Chapter X

It was perhaps one of the happiest nights that aunt Hannah ever spent. She lay down in her bed in the sleeper and slept like a little child for a time, for she was as tired as a baby after her day and night of excitement, but in the early dawn she awoke and lay there listening to the regular cadence of the moving train. It was music to her. Her life had for years been a monotonous one, and every detail of the journey was a delight to her. The turning wheels seemed to sing a tune to her, “Now hath mine head been lifted up above mine enemies round about me.” She tried to turn that thought out of her mind as soon as she discovered its significance, for she did not like to think that even in her heart had hid a feeling that Hiram and Nettie were her enemies, but somehow the rejoicing stayed anyway.

She began to look forward to the morning and the day that was to follow, the opening of her new life. What would it hold of good or of ill for her? Would there be trials? Yes, but there had been trials before. She would have “his strength to bear them, with his might her feet could be shod. She could find her resting-places in the promises of her God,” as she had done before. And it was such delightful work before her, a prospect of making over a home and making it pleasant. Aunt Hannah took rest, too, in the thought of experienced Molly Poppleton now reposing in the berth above her. She was going on a mission at last. How good God had been to her! He had tried her for a little while, but he was bringing her out into a large place. She could see that, even though she could not know the trials that were before her. Of course there were trials, she expected that, earth was full of them; but she did not need to carry them; Christ had borne them all for her long ago. She would trust and he would bring her safely through as he had done before and was doing now. Then her thoughts dwelt in sweet reflection upon her Saviour whom she loved so much, and she communed with him and promised to try to help every person who came within that house that she was to make pleasant for him and his children, and to try to live for him before them every day. And that crowded, rushing car became a holy place, because God met her there and blessed her.

The train reached the Broad Street station at a very early hour. Celia was glad of that, for it gave her plenty of time to meet her aunt and go with her back to the house, without being late at the store. She had not had time to reflect yet as to whether she would give up her position. She was hardly ready to do so. It seemed to her that perhaps she might do more good if she retained it for the present, at least until she found some one else who needed it, and to whom she could give it with profit, both to that person and to her employers who had been very kind to her. Besides, she wished not to appear before the boarders yet as an active agent in the reforms of the house.

At exactly half-past five she arrived at the Broad Street station. It was an early hour for her to be out alone, and it was still dark save for the electric lights which glared everywhere as if trying to keep off the day. But the train would come in at five minutes to six, and Celia had been too eager and too happy to sleep longer, so she paced up and down in the ladies’ room until the train was almost due, watching the people come and go and wondering about them all as she was wont to do. As the time drew near for the train she went out and stood behind the gates watching the trains moving back and forth. She began to say to herself, “Oh, what if she should not come? What if something has happened to the train? Or what if Nettie and Hiram have persuaded her at the last minute not to come? Or what if she missed her train? But no, she would have telegraphed. ‘Charge not thyself,’—dear me! How much I do that. I must stop worrying ahead about everything. Aunt Hannah must have seen that fault in me very glaringly. I never realized how much I do it.” And then the train whistled and rolled into the station, and the passengers began to alight, and stream into the gates, looking sleepy and cold. Celia stood there in the dim greyness of the cold, foggy morning and began to tremble with the excitement and joy of watching for aunt Hannah. Suddenly she saw the ample form of Molly Poppleton loom up behind the gilt-buttoned porter and she caught a glimpse of a little grey bonnet just behind and knew that aunt Hannah was come.

She took them home in the street-car, and then escorted them up to her little third story back room. She had risen early and put it in order. Molly looked around in disdain.

“Well, Miss Celia, you don’t have things as fine in the city as I expected,” she said. “The idea of their putting you up in such a room as this! Why, Miss Celia, it ain’t as good as the kitchen chamber at Cloverdale. I always heard a city was a dreadful place to live, but I never thought it was this bad. The wonder to me is anybody that don’t have to, stays in ’em. But we’ll have it _clean_ pretty soon anyway, don’t you worry.” And she stalked to the window and surveyed the narrow court below, where she surmised she would be obliged to dry her clothes. She sniffed to herself, but Celia could see her practical eye already planning how she would change the position of the ash bucket and the garbage pail. She gave a sigh of relief at the thought of Molly Poppleton’s ability, and turned to aunt Hannah, fairly smothering her in kisses. Then she put a hand on each soft, loved cheek, held her off at arm’s length and looked into her face.

