A Daily Rate (23 page)

“O Jesus Christ the righteous! live in me,

That, when in glory I thy face shall see,

Within the Father’s house, my glorious dress

May be the garment of thy righteousness.”

Mamie felt for the first time in her life that night, that she had really a strong determination to go to heaven when she died. The white linen could be worn then, if not before. The minister had said it might be worn now also. Well, perhaps—

Her heart was softened, and on the way home she confided the coincidence of her verse the night before and the minister’s text to Mr. Yates, who was deeply interested and impressed. Celia would have been surprised, perhaps, if she could have heard the brakeman telling Mamie at the door that she had helped him, that he wanted to be better than he had been and he was glad she was that kind of a girl.

As for Celia, the minister himself had walked home with her. She hoped that Mamie had not seen, and her cheeks burned red and her embarrassment did not lessen during the entire walk. He asked her to help him in his Sunday-school work, and she accepted the class he offered her, after much hesitation, but she was stiff and unlike herself, and aunt Hannah wondered greatly why Celia seemed so cold and uninterested in things. She sighed as she went about preparing for the night, and wished that Celia’s mother had lived; nobody could understand a girl like her own mother, she thought. Then she knelt as she always did, and laid her care at her Master’s feet, and rested with an unburdened heart for the next day’s work.

ONE morning, about eleven o’clock, Molly Poppleton was up in the third-story hall attending to the rooms on that floor. The chambermaid was not well, and Molly had been put back in her work a good deal, so that it was late and she was in a hurry. She thumped the water pitchers down hard, slammed the doors, and punched the pillows into shape with extra vigor on this account, but, suddenly, in the midst of making up the, University student’s bed, she came to a sharp halt and straightened up to listen. She was not mistaken. She certainly had heard sounds of distress. They grew clearer now as she went to the hall door, and she quickly located them. They were low, half-suppressed sobs, following quickly upon one another, as though the weeper were in deep distress. After listening, she marched down the hall, and without more ceremony threw open the door of a room. There lay Mamie Williams across the foot of her unmade bed crying bitterly and shaking with sobs. Molly Poppleton was at all times a straightforward maiden, and she believed in coming to the point at once; it was the way she had been brought up. So, without apology for intruding into the young girl’s trouble, she demanded what was the matter.

Mamie raised her head long enough to show a red nose and blurred eyes, and to see who had come in without knocking. Then she went on crying harder than ever.

Molly shut the door with a slam and said:

“For mercy’s sake, do tell me what’s the matter? Are you hurt? Do you want a doctor? Or are some of your friends dead?”

Mamie shook her head and finally controlled herself sufficiently to sob out:

“No, M-M-Molly. It’s my heart! It’s broke!”

“Oh, well, if that’s all, you’ll get over it! They always do! I’ve been there myself, and I know that state don’t last long. You better get up and wash your face while I make the bed.” And Molly proceeded energetically to throw open the window and shake up the pillows.

“Oh Molly! You don’t know. You never was crossed in love!” wailed the miserable girl, without stirring, and then she sobbed the harder.

Molly turned irately from the bureau where she had begun to dust.

“Crossed in fiddlesticks!” she said, sharply. “You’ll find you ain’t near so hard hurt as you think for. And as for me, I’ve had my chances in my time like other girls, and plenty of ’em at that, an’ I preferred to live single. It’s much more independent. It’s my opinion you ain’t old enough to be away from home anyway. You better go back to your ma if you’ve got one.”

But as this only set Miss Mamie to crying the harder, the perplexed Molly marched down to find Miss Grant and report the case.

“Miss Grant, you’re needed up there in that three-center room. That silly thing is actin’ like a fool over some poor sickly fellow, that couldn’t support her ef she got him, I s’pose. She says she’s been crossed in love an’ her heart’s broke, an’ she’s cryin’ for dear life. It’s my opinion she better be crossed with a good spankin’, an’ I wouldn’t feel sorry to be the one to give it to her neither.”

But the latter part of this sentiment was lost upon her hearer who had already started with swift steps for the third story.

A moment later Mamie felt a cool hand on her hot forehead, and Miss Grant stooped down and took her in her arms and kissed her. She was so surprised to be kissed, that she stopped crying for a minute. Then the sympathy of the eyes that met hers started her tears afresh, and she buried her head in the motherly arms held out to her and cried like a hurt child who had found a comforter. After she had cried a few minutes and been soothed by the woman who seemed to have the gift of soothing from above, as others have a gift for music or painting, she was able to tell her poor little sad, commonplace story.

