A Little Country Girl

by Susan Coolidge

  CHAPTER VIII.

  BRIC-A-BRAC.

  ONE afternoon in August, Candace happened to be alone in thedrawing-room with Mrs. Gray when Mrs. Joy was announced.

  "My dear," began that lady, after administering the two hard, rapidlittle kisses which were her idea of a cordial greeting, "I've come tosee if you don't want to go down to the Point with me. There's an oldwoman there, I hear, who has a lot of wonderful old china and somemahogany arm-chairs which she wants to sell, and I'm going to look atthem. Do put your things on, and come. I hate to drive alone; andthere's no fun in this sort of expedition unless there's some one alongwith you."

  "You are very kind," said Mrs. Gray; "but I have promised Mr. Gray to gowith him at four to call on some friends who have just arrived atBateman's, so it's quite impossible for me to go with you. Who is theold woman? Do you recollect her name?"

  "Oh, Collishan or Collisham,--some name like that. She lives in ThirdStreet."

  "It must be old Miss Colishaw. Are you sure she wants to sell herchina?" asked Mrs. Gray, who as a child had spent many summers inNewport before it became a fashionable watering-place, and knew thetownspeople much better than did Mrs. Joy.

  "I believe so; why shouldn't she? She's as poor as a church mouse, theytell me; and what use can such things be to her? She would rather havethe money, of course. You can't go, then? I'm awfully sorry. But you'lllet me have one of the girls, dear, won't you? I absolutely can't do italone."

  "Georgie has gone to drive with Berry, and I am sorry to say thatGertrude is on the sofa with a headache."

  "Well, here's Miss Candace; she hasn't a headache, I'm sure: perhaps shewill take pity on me.--You'll come, won't you? that's a dear. Run andput on your hat. It's a splendid afternoon, and the Point's a veryinteresting place if you happen to like old things. I don't care forthem myself; but they're all the fashion now, you know, and I dare sayyou've caught the fever with the rest of the folks.--She can come, can'tshe, dear Mrs. Gray?"

  "I don't think she has any engagement," replied Mrs. Gray, trying not tosmile at the struggle with dismay that was going on in Candace'scountenance; "she likes driving, and it is a beautiful afternoon.--Youcan go, can't you, Cannie?"

  It was impossible on the spur of the moment to frame any excuse. Mrs.Joy's eyes were full upon her; Cousin Kate gave no help; there seemednothing to do but to comply. Candace murmured something about"Certainly,--very kind,--very happy," and went away to put on the redhat, which went very well with the dress of red and white linen that shehappened to have on. It was a new one, which Mrs. Gray had bought forwarm days, and which Elizabeth had fitted and made. She wore a red rosein her breast, and had a pair of gray gloves, and she looked very freshand girlish in this simple costume; but Mrs. Joy did not quite approveof it.

  "Why don't they fix the little thing up better?" she was thinking toherself as she got into the carriage. "It's too bad. She'd be quitenice-looking if she were a little more stylish. A light silk, now, or asurah in two shades, like Berry's blue, would make quite a differentthing of her."

  "You've been down on the Point before now, I suppose," she said as theyrolled smoothly along the Avenue.

  "Yes, once I did. Cousin Kate took me with her one day to call on afriend of hers, Miss Gisborne."

  "Oh, yes, that queer old maid. I know they're very intimate, though Iconfess I never could see what Mrs. Gray finds in her to like. She's soeccentric, and so different from other people, and she wears suchextraordinary clothes."

  "But she's very nice, and she tells the funniest stories, and her houseis ever so pretty," said Candace, rather at a loss to know what sheought to say.

  "Ah, indeed, is it? Inside, you mean. I don't think it amounts to muchoutside, though people who have a mania for old houses rave about it, Ibelieve. I'm afraid I'm dreadfully modern in my tastes. I can't, for thelife of me, see any beauty in ceilings so low that you bump your headagainst them, and little scraps of windows filled with greenish glassthat you can't see through, and which make you look like a mouldyfright, if any one looks through from the outside."

  "Miss Gisborne's window-panes _are_ green," admitted Candace. "Some ofthem are so old that they have colors all over them likemother-of-pearl,--red and blue and yellow. I liked to see them; and shetold us that last summer an architect who was going by the housestopped and looked at them a long time, and then rang the bell andoffered to give her new sashes with great big panes in them if she wouldexchange; but she wouldn't."

