Helen Grant's Schooldays

by Amanda M. Douglas

  CHAPTER V

  A GIRL'S DREAMS

  Helen's face was flushed as she stepped into the carriage, but she heldher head up with dignity and smiled. The curious two sides of her, wasit brain, or mind, or that perplexing inner sight? saw the widedifference between Mrs. Van Dorn and Aunt Jane. And she liked the VanDorn side a hundred times better than the Mulford side. The delicacy,the ease, the sort of graciousness, even if it was a garment put on andsometimes slipped off very easily. Mrs. Van Dorn was never quitesatisfied. She was always reaching out for something, a pleasure andentertainment. Aunt Jane was thoroughly satisfied with herself. Shescolded Uncle Jason and insisted that he lacked common sense, energy,and a host of virtues, yet she often said of her neighbors' husbands:"Well, if I had that man I'd ship him off to the Guinea Coast," thoughshe hadn't the slightest idea of its location. She often held him up tothe admiration of her friends, though she always insisted she had beenthe making of him. And she would not admit that there was a smarter girlin Hope Center than Jenny.

  The peculiar contrast flashed over Helen. What made thecomplacency--content?

  "Did you have a pleasant call?" When Mrs. Van Dorn didn't feel cross hervoice had a certain sweetness. Helen thought the word mellifluousexpressed it. She was fond of pretty adjectives.

  "Aunt Jane was very busy and they all set in for me to stay. Thechildren do miss me."

  "And did you want to stay?" with the same sweetness.

  "No," said Helen, honestly, while the color deepened in her cheeks. "Oh,dear! I think I am getting spoiled, citified, and North Hope isn't acity either," with a half rueful little laugh, yet not raising her eyes.

  "She isn't of their kind," thought Mrs. Van Dorn. "And her courage, hertruthfulness, are quite unusual. She is very trusty, there is the makingof something fine in her."

  "You are not fond of country life, farm life," correcting herself.

  "I am quite sure I shouldn't be, and yet I like the country so much,the space, the waving trees, the great stretches of sky. I should stiflein a place where there were rows and rows of houses and paved streetseverywhere."

  "But not where there were palaces, and villas, and parks, and gardens,and beautiful equipages, and elegantly dressed women."

  Helen shook her head, "I shall never have the chance to like or dislikethat. Oh, yes," brightening, "I can read it in a book and imagine myselfin the midst of it."

  "I thought you ware planning to teach school, and save up money, andtake journeys."

  "Oh, I do, and all manner of extravagant things. But I am afraid theyare air castles." For somehow the reality of her life had come over heragain. She belonged to Hope Center, not to North Hope. And maybe shenever could get over there.

  Mrs. Van Dorn thought of herself at Helen's age. Where would herambitions lead her. _She_ had had no ambitions to rise in life. Howgladly she would have married her first common-place lover, and accepteda life of drudgery. What queer things girls were! and how strange thatwhen she was tired and worn out, and almost desperate, the best offortune should come to her. It seldom happened, she knew. The old lifewas a vague dream, she had only lived since her marriage. In a way shecoveted this girl's freshness and energy. To have someone to really andtruly love her--was there any such thing in life, to old age?

  She had coveted Clara Gage with the same desire of possession. She hadpersuaded her to give up home, mother, three sisters and one brother.But she had never ceased to love them. And they had nearly outweighed ajourney to Europe. Perhaps they would. Clara was about eighteen when shetook her, this girl was fourteen. She would be more pliable, and she wasnot really in love with her people. But there would be years oftraining, and there was a certain strength in the girl. Sometimes theymight clash, and she did not want to be disturbed at her time of life.Then too--there were certain adventitious aids to ward off the shadow ofcoming years. Clara knew about them, and she had grown used to her._She_ would be getting older every year.

  They were a little late at dinner. How delightful and orderly andrefined everything was! Helen luxuriated in it. And yet it was onlyordinarily nice living. Helen could see the table at home. The kitchenwas large and the table at one end, and they always had meals thereexcept when there was company, and often then the children were kept outthere. The smells of the cooking did not give it the savory fragranceshe read about in books. It was hot and full of flies, for the door wasalways on the swing.

  They were around the table, everyone wanting to tell father that Helenhad been to see them in a carriage, at that.

  "Do hush, children!" began Aunt Jane, sharply. "You haven't any moremanners than a lot of pigs, everyone squealing at once. Yes, I think wemade a great mistake letting Helen go over to Mrs. Dayton's. We couldn'twell refuse an old neighbor, I know. But she's that full of airs, and sohigh-headed that she could hardly talk. I don't see how she could makeup her mind to come round to the kitchen door."

