Chapter 1
The stage rumbled along the main street of Granville, and drew up in front of the only hotel of which the village could boast. The driver descended from his throne, and coming round to the side opened the door and addressed the only passenger remaining within. "Where do you want to go, miss?" A girl's face looked out inquiringly. "Is this the hotel?" she asked. "Yes, miss."
"I will get out here," she said quietly.
There were a few loungers on the piazza, which extended along the whole front of the building. As she descended with a light and springy step, disregarding the proffered aid of the driver, they eyed her curiously.
"Who is she, Abner?" asked Timothy Varnum of the driver, as the stranger entered the house.
"I reckon she's the new school teacher," said Abner; "I heard Squire Hadley say she was expected today."
"Where does she come from?"
"York State, somewhere. I don't justly know where."
"Looks like a city gal."
"Mebbe, though I don't think it would pay a city gal to come to Granville to teach."
Unconscious of the curiosity which her appearance had excited, the girl entered the open entry and paused. A middle aged woman, evidently the landlady of the inn, speedily made her appearance. "Good afternoon, miss," she said. "Shall I show you to a room?"
"Thank you," said the stranger, gratefully. "I shall be very glad if you will. The ride has been warm and dusty. My trunks are on the stage -- -- "
"All right, miss, I'll have them sent up. If you'll follow me up stairs, I'll give you a room."
She led the way into a front room, very plainly furnished, but with a pleasant view of the village from the windows. "I think you will find everything you require," she said, preparing to go. "Supper will be ready in half an hour, but you can have it later if you wish."
"I shall be ready, thank you."
Left alone, the stranger sank into a wooden rocking chair, and gazed thoughtfully from the window.
"Well, I have taken the decisive step," she said to herself. "It may be a mad freak, but I must not draw back now. Instead of going to Newport or to Europe, I have deliberately agreed to teach the grammar school in this out of the way country place. I am wholly unknown here, and it is hardly likely that any of my friends will find me out. For the first time in my life I shall make myself useful -- perhaps. Or will my experiment end in failure? That is a question which time alone can solve."
She rose, and removing her traveling wraps, prepared for the table.
The new comer's two trunks were being removed from the stage when Mrs. Slocum passed, on her way to the store. Being naturally of a watchful and observant turn of mind, this worthy old lady made it her business to find out all that was going on in the village.
"Whose trunks are them, Abner? she asked, in a voice high pitched even to shrillness.
"They belong to the young lady that's stoppin' in the hotel. She came in on the stage."
"Who's she?"
"I don't know any more'n you do," said Abner, who knew Mrs. Slocum's failing, and was not anxious to gratify it.
"There's her name on a card," said the old lady triumphantly, pointing to one of the trunks. "I hain't got my glasses with me. Just read it off, will you?"
Probably Abner had a little curiosity of his own. At all events he complied with the old lady's request, and read aloud:
"MISS MABEL FROST,
Granville, N. H."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Mrs. Slocum, in a tone of interest. "Why, it's the new school teacher! What sort of a looking woman is she?"
"I didn't notice her, partic'lar. She looked quite like a lady."
"Are both them trunks hern?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What on airth does she want with two trunks? said Mrs. Slocum, disapprovingly. Must be fond of dress. I hope she ain't goin' to larn our gals to put on finery."
"Mebbe she's got her books in one of 'em," suggested Abner.
"A whole trunkful of books! Land sakes! You must be crazy. Nobody but a minister would want so many books as that. An' it's a clear waste for the parson to buy so many as he does. If he didn't spend so much money that way, his wife could dress a little more decent. Why, the man's got at least two or three hundred books already, and yet he's always wantin' to buy more."
"I guess his wife wouldn't want the trunks for her clothes," suggested Abner.
"You are right," said Mrs. Slocum, nodding. "I declare I'm sick and tired of that old bombazine she's worn to church the last three years. A stranger might think we stinted the minister."
"Precisely, Mrs. Slocum," said a voice behind her. That's my opinion."
"Oh, Dr. Titus, is that you?" said the old lady, turning.
"What is left of me. I've been making calls all the afternoon, and I'm used up. So you think we are stinting the minister?"
"No, I don't," said Mrs. Slocum, indignantly. "I think we pay him handsome. Five hundred dollars a year and a donation party is more'n some of us get."
"Deliver me from the donation party!" said the doctor hastily. "I look upon that as one of the minister's trials."
"I s'pose you will have your joke, doctor," said Mrs. Slocum, not very well pleased. "I tell you a donation party is a great help where there's a family."
"Perhaps it is; but I am glad it isn't the fashion to help doctors in that way."
Dr. Titus was a free spoken man, and always had been. His practice was only moderately lucrative but it was well known that he possessed a competency, and could live comfortably if all his patients deserted him; so no one took offense when he expressed heretical notions. He had a hearty sympathy for Mr. Wilson, the Congregational minister, who offended some of his parishioners by an outward aspect of poverty in spite of his munificent salary of five hundred dollars a year.
