A Daily Rate (18 page)

He hesitated and stammered out:

“Nowhere, I guess,” and then laughed and sat down in the hall chair. “Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Murray? The fact is I don’t quite know what to do with myself tonight, for some reason.”

Celia’s heart filled with pity for the poor lonely fellow and with remorse that she had not sooner attempted to do something to cheer him up.

“Oh, Fin so sorry,” she said, earnestly, with a true ring of her voice which he recognized at once. “But if you are lonesome and really have nothing pressing to do, why take off your coat and come and help mc carry out a scheme. I’m going to make a cozy corner in the parlor. In fact, I think I’ll make two, one in the bay window and one over there by the organ. Will you help? You’re such a good carpenter, you know, and this parlor does look so bare and desolate.”

“All right, I’m with you,” answered the young man, taking off his overcoat with alacrity. “Only tell me what to do. I don’t know the first thing about cozy corners, but if you know as much as you did about lamps, I’ll be willing to say they’ll be a success. Let’s have a half-dozen of ’em if you say so. Now what’ll I do first?”

“Bring that lamp and come down into the cellar. Wait, I don’t know whether you can do it alone, they are pretty heavy and there are a good many. Perhaps Mr. Hartley or Mr. Osborn would help a minute in bringing up the boards. I’ll show you what we want first, and then you can pick out the right boards. You see I want a good firm seat here in the bay window to fill the whole place to the edge of the window frames either side, just a foot from the floor, so, and then I want another over here, to reach from here to here, so wide, and the same height from the floor. Here is my tape measure. Now you can pick out your lumber.” Celia moved about the dull uninteresting parlor, furnishing it with gesture and imagination, till the young carpenter was quite interested. He called the two young men upstairs, who came willingly and helped for a few minutes showing not a little interest and curiosity in the undertaking. They all lingered with advice and offers to help, and when Celia had seen the carpentry work well started, she ran upstairs and knocked at the door of the two young girls.

“Come in,” drawled the voice of someone chewing, and after a moment’s hesitation she entered.

Mamie Williams lay across the foot of the bed, the two pillows and a comforter under her head, the gas turned as high as it would go, and a paper covered volume in her hand. She was chewing gum. When she saw that it was Celia who had entered, her tone of indifference changed to one of pleased surprise. She sat up quickly and hid her book beneath the pillows. Then she put her hand up to straighten her hair.

“Why, is it you!” she exclaimed, and Celia knew that her aunt’s conjecture that she was admired by this girl was true, from the evident pleasure the visit gave. This unbent Celia still more, and she tried to be winning. When Celia tried she was very winning indeed.

“We are having some fun downstairs fixing up that old barn of a parlor,” she explained, still standing by the door, though her hostess had slipped from the bed and cleared a chair from a pile of clothing thrown upon it. “I thought maybe you would like to help. Is your friend here?”

“No, she ain’t, she’s gone out with a gentleman friend,” said Mamie, with a conscious giggle. “It’s a wonder you found me in. I’m mostly out when she is. Sit down, can’t you? I’m really glad you come up. I was lonesome. The book I had wasn’t any account either. What did you say you were doing?”

Celia essayed to explain and succeeded in interesting Mamie to the extent that she hunted out her thimble - from a mass of ribbons and collars tumbled into a bureau drawer, and went downstairs to see what was going on, though she confessed she was not much used to doing things like that.

They went to work in good earnest. Celia had some printed burlap, which she had brought home from the store one night to make curtains for an improvised clothespress, in her room. It was cheap and there was plenty of it. The clothespress could wait. Those cozy corners must be finished to-night, at least as far as possible. She gave the tick of the cushions to Mamie to run the scams, while she applied herself to sewing the burlap cover for it. Meanwhile, the hammering and sawing and directing went forward, and by half-past nine when Mr. Stafford opened the front door and came in there were two very solid looking rough wooden shelves a foot from the floor, in the parlor, one occupying the entire bay window space in the front of the room, the other one being at the further end of the room. To the sides of this Harry Knowles was just nailing some more boards to serve as ends, under the supervision of the other two young men, while Celia and Mamie were upon their knees in front of the bay window tacking the dark blue burlap printed in a heraldic design, in a pleated valance. A nearly completed cushion lay beside them on the floor, but not tied as yet. Mr. Stafford, attracted by the unusual noises, entered the room and stood behind them looking at the work a moment. Then, as Celia turned from the valance and attempted to thread a large needle with a cord and then vainly endeavored to pull its short proportions through the thick cushion, which had been stuffed with excelsior and a layer of cotton on the top, he said quietly:

“You need an upholsterer’s needle for that, Miss Murray. I think I have one upstairs that we used in fixing up the pulpit chairs at the mission. I’ll go and get it.”

Celia was pleased that he entered into the work and thanked him. As he turned toward Harry, he said, “Knowles, why don’t you put springs in? It would be twice as comfortable.”

“Springs!” said Harry jumping up and facing round. “Do you expect us to turn into upholsterers the first night?” and he laughed good-naturedly.

“No, but indeed it isn’t a difficult job,” explained the minister, “you just have to tie them down firmly. I’ll show you if you don’t mind running out with me to that little upholsterer’s around the corner. I think it’s open yet. It was when I came by. The people live over the store and they don’t shut up shop early.”

“By all means, let us have springs,” answered Celia to Harry’s look of enquiry. “I didn’t look for such luxury as that, but we will take what grandeur we can get.” Her cheeks had grown red with excitement, and her eyes were shining. The minister, as he turned to go on his self-appointed errand, was reminded of the first evening he had come to that house. Harry and Mr. Stafford were soon back with several sets of springs and the three young men, with Celia demurely in the background, took a lesson in putting in springs, which they found to be not such a very difficult matter after all. The minister had not forgotten to get some small dark blue cotton upholstery buttons when he was out, and Mamie and Celia soon learned how to use the queer double pointed needle and tie the cushion with the little buttons. Altogether it looked very pretty, and quite like real upholsterer’s work when it was finished.

In spite of the proverbial “many hands” and “light work,” it was nearly eleven o’clock when the two seats were finished, and a light frame work over the seat in the back end of the parlor erected. Miss Hannah had come down to send them all to bed, but found them in a state of childish enthusiasm to see their work completed. Celia had remembered that she had upstairs two or three pieces of plain and printed denim and some turkey red calico. Mounted on the stepladder beside the canopy frame, she deftly draped the rough wood, being materially assisted by Mr. Stafford who seemed to understand what she wanted to do, and to be able to drape a graceful fold of cloth, if he was only a man, and that a minister. He, by way of contribution, brought down a Chinese sword made of coins which the Chinese use as a talisman, for the purpose of frightening away evil spirits, and hung it above the drapery. This roused the others to emulate his example. The university student thought he knew where he could get a couple of Arabic spears to help out that canopy drapery, and Harry Knowles declared he would hunt around and find one of those dull old filigree bull’s-eye lanterns that hang by long chains from the centre. Mamie said her contribution should be a couple of sofa pillows, and Celia promised to make some more. Miss Burns, coming in just then looking weary and worn, brightened as she came into the parlor and exclaimed over the new furnishings, “They are simply,—now--simply—fine—aren’t they, Miss Grant? Indeed they are! What wonderful taste and skill have been exhibited here! I declare it is simply marvelous! Simply fine! Indeed—indeed-----it is!” she giggled wearily. She asked permission to contribute a pillow also.

“Now we need a low bookcase running along that wall and turning that corner,” said the minister, as they turned to go to their rooms. “Can’t you manage that, Knowles?” and Celia’s eyes sparkled over the idea. The minister evidently understood esthetics anyway. The bookcase would be a great addition. She went upstairs so excited over her new work she could hardly sleep. She had almost forgotten her three-cent protégée, till Mamie squeezed her hand over the stair railing and said, “Goodnight, Miss Murray, I’ve enjoyed myself ever so much. And say, would you mind coming into my room a few minutes to-morrow night? I want to ask you some questions very particular.”

Celia promised readily enough, though the prospect was not a pleasant one, but she had made up her mind to try to help this girl, so she might as well accept the situation and the opportunity together.

