Five Little Peppers and their Friends

by Margaret Sidney

  XXII

  RACHEL'S VISIT TO MISS PARROTT

  Rachel ran blindly up the garret stairs of the parsonage and threw herselfdown on the top, her blue, checked apron over her head.

  "Oh, I can't--I can't," she screamed.

  "Rachel," the minister's wife called gently after her. But Rachel stormedon, "Oh, I can't; dear me, I can't!"

  So Mrs. Henderson mounted the stairs and sat down on the top one, and tookRachel's hands, nervously beating together.

  "My child, you must listen to me."

  It was said very quietly; but Rachel knew by this time what the parsonagepeople meant when they said a thing, so she answered meekly in a muffledvoice because of the apron over her head:

  "Yes'm."

  "Take down your apron," said Mrs. Henderson.

  Down fell the apron, disclosing a face of so much distress, that for amoment the heart of the parson's wife failed her, but it must be done.

  "My child," she began very gently, "it is best that you should go to seeMiss Parrott. She will be a good friend to you."

  "I don't want no friends," said Rachel doggedly, in her distress relapsinginto her old tenement-house disregard of the rules of speech; "no more 'nI've got her."

  "Ah, child, that is not a wise way to talk," said Mrs. Henderson, shakingher head. "One cannot have too many friends."

  "She'd be too many," said Rachel; "that old woman that came the other dayin that carriage all full of bones."

  "You must not talk so, dear. She is a very fine woman. Now, Rachel, she hasasked to have you spend the day there, and we have promised that you shallgo."

  There was an awful pause. A big blue-bottle over in the corner under therafters was making a final decision to explore the filmy lace web beneaththe window where a fat old spider had been patiently waiting for him, andhe gave his last buzz of freedom before he hopped in. This was all thesound that broke the silence. Rachel held her breath, and fixed her blackeyes at a point straight ahead, positively sure if she withdrew her gazeshe would burst out crying.

  "So you will be ready to go at ten o'clock, Rachel, for Miss Parrott willsend for you then," Mrs. Henderson was saying. And in a minute more theparson's wife was going down the garret stairs; Rachel, with a heart fullof woe, slowly following, leaving the big garret to the fat old spider, whowas busily weaving her silken threads in glee over her prisoner.

  And Rachel's woeful face was more than matched by the countenances of thetwo boys of the parson's family, who were not at all pleased that thecompanion sent to them by Mrs. Fisher, and who had turned out surprisinglyjust to their liking, should be suddenly torn away from them even for asingle day. And they followed disapprovingly around, hanging upon all thepreparations for the momentous visit, with a very bad influence uponRachel's endeavor to control herself. Seeing which, their mother sent themoff on an errand to Grandma Bascom.

  So, when the ancient carriage, with its well-seasoned coachman who rejoicedin the name of Simmons, made its appearance, there was no one to see Racheloff, save the patron's wife, the minister himself being away on a call lo asick parishioner.

  Rachel went steadily down the walk between the box-borders, feeling herheart sink at each step. Mrs. Henderson, well in advance, was down at theroadside to help her in, with a last bit of good advice.

  "Good-morning, Simmons," said the parson's wife pleasantly.

  "Good-morning, Madam," Simmons touched his hat, and spoke with the air ofstate, for he kept his English ways. Secretly, the parson's wife was alwaysquite impressed by them, and she looked at Rachel for some sign to thateffect. But the child was scowling, and biting her thin lips, and shesuffered Mrs. Henderson to assist her into the wide old vehicle without anyfurther change of expression. When once in, she gazed around, then leanedforward on the slippery old green leather seat.

  "Can't Peletiah come?" she gasped; "there's lots o' room."

  "No," said Mrs. Henderson. "Now be a good girl"--all her fears returning asshe saw Rachel's face.

  Simmons starting up the horses, that, although an old pair, yet liked toset off with a flourish, the movement bounced Rachel violently against theback of her seat and knocked her bonnet over her face. This gave hersomething to think of, and changed her terror to a deep displeasure. Whenthe drive was ended, therefore, and the brougham, after its progressthrough an avenue of fine old trees, was brought to a standstill before theancestral mansion where Miss Parrott's father and grandfather had livedbefore her, the visitor was in no condition to enjoy the pleasures thrustupon her.