"The doctor's got queer notions," muttered Mrs. Slocum. "If he talks that way, mebbe the minister will get discontented. But as I say to Deacon Slocum, there's more to be had, and younger men, too. I sometimes think the minister's outlived his usefulness here. A young man might kinder stir up the people more, and make 'em feel more convicted of sin. But I must go and tell the folks about the new school teacher. I'd like to see what sort she is."
Mrs. Slocum's curiosity was gratified. On her way back from the store she saw Miss Frost sitting at the open window of her chamber in the hotel.
"Looks as if she might be proud," muttered the old lady. "Fond of dress, too. I don't believe she'll do for Granville."
Although Mrs. Slocum was in a hurry to get home she could not resist the temptation to call at Squire Hadley's and let him know that the school teacher had arrived. Squire Benjamin Hadley was the chairman of the School Committee. Either of the two Granville ministers would have been better fitted for the office, but the Methodists were unwilling to elect the Congregational minister, and the Methodist minister was opposed by members of the other parish. So Squire Hadley was appointed as the compromise candidate, although he was a man who would probably have found it extremely difficult to pass the most lenient examination himself. He had left school at twelve years of age, and circumstances had prevented his repairing the defects of early instruction. There were times when he was troubled by a secret sense of incompetence -- notably when he was called upon to examine teachers. He had managed to meet this emergency rather cleverly, as he thought, having persuaded Mr. Wilson to draw up for him a series of questions in the different branches, together with the correct answers. With this assistance he was able to acquit himself creditably.
"Can't stay a minute, Squire," said Mrs. Slocum, standing on the broad, flat door stone. "I thought I'd jest stop an' tell ye the school teacher has come."
"Where is she?" asked the Squire, in a tone
of interest.
"She put up at the hotel. I was there jest now, and saw her two trunks. Rather high toned for a school teacher, I think. We don't need two trunks for our clothes, Mrs. Hadley."
"Young people are terrible extravagant nowadays," said Mrs. Hadley, a tall woman, with a thin, hatchet-like face, and a sharp nose. It wasn't so when I was young."
"That's a good while ago, Lucretia," said the Squire, jokingly.
"You're older than I am," said the lady tartly. "It don't become you to sneer at my age."
"I didn't mean anything, Lucretia," said her husband in an apologetic tone.
"Did you see the woman, Mrs. Slocum?" asked Mrs. Hadley, condescending to let the matter drop.
"I jest saw her looking out of the window," said Mrs. Slocum. "Looks like a vain, conceited sort."
"Very likely she is. Mr. Hadley engaged her without knowin' anythin' about her."
"You know, Lucretia, she was highly recommended by Mary Bridgman in the letter I received from her," the Squire mildly protested.
"Mary Bridgman, indeed!" his wife retorted with scorn. "What does she know of who's fit to teach school?"
"Well, we must give her a fair show. I'll call round to the hotel after tea, and see her."
"It's her place to call here, I should say," said the Squire's wife, influenced by a desire to see and judge the stranger for herself.
"I will tell her to call here tomorrow morning to be examined," said the Squire.
"What hour do you think you'll app'int?" asked Mrs. Slocum, with a vague idea of being present on that occasion.
The Squire fathomed her design, and answered diplomatically, "I shall have to find out when it'll be most convenient for Miss Frost."
"Her convenience, indeed! " ejaculated his wife. "I should say that the School Committee's convenience was more important than hers. Like as not she knows more about dress than she does about what you've engaged her to teach."
"Where is she going to board?" asked Mrs. Slocum, with unabated interest in the important topic of discussion.
"I can't tell yet."
"I s'pose she'd like to live in style at the hotel, so she can show off her dresses."
"It would take all her wages to pay for board there," said the Squire.
"Mebbe I might take her," said Mrs. Slocum. "I could give her the back room over the shed."
"I will mention it to her, Mrs. Slocum," said the Squire diplomatically, and Mrs. Slocum hurried home.
"You don't really intend to recommend Mrs. Slocum's as a boarding place, Benjamin?" interrogated his wife. "I don't think much of the teacher you've hired, but she'd roast to death in that stived up back room. Besides, Mrs. Slocum is the worst cook in town. Her bread is abominable, and I don't wonder her folks are always ailing."
"Don't be uneasy about that, Lucretia," said the Squire. "If Miss Frost goes to Mrs. Slocum's to board, it'll have to be on somebody else's recommendation."
The new school teacher was sitting at the window in her room, supper being over, when the landlady came up to inform her that Squire Hadley had called to see her.
"He is the chairman of the School Committee, isn't he?" asked the stranger.
"Yes, miss."
"Then will you be kind enough to tell him that I will be down directly?"
Squire Hadley was sitting in a rocking chair in the stiff hotel parlor, when Miss Frost entered, and said composedly, "Mr. Hadley, I believe?"
She exhibited more self possession than might have been expected of one in her position, in the presence of official importance. There was not the slightest trace of nervousness in her manner, though she was aware that the portly person before her was to examine into her qualifications for the post she sought.
"I apprehend," said Squire Hadley, in a tone of dignity which he always put on when he addressed teachers, "I apprehend that you are Miss Mabel Frost."
"You are quite right, sir. I apprehend," she added, with a slight smile, "that you are the chairman of the School Committee."
