The Wyndham Girls

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER IX

  HOME-KEEPING HEARTS

  The Wyndhams had been "out of Egypt," as Phyllis called it, a month.Tom painted a highly decorative sign bearing the word "Canaan," in goldletters on a red ground, to be placed over the front door, becausethe Wyndhams were not only out of Egypt, but entered into the Land ofPromise. Although it was not quite possible to hang the inscription inthe front hall, Phyllis would not discard it, but placed it between thedining-room windows. The flat was the land of promise to them all, andeach realized it in her own way.

  Mrs. Wyndham was almost entirely well; her improvement had been rapidfrom the first, and she was far happier than she had been since thefatal day when Mr. Hurd had come to tell her of her loss, almost a yearago.

  Phyllis was completely recovered; she was so happy there was nopossibility of being less than well. Her hair was growing out in softrings of curls, as Ruth had prophesied it would, and she had neverbeen half as pretty in her life as now, with present joy and hope forthe future shining in her beautiful eyes. For Phyllis was dreaming andworking; when household duties were done she spent certain hours ofeach day over her desk, and it was hard for her not to share Jessamyand Barbara's sincere conviction that her little stories were one dayto see the light.

  In the meantime, Phyllis had gravitated naturally into the position ofchief cook in the scheme of domestic economy; she loved a kitchen, shetook kindly to all that belonged to it, and her delight was to feedthose she loved. "Phyllis is a real lady, there's no doubt of that,"said Bab. "It is her nature to give bread to her dependents, and theterm describes her in its dictionary meaning." With little white Truceon her shoulder, his favorite throne, Phyllis went about her tasks,singing from morning till night, happier than she had ever before beenin all her short life.

  Jessamy had found her proper place as the beautifier; she set everyroom in order daily, gave the touch only she could give to the table,planned, and went to market, and was no less happy than Phyllis.Barbara--what was her share? It would be hard to say, but she permeatedthe little home with her sunny lightheartedness, and never shirked anyduty that came her way. "I'm general utility man and clown," she saidherself, and, with proper modification of the latter word, perhaps thatdescribed her position.

  She was growing older, Jessamy thought, watching her; there was a newnote of womanliness in her jesting sometimes. But little Barbara waseighteen; her birthday was the first festival celebrated in the newhome.

  The plan was working triumphantly; the girls were so afraid of thefailure prophesied for them that they did not dare spend what theycould honestly afford, and the first month's bills were under theestimate; yet they were flourishing, and needed for comfort and healthno more than they had.

  There were bad days, when everything went cross-ways from the beginningto the end of the day, as there will be in all households, eventhe best regulated. But when such days came the girls treated thempolitely, and pretended not to notice that they were crooked, asPhyllis suggested doing, and so they came less often than to people whodwelt on their deficiencies.

  Jessamy and Bab were making beds one morning as usual, and Phyllis wasout in the kitchen clearing away the breakfast things. Truce was on hershoulder; he was growing fast, but did not seem to think that was anyreason why he should alter his custom. He was the most loving of smallcatkins, with golden eyes, and a preternaturally long, slender tail; hewore a scarlet ribbon to set off his pink-lined ears and pink nose, andthe snowy coat his devoted mistress kept spotless by the simple methodof sponging with soap and water. Truce never objected to anythingPhyllis chose to do to him; indeed, he had "reversed hydrophobia," Babsaid, for water had such an irresistible fascination for him thatanything containing it was in danger from his meddlesome little whitepaws, from the biggest water-pitcher to the most dainty vase.

  Phyllis was singing, as usual. The two girls in the room near by heardher chanting, to a tune of her own:

  "Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest, For those that wander they know not where Are full of trouble and full of care; To stay at home is best."

  Then she apparently tired of Longfellow, for there were a few momentsof silence and chatter to the kitten alternately. Suddenly she begansinging to a swinging, not particularly tuneful tune, like those thelittle children use for the games they play in the street. This time itwas a funny little song of her own:

  "Homy and happy, cheery and bright, New tins to left of me, new tins to right, A little white kitten to pet and to cuddle, And purr back my peace when I get in a muddle; A getting-well mother, three girls, and a cat-- My joys are so many they're crowding the flat!

  Look out, Truchi-ki; you'll fall!" And Jessamy and Bab heard a saucepancover drop, and guessed that Phyllis had put up her hand to steadyTruce on her shoulder.

  "Copyrighted, Phyl?" called Bab; but Phyllis, on her knees looking ather cake in the oven, did not hear her, and Jessamy put her hand overher sister's lips.

  "Let her alone, Bab. Listen! She may improvise more," she said. "Nowshe's beginning to sweep, and that usually inspires her."

