XXIII
THE HILL DIFFICULTY
The first happy year at Wareham, with its widened sky-line, its largervision, its greater opportunity, was over and gone. Rebecca had studiedduring the summer vacation, and had passed, on her return in theautumn, certain examinations which would enable her, if she carried outthe same programme the next season, to complete the course in threeinstead of four years. She came off with no flying colors,--that wouldhave been impossible in consideration of her inadequate training; butshe did wonderfully well in some of the required subjects, and sobrilliantly in others that the average was respectable. She would neverhave been a remarkable scholar under any circumstances, perhaps, andshe was easily out-stripped in mathematics and the natural sciences bya dozen girls, but in some inexplicable way she became, as the monthswent on, the foremost figure in the school. When she had entirelyforgotten the facts which would enable her to answer a question fullyand conclusively, she commonly had some original theory to expound; itwas not always correct, but it was generally unique and sometimesamusing. She was only fair in Latin or French grammar, but when it cameto translation, her freedom, her choice of words, and her sympatheticunderstanding of the spirit of the text made her the delight of herteachers and the despair of her rivals.
"She can be perfectly ignorant of a subject," said Miss Maxwell to AdamLadd, "but entirely intelligent the moment she has a clue. Most of theother girls are full of information and as stupid as sheep."
Rebecca's gifts had not been discovered save by the few, during thefirst year, when she was adjusting herself quietly to the situation.She was distinctly one of the poorer girls; she had no fine dresses toattract attention, no visitors, no friends in the town. She had morestudy hours, and less time, therefore, for the companionship of othergirls, gladly as she would have welcomed the gayety of that side ofschool life. Still, water will find its own level in some way, and bythe spring of the second year she had naturally settled into the samesort of leadership which had been hers in the smaller community ofRiverboro. She was unanimously elected assistant editor of the WarehamSchool Pilot, being the first girl to assume that enviable, thoughsomewhat arduous and thankless position, and when her maiden numberwent to the Cobbs, uncle Jerry and aunt Sarah could hardly eat or sleepfor pride.
"She'll always get votes," said Huldah Meserve, when discussing theelection, "for whether she knows anything or not, she looks as if shedid, and whether she's capable of filling an office or not, she looksas if she was. I only wish I was tall and dark and had the gift ofmaking people believe I was great things, like Rebecca Randall. There'sone thing: though the boys call her handsome, you notice they don'ttrouble her with much attention."
It was a fact that Rebecca's attitude towards the opposite sex wasstill somewhat indifferent and oblivious, even for fifteen and a half!No one could look at her and doubt that she had potentialities ofattraction latent within her somewhere, but that side of her nature washappily biding its time. A human being is capable only of a certainamount of activity at a given moment, and it will inevitably satisfyfirst its most pressing needs, its most ardent desires, its chiefambitions. Rebecca was full of small anxieties and fears, for matterswere not going well at the brick house and were anything but hopeful atthe home farm. She was overbusy and overtaxed, and her thoughts werenaturally drawn towards the difficult problems of daily living.
It had seemed to her during the autumn and winter of that year as ifher aunt Miranda had never been, save at the very first, so censoriousand so fault-finding. One Saturday Rebecca ran upstairs and, burstinginto a flood of tears, exclaimed, "Aunt Jane, it seems as if I nevercould stand her continual scoldings. Nothing I can do suits auntMiranda; she's just said it will take me my whole life to get theRandall out of me, and I'm not convinced that I want it all out, sothere we are!"
Aunt Jane, never demonstrative, cried with Rebecca as she attempted tosoothe her.
"You must be patient," she said, wiping first her own eyes and thenRebecca's. "I haven't told you, for it isn't fair you should betroubled when you're studying so hard, but your aunt Miranda isn'twell. One Monday morning about a month ago, she had a kind of faintspell; it wasn't bad, but the doctor is afraid it was a shock, and ifso, it's the beginning of the end. Seems to me she's failing rightalong, and that's what makes her so fretful and easy vexed. She hasother troubles too, that you don't know anything about, and if you'renot kind to your aunt Miranda now, child, you'll be dreadful sorry sometime."
All the temper faded from Rebecca's face, and she stopped crying to saypenitently, "Oh! the poor dear thing! I won't mind a bit what she saysnow. She's just asked me for some milk toast and I was dreading to takeit to her, but this will make everything different. Don't worry yet,aunt Jane, for perhaps it won't be as bad as you think."
So when she carried the toast to her aunt a little later, it was in thebest gilt-edged china bowl, with a fringed napkin on the tray and asprig of geranium lying across the salt cellar.
"Now, aunt Miranda," she said cheerily, "I expect you to smack yourlips and say this is good; it's not Randall, but Sawyer milk toast."