"You apprehend correctly, Miss Frost. It affords me great pleasure to welcome you to Granville."
"You are very kind," said Mabel Frost demurely.
"It is a responsible, office -- ahem! -- that of instructor of youth," said the Squire, with labored gravity.
"I hope I appreciate it."
"Have you ever -- ahem! -- taught before?
"This will be my first school."
"This -- ahem! -- is against you, but I trust you may succeed."
"I trust so, sir,"
"You will have to pass an examination in the studies you are to teach -- before ME," said the Squire.
"I hope you may find me competent," said Mabel modestly,
"I hope so, Miss Frost; my examination will be searching. I feel it my duty to the town to be very strict."
"Would you like to examine me now, Mr. Hadley?"
"No," said the Squire hastily, "no, no -- I haven't my papers with me. I will trouble you to come to my house tomorrow morning, at nine o'clock, if convenient."
"Certainly, sir. May I ask where your house is?"
"My boy shall call for you in the morning."
"Thank you."
Mabel spoke as if this terminated the colloquy, but Squire Hadley had something more to say.
"I think we have said nothing about your wages, Miss Frost," he remarked.
"You can pay me whatever is usual," said Mabel, with apparent indifference.
"We have usually paid seven dollars a week."
"That will be quite satisfactory, sir."
Soon after Squire Hadley had left the hotel Mabel Frost went slowly up to her room.
"So I am to earn seven dollars a week," she said to herself. "This is wealth indeed!"
Chapter 2
It is time to explain that the new school teacher's name was not Mabel Frost, but Mabel Frost Fairfax, and that she had sought a situation at Granville not from necessity but from choice -- indeed from something very much like a whim. Hers was a decidedly curious case. She had all the advantages of wealth. She had youth, beauty, and refinement. She had the entree to the magic inner circle of metropolitan society. And yet there was in her an ever present sense of something lacking. She had grown weary of the slavery of fashion. Young as she was, she had begun to know its hollowness, its utter insufficiency as the object of existence. She sought some truer interest in life. She had failed to secure happiness, she reasoned, because thus far she had lived only for herself. Why should she not live, in part at least, for others? Why not take her share of the world's work? She was an orphan, and had almost no family ties. The experiment that she contemplated might be an original and unconventional one, but she determined to try it.
But what could she do?
It was natural, perhaps, that she should think of teaching. She had been fortunate enough to graduate at a school where the useful as well as the ornamental received its share of attention, and her natural gifts, as well as studious habits, had given her the first place among her schoolmates.
The suggestion that the opportunity she sought might be found in Granville came from the Mary Bridgman to whom Squire Hadley referred. Mary was a dressmaker, born and reared in Granville, who had come to New York to establish herself there in her line of business. Mabel Fairfax had for years been one of her customers, and -- as sometimes happens with society girls and their dressmakers -- had made her a confidante. And so it happened that Mary was the first person to whom Miss Fairfax told her resolution to do something useful.
"But tell me," she added, "what shall I do? You are practical. You know me well. What am I fit for?"
"I hardly know what to say, Miss Fairfax," said the dressmaker. "Your training would interfere with many things you are capable of doing. I can do but one thing."
"And that you do well."
"I think I do," said Mary, with no false modesty. "I have found my path in life. It would be too humble for you."
"Not too humble. I don't think I have
any pride of that kind; but I never could tolerate the needle. I haven't the patience, I suppose."
"Would you like teaching?"
"I have thought of that. That is what I am, perhaps, best fitted for; but I don't know how to go about it."
"Would you be willing to go into the country?"
"I should prefer it. I wish to go somewhere where I am not known."
"Then it might do," said Mary, musingly.
"What might do?"
"Let me tell you. I was born away up in the northern part of New Hampshire, in a small country town, with no particular attractions except that it lies not far from the mountains. It has never had more than a very few summer visitors. Only yesterday I had a letter from Granville, and they mentioned that the committee were looking out for a teacher for the grammar school, which was to begin in two weeks."
"The very thing," said Mabel quickly. "Do you think I could obtain the place?"
"I don't think any one has been engaged. I will write if you wish me to, and see what can be done."
"I wish you would," said Mabel promptly.
"Do you think, Miss Fairfax, you could be content to pass the summer in such a place, working hard, and perhaps without appreciation?"
"I should, at all events, be at work; I should feel, for the first time in my life, that I was of use to somebody."
"There is no doubt of that. You would find a good deal to be done; too much, perhaps."
"Better too much than too little."
"If that is your feeling I will write at once. Have you any directions to give me?"
"Say as little as possible about me. I wish to be judged on my own merits."
"Shall I give your name?"
"Only in part. Let me be Mabel Frost."
Thus was the way opened for Mabel's appearance in Granville. Mary Bridgman's recommendation proved effectual. "She was educated here; she knows what we want," said Squire Hadley; and he authorized the engagement.
When the matter was decided, a practical difficulty arose. Though Mabel had an abundant wardrobe, she had little that was suited for the school mistress of Granville.
"If you were to wear your last season's dresses -- those you took to Newport," said Mary Bridgman, "you would frighten everybody at Granville. There would be no end of gossip."
A Fancy of Hers Page 1