  "The more fool she!" rejoined Mrs. Joy, frankly. "My! what a splendidbig house that is going to be! That's the kind of thing I like." And shepointed to an enormous half-finished structure of wood, painted pumpkincolor and vermilion, which with its size, its cottage-like details, andthe many high thin chimneys which rose above its towering roofs, lookeda happy mixture of an asylum, a factory, and a Swiss chalet.

  "But what a little bit of ground there is about it for such a bighouse!" said Candace, whose country eyes were often struck by thedisproportion between the Newport edifices and the land on which theystood.

  "Yes; land is so dreadfully dear now that people can't afford largeplaces."

  "I wonder why this is called 'Farewell Street,'" said Candace, lookingat the name painted on the corner of a street into which they wereturning.

  "Some people say it's because this is the street by which funerals comeaway from the Cemetery," replied Mrs. Joy. "There's the Reading-roomdown there. You've seen that, I suppose. Mrs. Gray comes down to themothers' meetings sometimes, I know."

  "Yes; and she has promised to take me with her some day, but we haven'tgone yet."

  The carriage now turned into a narrow street, parallel with the Bay, butnot in sight of it; and Mrs. Joy indicated to her footman a lowdormer-windowed house, shabby with weather-stains and lack of paint,whose only ornament was a large and resplendent brass knocker on itsfront door.

  "That's the place," she said. "Just look at that knocker. I know for acertainty that lots of people have offered to buy it, and the absurd oldcreature to whom it belongs won't sell. She declares that it's beenthere ever since she can remember, and that it shall stay there as longas she stays. So ridiculous, when things of the kind bring such anenormous price now, and she really needs the money!"

  The carriage now stopped. Mrs. Joy got out, and Candace with her. Thefootman seized the shining knocker, and gave a loud rap.

  "Go back to the carriage, Wilkins," said Mrs. Joy. Then she added in alow voice to Candace: "Get close to the door, dear. These people are soqueer. I often have to push my way in, but I can always manage them inthe end."

  The door was opened a very little way by a very little girl.

  "Is Miss Collisham at home?" asked Mrs. Joy, at the same time insertingher foot deftly between the door and the door-frame, to insure that thedoor should not be closed against her.

  "No, 'm," said the child. "She's gone out."

  "Dear me, what a shame! where is she?" demanded the visitor, in anaggrieved tone, as if Miss Colishaw had no right to be out when wantedby the owner of such a fine equipage.

  "She's over to old Miss Barnes's. She's sick," replied the little girl.

  "Who's sick?--old Miss Barnes? And where does she live?"

  "Just over there in First Street," said the child, staring at Candace,whose big red hat had caught her fancy. "'Tain't but a little way," sheadded.

  "Ah, indeed!" said Mrs. Joy, pushing her way into the entry. "Well,then, you just run over to this place, dear, and tell Miss Collishamthat there's a lady waiting to speak to her on business. Be quick,that's a good little girl! This young lady and I will sit down here andwait till you come back."

  The small maiden looked uncertain and rather frightened; but Mrs. Joymarched resolutely into the little parlor on one side of the hall, andseated herself; so, after a pause of hesitation, the child seized asun-bonnet which lay on a chair, and set off at a run in the directionindicated. The moment she was gone Mrs. Joy jumped briskly up.

  "Such a piece of good
luck!" she cried. "One so rarely gets the chanceto examine a place like this without the bother of a family standing byto watch everything you do." Then, to Candace's horror and astonishment,she walked straight across the room to a cupboard which her experiencedeye had detected in the side of the chimney, opened the door, and took asurvey of the contents.

  "Nothing there," she remarked, locking it up, "only medicine bottles andtrash. Let's try again." She opened a closet door, and emitted a sigh ofsatisfaction.

  "These must be the very plates I heard of," she said. "Let mesee,--five, six, eight,--a complete dozen, I declare, and all in goodorder,--and a platter, and two dishes! Well, this _is_ a find; and suchlovely china, too,--I must have it. Mrs. Kinglake's,--that she's soproud of--isn't half so handsome; and _she_ has only eight plates. Now,where are those chairs that they told me about, I wonder?"

