‘THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD.’

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVI, Issue XIX, 9 May 1896, Page 541

‘THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD.’

BY

FLORENCE MCCALLEN.

IT was the week of the county fair. Margaret and Susie Adams weie chatting over their work, choosing to go about together performing their various tasks rather than to divide the work and be separated. The diningroom where they were at work had been enlarged by throwing two large rooms into one. One could catch a glimpse of a yellow-floored kitchen across a narrow passage—for no Missouri woman likes her kitchen to open directly into her dining room—and farther on, rows of milk vessels set against the wall of a vine draped, stone milk house. There were flagged walks outside and the shade of walnut trees. The deep closets in the wall of the diningroom had been newly ‘ straightened,’ and Susie, who had done the work, now stood back from it and studied the effect. ‘ Margaret, don’t you think this room is rather nice for two girls to have tinkered up out of almost nothing ?’ ‘ Yes, indeed. I seem to hear father now: ‘‘Go ahead, girls, but no painting rolling pins and shovels ! Everything to be usable.’ ‘ When we came back from school 1 thought I should die, everything was so dreadful ! All the nice china, so dear to all of us, was being smashed to bits. Do you remember how Leda used to set the screens open because she wanted “ blent y air alretty And mother as helpless among it all as a baby ! Mother's a dear, but she can't do anything but love us, and say "don’t worry ” about everything. But she’s beautiful ; I am glad father married for beauty, aren’t you ?' Susie peeped into the strip of mirror nt the back of the sideboard, aud made the motion with her bead known as ‘ bridling.’ • I should say so ! Fancy being as ugly as Miss Perkins. She was called plain, but I think she was actually tiimmed wiih ugliness. How we girls hated her when she used to lecture us I “ Dephortment. young ladies, is of more imphortance than mere beauty." Poor old thing 1 She couldn’t sound the letter " p " to save her life, her teeth stuck out so.' The room referred to was eighteen feet by twenty-six in size, low ceiled, with a

lireplace midway on one side, Hanked by the closets before mentioned. The south side had two broad paned windows and a door opening on a porch, which was screened and tilled with blooming plants. The floor was painted brown, and was shiningly clean. In the middle of it was a rug about three yards square with a fluffy fringe around it, not too heavy. It bore a strong resemblance to the bed rugs in the Javanese village at the Chicago fair, and was made of four thicknesses of burlap in the natural colour, laid Hat and stitched closely on a machine, with thread of the same colour. The fringe was of ravel or burlap stitched on evenly, in overlapping rows. It was heavy, and kept its place admirably. In front of the sideboard was another rug made of matting, with a rope fringe. The fireplace was tilled now with sbadeloving plants, which made a grateful show of greenery in contrast to the parched world outside, yellow brown under the gold of a September sun. The sideboard, made of an old bureau, was no homemade affair of woman carpentry. It had been taken to the village carpenter and made after a drawing of Susie’s own and stood up boldly, as if knowing itself worthy of admiration. The strip of mirror set in at the back of the lower shelf was the reversed door of an old show case ; it reflected and doubled the collection of old china and old flagons set upon the shelf below it. The drawers below held a supply of napery for present use. The table was no new fangled affair to stare out of countenance the old chairs and dark wainscot, but the square, sixlegged table of old Kentuckey walnut, heavy to cumbrousness, which had been one of the precious possessions of the Adams’ great grandmother sixty years ago. The chairs, too, were walnut, quaintly carved ; the girls had gathered them up from Adams’ kinfolk all over the country. One of them stood in an alcove in the family room, and was a veritable curiosity. There was a legend connected with it, which had come across the water, and was believed in by those who understood, or who had imagination, which in such cases does as well as understanding. The wood of it was black with age ; in the heavy back was set a heavy steel chain of seven links. It was riveted in strongly, and this with the heavy three cornered seat, and the back in the form of a cross, made the chair a weird affair, and sent the beholder’s fancy wandering in strange far lands. The upper part of the cross had been broken off, and Margaret had drawn a gay silken scarf through the middle link of the chain and thrown it across the rough edges, thus covering the dark secrets of the old world with the frivolities of the new. This room also was a charming one, and the girls were proud of it. Mrs Adams’ chair was a graceful one of rattan, and the ribbon profusely threaded through its back was of a hue to correspond with the curtains, and the greenish brown of the wall paper and carpet. In front of Mrs Adams’ chair was a woolly white rug ; between her husband’s old chair and his desk was one of cocoa matting. It would be pleasant to describe the whole process by which those two young girls evolved from an ugly, bare, angular farmhouse, their comfortable home, but space will not admit of it. In the neighbourhood, they were supposed to be rapidly • breaking up ole man Adams,’ but the girls had seen no sign of such calamity about their father that morning when he had driven away beside their pretty mother to the fair, leaving the young ladies to their own devices for the day. ‘ They're all right now, them au’ther scallops, but just wait twill real bard times comes ! None o’ thim kin cook a meal’s vittles.’ Thus spoke one of the neighbourhood oracles ; for in the country there are gossips, male and female, only second to those one finds in country villages. But they are so innocent about it, so unfeignedly glad to get hold of a bit of gossip, that one feels moved to invent it for them.

