CHAPTER IX.
THE LETTER-BAG.
Monday morning Marion sent a long letter to her mother, in which shegave a full account of her interview with Aunt Bettie; sent the address,and gave as accurate a description as she was able of Miss Jemima Dobbsherself.
She waited anxiously for some days for an answer to her letter, andcould hardly keep the thought of Aunt Bettie out of her head. Fridayafternoon, when the postman came, she was the first to get to the doorand take the bag from him. As she went with it into the library, thegirls all crowded round her in eager expectation, while she stifled herown impatience and slowly unstrapped the bag, looking provokinglyunconcerned, and quite regardless of the smiling, eager faces that werebent over her.
"O Marion!" exclaimed Sarah Brown, "don't you see I'm dying to know ifthere's a letter for me? Do hurry up."
"She doesn't expect a letter herself, so she doesn't care how long shekeeps us waiting," sullenly remarked Mattie Denton; "she likes totorment us."
"You're mistaken there, Mattie," replied Marion, with a teasing twinklein her eyes, "for I do expect a letter; but I like 'linked sweetness,long drawn out,' you know. Hands off, girls!" as she slowly opened themouth of the bag, and two or three arms were stretched out for theletters that filled it to the top; "hands off, I'm postman to-day, and Iwon't have my rights interfered with. Let me see,--number one; that'sfor Julia Thayer. Julia! where are you? Here, Fan, run upstairs and takeit to her. Number two, Grace Minton. Here, Grace, virtue recognized andpatience rewarded; you held your tongue, and see how well I've servedyou;" and Marion rattled on a string of nonsense as she took out theletters and handed them to their various owners.
"Two letters and a pamphlet for Miss Stiefbach; one for Miss Christine;and whose is this great, fat one, I wonder, with a foreign stamp? RachelDrayton, I do declare!" and she was about to add, "I'm glad she's gotit;" but her habit of always treating Rachel with supreme indifferencewas too strong upon her, and she only remarked, "Here, who will takethis letter up to Miss Drayton's room?"
Georgie Graham came forward and offered her services. "I am goingupstairs," she said; "I'll take it up to her."
Marion handed it to her without speaking, but elevated her eyebrows in avery expressive way; but at that moment Rachel herself came into theroom, and Georgie stepped forward and gave her the letter, saying in hersweetest tones:--
"Ah, Rachel! are you here? Here is a letter for you, and I could notresist giving myself the pleasure of delivering it."
Rachel took the letter with a delighted smile, and, thanking Georgie,ran upstairs that she might read it undisturbed; in the surprise andpleasure of receiving it she did not notice Georgie's unusually affablemanner, or the astonished glances and expressive looks which passedbetween the other girls.
Marion mentally remarked, "The two millions are taking effect; Georgiehas begun to toady already."
"Well, Marion, haven't you got a letter for me?" asked little Rose May,who had stood patiently by Marion's side, saying nothing, but lookinglongingly into the bag, the bottom of which was fast becoming visible.
"You poor little thing, how good you have been!" and Marion bent downand kissed the expectant, little face. "I'll look over these in a jiffy,and we'll see if there isn't one for you. Susie Brastow, May Fowler,_Marion Berkley_, and--yes, here is yours, Rose,--Miss Rose May in greatblack letters."
"Oh, it's from father! I'm so glad!" and Rose seated herself on thefloor in the bow-window, and was soon oblivious to everything but thecontents of her letter.
"Here, Grace!" exclaimed Marion, as Grace Minton passed on her way intothe drawing-room, "just take this and hang it on the nail; that's a goodgirl;" and she held the letter-bag towards her.
"No, I thank you," laughingly replied Grace; "you're very anxious to bepostmaster when it comes to taking out the letters, but the rest of theduties you want to shirk on to some one else; but I won't submit, I'mgoing to do my practising."
"Oh, you unnatural, ungrateful girl!" replied Marion; "you have readyour letter, and are not even thankful to me for giving it to you,almost the first one; and here I am perfectly wild to read mine.However," she exclaimed with martyr-like air, "it's only another proofof the total depravity of the human race."
