feelin's, and yet expected I would decline. I never was well acquainted with her; our folks wasn't well off when I first knew her; 't was before uncle Cap'n Dyer passed away an' remembered mother an' me in his will. We couldn't make no han'some companies in them days, so we didn't go to none, an' kep' to ourselves; but in my grandmother's time, mother always said, the families was very friendly. I shouldn't feel like goin' over to pass the day with Mis' Timms if I didn't mean to ask her to return the visit. Some don't think o' these things, but mother was very set about not bein' done for when she couldn't make no return.”
“âWhen it rains porridge hold up your dish,'” said Mrs. Flagg; but Miss Pickett made no response beyond a feeble “Yes, 'm,” which somehow got caught in her pale-green bonnet-strings.
“There, 't ain't no use to fuss too much over all them things,” proclaimed Mrs. Flagg, walking alone at a good pace with a fine sway of her skirts, and carrying her head high. “Folks walks right by an' forgits all about you; folks can't always be going through with just so much. You'd had a good deal better time, you an' your ma, if you'd been freer in your ways; now don't you s'pose you would? 'T ain't what you give folks to eat so much as 't is makin' âem feel welcome. Now, there's Mis' Timms; when we was to Longport she was dreadful methodical. She wouldn't let Cap'n Timms fetch nobody home to dinner without lettin' of her know, same's other cap'ns' wives had to submit to. I was thinkin', when she was so cordial over to Danby, how she'd softened with time. Years do learn folks somethin'! She did seem very pleasant an' desirous. There, I am so glad we got started; if she'd gone an' got up a real good dinner to-day, an' then not had us come till to-morrow, 't would have been real too bad. Where anybody lives alone such a thing is very tryin'.”
“Oh, so 't is!” said Miss Pickett. “There, I'd like to tell you what I went through with year before last. They come an' asked me one Saturday night to entertain the minister, that time we was having candidates”â
“I guess we'd better step along faster,” said Mrs. Flagg suddenly. “Why, Miss Pickett, there's the stage comin' now! It's dreadful prompt, seems to me. Quick! there's folks awaitin', an' I sha'n't get to Baxter in no state to visit Mis' Cap'n Timms if I have to ride all the way there backward!”
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The stage was not full inside. The group before the store proved to be made up of spectators, except one man, who climbed at once to a vacant seat by the driver. Inside there was only one person, after two passengers got out, and she preferred to sit with her back to the horses, so that Mrs. Flagg and Miss Pickett settled themselves comfortably in the coveted corners of the back seat. At first they took no notice of their companion, and spoke to each other in low tones, but presently something attracted the attention of all three and engaged them in conversation.
“I never was over this road before,” said the stranger. “I s'pose you ladies are well acquainted all along.”
“We have often traveled it in past years. We was over this part of it last week goin' and comin' from the county conference,” said Mrs. Flagg in a dignified manner.
“What persuasion?” inquired the fellow-traveler, with interest.
“Orthodox,” said Miss Pickett quickly, before Mrs. Flagg could speak. “It was a very interestin' occasion; this other lady an' me stayed through all the meetin's.”
“I ain't Orthodox,” announced the stranger, waiving any interest in personalities. “I was brought up amongst the Freewill Baptists.”
“We're well acquainted with several of that denomination in our place,” said Mrs. Flagg, not without an air of patronage. “They've never built 'em no church; there ain't but a scattered few.”
“They prevail where I come from,” said the traveler. “I'm goin' now to visit with a Freewill lady. We was to a conference together once, same's you an' your friend, but't was a state conference. She asked me to come some time an' make her a good visit, and I'm on my way now. I didn't seem to have nothin' to keep me to home.”
“We're all goin' visitin' to-day, ain't we?” said Mrs. Flagg sociably; but no one carried on the conversation.
The day was growing very warm, there was dust in the sandy road, but the fields of grass and young growing crops looked fresh and fair. There was a light haze over the hills, and birds were thick in the air. When the stagehorses stopped to walk, you could hear the crows caw, and the bobolinks singing, in the meadows. All the farmers were busy in their fields.
“It don't seem but little ways to Baxter, does it?” said Miss Pickett, after a while. “I felt we should pass a good deal o' time on the road, but we must be pretty near halfway there a'ready.”
“Why, more'n half!” exclaimed Mrs. Flagg. “Yes; there's Beckett's Corner right ahead, an' the old Beckett house. I haven't been on this part of the road for so long that I feel kind of strange. I used to visit over here when I was a girl. There's a nephew's widow owns the place now. Old Miss Susan Beckett willed it to him, an' he died; but she resides there an' carries on the farm, an unusual smart woman, everybody says. Ain't it pleasant here, right out among the farms!”
“Mis' Beckett's place, did you observe?” said the stranger, leaning forward to listen to what her companions said. “I expect that's where I'm goin'âMis' Ezra Beckett's?”
“That's the one,” said Miss Pickett and Mrs. Flagg together, and they both looked out eagerly as the coach drew up to the front door of a large old yellow house that stood close upon the green turf of the roadside.