Young Dr. Gilbert had heard all about them ; in helping his uncle during his vacation he could not have failed to hear much. He had seen them too. They were driving an old gray horse to an old buggv, and were exploring a swamp in Britton Woods. Susie was banked up with tules—he called them cat tails and thought them stiff, ugly things—wild grasses, and the biggest bunches of the reddest cardinal Howers he had ever sei n They had looked at him with honest, friendly r-yes, and bowed to him in the cordial Missouri fashion, and had not seemed ashamed of • idlin’' their time away in the sunny afteruoon. He was thinking of them that very morning while they were chatting over their housew. rk, and was driving toward them, too, as fast as a rather superannuated horse could travel.

Susie, looking up from her work of dusting the parlour, called to Margaret throngh the foldiug doors, where her sister was arranging some Howers. •Goodness! There’s the knight of the stony eyes and the mechanical elbow. I'll call you “Greta’’ till I die, if you’ll goto the door.’

* I don’t want to be called “Greta,” and I won’t go.’ Susie turned to a mirror with that involuntary movement of her hands toward her hair which a woman always makes on such occasions. They encountered a dust cap, which she removed, and she saw a slim girl with rough brown hair and about a yard of cheese cloth duster thrown across her shoulder. She said to herself that she hated * fixing,’ and wanted always to see the every-day side of people; her blue calico dress was good enough for the occasion, so she went to the door in answer to a rather hesitating rap at the screen, duster and all. She noticed that the * mechanical elbow ’ was less prompt this time, but the hat came off at last disclosing a fair forehead

with girlish dark curls upon it>. Snsie looked at the card so falteringly offered and cordially invited him to enter.

* No, mother is not at home, but perhaps one of us well do. The doctor sat down in the carved old chair and beheld a vista of two dimly lighted rooms with a lighter one at the end where a red haired girl sat on the carpet putting nasturtiums into a bowl, arranging them with their own gray green leaves, among which the many-coloured blossoms glowed like fire. * I am Susie Adams,' went on Susie demurely, * and that,’ pointing to the girl on the floor, ‘is Margaret.’ Margaret came in at this, carrying her bowl. Her wrath was fierce, but was apparent only to Susie. The doctor looked amused : he began to be more at ease.