“It was Mr. Harold Adams at the store. And he was awful handsome. The girls all thought so. I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. Yes ma’am, he was the head clerk there, all this winter he had charge. The owner went to New York and left him here to run the business. He was awful smart, they said. He used to pay me lots of attention at first, and he’s told me many a time he loved me better than anyone else”—here she broke into fresh sobs—”and it was only when that ugly girl with bleached hair and a pretty face came, he got to going with her, and now I’d planned a way to look nicer than her and get him back, and he’s been real nice to me for a whole week—she was away—they all said she was sick, but now it turns out she was getting ready to be married, and he’s to be sent to have full charge of a three-cent store up in Ohio, and they say she’s going along. The girls had it all ready to tell me this morning when I went in to the store, and they just couldn’t laugh enough at me, till I nearly sank through the floor. They was always jealous of mc. First one twitted me an’ then another, till I got so mad and felt so bad I just come home. He’s a goin’ to marry her, they say, an’ it’s all been no use after all, an’ oh, my heart’s just broke!”

It is commonly supposed that women who do not marry and have no children cannot enter into the feelings of young people, and are not able to sympathize with them. But God had somehow given this woman a sweet insight into natures in distress, which helped her to be able to give comfort Wherever she went, to say the right word and do the right action. She bent down now and kissed the tear-wet face.

“You’re awful kind,” moaned poor Mamie. “But you don’t know how it is yourself. You ain’t never been crossed in love.”

A shadow of the passing of a great dark cloud, tipped with brilliant light, went across Miss Grant’s face, leaving the reflection of the light there, ere she spoke again.

“Listen! Mamie,” she said, and her voice was very sweet and tender, and her eyes looked soft and dewy, as though she saw things beyond the range of human vision, “I want to tell you a story all about myself.”

Yes, she actually went back to those dear, bright days so long ago, when she had found a kindred spirit and had lived in a sweet elysium of hope, and dreamed those rose-colored visions of youth. Some women would have counted it a desecration to the memory of her dead hopes and sacred love before the eyes of a vulgar girl who wept over a man a hundredfold more vulgar; would have thought it an evidence of lack of good taste and delicacy to do so. Not so this woman. Had she not sent swift petitions to the throne as she came up the stairs asking for guidance? She felt in her heart that this story of hers, which had never before passed her lips to mortal ear, told here, might help this poor, friendless, untaught girl: might, perhaps, lead her to see life in a different way, and to begin to try to live it for the God above, instead of for her own selfish pleasure. And she knew the man she had loved, who had been in heaven these years, well enough to be certain he would be glad also to have her tell the story, if it could in any wise help a soul to find comfort. And so she told it, simply and eloquently. She even let herself dwell on the tender passages, the little things that make such a story beautiful in the eyes of a girl. She spoke about the flowers he had sent her, the pretty, simple gowns she had worn that he admired, and the ribbon he stooped and kissed, as it floated from her throat, that last time he parted from her, saying she would soon be with him now to stay; and how she treasured it yet.

Before she was halfway through the story, Mamie had dried her eyes and sat up on the bed, her face expressing intense interest. She had forgotten her own troubles in the trouble of another. Her tears, which were dried on her own sorrows soon flowed silently for Miss Grant. She wondered at that peaceful face, which shone bright even through the mist that would gather in her eyes, as she told of the dark days when her hopes were taken from her, and of the time when she wandered about forlorn, until the Lord spoke to her and comforted her. When the story was finished, Mamie found she could look up and talk. She seemed to have risen above her recent grief. There was a longing for something in her heart, she scarcely knew what.

