"I didn't know but you might have a mother, or brother an' sister, to support."
"No," said Mabel sadly, "I am alone in the world."
"Sho! I s'pose you calc'late on bein' married some time," said the old lady, with directness.
"Perhaps I may be," said Mabel, amused, "but I can't say I calculate on it."
"I guess you can get somebody to marry you," said the practical old lady. "You're good lookin', and are likely to please the men. Clarissa Bassett's tried hard, but somehow she don't make out."
Miss Bassett was sitting at the other end of the room, and, fortunately, was engaged in conversation with Mrs. Hayden, so that she did not hear this last remark.
"Thank you," said Mabel demurely. "You quite encourage me."
"I was twenty five myself before I was married," continued Mrs. Pulsifer. "Not but what I had offers before. Maybe you've had a chance?" and the old lady scrutinized Mabel's countenance.
"Maybe I have," she answered, wanting to laugh.
"That's a pooty gown you have on," said Mrs. Pulsifer, her attention diverted by Mabel's dress. "Was it made in the city?"
"Yes."
"Looks like nice cloth," continued Mrs. Pulsifer, taking a fold between her thumb and finger.
"I think it is," answered Mabel. "How much was it a yard?"
"I'm afraid I don't remember," Mabel replied.
The fact is, she had intrusted the purchase of her summer dresses to her dressmaker, who rendered her the bill in a lump. If there were any details she did not remember them.
"That's strange," said the old lady, staring. "I know the price of all the clothes I ever bought."
"You probably have a better memory than I," said Mabel, hoping by this compliment to turn the attack, but in vain.
"Haven't you any idee of the price?" asked the old lady.
"It may have been a dollar a yard."
"How many yards did you get?"
"I -- am not sure."
"How much did you pay for that collar?"
"I am really sorry I can't tell you," said Mabel, who felt somewhat embarrassed.
"Perhaps you don't like to tell."
"I would tell you with pleasure, if I knew."
"'Pears to me you must be a poor manager not to keep more account of your expenses," said Mrs. Pulsifer.
"I am afraid I am," said Mabel.
"How many dresses did you bring with you, Miss Frost?"
The old lady's catechizing was getting annoying, but Mabel understood that she meant no offense and answered patiently, "Six."
"Did they all cost as much as this?"
"I should think so."
"I don't see how you can afford to spend so much on dress," said Mrs. Pulsifer, "considering you have only seven dollars a week salary."
"I shall try to be more prudent hereafter, Mrs. Pulsifer."
"You'd better. The men will be afraid to marry you if they think you're extravagant. I told my son Jotham, `Jotham,' says I, `don't you marry a woman that wants to put all her money on her back.' Says I, `An extravagant wife is a curse to a man that wants to be forehanded.'"
"Did your son follow your advice?"
"Yes; he married a likely girl that makes all her own dresses. Jotham told me only last week that he didn't buy her but one dress all last year."
"You must be pleased with your daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pulsifer."
"Yes; she's pretty good as wives go nowadays, but I don't think she's a good cook."
"That is a pity."
"Can you cook, Miss Frost?
"I don't know much about cooking."
Sho! You'll want to know how when you're married."
"When I see any chance of marrying I mean to take lessons," said Mabel.
Just then, to Mabel's relief, supper was reported to be ready, and the members of the sewing society filed out with alacrity to the sitting room, where a long table was bountifully spread with hot biscuit, preserves, and several kinds of cake and pies. The mistress of the household, rather flushed by the heat of the kitchen, welcomed her guests, and requested them to take seats. Mabel took care not to sit in the neighborhood of Mrs. Pulsifer. The old lady's curiosity had come to be annoying, yet could not well be resented.
She congratulated herself on finding her next neighbor to be Mrs. Wilson, the minister's wife, a small woman, in a well worn silk, ten years old, which had been her only "company dress" during that entire period. There was a look of patient anxiety on the good woman's face which had become habitual. She was sorely perplexed at all times to make both ends meet. Even now she was uncomfortable in mind from this very cause. During the morning Mr. Bennett, the butcher, had called at the parsonage, and urgently requested payment for his "little bill." It amounted to only twenty five dollars, but the minister's stock of ready money was reduced to five dollars, and to pay this on account would have left him penniless. His candid statement of his pecuniary condition was not well received.