"No ingratitude, Marion; but you _know_ you always get some one to hangthe bag up for you after _you_ have had the fun of taking out theletters, and I don't think it is fair."
"Perfectly," replied Marion, as she hung the bag up in the vestibule,ready for the girls to make their various deposits, "perfectly; equaldistribution of labor you know."
"Equal humbug!" replied Grace, who could not help laughing.
"O Grace!" called out Marion over the banisters, as Grace was about toturn into the drawing-room, "couldn't you find out what Georgie Grahamis going to practise, for when she is in the school-room, playingChopin's Polonaise, and you are in the drawing-room running thescales,--at least, to one who is not especially fond of 'closeharmony,'--the effect is not so charming as it might be."
Grace, whose musical powers were not very extensive, made up a face, andslammed the drawing-room door, and Marion rushed precipitately into herown room.
"Don't sit down on that bed!" cried Florence; "don't you see I've got onthe ruffled tidies?"
"O you old maid!" retorted Marion; "you know there's no place I enjoysitting to read my letters so much as on the bed. What possessed you toput on those tidies to-day?"
"Why, Marion, we have been back more than seven weeks, and have not hadthem on yet. Now just see how nice they look."
"They do look lovely, that's a fact;" replied Marion. "There's one thingyour respected aunt knows how to do to perfection, and that is to quillruffles. On the whole I'm glad you put them on; it will cure me of myhorrible habit of bouncing down on the bed; consequently save me aninnumerable amount of lectures, besides making our room look verydistingue; three excellent reasons for keeping them on, so I'll contentmyself with our old seat."
"Well, Mab, do tell me what your mother writes."
"Why, I actually haven't had time to read it yet; there were crowds ofletters, and I, like a little goose, took the bag. I do hope she hassome good news of Jemima;" and Marion opened the letter and read italoud:--
"BOSTON, Nov. 16th.
"MY DEAR MARION:--I was delighted to receive your letter, but particularly so when I read it and found how much my dear daughter was interesting herself for the good of others.
"I have just been obliged to change our parlor girl, Mary having gone home to be with her invalid mother, and was preparing myself for going the usual round of the intelligence offices, when your letter came. The address which you sent (I presume it was not a specimen of Miss Stiefbach's instruction) I took with me, for I had never heard of Mrs. Benson's office, and doubted very much if I should be able to find it.
"As events proved, I was right, for after having crossed the city in every direction,--in cars, coaches and on foot,--I found that the place must be in Crawford Street, East Boston, instead of East Crawford Street, Boston; so I went to the East Boston ferry, and as good luck would have it, there was a directory in the office, which I looked over, and discovered that there was such a street, but could find no Mrs. Benson; however, as the directory was an old one, I did not trust to it, but crossed the ferry. I found the street without any difficulty; but when I came to No. 22, behold, it was occupied by a barber! I must say, I was discouraged; but upon going in and making inquiries, I found that Mrs. Benson had formerly occupied the store, but, as the colored gentleman informed me, 'she had removed to Boston, thinking that the crowded metropolis would afford her a better opportunity of carrying on her business, so as to render it more lucrative.' He was so extremely affable and polite, that I almost felt it my duty to sit down and have all my hair cut off; but I contented myself with buying a new kind of crimping-pin, which he assured me was the same as those
used by Her Royal Highness the Empress Eugenie. Of course I believed him, and the crimping-pins will be ready for you when you come home at Christmas. But to return to my story; Mr. Ambrose St. Leger (don't be frightened, Marion, that is only the barber) gave me minute directions how to find Mrs. Benson's office, and I came back to the city, thankful to have some clue, however indirect it might be. I found the office without any difficulty, and Mrs. Benson, being of course very anxious to work herself into the good graces of a Boston lady, was extremely loquacious and obliging, notwithstanding I was unable to suit myself there with a servant. To make a long story short, she told me that she had received several letters for a Jemima Dobbs, but as she had never had any such girl in her office, after keeping them some time, she had burned them up.