  Candace was sitting in one of the very chairs, as it proved; the otherMrs. Joy presently discovered in a little back-room which opened fromthe parlor, and which she lost no time in rummaging. She had justunlocked another closet door, and was standing before it with a pitcherin her hand, when the mistress of the house appeared,--a tall, thin,rather severe-looking woman, whose cheeks still wore the fresh colorwhich cheeks retain till old age in the Narragansett country.

  Candace, who had remained in her chair in a state of speechless andhelpless dismay, watching Mrs. Joy's proceedings through the open door,saw her coming, but had no time to warn Mrs. Joy.

  "You wanted to see me on business?" said Miss Colishaw, fixing a pair ofwrathful eyes on Mrs. Joy, the pitcher, and the open door of the closet.

  "Oh, is it Miss Collisham?" replied that lady, neither noticing norcaring for the very evident indignation of look and tone. "Your littlegirl was so kind as to say that she would go and call you; and while wewere waiting we thought we would look at this curious old--"

  "We! are there more of you, then?" demanded Miss Colishaw, glaring intothe closet as if she expected to see other audacious visitors concealedin its depths. Finding none, she closed the door and turned its stoutwooden button with a good deal of energy.

  "If you've any business with me, ma'am," she said, "perhaps you'll be sokind as to step into the parlor and say what it is."

  "Certainly," responded Mrs. Joy, airily. "But before we go do tell meabout this curious old jug. It's Spode, is it not? I'm almost sure thatit must be Spode, or some other of the very old English wares. Do youknow about it?"

  "I know that it was my mother's yeast-pitcher, and that's all that Icare to know," replied Miss Colishaw, grimly, taking it out of her hand."I use it to keep corks in."

  "Corks! How amusing! But it's really a nice old piece, you know. I'dlike to buy it if you don't care any more for it than that. You couldput your corks in something else just as well."

  "It ain't for sale," said Miss Colishaw, decidedly, putting the pitcheragain into the closet, and leading the way into the parlor.

  Candace, who had heard all, and was feeling awkward and guilty to thelast degree, rose as they entered, and courtesied to Miss Colishaw.Perhaps her face showed something of the shame and annoyance with whichher heart was filled; for Miss Colishaw's iron expression relaxed alittle, and the "Good-afternoon" she vouchsafed her sounded a shade lessimplacable.

  "Oh, I forgot!" said Mrs. Joy, turning back to the rear room. "There'sthis old chair, Miss Collisham."

  "_Colishaw_'s my name," interposed her hostess.

  "I beg your pardon, I'm sure; so it is, of course. Well, as I wassaying, I noticed a delightful old arm-chair in this room,--ah, thereit is! It exactly matches some without arms which I bought at Sypher's.If you'd like to part with this and the other in the front room,Miss--Miss Collishall, I should be glad to buy them; and I'd give you avery good price for them because of the match."

  Miss Colishaw made no answer.

  "Then there's some china that I _observed_ in another closet," went onMrs. Joy, returning again to the parlor, and opening the door of thecloset in question. "This red and blue, I mean. I see you have a gooddeal of it, and it's a kind I particularly fancy. It's like some whichmy dear old grandmother used to have." Mrs. Joy's tone became quitesentimental. "I'd give almost anything for it, for the sake of oldassociations. I wish you'd fix a price on this, Miss Collisham."

  "Very well, then, I will,--one million of dollars," replied MissColishaw, losing all command over her temper. "No, ma'am, I'm notjoking. One million of dollars!--not a cent less; and not even thatwould pay me for my mother's china, and the chair my father used to sitin when he was old. They ain't for sale; and when I've said that once,I've said it for always."

  "But, my dear Miss Collishall--"

  "I ain't your dear, and my name ain't Collishall. Colishaw's what I'mcalled; and it's a good old Newport name, though you don't seem to beable to remember it."

  "I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Joy, loftily. "It's rather an unusualname, and I never happened to hear it till to-day. Then you don't careto sell any of these old things?"

  "No, ma'am, not one thing."

  "Well, I must say that I consider you very foolish. This sort of oldstuff won't always be the fashion; and the minute the fashion goes out,they won't be worth anything. Nobody will want to buy them."

  "They'll be worth just the same to _me_ then that they are now,"responded Miss Colishaw, more gently. She evidently saw the hopelessnessof trying to impress her point of view on Mrs. Joy.