  Aurelia giggled. "Wouldn't it have been funny to have her knock at thefront door!" and all the children laughed.

  "'Twould be a good thing to bring her back now. There's so much to do,and fruit to put up all the time. And she'd get in a little decenttraining before she went in the shop."

  "She'll soon get the nonsense knocked out of her there," said Jenny."You needn't feel anxious about that."

  "Sho, mother, that girl's good enough where she is, an' a bargain's abargain. She was to stay till the first of September. And when you're inRome you do as the Romans do, I've heard. It's natural, she should getpolished up a little over there."

  "I'm as good as Mrs. Dayton, if I don't keep city boarders," flung outAunt Jane, resentfully. "And I've the best claim on Helen when we'vetaken care of her all these years."

  "I d'know as she'd earned twenty-four dollars at home," said UncleJason.

  "I s'pose not in money," admitted Aunt Jane, who down in her heart hadno notion of bringing Helen home. "But I feel as if I had earned halfthat money doing without her."

  "Twenty-four dollars. Phew! Pap, suppose you had to pay me that!"exclaimed Sam.

  "You get your board and clothes," said his mother.

  So they were mapping out Helen's life, and she was thinking whether shecould have the courage to fight it out. She could not go back to thefarm. That she settled definitely.

  She picked up Mrs. Van Dorn's wraps and her three letters and carriedthem upstairs.

  "I'm going to rest a while," said the lady. "You may come up in--well,half an hour. Will you push the reclining chair over by the window?"

  Helen did that and laid the fleecy wrap within reach, smiled and noddedand ran lightly downstairs. In a moment she was helping Mrs. Dayton takeout the dishes to the kitchen, and then dried them for Joanna.

  "Now Miss Helen, if you wanted a situation, I'd give you a goodrecommend," exclaimed Joanna, smilingly.

  Then she went out on the stoop, for it still wanted ten minutes to thehalf hour.

  Mrs. Van Dorn had taken up her letters rather listlessly. One from herlawyer concerning some reinvestments, one from a charity for asubscription. The thick one with the delicate superscription from ClaraGage.

  It was long, and about family affairs. They had been a good dealworried over a mortgage that the holder had threatened to foreclose. Buther sister's lover had insisted upon taking it up, and would come hometo live. Her brother had obtained a good position as bookkeeper in amill. The youngest girl would always be an invalid from a spinaltrouble; Margaret, the eldest, sang in church and gave music lessons,and thus had some time for home occupations. Mrs. Gage was quitedisabled from rheumatism at times. But now Clara felt the dependent oneswere in good hands, and she would not only go abroad cheerfully, butgladly. Her hesitation had been because she felt they might need her athome, or near by, where they could call upon her in illness ormisfortune. "You have been very kind to wait until I could see my wayclear," she wrote, "and my gratitude in time to come will be yourreward."

  Mrs. Van Dorn felt a little pricked in her conscience. She could have
settled all this herself, and made things easy for them, but Clara hadnot suggested any money trouble. Mrs. Van Dorn paid her a generoussalary. Down in her heart there had been a jealous feeling that hermoney could not buy everything, could not buy this girl from certainhome obligations.

  But the letter pleased her very much in its frankness and itsacknowledgment of favors. Yet her old heart seemed strangely desolate.How could she obtain the love she really desired? For if you did favorsthere was gratitude, but was that love?

  Did anybody care to love an old woman? She sometimes longed to havetender arms put about her neck, and fond kisses given. But her cheekswere made up with the semblance of youth, her lips had a tint that itwas not well to disturb. Oh, to go back! To be fifty only, and havealmost fifty more years to live. The money would last out all that time,even.

  But here was a chance with this new girl. Clara might marry. She, Mrs.Van Dorn, had been rather captious about admirers. It wasn't given toevery girl to make a good marriage at five and thirty. In three yearsHelen would be seventeen, and with a good education, very companionable.It would be best not to lead her to hope for anything beyond theeducation, she might grow vain and be puffed up with expectations ofgreat things to come. Let the great things be a surprise.

  There was a little tap at the door.

  "Do you want me?" inquired the cheerful voice. "It is a full half hour."

  "No, yes. I'll be made ready for bed if you please, little maid," andher tone was full of amusement. "Then I'll dismiss you and lie here bythe window a while, as I have something to think about, until I getsleepy. Bring the jewel case."