  Miss Parrott, in the stiff, black silk gown that she had worn the day whenshe called at the parsonage, met her on the big stone steps. She put out ahand in a long, black lace mitt, "I am very glad to see you, child," shesaid, in old-time hospitality.

  But no hospitality, old-time or any other, had a pleasant effect on Rachel.She gave a glance up and around the big, gloomy gray, stone house, with awild thought of rushing down the avenue and home to the parsonage.

  "It is a pleasant place, isn't it?" observed Miss Parrott with complacentmemory of always living in the grandest homestead for several counties.

  "No, ma'am," said Rachel promptly.

  Miss Parrott started, and gave a little gasp. Then, reflecting it was notin accordance with fine manners to notice any such slip on the part ofguests, she led the way into the mansion. Simmons, much shocked, actuallyforgot himself so far as to scratch his head, as he drove off to thestables, and he didn't get over it all day.

  "Perhaps you would like a little refreshment," suggested Miss Parrott,when, the child's bonnet off, she was seated on the edge of a stiff,high-backed chair. She couldn't think of anything else to say, and as sheusually offered it to her friends at the end of their long drives when theycalled upon her, it seemed a happy thing to do now, especially as Rachel'sblack eyes were fastened upon her in a manner extremely uncomfortable forthe person gazed at.

  As Rachel didn't know in the least what "refreshment" meant, she stared on,without a word. And Miss Parrott, pulling with more vigor than was herwont, a long red worsted cord that hung down by the piano, a stately butlermade his appearance quicker than usual, took his directions from hismistress, and after regarding the small figure perched on one of theancestral Parrott chairs with extreme disfavor, he silently withdrew.

  Presently, in he came, his head well thrown back, and bearing a huge silvertray. On it were a decanter, two little queer-shaped glasses, and a plateof very thin seed cakes. He deposited this on a spindle-legged table, whichhe drew up in front of his mistress, and, with another glance, which heintended to be very withering, cast upon Rachel, but which she didn't seeat all, he departed.

  "Now, my dear," said Miss Parrott, in a lighter tone, feeling quite in herelement while serving refreshments in such an elegant way, "you must bevery hungry." She poured out a glassful from the decanter, and getting outof her chair, she took up the plate of seed cakes, and advanced to thesmall figure. "Here, child."

  Rachel took the little queer-shaped glass, but had no sooner felt it withinher hand, than she gave a loud scream.

  "Take it away, it smells just like Gran"--pushing it from her.

  It knocked against the plate of seed cakes Miss Parrott was proffering, andtogether they fell to the floor with a crash. In hurried the butler.

  "I don't know what can be the matter," Miss Parrott was gasping, her handon her heart, as she leaned against one of the ancient cabinets of whichthe apartment seemed to be full.

  "It smells just like Gran," Rachel was repeating, with flashing eyes. "Oh,how dare you give it to me!" She was standing over the wreck of thepriceless china and glass, which, as no such accidents had been recorded inthe family, Miss Parrott had continued to use in the entertainment of herguests.

  "You bad child, you!" exclaimed the butler, seizing her arm, and gonealmost out of his senses at the sight of the ruin of such ancienttreasures.

  "I'm not bad," cried Rachel, turning on him and stamping her foot; "she'sbad--that woman there--for
giving me what smells just like Gran!"

  "I can't make her out," declared the butler, eyeing her as he released herarm and stepped back toward his mistress.

  "And that's what makes people drunk," went on Rachel, pointing an angryfinger at the wet spot where the liquid from the decanter was slowly oozinginto the velvet carpet.

  The butler turned an outraged countenance, on which a dull red wasspreading, over to his mistress.

  "You would better go out, Hooper," said Miss Parrott faintly, and holdingfast to the cabinet.

  "I'm afraid to leave you, madam," said Hooper; "she ain't fit--thatcreature"--pointing to Rachel, "to be here; she may fly at you. I'll puther out at once."

  "You may leave the apartment, Hooper," said Miss Parrott, regaining some ofher dignity by a mighty effort. "I'm not in the least afraid." But herlooks belied her words, or at any rate the old serving-man thought so, andhe made bold to remonstrate again.

  "Let me put her out, madam," he begged. "I'll call the gardeners."