“I always thought it would be an awful thing to be an old maid,” she said bluntly, “but if I could look like you, and be like you, I wouldn’t mind it—not much!” There was a look of admiration on her face. It was not much encouragement, but Miss Grant was not one who let her work depend upon results. She went steadily on talking, cheering, advising, drawing out the girl, until she had a pretty thorough understanding of what her life had been hitherto. She did not wonder that the heart seemed broken, nor that what seemed to the poor girl to be the life love had been freely given to an unworthy object. What better had been set before the girl? She had been untaught and unguided. Before she left her, Mamie had confided to her the story of her Bible reading and of all her thoughts about the garments of fine linen, and this missionary of the Most High had sifted out from the chaff of foolish talk and worldly longings the grain of earnest desire after better things and found joy, the joy of encouragement in it. She even knelt beside the girl with her arm about her waist, and prayed for her as Mamie had never heard herself prayed for before, and then, instead of sending her back to the atmosphere of selfish strivings and silly thoughts of what should be noble things, she advised her to stay away from the three-cent store, at least for that day, and come down in the kitchen, as she had some work for her there which might take her mind off her trouble for a little while.

It is true that Molly sniffed when she saw her come into the kitchen with her red eyes washed and a white apron on, but Miss Grant wisely sent Molly to work in another part of the house, and herself carefully inducted the awkward novice into the mysteries of making some most delectable cake, to be used in the celebration of Miss Burns’ birthday that evening. It spoke well for Miss Grant’s ability to read human nature, that she chose cake to teach Mamie. If it had been a lesson in bread-making or how to cook potatoes, it is doubtful if the girl would have been interested. Cake, now, somehow, seemed “sort of stylish,” and belonged to the festive side of eating; therefore she enjoyed learning how to make it nicely, and she came to the dinner-table that evening beaming with satisfaction over the cake which she had iced and decorated with smilax and candles herself. She told them all that she made the cake, and it received much praise, especially from Bob Yates, who asked for a second piece and said some low words of commendation that brought a smile and a bright flush into the girl’s face, just as Molly passed the ice cream which was also a part of the evening’s celebration.

“H’m!” said that worthy woman coming out into the kitchen the better to converse with herself, “I thought so! She’s got over it sooner than most of ’em. It generally takes over night at least just to let the glue dry, but she must have used some lightnin’ stuff. Her heart ain’t more’n skin deep anyway.”

THE days that followed were filled with new things for Mamie Williams. However shallow her hurt had been it was deep enough to make her shrink decidedly from returning to the store. The young man whose charms had fascinated her was not yet gone, and Miss Simmons brought word from day to day that there had been delay in sending him away. The yellow haired girl seemed to have returned to her place behind the candy counter. After this report had gone on for about a week, Mamie suddenly manifested a desire to return to her position, with the expressed hope that she might still win her lover back, but Miss Hannah, feeling that this might be the turning point in her life, had a long talk with her, the result of which was that she appeared in the kitchen an hour after, with red eyes, a meek air and a clean gingham apron and made herself generally useful. Molly, who had kept herself informed of the state of the case nodded approval and announced to Miss Grant at the first opportunity that she didn’t know but that girl had some chance of growing a little sense after all.

It is doubtful whether Mamie’s resolution would have outlasted the next day, however, had not several things occurred to strengthen what Miss Grant had said to her during that long earnest talk. The first was the announcement that the charming Mr. Harold Adams had departed from the city to parts unknown, taking with him a goodly portion of the profits of the three-cent business, which he had, by a careful system of bookkeeping, been laying up for himself against this day. Neither had the yellow-haired girl shared in his booty. She seemed to be as happy as ever, and as the days went by was reported to be “making up” to the new head of the business, who had come to straighten out affairs.

Mamie, on the announcement of this news, betook herself to her room for a whole morning, where she cried and was angry alternately, and from whence she came out a wiser arid a meeker maiden, quite ready to do what Miss Grant should ask of her, and to look for another position. But that lady was in no haste to urge the girl to apply for another position. Life in such a store, as Mamie would be likely in her present stage of development to get into, was too dangerous and risky a thing for the unformed girl, who seemed to be hesitating on the brink of better things. After careful thought, and much discussion with Celia, Miss Grant told Mamie that she would like it very much, if she would be willing to help her for two or three weeks, with upstairs work, sweeping and table setting, until she could find another second girl who suited her. She told her she would give her what she had been paying to the second girl who had just left, and that she would of course have her board, so that she might be able to look about her leisurely for the right place, and still lose nothing by being out of work. Mamie, after a struggle with her pride, and reiterating many times to her roommate that she only did this for a few days as a favor to Miss Grant, finally accepted, and was somewhat surprised that she was not scoffed at by Miss Simmons for “doing housework,” which to the minds of both girls had always been menial service quite beneath them.