  "I dare say you have an attic-full of delightful old spinning-wheels andthings," remarked that lady, quick to mark the change of tone and hopingto profit by it. She glanced toward the stair-foot as she spoke. MissColishaw quickly stepped in front of the stairs, and stood there withthe air of an ancient Roman defending his household gods.

  "Yes, ma'am, I _have_ an attic," she said dryly. "It's a very goodattic, and it's stuffed full of old things. There's a fender and twopairs of fire-dogs--"

  Mrs. Joy's eyes sparkled. "Oh, do let us go up and see it!" she cried.

  "No, you don't!" said Miss Colishaw, taking a firmer grasp of thebaluster. "There's a wool-wheel, and a flax-wheel, and a winder, andthree warming-pans--"

  "Dear me! What a delightful place!" put in Mrs. Joy.

  "There's lots and lots of old truck," continued the implacable MissColishaw. "It all belonged to my mother and my grandmother and hermother before her. It's all up there; and there it's going to stay, ifall the rich ladies in Newport come down to try to wheedle me out of it.Not a soul of them shall set foot in my attic."

  "Well, I must say that I think you very foolish," said Mrs. Joy,settling the wrists of her long gloves. "You're very poor, and these oldthings are no use to you in the way you live; and you'd far better takethe money they would bring, and make yourself comfortable."

  Miss Colishaw was now pale with anger.

  "And who told you I was poor?" she demanded. "Did I ever come a-beggingto you? Did I ever walk into your house to pry and rummage, and tell youthat your things were no use? When I do you'll have a right to come hereand behave as you have, but not a minute before. Use! They _are_ of use.They remind me of my family,--of the time I was young, when we all livedin this house together, before Newport grew to be a fashionableboarding-place and was spoiled for people of the old sort. If that'sall the business you have with me, madam, I think we have got throughwith it."

  "Really, there's no occasion for being so very rude," said Mrs. Joy.

  "Rude!" Miss Colishaw gave an acrid laugh. "Mine ain't fashionablemanners, I know; but I guess they're about as good." She opened thefront door, and held it suggestively wide. Mrs. Joy swept through.

  "Come, Miss Arden," she called back over her shoulder.

  Candace could do nothing but look as apologetic as she felt. "I'm sosorry," she murmured, as she passed Miss Colishaw.

  "You haven't done anything. It's she who ought to be sorry," returnedMiss Colishaw, and banged the door behind her as she passed through.

  "What a horrid old person!" said Mrs. Joy, who looked heated an
d vexed."I never met any one so impertinent. And such a fool, too! Why, shetakes in sewing, I am told, or makes cake,--some of those things. She'sas poor as Job's turkey; yet there she sits, with those valuable thingsabsolutely wasting in her poky old house, and refuses to sell them. Iwish I had spoken more strongly to her! I declare, I've a good mind togo back and do it now. It is such perfect folly. She really ought to bereasoned out of it."

  "Oh, I wouldn't," urged Candace,--"I wouldn't go back. She was _so_angry. I don't know what she would say if you did."

  "My dear, I don't care a red cent what she says. All the old women onthe Point can't frighten _me_," declared Mrs. Joy. She reflected alittle; then she gave up her intention.

  "After all, it isn't worth the trouble. She's just that sort ofobstinate old creature who will never listen to a word of advice. Iknew, the moment I looked at her, that nothing I could say would do anygood. Generally I can turn that kind of person round my finger. Why,you'd be surprised if I told you of the bargains I have got out of oldgarrets over on Conanicut and down the Island. But, really and truly,I'm a little tired of it; and I never did care much for such old duds,except that other people have them and it is the thing to have them. I'drather go to Howard's any day, and get a lot of nice French china.Howard has such exquisite things always."

  So the carriage was ordered to Coddington's Cove; and as they rolledsmoothly past the Maitland Woods, neither Mrs. Joy nor Candace guessedthat at that moment Miss Colishaw was sitting in her little back-room,with the old yeast-pitcher in her lap, crying as if her heart wouldbreak.

  "It's bad enough to be old and poor and alone in the world," she sobbedto herself, "without having fine stuck-up folks coming right in to sauceyou out of your senses." She wiped her eyes, and looked for a minute atthe pitcher.