  "Oh, no, no!" protested Miss Parrott, coming rapidly to her self-composure;"that would never do in all the world. Leave the room, Hooper." This lastwas said so exactly like his mistress at her best, that the butler obeyedit, making a wide circuit as he passed Rachel, who still stood, the pictureof wrath, over the broken china and glass.

  Not a word was said for some minutes. Outside, Polly, the old parrot, wasscolding vociferously, and the tall clock was ticking away for clear life.Hooper, his ear first, and then his eye, glued to the keyhole, was vainlyendeavoring to find out what was passing in the sitting-room.

  At last Rachel drew a long breath. "I'm sorry I broke your things," and sheawkwardly pushed the bits with her shoe.

  "Oh, that's no matter," said Miss Parrott, feeling astonished at herselffor the words, "but you said such dreadful things. I can never forgetthat." She drew a long breath.

  No matter that she broke those beautiful things! The whole truth flashedupon Rachel, and although the smell of the hated stuff was even yetdragging back to her all the memory of her low condition of life throughsuch childhood as she had known, over and above it all was quickly risingthe conviction that for this unpardonable misdemeanor she would be sentback to the city and--awful thought!--perhaps to Gran. She set her teethtogether hard, and clenched her thin hands as they hung by her side.

  "Yes. I say it is no matter," repeated Miss Parrott, not suffering herselfto glance at the wreck of her ancestral treasures, "but oh, child! why didyou say such dreadful things?" She still clung to the cabinet, shocked outof one tradition of her family, as if she must still hold to its time-wornand honored furnishings.

  Rachel gave her a swift, bird-like glance. "You do care; you're crying,"she exclaimed, aghast at the tears running over the wrinkled face.

  "Not about that, but the things you said; I didn't mean to do you harm."Miss Parrott did not attempt to deny the tears, and brushed them off with atrembling hand.

  "You ain't hurt me," cried Rachel, stumbling across the floor, with anawful feeling at her heart to see this stiff old woman cry.

  "Oh, whatever your name is, don't! I'll go home, and the minister may sendme back to Gran, an' she may beat me. Don't cry!" She seized the heavyblack silk in its front breadth and held on tightly.

  The butler, having at this minute his eye at the keyhole, now rushed in,unable to bear the sight, to be met by Miss Parrott, her withered faceflaming behind her tears.

  "Do you go directly out, Hooper, and remain away until you are called." Henever knew how he got out; and this time the keyhole was unobstructed.

  "Were you beaten, you poor little thing?" Was this Miss Parrott bendingover Rachel's shaking shoulders, and hands clutching the silk gown! "Oh,dear, dear!"

  "Tain't no matter," mumbled Rachel. "I don't care, only don't let me goback." She shook in terror, and crouched down to the floor.

  "Never!" said Miss Parrott firmly. All the blood in her body seemed to bein her wrinkled face, and her eyes shone, as had those of her father, theold judge, when befriending some poor unfortunate. "You shall never goback, child; don't be afraid."

  But Rachel still shivered. There were the broken bits of china and glass onthe floor back of her, and the minister and his wife must be told of theawful accident; and what they would do with her, why, of course, no onecould tell.

  The thin, wrinkled fingers on which blazed many rings, that had been hermother's before her, were tremblingly smoothing Rachel's neatly braidedhair. And as if she thought what was passing beneath them, Miss Parrottbroke out quickly:

  "I shall never speak of it--of the breaking of those articles, child; so noone will know it but ourselves."

  "Never tell?" gasped Rachel, lifting her head, in astonishment and scarcelybelieving her ears.

  "Of course not," declared Miss Parrott, in scorn. "So do not be afraid anylonger, but get up and dry your eyes." For at this announcement, Rachel'stears had gushed out, and she sobbed as if her heart would break.

  For answer Rachel flew to her feet, and without any warning and astonishingherself equally with the recipient, she threw her arms around MissParrott's thin neck, in among all the ancient laces with which shedelighted to adorn it, and hugged it convulsively.

  Taken unawares, Miss Parrott could utter no word, and Rachel clung to herand sobbed. But the old ears had heard what hadn't been sounded in them formany a long day, and forgotten were wasted heirlooms and broken treasures.

  "I love you!" Rachel had said, hugging her tumultuously.