  Phyllis's broom flew, and Jessamy and Bab waited developments.Evidently Truce had dismounted, and was ready for the frolic sweepingalways meant to him, for they heard Phyllis laugh, and cry: "Lookout, Truchi-ki! How do you expect me to sweep if you hold my broom?I'll spank you, kitten; you've never had one tiny, least spanking inall your life." Phyllis always talked nonsense to Truce, whose namehad developed through an Italian pronunciation of Truce, Truchi,into the Japanese-sounding Truchi-ki, which Phyllis said meant,"Trucie, ki-tten," but which Jessamy more correctly defined as meaningnonsensical affection. Luckily for them, however, all the Wyndhamsloved nonsense.

  To prove it, Phyllis began to sing once more, a long jumble of nonsensein one rhyme:

  "Trouble found me where I sat, But I didn't care for that, Only learned my lesson pat. Then I took a heavy bat, And I hit old Trouble--spat! And I gave him tit for tat. Last, I drowned him in a vat. Now I've learned to make a hat, Wash a dish and sweep a mat, And I think I'm getting fat In this blessed little flat, With my snowy Trucie-cat-- I'm so very, very happy that I don't know where I'm at!"

  "'LOOK OUT, TRUCHI-KI; YOU'LL FALL!' PHYLLIS SAID."]

  This was too much for the audience; two peals of laughter rang out fromthe bedroom, echoed by Mrs. Wyndham from the hall.

  "Going crazy, Phyl?" gasped Bab.

  "I don't know, I'm sure, and I don't see that it matters," returnedPhyllis. "I'm brushing up our own kitchen, and everything I've sung istrue; I'd like to know what consequence a little more or less sanity isunder these circumstances? Oh, dear peoplekins, do you think we shallever get used to this niceness? You needn't laugh at my inspirations;they are real hymns of praise, in spirit, even if they sound crazy."

  "I am the one to sing hymns of praise, dear little Phyllis," saidMrs. Wyndham, fondly. "No one was ever so blessed with three happy,contented, true-hearted props in misfortune as I have been."

  "I'll tell you a secret, mama," said Jessamy, emerging from underPhyllis's desk, where she had been picking up scraps of torn paper. "Isuspect it isn't misfortune. I have a deep-seated suspicion that it isjust good luck that has come to us, and that if we had stayed rich weshould have missed getting into the heart of things and the real fun ofliving."

  "Now be honest, Jessamy," said Bab. "I have entire confidence inPhyllis and myself sincerely enjoying makeshifts, but I have a horriddoubt that you may be making the best of it. Don't you wish you couldgo about, and have all the pretty things you love, and do no housework,but merely be lovely all day and every day?"

  Jessamy paused, her color heightened; she was too honest to answerequivocally. "Sometimes," she said slowly, "I remember that thoughwe are rather simple girls, and like to stay girlish just as long aswe can, still we are a little past nineteen, Phyl and I, and Babbieis eighteen, and I'd like to have jus
t a little more girlish fun,because we can't be young long. The pretty things I don't miss much,because I have them, if I may be allowed a bull. So far we have hadas nice things to wear as we used to have, because our old stock isnot used up. And as to our flat, it is simple, but it has the rightlook, and beauty is not a matter of cost. I am very happy, and I amtruly contented; your 'horrid doubt,' Bab, need not come again. Ithink this year has done more for us than we know, and I am honestlysatisfied. But I do hope that we may be able to help ourselves; if onlymy illustrating turns out well, I ask nothing more--nothing better offate."

  "Why did you change that _more_ into _better_, Jessamy?" asked Phyllis.

  "Oh, because!" said Jessamy, smiling. "I'm not like you and Bab; Ican't help looking ahead and wondering."

  Barbara looked at her pretty face in Phyllis's glass, and the colormounted to her dark hair. She turned hastily to see if the others werewatching her; Jessamy saw, and noted again that Babbie, like the whitekitten, was growing up fast.

  "Oh!" cried Bab, laughing a little self-consciously. "As to wondering,I wonder, wonder, all the time. It is rather like 'Twinkle, Twinkle,Little Star,' isn't it? When you're a three-feet snip you wonder whatthe little star is, and when you're a five-feet snippier you wonderless what is up above the world so high than what is down on your ownlevel, headed toward you. I suppose even the most contented girls haveto dream and get restless, don't they, Madrina--don't they, Trucie-pet?"

  And she swung Truce to her shoulder, where he kissed her ear as shedanced around, singing, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," in waltz time.

  Her mother watched her, and sighed. She too saw that Bab was changing,and, mother-like, hated to have her baby less a child.