  Helen was quite fascinated with all the adornments. There were daintypartitions, velvet rooms, Helen called them, boxes in which rings weredropped, a mound to lay the bracelets, where a tiny ridge kept them fromslipping, a hook for the pendants, and a case for the pins. The girlplaced them in deftly, as only a person who really loved them could. Toher their sparkle seemed the flame of a spirit.

  Then the laces were laid in their boxes. Helen hung up the soft silkgown, the petticoats with their lace and ruffles, the night dress wasdonned and a pretty wrapper over it, the slippers exchanged for somesoft knit ones. As for her hair--perhaps she slept in it, for that wasnever taken down until after the girl went away.

  "Now are you comfortable?"

  "Yes. Helen, how did you come by so many pretty ways? I do not believethey abound in your aunt's house."

  "No, they do not." Helen laughed in soft apology. "I think becauseeverything is nice and dainty here, and everybody is----" How could sheexplain it.

  "No, you're not quite so much of a chameleon as that. It is somethingfrom the inside, that was born with you. And you must have theopportunity of developing it. There child, good-night."

  Mrs. Van Dorn felt suddenly in a glow. She would do a good deed, helpthis girl to her true place, cast some bread upon the waters and have itreturn to her presently. Three years. She hoped Helen would grow talland keep slim, her eyes were beautiful, her complexion clear and fine ifa little sun-burned. She had nice hands, too, now that she was takingcare of them. She was quick to see any improvement, she had adaptivenessand a pleasant temper. She would make an attractive young woman atseventeen, and she would owe it all to her. She _must_ love herbenefactress. Why, this was something to live for!

  Helen sat on the far end of the stoop step. There were two rows ofsteps. This commanded the kitchen porch, as well as the dining room.Most of the boarders were up at the other end, where two hammocks wereslung, but this was a favorite nook of hers when she wanted to think.Mrs. Dayton came out presently, having finished her talk with Joanna.

  "Are you homesick or lonesome?" she inquired. "Was everybody glad to seeyou to-day."

  "The children were. I think Aunt Jane was a little hurt because I didn'tcome and stay over Sunday."

  "Do you want to go next Saturday? Though what we could do with Mrs. VanDorn I don't know."

  "I think I do not want to go," Helen made answer slowly. "Oh, Mrs.Dayton," and she stretched out her hand in entreaty, "can't you sit downhere a few moments. I want to talk to someone. I want to know whether Iam right, or wrong and ungrateful. And I have a half plan if--if----"

  "What is it, child?" The girl's tone appealed to her strongly, and shesat down beside her.

  "It seems to me as if I only roused up along in the winter, and began tostudy in earnest. Mr. Warfield took such an interest in me. And I beganto love knowledge, to learn how much there was of it in the world. Hethought I ought to go to the High School and study for a teacher, andthen I just knew what I should like best of all things in the world. Andsince I've been here I've thought it over and over----"

  "And do not know how to compass it?" There was a sound in her voice thatexpressed the smile on her face.

  "I have even planned for that. If you did not go away all the fall Ishould ask you to let me stay and do some work, and try to even it upnext summer when the boarders come. But I've thought maybe there wouldbe someone else who would be satisfied with what I could do nights andmornings and Saturdays for my board----"

  The tone was breathless and had to stop. She was amazed that she couldsay all this.

  "My dear child! Have you been studying all this out? Well, you certainlyhave a right to education when you are willing to work for it that way.And I believe it can be compassed."

  Helen squeezed the hand nearest her with a joyful eagerness.

  "But there's another side to it. I didn't think of that until thisafternoon. I fancied I could go away and study and work until I came tothe place where I could earn money, like Miss Remington, and no onewould have any right to interfere. Aunt Jane thinks I know quite enough,and has planned for me to go in the shop, Jenny has spoken for thechance. I should just hate it! I think I should run away. I don't knowwhy I am different, but I am. I feel it now more than ever. Aunt Janedoesn't want me to be like my father, and she lays the blame oneducation. Oh, Mrs. Dayton, you do not think he ever did anythingabsolutely wrong, that one had need to be ashamed of?"

  Helen's face was in a blaze of scarlet. How many times she had longed toask the question.

  "Why no. He had the name of being queer, and holding queer beliefs. Buthe was honest as the day, and temperate, and not given to brawling asthe Bible has it. And he paid Aunt Jane for a while. I feel sure hemust be dead."

