CHAPTER III
MATILDA TEACHES
MATILDA seated herself bolt upright on one of the kitchen chairs anddrew a hard, stiff sigh.
"It'll be a great rest to get away," she said, "more of a rest than anyone but me will ever know. You see, she's left all she's got to me inher will, so I'm bound in honor to keep a pretty sharp watch overeverything. I can't even take a chance at her sinking suddenly away,with the room not picked up or a cobweb in some high corner. I've seenher will, and she ain't left you a cent, so you won't have the sameresponsibility. It'll be easier for you."
"I'll do my very best," said Jane.
"The trouble is I'm too conscientious," said Matilda. "I was alwaysconscientious, and she was always slack. It's an awful failing. It's awarning, too, for now there she lays, snug as a bug in a rug, and mewith New Asthma in my arm from tending her and the house."
"You'll get over all that very soon," said the niece soothingly.
Matilda glanced at her suspiciously. "No, I shan't. I may get better,but I shan't get over it. It's a nerve trouble and can't never becompletely cured. A doctor can alligator it, but he can't cure it. I'llhave it till I die."
Jane was silent.
"You wrote that you were some kind of a nurse. What kind did you say youwere?"
"I'm a Sunshine Nurse."
"A Sunshine Nurse! What's that? Some new idea of never pulling down theshades?"
Jane laughed. "Not exactly. It's an Order just founded by a doctor. Hepicked out the girls himself, and he sends them where he chooses fortraining."
"What's the training?"
Jane looked at her and hesitated a little. "I expect you'll laugh," shesaid finally; "it does sound funny to any one who isn't used to suchideas. We're to see the sun as always shining, and always shineourselves, and our training consists in going where there isn't anybrightness and being bright, and going where there isn't any happinessand teaching happiness."
"Sounds to me like nonsense," said Matilda, rising abruptly;"don't you go letting up the sitting-room shades and fading theupholstering,--that's all I've got to say. Come now and I'll show youabout locking up, and then we'll go to bed."
Jane obeyed with promptness and was most observant and attentive.Matilda loaded her with behests and instructions and seemed appreciativeof the intelligence with which they were received.
"I wouldn't go in for nothing fancy," she said, as they completed theirtask; "the less you stir up her and the house, the easier it'll be forme when I come back. You don't want to ever forget that I'm coming back,and don't put any fancy ideas into her head. There's plenty to do herewithout going out of your way to upset my ways."
"I'll remember," said Jane.
Then they started up-stairs, and a few minutes later the Sunshine Nursewas alone in her own room, free to stand quietly by the window and lether outward gaze form a bond between the still beauty of a country nightand the glad vision of work in plenty, and that of a kind which MissMatilda couldn't prohibit, because she knew not the world in which suchwork is done.
"Not--" said Jane to herself with a little whimsical smile--"not butwhat I'm 'most sure that my teaching will be manifest in a lot ofmaterial changes, too, but by the time that she comes back, her ownfeelings will be sufficiently 'alligatored' so that she'll see lifedifferently also. God's plan is just as much for her good in sending heraway as it is for mine in sending me here, and I mustn't forget that fora minute. I'll be busy and she'll be busy, and we'll both be learningand we'll both be teaching and we'll both be being necessary."
She drew a chair close and sat down, full of her own bright and helpfulthoughts. Much of love and wonder came flooding into her through themedium of the sweet, calm night without. "It's like being among angels,"she fancied, and felt a close companionship with those who had known theGreat White Messengers face to face.
Long she sat there, praying the prayer that is just one indrawn breathof content and uplifted consciousness. Not many girls of twenty-twowould have seen so much in that not unusual situation, and yet it was toher so brimful of fair possibilities that she could hardly wait formorning to begin work.
When she rose to undress, when she climbed into the plain, hard bed thatreceived her so kindly, when she slept at last, all was with the samesense of responsibility mixed with energetic intention. All that she had"asked" in the usual sense of "asking in prayer" had been "to be shownexactly how," and because she was one of those who know every prayer tobe answered, in the hour of its making she knew that to be answered,too. "I'll be led along," was her last thought before sleeping, and itswept the fringe of her consciousness, leaving her to enter dreamlandwith the happy security of a trusting child.
It really seemed no time at all before Matilda rapped loudly on herdoor, bringing her suddenly to the knowledge that the hour to begin allthe longed-for work was at hand.
"Five o'clock!" Matilda howled gently through the crack.
"Yes, yes," she cried in response.
The door opened a bit wider. "You'd better get right up or you'll go tosleep again," Matilda said, putting her head in, "right this minute."
"Yes, I will."
She sat up in bed to prove it.
"All right," said her aunt--and shut the door.
Jane had unpacked her small trunk the night before, and so was able todress quickly and get down-stairs without a minute wasted. She foundMatilda in the kitchen, very busy with the stove.
"I do hope you'll remember what I said last night," she said, shovelingout ashes with an energy that filled the room with dust. "I can't haveher habits all upset. It'll be no good giving me this change if you goand spoil her. Remember that."
"I won't make any trouble," promised Jane. "I'll always remember thatyou're coming back."
As she spoke, she saw again the thin, hopeless face on the pillowup-stairs and knew that Matilda herself was to know a glad surprise overthe change which should welcome her home-coming. It was the learning toinstantly realize the better side of those who insisted on exhibitingtheir worst that was the leading force in the training of that beaminglittle Order to which she belonged. The Sunshine Nurses were forbiddento consider anything or anybody as fixedly wrong either in kind,conception, or working out. It would be a very comfortable way oflooking at things--even for such mere, ordinary, everyday folk as youand me.