"I must say I felt extremely disheartened, for I thought that if I found the right woman she would certainly be able to tell me something about Jemima Dobbs. She produced her books, and upon looking over them I found the name of Arabella Dobbs. It seemed ridiculous to think that could be the same person I wanted, but I had an inward conviction that it was, and I have still; though don't get elated yet. Mrs. Benson, who relies more upon her memory than her book-keeping, says she is sure she got Arabella Dobbs a place in East Boston several weeks ago, and she is going to write to the lady, to find out if she is still there, and if she ever had the name Jemima. I thanked her for the interest she had taken in the case, and gave her my address, as she promised to send me word the instant she received an answer to her letter.
"And now, my dear, that is all I have to tell you. Very unsatisfactory I know it is; but I feel quite sure that Arabella Dobbs and Jemima Dobbs are one and the same person, for it is very seldom that one comes across a Yankee girl in these offices, and Dobbs is a name one would not be likely to find there twice.
"You will be the best judge of what it is best to do about telling Mrs. Dobbs what I have written to you; perhaps it will be better to wait until you hear something more conclusive; but the suspense must be terrible for her to bear, and it may be some consolation for her to know there is some one interesting herself for her here.
"I will write just as soon as I hear from Mrs. Benson; and now, my darling, I really have not another moment to spare you.
"Your father sends his usual stock of love, and ever so many messages, which I could not remember if I tried; but they were all very affectionate and so complimentary, that perhaps it is just as well you should not hear them.
"Charlie is asleep, and Fred has not yet come in from baseball; so you must content yourself with a whole heart-full of love from your fond
"MAMMA."
"Now, Flo, was there ever such a darling mamma as mine? I do think sheis just perfection,--going all over Boston, and East Boston too, andnever saying she was tired, or anything of the sort. I don't think thereare many women that would do that; do you, Flo?"
"No, I don't believe there are many like her; I think she is theloveliest woman I ever knew. But, Marion, I don't see as you have foundout much about poor Jemima after all."
"No, there is not much real, satisfactory information, that's a fact;but I _feel_ just as if that girl was the right one, and I know mammamust feel pretty sure of it too, or she would have waited for the answerto that letter before she wrote me. I shall go up to auntie's as soon asI can; but I'm afraid it won't be before Saturday, for you knowto-morrow is English composition day, and next day French abstract, andI was so careless about mine last time that I really think I ought tolay myself out this week."
"Indeed you ought, Marion," exclaimed Florence; "it's a shame that agirl who can write such compositions as you can, when you have a mindto, should hand in such a flat, silly thing as your last one was. I'mnot complimentary, I know, but it's the truth; you know yourself it washorrible."
"Yes, I know it was; and that is why I'm particularly anxious to have agood one this time; don't you see?"
"But don't you think you will be able to get up to Aunt Bettie's beforeSaturday?" asked Florence; "it seems hard to keep her in suspense."
"I really don't see how I can find time, and then I'm in hopes that if Iwait, by that time the answer to that woman's letter will have come, andI shall hear something decisive from mamma."
"Well, I think after all perhaps it will be better for you to wait untilthen. But do you know it is after four o'clock, and the girls have allgot through practising? We ought to go down and try our duet."
"Sure enough!" exclaimed Marion, springing up. "I don't know my part atall; haven't looked at the last two pages, and Mr. Stein comesto-morrow."
"Oh, you read music so quickly, that you'll play your part better atsight than I shall after I've practised it a week. I wish I could readfaster."
"Don't wish it, Flo; it is very nice sometimes, but I don't think peoplewho read easily ever play readily without their notes. Now for you toknow a piece once is to know it always, with or without your notes,while I have to fairly pound it into my head."
"There is more truth than poetry in that, I know," replied Florence, asthe two went downstairs together, "for I have heard Aunt Sue complain ofthe same thing; nevertheless I wish I wasn't so awfully slow."
But we will leave them to their music, and musical discussions, andhurry on with our story.
Marion Berkley: A Story for Girls Page 9