CHAPTER III
THE BEE-HIVE.
When three years before, Hadyn Stuyvesant, the owner of the propertyrented by the Carruths, had followed out Constance Carruth's plans for amodel kitchen in which she could make her candy, he was not a littlesurprised at the sixteen-year-old girl's practical ideas. She asked himto build an extension to the little cottage at the end of the groundsoccupied by Mammy and Charles, and had drawn the plans andspecifications herself. The result was a marvel to him.
The extension consisted of three rooms on the first floor and two on thesecond. Upon entering the door one found one's self in a good-sizedroom, with rubber-tiled floor all blue and white, the walls snowy inalabasterine. Here on numberless white enameled shelves were placed theboxes of candy ready for shipment. From this attractive room opened thepacking room, floor, walls and ceiling scrupulous. Long zinc-coveredtables ready for the pans of candy, little portable stands at hand tohold the boxes in which the candy was to be packed. Perhaps the mostpractical feature of this packing room was the height of the tables, ormore correctly their lack of height. Constance had reason to know thatone can be foot-weary after several hours spent in candy-making.Consequently these packing tables were made low enough to enable thoseworking at them to sit upon the comfortable bent-wood chairs while doingthe work, which often required several hours, for not only had the candyto be packed in its pretty boxes, but the boxes had to be wrapped andtied with dainty ribbons. Nothing must fall short of perfection.
But the crowning point of Constance's practicability was shown in theactual kitchen itself. This was also tiled, but the tiles were ofshining porcelain, washable, scrubable, scourable to the very limit. Abig gas range stood at one side, near it hung pans, pots and kettles ofevery size and possible need, all of white enamel ware. A big porcelainsink and draining tray stood next. Close at hand was a large table, itstop of white marble warranted to withstand the hottest candy which couldbe poured upon it, to chill it quickly for handling or cutting, and tocome forth from its boiling baptism immaculate under the alchemy of hotsoapsuds.
On the walls were great hooks, upon which to pull long ropes of molassesor cream candy. Along another side of the kitchen were shelves to holdthe hundred and one ingredients which were to be transformed into themost toothsome of dainties, and these were too numerous to name. Aspacious closet held aprons, caps, towels, dish-cloths and what not,needed in the work.
On the floor overhead, and reached by a quaint little stairway from theshipping room, was the stock room, where boxes, labels, wrapping paper,twine, and a hundred other needfuls were kept. In one corner abusiness-like roll-top desk, with still more business-like ledgers, toldof the ability of this little lady to keep track of her finances. Androom number five? Ah, the eternal feminine! Who says she must waive allclaim to her womanly instincts, merge them in the coarser, less refinedones of the hurrying, struggling world around her when she sets out tobe a bread-winner among her masculine contemporaries? If some do this,Constance Carruth was not to be numbered among them, and no better proofof it could have been offered than the "fifth wheel to her businesswagon," as she laughingly called room number five. That little room isworthy of minute description.
To begin with, the walls were tinted a soft ivory white, with a delftblue frieze running around the top. The floor was of hard wood, with apretty blue and white rug spread in the center. On this stood a whiteenameled table, with snowy linen cover, a reading lamp, the severalbooks and magazines testifying to its primal use. Four or fivecomfortable wicker chairs, with cushions of pretty figured Japanesecrepe, stood about. In one corner a couch with a delft blue and whitecover and enough pillows to spell luxury, invited weary bodies to restwhen labors were ended, and yet never once hinted that by removing thecover and pillows a bed stood ready for a guest if extra space wereneeded. Book shelves of white enameled wood filled half one side of theroom, and held every sort of cook-book ever published, as well as manyof Constance's favorite authors. A white chiffonnier held many necessaryarticles, for after one has spent several hours over a boiling kettleone longs for a tub and fresh garments; and all these were at hand inthe big closet. Opening from this restful room was a perfectly appointedbathroom. Could plans have been more perfect?