  Tom--and Nixie, as a matter of course--were due at the apartment thatafternoon. The big divan which had been constructed at his suggestionin the boarding days, was promoted to the rank of dining-room couch,and in this honorable position required a new cover. Tom claimedthe right, as his part of co?peration, to help in all tasks needingmasculine strength of hands; and both for his sake and their own theWyndhams gladly admitted him to a share in The Experiment, as theycalled their housekeeping, which they thought of in capitals.

  Tom was a little late, but he and Nixie appeared at last. The littledog and Truce were perfectly good friends, though Nixie had the lowestopinion of cats in general, and it is likely Truce held dogs in slightesteem, but his life in an apartment, secluded from the vulgar world,did not expose him to their acquaintance.

  The dining-room was a medley of all the contents of the divan, readyemptied for operations, and Tom lost no time in getting to work in thethree hours of light remaining.

  "Pull the stuff out straight, and let me mark where it is to be cut,"said Tom to his three assistants. Mrs. Wyndham sat in the arm-chair towatch the performance and offer advice. The new cover was a beautifuldark red, with the colors of the tapestry paper on the wall suggestedand emphasized in the pattern.

  "Make a notch here, Bab," ordered Tom, "and cut it off straight across.Then, Jessamy, you and Phyllis can take the piece that comes off and besewing the pillow-covers, if you like."

  "Yes, my lord," said Phyllis, rescuing her cushion full of needles fromTruce, who was beside himself with delight at so much going on.

  Tom stretched the tapestry over the top of the couch, and held it witha few tacks while he made sure the figure ran straight. Then he satdown on the floor and began tacking the covering on across the front.

  "I've something to decide," he said, as well as he could with his mouthfull of tacks. "I want advice."

  "If we can give it, my dear, you shall have it," said Mrs. Wyndham.

  "You know I am to graduate this summer--" Tom began.

  "I advise you to do that, if that is what you have to decide," saidBab, saucily.

  "Barbara, my dear, pray let Tom speak," said her mother.

  "Yes, Miss Impudence, I intend to," said Tom. "But it is the questionof the next step I must decide. I think I never told you--pleasegive me the scissors, Jessamy--but I have an uncle, my father's onlybrother, who had a son my age, and who was left a widower with theboy when we were both about eight years old. My cousin died; it was adreadful blow to his father, whose whole life was wrapped up in hischild. My uncle has a considerable fortune, and he said, when poorRalph died, I was to be his heir. He has sent me to college, and nowhe says that if I want to be a specialist, he'll send me to Germanyto study in some of those famous schools and under their first-classscientists as long as I please. And I don't know what to tell him."

  "Is it a question of being a specialist or a general practitioner?"asked Mrs. Wyndham. "You ought not to consult us; we aren't competentto advise. Besides, isn't it chiefly a matter of vocation?"

  "Yes, ma'am, it is a question of taking up general or special practice;and, no, ma'am, it is not a matter of vocation; it is a matter ofexpediency. I could never be anything but a physician; I never fora moment wanted to do anything but practise medicine, but I don'tcare which branch of it I practise," said Tom. "Specialists, if theysucceed, are likely to make more money."

  "But you say you are to inherit your uncle's fortune." "Surely youwouldn't look at your profession merely from the money point of view?"said Jessamy and Barbara, speaking together and with the unworldlinessof all good young girls.

  "But if you went to Germany you would be gone ever so long," saidPhyllis, slowly. "How can you expect us to offer you unselfish advice,when we should miss you so?"

  Tom flushed with pleasure. "Then you would miss me?" he said. "That isthe point that makes me hesitate; it seems to me I could hardly makethe sacrifice."

  "I don't think we ought to say one word to keep Tom from the coursethat is best for him, Phyllis," said Mrs. Wyndham. "You ought to asksome of your medical professors at college, and do what they suggest."

  "I think he ought to consider what gives him most opportunity to dogood," said Jessamy, "if he is not obliged to depend wholly on hisprofession for a living."

  "And a general practice surely does that," said Barbara.

  "Oh, I don't know; a doctor never lacks chances to help suffering inmind and body," said Tom. "It is a hard problem. Do you want thispuffed or drawn tight over this edge?"

  "The easier way, whichever that may be," said Mrs. Wyndham, smiling."Either is pretty."

  For a while Tom tacked industriously, calling upon the girlsoccasionally for a stitch taken in strong shoe thread. At last thedivan was covered, and the four pairs of young hands packed it againwith the numerous bundles and bags of precious remnants taken from it.