"You've tried all kinds on me, one time an' another," Miranda answered."This tastes real kind o' good; but I wish you hadn't wasted that nicegeranium."
"You can't tell what's wasted," said Rebecca philosophically; "perhapsthat geranium has been hoping this long time it could brightensomebody's supper, so don't disappoint it by making believe you don'tlike it. I've seen geraniums cry,--in the very early morning!"
The mysterious trouble to which Jane had alluded was a very real one,but it was held in profound secrecy. Twenty-five hundred dollars of thesmall Sawyer property had been invested in the business of a friend oftheir father's, and had returned them a regular annual income of ahundred dollars. The family friend had been dead for some five years,but his son had succeeded to his interests and all went on as formerly.Suddenly there came a letter saying that the firm had gone intobankruptcy, that the business had been completely wrecked, and that theSawyer money had been swept away with everything else.
The loss of one hundred dollars a year is a very trifling matter, butit made all the difference between comfort and self-denial to the twoold spinsters Their manner of life had been so rigid and careful thatit was difficult to economize any further, and the blow had fallen justwhen it was most inconvenient, for Rebecca's school and boardingexpenses, small as they were, had to be paid promptly and in cash.
"Can we possibly go on doing it? Shan't we have to give up and tell herwhy?" asked Jane tearfully of the elder sister.
"We have put our hand to the plough, and we can't turn back," answeredMiranda in her grimmest tone; "we've taken her away from her mother andoffered her an education, and we've got to keep our word. She'sAurelia's only hope for years to come, to my way o' thinkin'. Hannah'sbeau takes all her time 'n' thought, and when she gits a husband hermother'll be out o' sight and out o' mind. John, instead of farmin',thinks he must be a doctor,--as if folks wasn't gettin' unhealthyenough these days, without turnin' out more young doctors to help 'eminto their graves. No, Jane; we'll skimp 'n' do without, 'n' plan togit along on our interest money somehow, but we won't break into ourprincipal, whatever happens."
"Breaking into the principal" was, in the minds of most thrifty NewEngland women, a sin only second to arson, theft, or murder; and,though the rule was occasionally carried too far for common sense,--asin this case, where two elderly women of sixty might reasonably havedrawn something from their little hoard in time of special need,--itdoubtless wrought more of good than evil in the community.
Rebecca, who knew nothing of their business affairs, merely saw heraunts grow more and more saving, pinching here and there, cutting offthis and that relentlessly. Less meat and fish were bought; the womanwho had lately been coming two days a week for washing, ironing, andscrubbing was dismissed; the old bonnets of the season before werebrushed up and retrimmed; there were no drives to Moderation or tripsto Portland. Economy was carried to its ver
y extreme; but thoughMiranda was well-nigh as gloomy and uncompromising in her manner andconversation as a woman could well be, she at least never twitted herniece of being a burden; so Rebecca's share of the Sawyers' misfortunesconsisted only in wearing her old dresses, hats, and jackets, withoutany apparent hope of a change.
There was, however, no concealing the state of things at Sunnybrook,where chapters of accidents had unfolded themselves in a sort of serialstory that had run through the year. The potato crop had failed; therewere no apples to speak of; the hay had been poor; Aurelia had turns ofdizziness in her head; Mark had broken his ankle. As this was hisfourth offense, Miranda inquired how many bones there were in the humanbody, "so 't they'd know when Mark got through breakin' 'em." The timefor paying the interest on the mortgage, that incubus that had crushedall the joy out of the Randall household, had come and gone, and therewas no possibility, for the first time in fourteen years, of paying therequired forty-eight dollars. The only bright spot in the horizon wasHannah's engagement to Will Melville,--a young farmer whose land joinedSunnybrook, who had a good house, was alone in the world, and his ownmaster. Hannah was so satisfied with her own unexpectedly radiantprospects that she hardly realized her mother's anxieties; for thereare natures which flourish, in adversity, and deteriorate when exposedto sudden prosperity. She had made a visit of a week at the brickhouse; and Miranda's impression, conveyed in privacy to Jane, was thatHannah was close as the bark of a tree, and consid'able selfish too;that when she'd clim' as fur as she could in the world, she'd kick theladder out from under her, everlastin' quick; that, on being sounded asto her ability to be of use to the younger children in the future, shesaid she guessed she'd done her share a'ready, and she wan't goin' toburden Will with her poor relations. "She's Susan Randall through andthrough!" ejaculated Miranda. "I was glad to see her face turnedtowards Temperance. If that mortgage is ever cleared from the farm, 'twon't be Hannah that'll do it; it'll be Rebecca or me!"
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm Page 23