* Everyone seems to have gone to the fair to day,’ he said, ‘and Mrs Jansen is in great danger. Theie was not one woman at home at any house I stopped at till I came here. Jansen is at the fair, too. in charge of Judge Farley's stock. If one of yon could go back with me and stay until I fetch my aunt. I should be glad. There is a two months’ baby that cries all the time.’ Jansen was a farmer on Judge Farley’s place, and Susie pictured the scene to herself—filthy, foreign, and squalid beyond description. * I will go,’ said Susie ; ‘ my sister is so thorough about eveiything, she would tire herself out.’ ‘ Yes, and everyone else,’ assented Margaret, honestly. ‘ I will help you get some things to take over.’ The doctor wondered at the size of the bundle, but stowed it away under the seat of the buggy in silence. They found the woman delirious and the baby screaming. Fowls were walking in and out of the tworoomed house at will. Susie took np the baby, evil smelling as it was, while the doctor stood helplessly watching her. * If you will make a fire in the kitchen stove before you go for Mrs Gilbert, I shall be glad.’ He obeyed. He was a rich man and followed his profession for love of it, and because his temperament made some kind of work a necessity, but he went into that dirty kitchen and kindled a fire in the cook stove, while Susie with the unpleasant baby over one arm filled the tea kettle and hunted for some milk. ‘ You need not be frightened about Mrs Jansen ; she has just had a chill. lam always delirious when I “chill.” And just look at that bed I’ It was something of a spectacle ; a perfect mountain of feathers, iuto which the woman had sunk out of sight, except where a blonde head lay unquietly on the dark blue pillow. The doctor would fain have remained to watch Susie’s deft minis trations, and when he at last started, he said to himself that he bad actually been hustled off the premises. Left alone Susie washed, fed and dressed the wailing baby ; bathed the woman’s hot face, brushed her hair, and put on her a clean white gown brought from home. Then she flattened down the heaped feathers under a heavy comfort and spread over it a fragrant white sheet, covering her with another. *Oh ! It schmale like home,’ said the woman, opening her heavy eyee. *lt is lavender; and we always put clover heads in the bags with the lavender. So we have summer smells all the year round.’ She had tidied the room somewhat, and mother and babe were sleeping quietly when the doctor returned, alone. ‘She was gone, too,’ he said resignedly, • but 1 left a message with the boy. She will come after a while. In the meantime let me take you home to get some lunch ; you must be famished.’ ‘Yes, I am hungry, and so are you, I suppose. But we must not desert our post now. I will cook you some lunch.' ‘ No. Can’t you drive home and leave me to care for Mrs Jansen ?’ ‘ The baby might wake. I assure you I can make excellent griddlecakes.' In less than an hour she called him. I'nder an apple tree, with a grape vine reaching np from the trellis to the top of it, and hung from end to end with great bunches of purple grapes, she had set a little table. Very few persons in our fortunate west are in actual need of food unless it is by reason of their own shiftlessness or lack of skill in preparing it. Susie had not found a tablecloth, but a queer-looking scarf with a fuzzy border was laid across the table. There were sliced tomatoes upon it, yellow and red, on a queer little plate with feet to it ; dainty croquettes which she said were made of grated green corn ; flaky, white biscuit, excellent butter and clear, translucent jelly. ‘ I brought nothing from home but the butter and the jelly. And the napkins, of course. But look at that one, isn’t it quaint ?’ It was more than half a yard square, yellow, and stiHly starched, with a greenish blue border of raised flowers. Susie had pinched up the corners, making a basket of it, and it was piled with yellow apples and purple clusters of grapes. Susie brought the doctor a cup of coffee, telling him she was sure he needed it after such arduous ta«ks as he had that day performed, and then excusing herself went in to her invalid. But then Mrs Gilbert bustled in, and after all Susie sat down and ate her lunch under the apple tree. ‘ And so you thought I couldn’t cook because I like to gather tules and cardinal flowers I I might as well form my opinion of you by seeing you eat. You area beauty lover; you eat that jelly because it is p etty, and neglect the jam which is really g od, because it is thick and dark.’ * I will be kind to you. You are an excellent nurse.’ ‘Yes, mother is often sickening. We girls take care of her.' * Yon would make an excellent wife for a

country preacher, or stay—you would bean ideal wife for a physician.' * I hope soon to be a doctor’s wife. ’ He looked op, startled ; Susie laughed. * Don't be frightened,’ she said, soothingly ; ‘you are not my intended victim.’ She unfastened a locket from a little chain which was twisted in a buttonhole of her pink dress, and seemed a part of her everyday garb, and pushed it toward him. A homely, kind face looked at him from the case. * Don’t yon pity the poor fellow ? He’s poor and good, but he wants me. He’s »gly and dear, and I want him. So, you see how it is. Before long Margaret will be alone.' ‘ And—Miss —Margaret?’ 'O! She’s red-haired, and intense, you see. She loves people beyond their deserts. But she too can make qnince jelly and corn croquettes,’ she added slyly. And so—and so it was Margaret, who after an ideal courtship was taken to Dr. Hilbert’s beantiful city home. It was grape time again and Mrs Jansen pulled every grape from the * apple-tree vine ’ and sent them to * Miss Susan ’ and they were wrapped with the very napkin she had so admired. Also they were accompanied by the Bender’s * dear wishess ’ and love. To Susie, sitting in her cramped little sitting room, the smell and sight of them brought a vision. The dear home and the dear home folks; the wide fields and the bine horizon. Then she said to herself that she had gladly, gladly left them all for her ugly doctor’s love, and was not love * the greatest thing in the world ?’