"I don't think people ought to buy meat if they can't pay for it," said the butcher bluntly.
"The parish is owing me more than the amount of your bill, Mr. Bennett," said the perplexed minister. "Just as soon as I can collect the money -- -- "
"I need it now," said the butcher coarsely. "I have bills to pay, and I can't pay them unless my customers pay me."
"I wish I could pay you at once." said Mr. Wilson wistfully. "Would you take an order on the parish treasurer?"
"No; he's so slack it wouldn't do, me any good. Can't you pay half today, Mr. Wilson?"
"I have but five dollars on hand, Mr. Bennett; I can't pay you the whole of that. I will divide it with you." "Two dollars and a half! It would be only ten per cent of my bill."
He closed, however, by agreeing to take it; but grumbled as he did so.
"These things try me a good deal," said the minister, with a sigh, after the departure of his creditor. "I sometimes think I will leave the profession, and try to find some business that will pay me better."
"It would be hazardous to change now, Theophilus," said his wife. "You have no business training, and would be as likely to do worse as better."
"Perhaps you are right, my dear. I suppose we must worry along. Do you think we could economize any more than we do?
"I don't see how we can. I've lain awake many a night thinking whether it would be possible, but I don't see how. We couldn't pinch our table any more without risking health."
"I am afraid you are right."
"Why not call on Mr. Ferry, the treasurer, and see if he cannot collect some more money for you?"
"I will do so; but I fear it will be of no use."
The minister was right. Mr. Ferry handed him two dollars.
"It is all I have been able to collect," he said. "Money is tight, Mr. Wilson, and everybody puts off paying."
This was what made Mrs. Wilson's face a shade more careworn than usual on this particular day. To add to her trouble, Mrs. Bennett, the wife of her husband's creditor, who was also a member of the sewing circle, had treated her with great coolness, and almost turned her back upon her. The minister's wife was sensitive, and she felt the slight. When, however, she found Mabel at her side, she smiled pleasantly.
"I am glad to have a chance to thank you, Miss Frost, for the pains you have taken with my little Henry. He has never learned so fast with any teacher before. You must have special talent for teaching."
"I am glad if you think so, Mrs. Wilson. I am a novice, you know. I have succeeded better than I anticipated."
"You have succeeded in winning the children's love. Henry is enthusiastic about you."
"I don't think I should be willing to teach unless I could win the good will of my scholars," said Mabel, earnestly. "With that, it is very pleasant to teach."
"I can quite understand your feelings. Before I married Mr. Wilson, I served an apprenticeship as a teacher. I believe I failed as a disciplinarian," she added, smiling faintly. "The committee thought I wasn't strict enough."
&
nbsp; I am not surprised," said Mabel. "You look too kind to be strict."
"I believe I was too indulgent; but I think I would rather err in that than in the opposite direction."
"I fancy," said Mabel, "that you must find your position as a minister's wife almost as difficult as keeping school."
"It certainly has its hard side," said Mrs. Wilson cautiously; for she did not venture to speak freely before so many of her husband's parishioners.
Just then Mrs. Bennett, the butcher's wife, who sat on the opposite side of the table, interrupted their conversation. She was a large, coarse looking woman, with a red face and a loud voice.
"Miss Frost," she said, in a tone of voice audible to all the guests, "I have a bone to pick with you."
Mabel arched her brows, and met the glance of Mrs. Bennett with quiet haughtiness.
"Indeed!" said she, coldly.
"Yes, indeed!" replied Mrs. Bennett, provoked by the cool indifference of the school teacher.
"Please explain," said Mabel quietly.
"You promoted two girls in my Flora's class, and let her stay where, she was."
"I would have promoted her if she had been competent."
"Why ain't she competent?" Mrs. Bennett went on.
