That Little Girl of Miss Eliza's: A Story for Young People

by Jean K. Baird

  CHAPTER IX.

  Two serious questions concerning Beth's rearing presented themselves toEliza. After her experience with Rose, she knew that her foster-childwould be forced to bear the insults and unkind remarks of every ill-bredperson who chose to express themselves.

  As for Rose, Eliza felt that she had quieted her only for such time asshe was a visitor at the Wells home. The child was a sort of leaderafter a fashion of her own, and what she did the half dozen childrennear her age would do.

  It meant simply this. Beth would be the subject of the caprice,ill-temper or ill-breeding of the children. The best thing was to puther with those who had kindness in their heart. She would be able toteach her for a year more. Then she would enter her in the schools atFarwell.

  So far the matter was settled. The next question was one of finance.There were several dollars monthly tuition for pupils who did not residein the borough. Eliza had so little to go on. She determined that shewould be ready for the expense when it came. She would not deny Beth,but she could and would make sacrifices for herself. All winter, not acent was spent needlessly. She sold her butter close, and studied herchicken manual and fed her hens so scientifically and kept the coops sowarm and comfortable that the fowls were under the impression thatspring had come and took to laying at once; this when eggs were fortycents a dozen.

  When Beth was ten years old, she entered the B grammar grade at Farwell.So far Eliza had kept in touch with her work and had taught her all sheknew. She had a tug at her heart strings that first morning in Septemberwhen she walked into town with Beth. It seemed to her that there hadcome a parting of the ways when each must walk a little more alone.

  Beth was radiant with new tan shoes and stockings. Her white dress wasfresh from the iron. Eliza felt not a little conscience-strickenwhenever she bade her little girl wear this particular dress. It hadbeen made from the linen sheets which Eliza's grandmother had woven andbleached. Eliza loved family traditions. She had thought a long timebefore she put her shears into these heirlooms. But she concluded atlast that the welfare and advancement of the living were to beconsidered before the traditions of the past.

  It was a beautiful morning when they started forth on the road toknowledge. The way from the Wells homestead led down a gradual slope.Here one could go by way of the public road, or take a little foot-pathwhich wound in and out through the woods and at length came in just atthe edge of Farwell.

  Eliza and Beth had given themselves plenty of time. The foot-path wasenticing. They took it. Eliza walked slowly, pausing now and then tolook at the scene about her, or to pluck a bit of golden-rod or wildaster. Beth was flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly. Yet inthe midst of her excitement and haste, she stepped carefully on the tipsof her shoes so that she would not scuff them. Tan shoes were not to behad for the asking.

  The slope of the hill stretched to a ravine through which ran a littlestream. In spring, it was something worth while; but the heat of summerhad dried it up, so that now there was barely enough of it to make agurgling sound. Once there had been fields along the stream. An appleorchard had stretched over the hillside. The trees were still there, tobe sure, but they had degenerated until the fruit was hard, small andbitter.

  Portions of an old rail fence were to be seen, and close under the onesolitary forest-oak which some generous hand had left standing, was asmall house built of square timbers. Wild ampelopsis were clamberingover it everywhere. A broad stone chimney built for an outlet to thegrate within was standing as intact as the day its rough stones werelaid.

  No one had ever lived here since Eliza could remember. The windows anddoors had been boarded up for years. Nature had softened the colors andvines and bending branches of oak had made it a beautiful place. TheOliver place, people called it; but nothing remained of the Oliverfamily but the name of this place. They had come and gone, and that wasall the Shintown folk could tell of them.

  Eliza stopped and looked at the place, as she did every time she passedit. It had always been attractive to her, even when she was a child. Itwas mellowed in color; it stood aloof from all life, and suggestedsentiment and romance.

  Beth had run on ahead. Seeing that Eliza was not following, she ran backand stood beside her. There was a moment's silence, until her mindgrasped what was holding her companion's attention.

  "Isn't it simply lovely?" she exclaimed. "It would be simply 'kertish'for a play-house. When Helen brings her cousin over to spend Saturday,I'll bring them down here to make a play-house."

  "You'll do nothing of the sort," said Eliza. "The place may be full ofsnakes. Old houses like that are often dens of rattlers."

  "We could kill them, couldn't we?" asked Beth.

  "We'll not risk it," said Eliza. "Just stay away. Then I'll feel surethat you are on the safe side."

  It was barely eight o'clock when Eliza and her charge entered the schoolbuilding. Miss Harmon had charge of the B grammar grade. Providence wasbeing good to Beth when she put her in this woman's charge. She was afine teacher. Her school-room held more than books. Children were builtup, strengthened and made happy. She believed firmly that one can behappy only by being of some use in the world. She considered it sinfulto be depressed and blue; for such an attitude of mind showed lack offaith in God. She had a part in every good work in town. She knew everyone and had a kindly word of greeting for each one, from drunken,worthless Jerry Hennesey to the Judge who stood as a beacon light ofmorality and high thinking.

  "And Beth is to be with me this year?" she said after greeting hervisitors. "I am glad of that. We'll have a lovely time."