Matilda now said, "Ugh, ugh!" over the dust and proceeded to dive intothe wood-box with one hand and get a sliver in her thumb.
"In the morning she has tea," she said, going to the window to put herhand to rights. "One cup. Piece of bread. At noon, whatever is handy.Night, cup of tea and whatever she fancies. Bread or a cracker usually.She eats very little and less all the time. The cat eats more than shedoes. He's a snooper, that cat,--you'll have to watch out."
Jane didn't seem to understand. "A--a snooper?"
"Steals food. Awful thief. Slap him when you catch him at it; it's allyou can do. Sometimes I throw water over him. He'll make off with whatwould be a meal for a hired man, and he's sly as any other thief."
"Can't I help you with your hand?"
"No, you can't. I get lots of them. They bother me a little because Mrs.Croft's cousin died of blood-poison from one. There, it's out. What wasI saying? Oh, yes, the cat."
"Where is she now?"
"It's a he. Named Alfred for her husband. He's up in her room now.Always sleeps on her bed. She will have him, and I humor her. She's myonly sister and she can't live long and she's left me all her money, andI humor her. It's my plain duty."
"Is it healthy for an invalid to sleep with a cat?"
"No, it ain't. But I promised to do whatever she said about the cat andthe garden, and I do."
"I'm sure it's very good in you," Jane murmured, looking out of thewindow.
"It is. I'm a good woman. I do my whole duty, and there's not many in atown this size can say as much."
"Where is the garden?"
"I'll show you, if you don't mind getting your feet wet. I have myrubb
ers on already, to travel, so I can go right there now while thefire is kindling."
"Is it wet?"
"Most grass is wet, at five in the morning."
Jane wanted to laugh. "I mean, isn't there a path?"
"Part way, and then you have to climb two fences."
"Climb! Two!" the niece turned in surprise.
"Climb two fences. You never saw such a place. The strip between isrented for a cow-pasture. That's why there's two fences."
"But why not have gates?"
"Don't ask me. Find out if you can. I've lived here five years, and Iain't found out. You try and see if you'll do better. She's verysecretive, and so was he before he died. I've just had to get along thebest I could. She fails and fails steady, but it don't seem to affecther health none, and now at last it's affected mine instead and give meneophytes in my left arm."
Jane turned her head and looked some more out of the window.
"We'll go now. Might as well. The kettle will get to boiling while we'reaway, and then we'll have breakfast. It boils slow, because I've got theeggs in it for my lunch. Come on."
The question of the wet grass seemed to have faded. They went out thekitchen door. It was a clear, bright morning. "Weedy weather," commentedMatilda, and led the way down the path.
"It's a pretty place," said Jane, her eyes roaming happily.
"Yes, I suppose so. But it takes an artist or some one who hasn't livedin it for five years to feel that way." She paused to climb the firstfence. It was three rails high and very awkward. "I'll go over first,"she said. "Think of it; I've done this six times a day for five years."
Jane didn't wonder that she was so agile at it. "But how funny to have agarden away off here!" she said.
Matilda was now over on the other side. "Yes, and think of keeping itup. Folks about here make no bones of telling me that they were bothhalf-witted, only as she's my sister, they try to give me to understandas she caught it from him. He was a miser, you know."
Jane was just getting her second leg over. "I don't know a thing abouthim," she said.
"Well, you will, soon enough. The neighbors'll come flocking as soon asI'm gone, and you'll soon know all there is to know about us all.They'll pick me to pieces, too, and tell you I'm starving Susan todeath, but I don't care. Climbing these fences has hardened me tocalumny."
They crossed the strip of cow-pasture, and Matilda got over anotherfence, saying as she did so: "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,"leaving Jane to make the application and follow her at the same time.
Then they found themselves in a trim little garden.
"How sweet," said the niece.
"You can see I've done my duty by it, too," said Matilda; "that's myway. I'm hard and I ain't pretty to look at, but I do my duty, which ismore'n most handsome women do. Every last bean here is clawed aroundlike it ought to be, and the whole thing neat as wax. Same with Susan;you'd think from her face I'd murdered her, and yet the Recording Angelknows she's had a cold sponge and every last snarl combed out of herhair every day since I came. I don't boast, but I do work."
"Dear me, it's a long way from the house," said Jane, forgetting herhigher philosophy for the minute.
"It's a good ten minutes to get here. A picking of peas is a half-hour'sjob. And ten to one, when I get back, the cat's been at the cream."
Jane had had time to remember. "I can see you've been awfully good," shesaid warmly, "and my, but you've worked hard. Everything shows that."
Matilda's face flushed with pleasure, the sudden pathetic flushing ofunexpected appreciation. "I just have," she declared. "I've worked hardall my life and done a lot of good, and nobody's ever bothered to thankme. She don't. She just lays there and lets me run up and down stairsand climb fences and dig weeds and scamper back and forth with a extrahike, when I hear the bell of the door, till it'll be a mercy if I don'tget neophytes all over, and the New Asthma in both legs, _I_ think."
After a brief tour of the tiny whole, devoted mainly to instructing thenovice, Matilda led the way back to the house.
"Does it ever need watering?" Jane asked, lapsing again to a lowerlevel.
"Sometimes," said Matilda briefly. Jane hadn't the heart to say anotherword until--several steps further on--it occurred to her that the gardenalso could be only a good factor in God's plan, if she wreathed it andshrined it and saw it in her world, as He saw all His world on the daywhen it was first manifest and set. "And God saw everything that He hadmade, and behold, it was very good."
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