"Of course there can be only one answer to that question, Mrs. Bennett. She is not sufficiently advanced in her studies."
She knows as much as Julia Fletcher or Mary Ferris, any day," retorted Mrs. Bennett.
Suppose we defer our discussion till we leave the table," said Mabel," finding it difficult to conceal her disdain for her assailant's unmannerly exhibition.
Mrs. Bennett did not reply, but she remarked audibly to the woman who sat next to her; "The school teacher's rather uppish. 'Pears to me she's carryin' things with a high hand."
"You see a school teacher has her trials, Mrs. Wilson," said Mabel, turning to her neighbor with a rather faint smile.
"I feel for you," said the minister's wife sympathetically.
"Thank you, but don't suppose I mind it at all. I shall exercise my own discretion, subject only to the committee. I am wholly independent."
"I wish I could be," sighed Mrs. Wilson; "but no one can be less so than a minister's wife."
"Is your husband to be here this evening?" asked Mabel.
"He has a bad headache and was unable to come. I shall go home early, as I may be needed."
In fact, about half an hour later, Mrs. Wilson made an apology and took her leave.
"Mrs. Wilson is looking pale and careworn," said Mrs. Kent. "Don't you think so, Mrs. Hadley?"
"She hasn't much energy about her," replied the Squire's wife. "If she had, the minister would get along better."
"I think she's no sort of manager," said Mrs. Bennett. "She runs her husband into debt by her shiftless ways."
"I think you're mistaken," said Mrs. Pratt quietly. "I know her well, and I consider her an admirable manager. She makes a little go as far as she can, and as far as any one else could."
"I only know my husband can't get his bill paid," Mrs. Bennett went on. "He presented it this morning -- twenty five dollars -- and only got two dollars and a half. Seems to me there must be poor management somewhere."
It would be unfair to the femininity of Granville to say that Mrs. Bennett was a fair specimen of it. Except Mrs. Hadley, there was not one who did not look disgusted at her coarseness and bad breeding.
"You must excuse me, Mrs. Bennett," said Mrs. Kent, "but I don't think that follows, by any means, from what you say."
"Then how do you explain it?" asked the butcher's wife.
"The trouble is that Mr. Wilson's salary is too small."
"He ought to live on five hundred dollars a year, I think," said Mrs. Hadley; "especially when he gets his rent so cheap."
"Is five hundred dollars actually the amount of his salary?" asked Mabel, amazed.
"Yes."
"How do you expect him to support his family on such an amount as that?" she exclaimed almost indignantly.
"It is very small, Miss Frost," said Mrs. Pratt, "but I am afraid we couldn't pay much more. None of us are rich. Still I think something ought to be done to help Mr. Wilson. What do you say, ladies, to a donation visit?"
"It's just the thing," said Clarissa Bassett enthusiastically.
It may be better than nothing," said Mrs. Kent; "but I am afraid donation visits don't amount to as much as we think they do."
The proposal, however, was generally approved, and before the meeting closed it was decided to give the minister a donation visit a fortnight later.
"Shall you be present, Miss Frost?" asked Mrs. Pratt.
"Oh, yes, I won't fail to attend."
"Your colleague, Miss Bassett, always carries a large pincushion on such occasions. The minister must have at least five of her manufacture."
"In that case," said Mabel, smiling, "I think I will choose a different gift."
Chapter 7
A few evenings later, at Mrs. Pratt's house, Mabel met an individual of whom she had frequently heard since her arrival in Granville. This was Mr. Randolph Chester, a bachelor from New York, who generally passed part of the summer in the village. He was reputed to be rich, and, though his wealth was exaggerated, he actually had enough to support a single man in comfort and even luxury. Though a bachelor, he allowed it to be understood that he was in the matrimonial market, and thus received no little attention from maneuvering mothers, single ladies of uncertain age, and blooming maidens who were willing to overlook disparity in age for the sake of the wealth and position which it was understood Mr. Chester would be able to give them.