  "I shall miss her," said Eliza. "I've been teaching her up to this time.Of course I had to do some studying, but I enjoyed it. I'm sorry to giveit up."

  "Why give it up? Why not continue as you have begun?"

  "It would be useless. Two years more and she'll take up Latin andAlgebra. I've never had them. I know nothing of Botany. I know the wildflowers here about, but nothing about the science."

  "You know the finest part if you know the flowers," was the reply. "Whatmatters it if Beth begins Latin! If you keep side by side with her,could you not begin too?"

  "I'm too old. Why, Miss Harmon, I'm thirty--"

  "Don't, please. I don't wish to know. Years are not counted any more.Why, you and I are babies yet with a lot of glorious things to learn.Mind is not subject to years. It can keep working as long as there is abody to hold it."

  This was a new idea to Eliza. Somewhere hidden in her brain had beenthis same thought; but she had pushed it back from the light. It hadbeen so different from what every one else thought, that she hadbelieved it must be wrong. She listened to Miss Harmon talk along thissame line. She had little to say; but she did a great deal of thinking.

  "Youth can always dwell in the heart and the mind. We can find joy inliving, spontaneity in action, and delight in study as long as we live."

  She paused and then laughed softly while a flush stole over her cheeks."I am going to be personal, Miss Wells, just to prove to you that I knowwhat I'm talking about. I'm ten years older than you--you have beenthinking all the while that I'm much younger. Do you know why? I havenever let myself think I was too old to learn anything. I've kept mymind and muscles flexible and they cannot get stiff."

  "I know you are right," said Eliza at last. "I used to think a good dealon that line, but I never could talk of it to any one. It seemed asthough no one thought as I did. They always acted as though I was just alittle peculiar."

  "They called Galileo crazy; Plato was sneered at because he taught theimmortality of the soul when every one else believed something else. Wecan't depend upon our friends for some things. Each one of us must be aColumbus and discover for himself the unfathomed country of his ownsoul. There is no knowing how big and glorious a possession we mayhave."

  The gong sounded here and the children came trooping in. Miss Elizaarose to leave. The teacher came with her to the door.

  "You will come again and see how Beth is gettin
g along? Don't give upyour studies. You'll regret it if you do. Some time when I have leisureI would like to talk with you about our Club. I know you would beinterested and would like to join."

  Eliza went her way. Already the horizon had broadened. A Columbus to herown soul! She grasped what that might mean. No one could tell her ownpossibilities, her own capabilities, until she cast aside prejudice,servitude to customs which were accepted only because they had been inexistence for centuries, and started forth to express the sweetness andstrength of her own life.

  Eliza hurried along with buoyant step. Her feet were light and her hopeshigh. Her white dress had been mended, but it was the perfection ofdaintiness. She was good to look at as she went her way, a graceful,gracious, smiling woman.

  "Slow up, or there'll be a head-on collision," cried a merry voice. "Ideclare I'm always 'flagging' people to prevent a wreck."

  Eliza brought herself to a sudden stop. Doctor Dullmer, smiling andgracious, stood before her.

  "I beg your pardon, I didn't see you. I was preoccupied," she stammered.

  "I believe you. Thoughts in the clouds and heels on the pavements. ButI'm not surprised. That's the way I'm being treated these days.Handsome, attractive young women don't care to notice a fat, seedy olddoctor."

  Eliza laughed at his jest. "It doesn't matter though how I'm treated.I'll not forsake my friends. To prove it, I'll walk down to thecrossroads with you. It is unseemly that a young girl like you should beroaming the streets alone at this hour." His expression was quite graveand his voice as serious as though he were diagnosing a case.

  Doctor Dullmer had a thousand subjects to talk upon. He flitted like abee from one to another, taking out a bit of honey everywhere. When theycame to the corner of Champlain Avenue and Sixth Street, which was thebeginning of the State Road, Doctor Dullmer pointed across the river towhere the base of the mountains spread out into a broad level plain,fully a hundred yards higher than the valley in which Farwell lay. Theview from this elevation must have been magnificent, for it extended sothat the river swept about it and one could see for miles east and west.Every little village was in sight, and beyond lay the magnificentheights of the Alleghanies.

  "Notice those workmen over there. That means something. That means thatwe are going to be society. Next summer we take to swallow-tailed coatsand low-cut vests. We are getting on. We will have a summer hotel there,and the fashionables will come and tell us what beautiful mountains wehave. As though we didn't know that the instant we were able to peepfrom beneath our perambulator blankets to look at them."

  He turned to gaze quizzically at Eliza.

  "You'll have to do like the rest of them. You'll be cutting off thecollar of your frock and putting a tail to your skirt. That's thefashionable caper for women, they tell me--. Here's my turning-offplace." He was gone before Eliza could speak.

  She stood a moment looking at the swarm of workmen excavating. She hadheard rumors of a summer hotel being built. It was really true then!

  She smiled as she recalled the doctor's words about evening gowns andtrains. How ridiculous!

  Very strange things happen. Before many years had passed, Eliza wasreally trailing after her a robe of--. But this is anticipating. Whyspeak of it now, when she herself never suspected all the strangeoccurrences which would follow from the hotel's bringing its influx ofguests.