  "Betsey Colishaw, you're a fool!" she remarked aloud. "You might havekept your temper. The woman didn't hurt you any. And there was thatyoung thing looking so kind of sorry. You might have said a pleasantword to her, anyhow, even if you were all riled up with the other."

  On sped the carriage, the lovely Upper Bay always in sight, until on thecurve of the long Coddington's Point it turned, and retraced its courseso as to strike Washington Street at the lower end. It was a deliciousafternoon. The tide was flowing freshly in, and the brisk northwestbreeze which met it sent little white-caps dancing all over the surface.Crafts of all kinds were traversing the harbor: yachts and cat-boatswere out in numbers; schooners and barges sped up the bay, their sailsshining against the green Island shores; row-boats and steam-tugs werecrossing and recrossing between the city and the Fort and TorpedoStation. A sharp double whistle announced the "Eolus" just started onher up trip, with a long wake of creamy foam behind her. Fleets of whiteclouds were drifting across the sky, which was bluer than the sea, likeships of heaven, simulating and repeating the movements of those ofearth below. Every wharf and dock was full of people, fishing, idling,or preparing to go out in boats. It was one of the moments when allmankind seems to be a-pleasuring, and to have laid aside all memory ofthe labors and the pains of this work-a-day world.

  Mrs. Joy probably felt that she owed Candace some compensation for theunpleasant quarter of an hour which she had led her into at MissColishaw's; for she did her best to be entertaining, and to telleverything that she herself knew about Washington Street and itsnotabilities. She pointed out the two pretty old houses which have beenso cleverly modernized into comfort without any sacrifice of theirquaint exteriors; and the other and still finer one, once belonging tothe Hunter family, whose renovations have gone so far toward spoilingit.

  "It used to have a nice old staircase with a broad landing, and windowsover the water, and beautiful mahogany balusters," explained Mrs. Joy."But they've spoiled all that. They have painted over the elegantsatinwood and old cherry wainscotings, and taken out the secretstaircase; and now it's no better than any other square house with thatkind of roof."

  "Was there a secret staircase?" cried Candace. "Oh, what a pity theytook it out! I always thought I should like to see one so much."

  "I don't believe this would have interested you particularly. It wasonly a kind of narrow back-stairs, which was not commonly used. They dosay, though, that ghosts used to be heard running up and down it quiteoften."

  "Ghosts! How strange! What sort of noise did they make? I suppose no oneever saw them."

  "One lady did."

  "Really!" Candace's eyes were wide with attention.

  "Yes. She was a friend of mine, and she used to board in the housebefore it was altered. She heard the noises, which were a sort ofscratching and rustling, and she resolved to see what the ghost waslike; so she took a candle and followed it downstairs."

  "How brave! And what was it like?"

  "It was like--a rat! When she caught sight of it, it was sitting on theedge of a pot of lard. It was picking its teeth, she said."

  "A pot of lard!"

  "Yes. The secret staircase led down to a sort of cellar, you see."

  "Oh, Mrs. Joy, how disappointing!"

  "I'm afraid ghost stories generally do turn out disappointing in theend. Here we are, close to old Fort Greene. Would you like to jump out,and run down to the water's edge and see it?"

  "Oh, thank you, I should like it ever so much."

  It was but a few steps from the carriage to the grassy top of the oldredoubt; but when Cannie had picked her way down the steep inclinetoward the shore, she found herself entirely out of sight of the streetand the houses, out of sight of everything except the lovely sunlit Baywhich stretched before her. There was no sound except the plash of thewaves, and for a moment she felt as much alone as if she had been inthe depths of a country solitude. Then another sound came vaguely to herear,--a low murmur of conversation; and she became aware that the Fortheld other visitors besides herself. A rock hid the speakers from her,whoever they might be; the voices were too indistinct for recognition,and it was accident rather than intention which led her to diverge fromthe path, as she returned to the carriage, in a manner which gave her aview of the party.

  There were three persons,--a man and two girls. The man was young andgood-looking; he was also well dressed, but there was something abouthim which, even to Candace's inexperience, suggested the idea that hewas not quite a gentleman. One of the girls was standing with her backto Candace, talking eagerly in a hushed voice; the other sat on a stonein an attitude of troubled dejection. Her face was in shadow; but sheturned a little as Candace passed, and to her wondering surprise she sawthat it was no other than her cousin Georgie Gray.