But aunt Hannah sat up that night till nearly one o’clock, and looked over the stair railing till she heard the night key click, and saw the befeathered hat of Carrie Simmons as she came airily in.

“Poor child!” murmured the watcher, as she turned out the hall light and went to bed, “something must be done! Out till one o’clock and with that kind of a young man!”

The next morning she noticed that Carrie had dark rings under her eyes, and was developing thin, sharp lines about her nose and mouth, which did not add beauty to her pert, weak face.

The next evening as Celia started for Mamie Williams’ room, Carrie having again departed with the aforementioned youth, aunt Hannah called her. “Celia dear, two things,” she said, with her hand on Celia’s arm. “Don’t forget to pray before you go, and if you get a chance mention soap and water. Don’t forget that cleanliness is next to godliness. Perhaps in this case it comes first.” Celia laughed and said, “All right, auntie,” and went back to her room to take the first advice given.

Reinforced by a turning of her heart to her heavenly Father for guidance, she went to her unpleasant task, her mind more than half fill of the new bookcase and some other plans she had for the adornment of the parlor. The minister seemed to have taken Harry Knowles away with him immediately after dinner, so she had no one to help her carry out any parlor schemes just at present, and she could not help being disappointed that she must turn aside to another piece of work.

Mamie was evidently expecting her this time. She had given the room some semblance of a clearing up: that is, she had picked up Carrie’s old store dress from the floor where she left it, and tumbled everything that was out of place on the bureau and table into a drawer, for the confusion of some future hour of need.

She seemed to be in earnest, and plunged at once into her subject when she had seated Celia.

“Say, I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me how you do it. You see I thought you wasn’t any more pretty than I, and you haven’t got expensive clo’es, but you manage somehow to look awful stylish and pretty in spite of it. I know it takes a knack, but don’t you think I could learn? I’ve been trying ever since you came here to do my hair the way you do, but I can’t make it act right. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind doing it a few times for me, to get me started, and perhaps you could tell me what the difference is between you and me. I know it ain’t very polite to ask you things like this, but I thought you was so kind last night asking me to help that I’d just be bold and ask you. You ain’t mad, are you?”

Celia ignored the doubtful compliments and tried to smile, albeit her very soul shrank within her. What, handle the coarse greasy hair of that girl who seemed actually dirty to her? How could she? Surely the Lord did not require that sacrifice. Why had she undertaken this task anyway? It was dreadful. She half rose from her chair, as she began to foresee the magnitude of the possible proportions of this proposition. What might she not be asked to do? Then she remembered whose she was and whom she served, and sank back again in her chair, putting up a petition for help to her heavenly Father.

What is prayer? . . .

’Tis the telegraphic cord,

Holding converse with the Lord; 

’Tis the key of promise given 

Turning in the lock of heaven.

“DO you think I’m too homely to fix up?” anxiously asked Mamie, as her visitor did not at once respond.

“Oh no, indeed!” said Celia, laughing, “I was only trying to think how to answer you, and it’s so funny for you to want to copy me. I have never tried to be ‘pretty’ as you call it. I only tried to be clean and neat, and have things look as nice as I could without spending much money. But now that you’ve asked me, if you really want to know how you could improve your appearance, in my eyes at least, I’ll try to tell you a few things. What is it that troubles you most? We’ll begin with that.”

“Oh my sakes!” giggled Mamie. “There’s so many things. Well, my hands and my feet. They’re so big, and in the way. My hands are red and rough and bony, and my face is always breaking out in little ugly black pimples, and my hair won’t get into any shape I want it to, and my teeth aren’t pretty, and then of course my clothes, and I just wish I could walk across a room like you,” she finished with a sigh.

Celia laughed and began.

“Your hands,” she said, “let me see them.” She turned up the gas and surveyed them critically a moment, while Mamie waited in breathless anxiety comparing her red, beringed fingers to Celia’s small white ones.

“Well, if I were you I would take all those rings off first,” said Celia, decidedly. “They look gaudy and out of place, except perhaps on a woman in society, and even then I should prefer to see just one or two at a time, and not a whole jewelry store at once.”