  Mrs. Wyndham went to her room, and Phyllis stood absent-mindedly gazingdown on their neighbors' back yards, while Truce, from her shoulder,watched a cat on the fence with mild curiosity. Jessamy and Barbaraput the pillows in place, and gave the last touches to their loops andruffles.

  Tom walked over to Phyllis, and stood beside her. "What do you sayabout me going to Germany, Phyllis? I would rather have your opinionthan any one's, and you have not spoken." His tone was lower thanusual, but rather as if the subject were serious than to exclude theother two.

  Phyllis looked up at him, frankly smiling. "Mine?" she said. "Why, Tom,if I thought you would heed it I wouldn't dare give it, for I don'tknow anything about what is best, as you know quite well."

  "But on general principles?" insisted Tom.

  "On general principles, and if you really don't care which you do, thenI think 'home-keeping hearts are happiest.' That little song has beenhaunting me all day," said Phyllis. "I hate to think of you so faraway, alone, and for so long."

  "You would rather I did not go? You would rather have me here, in NewYork, and near you?" asked Tom, eagerly.

  Phyllis laughed, and pushed her hair, getting to an inconvenientlength, back from her eyes to see him better. "Why, Tom!" she said."What a foolish question! Don't you know I would? Aren't you one ofourselves, and shouldn't we all be crippled if you left us? Unless itis much better for you, I should feel dreadfull
y to think of losing youfor three or four years."

  "Then I stay," said Tom, decidedly. "For general practice I can getall the training I need in our own hospitals, and I shall stay. You'vesettled it, Phyllis."

  Tom repaired to the bath-room to get the black from the curled hair,tacks, and hammer off his hands, and the girls went out to get dinner.

  Phyllis sang her own little rhyme of the morning as she peeled potatoesand dipped the cutlets in eggs and crumbs, but Jessamy was thoughtful,and, unlike herself, did queer things setting the table. Bab wassilent; her cheeks were red, and her manner jerky. Once she orderedNixie out from under her feet sharply, and then sat down on the floorto hug him and beg the pardon he lavishly accorded.

  At dinner Bab and Tom nearly fell out over nothing more likely than adifference of opinion as to a political candidate, though it turned outin the end that the man Bab denounced so fiercely was not the one ofwhom she thought she was speaking.

  Tom went home early, and Mrs. Wyndham asked Phyllis to read to herand let the other two girls attend to the dishes. Every one seemed atrifle disturbed in mind except Phyllis, who was as happy and calmas--Phyllis Wyndham, and that means a very clear and peaceful calmness.

  Barbara washed the dishes and Jessamy wiped them in silence, each busywith her own thoughts. At last, when Barbara was putting the butter inthe lower part of the refrigerator, and Jessamy was hanging her wetdish-towels on the line to dry, Jessamy said: "Bab, do tell me; did itoccur to you this afternoon that Tom cared more for Phyllis's wishes inthe matter of his going to Germany than for ours?"

  "Yes," said Barbara, shortly.

  "Have you thought he was beginning to like--care for Phyllis; I meandifferently from the way he likes us--the old brotherly way?" saidJessamy.

  "Yes," said Barbara again, her head still in the refrigerator.

  "Lately? When did you begin to think so?" insisted Jessamy.

  "Yes, lately; the last three or four times, perhaps," said Bab, notvery lucidly.

  "Phyl doesn't notice it, if it is so," remarked Jessamy, thoughtfully."She is as unconscious as the new moon."

  There was no remark from Bab in reply to this, but the cover ofthe earthen jar she was putting away was set in place with ratherunnecessary violence.

  "Well," said Jessamy, turning from the last refractory towel, intowhich she had forced a pin with difficulty, because she had not wrungthe water out thoroughly, "well, maybe it is not so at all; we mustn'tget sentimental, contrary to our habit, and imagine things; but Ireally couldn't help thinking Tom was beginning to care for Phyllis.He's a dear boy, just as splendid and true as he can be; and if it wereso, and she grew to care about him, it would be lovely, wouldn't it?"Bab withdrew from the refrigerator and stood up. Her cheeks were veryred, but that might have been from long stooping.

  "Lovely!" she said. "I don't see anything lovely about it! I thinkit is all horrid, horrid--likings, and changes, and growing up, andeverything! For goodness sake, why can't we stay children forever?"

  She spoke with such violence and excitement in her voice that Jessamystared in amazement as she dashed through the dining-room to her ownlittle room.

  "Poor Babbie! I didn't know she cared," thought Jessamy, turning downthe gas and setting the milk-bottles on the dumb-waiter. "She does loveto be a little girl; and how nice it would be if we all could be littlegirls for years and years!"