Why did Mr. Randolph Chester (he liked to be called by his full name) summer in Granville when he might have gone to Bar Harbor or Newport? Because at these places of resort he would have been nobody, while in a small New Hampshire village he was a great man. In Granville he felt, though in this he was perhaps mistaken, that he could marry any of the village belles to whom he chose to hold out his finger, and this consciousness was flattering.
On his arrival at the hotel, where he had a special room reserved for him summer after summer, he was told of the new school teacher, a young, beautiful, and accomplished girl from New York.
"If I like her looks," thought he to himself, "I may marry her. Of course she's poor, of she wouldn't be teaching here for the paltry wages of a country school mistress, and she'll be glad enough to accept me."
When he was introduced to her Mabel saw before her a middle aged man, carefully dressed, passably good looking, and evidently very well pleased with himself. On his part, he was somewhat dazzled by the school teacher's attractions.
"Why, the girl has actual style," he said to himself. "Egad, she would appear to advantage in a New York drawing room. I wonder if she's heard about me."
He felt doubtful on this point, for Mabel received him with well bred indifference. He missed the little flutter of gratified vanity which the attentions of such an eligible parti usually produced in the young ladies of Granville.
"I believe you are from New York, my own city," he said complacently.
"I have passed some time there."
"You must -- ahem! -- find a considerable difference between the city and this village."
Undoubtedly, Mr. Chester. I find it a pleasant relief to be here."
"To be sure. So do I. I enjoy leaving the gay saloons of New York for the green glades of the country."
"I can't say," returned Mabel mischievously, "that I know much about the saloons of New York."
"Of course I mean the saloons of fashion -- the shining circles of gay society," said Mr. Chester hastily, half suspecting that she was laughing at him. "Do you know the Livingstons, Miss Frost?"
"There is a baker of that name on Sixth Avenue, I believe," said Mabel innocently. "Do You mean his family?"
"No, certainly not," said Mr. Randolph Chester, quite shocked at the idea. "I haven't the honor of knowing any baker on Sixth Avenue."
Neither had Mabel, but she had fully made up her mind to tease Mr. Randolph Chester, whose self conceit she instinctively divined.
"Then you don't live on Sixth Avenue," she continued. "I wonder where I got that impression!"
"Certainly not," said Mr. Chester, scandalized. "I have apartments on Madison Avenue."
"I know where it is," said Mabel.
"She can't move in any sort of society, and yet where on earth did she get that air of distinction?" Randolph Chester reflected. "Do you like school teaching?" he asked in a patronizing tone.
"I find it pleasant."
"I wonder you do not procure a position in the city, where you could obtain higher wages."
"Do you think I could?" asked Mabel.
"My friend, Mr. Livingston, is one of the School Commissioners," said Mr. Chester. "I can mention your name to him, and you might stand a chance to obtain the next vacancy."
"Thank you, Mr. Chester, you are exceedingly kind, but I don't think that I wish to become a candidate at present,"
"But you are really throwing away your talents in a small country village like this."
"I don't think so," said Mabel. "I find many of my scholars pretty intelligent, and it is a real pleasure to guide them."
"Mr. Randolph Chester, you mustn't try to lure away Miss Frost. We can't spare her," said Mrs. Pratt.
"You see, Mr. Chester, that I am appreciated here," said Mabel. "In the city I might not be."
"I think," said the bachelor gallantly, "that you would be appreciated anywhere."
"Thank you, Mr. Chester," returned Mabel, receiving the compliment without seeming at all overpowered by it; "but you see you speak from a very short acquaintance."
Mr. Randolph Chester was piqued. He felt that his attentions were not estimated at their real value. The school mistress could not understand what an eligible parti he was.
"Do you propose to remain here after the summer is over, Miss Frost?" he asked.
"My plans are quite undecided," said Mabel.
"I suppose she isn't sure whether she can secure the school for the fall term," thought the bachelor.
There was a piano in the room, recently purchased for Carrie Pratt, Mrs. Pratt's daughter.
"I wonder whether she plays," thought Mr. Chester. "Will you give us some music, Miss Frost?" he asked.
A Fancy of Hers Page 5