  "And since then they have taken care of me. Aunt Jane thinks I ought tobe very grateful, and I do want to be. I suppose they could have sent meto the poor-house."

  "Oh, no, Uncle Jason wouldn't."

  "I don't believe Aunt Jane would. But does that give them the right tosay what I shall do or be, or put me in the shop against my will, whenmaybe I could earn my own way somewhere else?"

  "Why no, I do not think it does. You were not even given to them. Youcertainly have the right to decide some things. And if friends should bewilling to help you----"

  "I don't want to be ungrateful. I don't want to be snobbish. But I likethe nice aspects of life so much better than the common things. And Iwonder now why people do not take naturally to the refinements of life.Yet the other people are very happy in their way, too. I think Aunt Janewouldn't enjoy the manner in which you do things here. She would call itputting on airs."

  "Yes, I understand. The world goes on improving, advancing, making lifemore kindly and gracious, weeding out the roughnesses. It is just ashonest and true, it calls for more self-control, it is as helpful. Ofcourse, there are selfish people with a good deal of polish, and thereare ignorant people very obstinate and disagreeable. Education does notdo everything, but it helps. And if there is an easier or better, ormore enjoyable manner of earning one's living, I do not see why oneshould not aim at it, and strive to reach it."

  "Oh, thank you a thousand times." Helen's voice broke from very joy. "Ikept wondering if I had the right to do what _I_ liked."

  "It will take some courage. But you might try it one year. And I am surethere will be friends to help such an ambitious girl.
At present we willnot say anything about it, but don't feel troubled. I believe it willcome out right."

  "Oh, how good you are!" Helen pressed the hand she held to her warm,soft cheek with a mute caress.

  It seemed to her as if she might be walking on air, her heart was solight. And still there was a secret sympathy with her aunt for thedisappointment. Yet, what real difference could it make to Aunt Jane,whether she taught school, or worked in a shop. She should not feelbetter or grander, only more thoroughly satisfied with her lot in life.And before she took any journeys, she would pay Uncle Jason for theseyears of care since her father died. That would be her duty for takingher own way.

  "We are going to take up something solid," said Mrs. Van Dorn, the nextmorning. "I am tired of frivolous novels. We will have a little history,and learn about places and people, and what has been done in the world,and improve our minds."

  Helen looked up with a new and rather surprised interest. "There is somuch in your mind already," she returned with the admiration in hervoice that was so grateful to the elder woman. "Oh, I do wonder if Ishall ever know so many things."

  "There are years for you to study in. I did not know all these things atfourteen."

  She would never have confessed how little she knew at that period.

  They stopped now and then to discuss some point, but Mrs. Van Dorn wasgoing over several other considerations. An ordinary country girl withthe sweetest temper in the world would not have given her more than apassing pleasure. This girl was quite out of the ordinary with herintelligence and her quick understanding. She would love all the finerarts of life. Her enthusiasm was really infectious. That was what oneneeded when one was going down the other side of the great divide. Andshe didn't really belong to anybody. Clara would never forget her motherand sisters, and if they were ill she would want to fly to them. Thisgirl was not comfortable in her home, she would not sigh for it. And shemight adore her, for there was a kind of worship in her nature. To beadored by a young girl who might have been her grandchild, the child ofthe daughter she had longed for and never had.

  Helen glanced up hesitatingly.

  "Oh, I'm not asleep," laughingly. "I was thinking. You have a finevoice, so strong and clear, and not aggressive. Don't you sing?"

  "Oh, yes. When I am out in the fields I sing with the birds."

  "But you have never had lessons in elocution?"

  "Mr. Warfield taught me that the best reading was entering into thespirit of the writer, imagining yourself in the scenes that aredescribed, or taking part in any conversation. And he said when Irecited that last day of school, I must be the Captains and Herve Riel,just as if I was leading in the ships."

  Her face was in a glow, her eyes luminous.

  "How old is Mr. Warfield?"

  Helen Grant's father had married one of his young pupils, Mrs. Van Dornremembered.

  "Oh, I don't know, a real young man. He has only been at the Center ayear."

  Mrs. Van Dorn nodded with her chin, a way she had.

  "He is quite in earnest about your going to the High School?" shecontinued.

  "He thinks I could teach, and I should like that so much."

  She flushed daintily recalling the other half secret she had touchedupon with Mrs. Dayton.

  "The girl is capable of love and all that nonsense," thought Mrs. VanDorn. Why should she not come to love her?