Certainly the girl, bending over the big saucepan, stirring its boilingcontents, felt that _her_ little paradise had been gained when shechanged from the bustling, rushing Arcade to the peace, tranquillity andrefinement of her present surroundings. The accident whichshort-circuited the switchboard wires in the telephone booth thateventful Labor Day had brought to Mary Willing, even at the cost of agood deal of physical suffering, present advantages and an outlook forthe future such as she had never pictured. Indeed, her horizon had beenmuch too circumscribed for her imagination to reach so far. It neededthe influence and environment of the past three years to make her fullyappreciate the vast difference between the acquisitions which meredollars can command, and those which true refinement of heart, mind,soul and body hold as invaluable and indeprivable heritages. Possiblythe best proof that she had taken the lesson to heart lay in the factthat "Pearl" Willing had completely dropped out of the world's ken, andin her stead, quiet, dignified Mary Willing moved and had her being.Unconsciously Mrs. Carruth had undertaken to solve a knotty,sociological problem, but the results already obtained seemed to justifyher belief that she was right in her estimate of this girl. At allevents she had reason to be sanguine of ultimate success in bending ahitherto neglected twig. It needed courage, however, upon Mrs. Carruth'spart to undertake this reformation. From her childhood, to hernineteenth year Mary Willing's environment had been, if notdemoralizing, certainly detrimental to a higher development in any girl.Her associates were coarse, boisterous, heedless girls, without thefaintest sense of the fitness of things, or the first rudiments ofrefinement. To earn enough money to clothe themselves in shoddy finery,to contribute as small a percentage of their earnings to the familypurse as possible, and to have as much "fun," never mind at whoseexpense, or at what sacrifice of their own dignity, bounded their aimsand ambitions. And Mary Willing had seen no reason for not following intheir footsteps. Handsomer than any of her companions, and holding aposition where her personal charms were conspicuous for all who passedto comment upon them, she had used them to attract the attention ofthose whom she thought likely to contribute to her pleasure.
To make her more self-conscious, and senselessly pave the way to greaterevil, her mother had continually urged her to make the most of her goodlooks while she had them, assuring her that unless she managed to "catcha rich husband with her handsome face she needn't hope to get one atall."
Was it any wonder the girl grew up vain, shallow, and with standardspoorly calculated to withstand temptations if offered opportunely?Still, there was a certain something in her which, up to her nineteenthyear, had saved her from anything worse than shallow flirtations; andthen when everything seemed conspiring to lead her to more seriousconsequences of her folly, Fate had established close at her side apersonality and atmosphere in such contrast to her own, and all she hadever known, that it acted as a dash of cold water acts upon asleepwalker. At first she was startled, then roused, and finallythoroughly wakened to the perilous path she was following.
But the strangest part of it all lay in the fact that the individualwhich capricious Dame Fate had used as her instrument never for onemoment suspected that she was being used at all, but continued on hersweet, cheery, sunny way entirely unconscious of her responsibilities.Perhaps therein lay her greatest strength. Then came the accident on theriver, and Mrs. Carruth, quick to read and comprehend, found a field forthe sweetest missionary work a woman can enter upon--that of shaping thelife of a young girl for the noblest position to which she can attain--arefined young womanhood, a beautiful wifehood, and a motherhood asperfect as God will give her grace to make it. Mary Willing could hardlyhave found a more beautiful example, and the three years had wroughtmiracles.
Mrs. Carruth had made haste slowly. The
first year Mary Willing enteredupon her duties in the candy kitchen she went and came daily, learningand applying herself with all the enthusiasm her gratitude to those sheso admired and strove to emulate inspired. The relations between thegirl and Constance were those of valued employee and respected employer.It could not have been otherwise. Mary had a vast deal to _un_learn, thehardest of all things to accomplish, and when old impressions wereeffaced to begin an entirely new page. Gradually as time passed on thegirl grew into her new environment. Old habits of manner and speech gaveway to gentler ones, old viewpoints shifted to those of these goodfriends, who had risen up at such a crucial point in her life and werefitting her to be a little woman in the truest sense. In the course ofthe three years just passed she and Constance had grown closer to eachother. The latter, quick to see the former's sincere desire to improve,and take advantage of every opportunity to do so, felt the keenestsympathy for her less fortunate sister, and the strongest desire to aidher. Mary's aim and ambition was to grow "just exactly like ConstanceCarruth! The dearest, best and loveliest girl that ever lived," as sheconfided to her mother. The greatest obstacle to be overcome was theunhappy influence in Mary Willing's own home life. It sometimes seemedto Mrs. Carruth that whatever good they accomplished in the five and ahalf working days of the week was entirely undone during the one day anda half which the girl spent in the hurly-burly, the untidiness andhopeless shallowness of her own home, to say nothing of the coarseninginfluence of a worthless, dissipated father's presence. Mrs. Carruthbelieved that Mary Willing had naturally been endowed with instincts farabove the average of her class, though from what source inherited shecould not understand, and that all needed to develop them was a morewholesome atmosphere, wise guiding, and, of course, separation fromformer contaminating influences. But she bided her time and, when leastexpecting to do so, discovered the secret. At length, when she felt themoment to be ripe, she suggested most tactfully that Mary come to livewith them, to occupy the little room which had once been Mammy's, but,since her marriage to Charles, and her removal to the snug cottageadjoining the candy kitchen, had been newly decorated and furnished forwhat Jean, in her characteristic fashion, termed "the left-overs;""left-overs" being any extra guest who might claim the hospitality ofthe family when the other guest room was occupied. It was a prettylittle room, up in the third floor at the rear of the house, andoverlooked the lawn, the candy kitchen, Mammy's cottage, and the rollingcountry beyond owned by Jabe Raulsbury. It had been papered in thesoftest green paper, with garlands of pink roses as a border. The floorwas carpeted with a deeper shade of ingrain filling, upon which lay twopretty rugs in pink and green. Dimity curtains, looped back with chintzbands, draped the windows. The furniture was of white enamel, with plainwhite iron bedstead. Cushions and coverings, as well as table and bureauscarfs, were of the chintz, edged with inexpensive lace--the bedspread ofsnowy white. Had the room been designed for Mary Willing's rich coloringit could hardly have suited her more perfectly. But it had not; Fate wassimply working out her scheme not only in color but in influence. Howgreat the influence of that simple little room would prove not even Mrs.Carruth suspected, although she was a firm believer in the influence ofone's surroundings.
When Mrs. Carruth suggested that Mary remain with them in order to be athand whenever needed in an emergency, and to avoid during the cold,stormy days of winter the long trip to and from her own home, the girlhad responded with an eagerness which touched Mrs. Carruth very deeply."And if I come here to live you must let me pay my board," she cried,impulsively. Then, noticing the color which crept into the older woman'sface, she hastened to add, contritely: "Oh, dear me! Shall I ever learnhow to say things? I'm--I'm so--I mean I know so _little_. Please forgiveme, Mrs. Carruth. I didn't stop to think how rude that was. I ought tohave said you must not pay me such a large salary if you let me livehere. I know that no amount of money that I could earn could pay myboard. I've learned _that_ much, you see, even if I don't seem to havelearned very much more during the last two years. But I'm truly, trulytrying hard to learn."
"I know it, dear. Perhaps I am over-sensitive. Old instincts are hard toovercome. No, I do not think we will change the salary. Constance hadalready thought of increasing the sum she is now paying you, for youearn it. Work has increased rapidly during these two years, and you arevery proficient, and very valuable to her."
"Oh, I am so glad! I want so much to be."
"You are; so live here with us, and let the little room and the 'breadand salt' stand as a part of your salary."
Mary Willing had never had occasion to enter this room, and whenConstance led her to it upon the day she took up her residence withthem, the girl stopped short upon the threshold, clasped her hands in alittle ecstacy of rapture, and cried: "I'll live up to every singlething in it, for only a gentlewoman could have arranged such a room, andonly a gentlewoman has any right to live in it. It just speaks of thatdear, blessed little mother of yours from every corner, and from everysingle rose on the paper and the chintz; and if I don't live to make herproud of me I shall want to know why."
Three Little Women's Success: A Story for Girls Page 3