“Now, you dear, good auntie, tell me just what you think of me? Am I a wild, impractical girl, full of crazy schemes? Tell me right away.”

“Well,” said aunt Hannah, a queer little twinkle in her eyes, “that’s what Hiram thinks.”

“Oh, he does, does he? Well, I don’t really suppose it will matter much, do you? But I mustn’t stop now to talk. I have to be at that store in an hour, and it takes half of that to get there. We must talk business. Do you think you can get along to-day by yourself, with Molly? That is, I mean without my worthy advice and assistance? Of course I’ll be home at half-past six, and I’ll give in my resignation there if you think best, but I hardly like to do it quite so soon after Mrs. Green was so kind about getting it for me. It doesn’t seem quite fair to the firm either to stop now, after they have had all the trouble of teaching me. Mrs. Morris is to leave on the noon train. She is ready, except that her faith hasn’t been quite equal to believing that you were really coming to take her place. She told the boarders this morning that she was going away for her health, and that she had secured a woman to take her place for a while. She guessed they would like it just as well. She wasn’t sure when she should return. The German promptly gave notice that he should leave, and I am glad of it. Some of the others said that if things didn’t go better than they had been doing for a week they would have to follow his example, but I think they will change their minds when they see the difference. I amused myself going to market last evening. I bought a great big roast, one of the finest cuts, and some fine potatoes and apples and yeast and flour. I know Mrs. Morris’ flour isn’t good, for she can’t make anything out of it fit to eat. I also got some spinach and celery and sweet potatoes, canned tomatoes and a few other things. I want to have a regular treat the first night regardless of the cost. You can figure things down afterward, but I thought we’d have enough for once to make up for the days of starvation. That Maggie, down in the kitchen, is a slouch and a bear. She gets in a towering rage whenever you go near her. I have not said anything about her, except to ask what contract Mrs. Morris had with her. I find it is on a day to day basis, so you can do as you please. If you and Molly want her, and can get the right kind of help out of her, keep her. If not, get rid of her and we’ll find a second girl who knows how to do things right. Now, shall we go down and see Mrs. Morris? And are you sure you are equal to all this, and not too tired to begin to-day? I suppose Mrs. Morris would wait till you are rested, if you want her to.”

But aunt Hannah smiled and said no, she was eager to begin. Then she took off her bonnet and smoothed her grey hair and went down.

Mrs. Morris had on the inevitable old calico wrapper. Celia wondered if she meant to travel in it. Her hair had evidently not been combed that morning, only twisted in a knot. She seemed embarrassed by aunt Hannah in her trim grey traveling dress, and hardly knew on what footing to meet her.

“For the land sake!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands, from custom perhaps, on the side of her wrapper before shaking hands. “So you’ve come! And you’re really willing to undertake it, and think you can succeed? I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. It’s a hard life! You look too good for such a life. They’re an awful torment, boarders are! Me heart has just been broke time an’ again with the troubles I’ve been through with them. I’ll show you all around, and if you feel you can’t do it, _yet_, I shouldn’t feel you was bound in any way to stick to your bargain. Miss Murray she seemed to be so sure, but I wouldn’t want you to be took at no disadvantage. You see I am afraid, if I get away, I shan’t want to come back again, and I don’t want to go off and feel I left you dissatisfied.”

They went down to breakfast soon, and Celia saw her aunt seated before the uninviting meal. She felt sorry for her, and yet she thought she would enjoy the meal with the prospect of the one she would give the boarders later in the day. But she was scarcely prepared for the look of horror that gradually overspread the good woman’s face, as she tasted dish after dish and found them alike unpalatable. There was oatmeal that morning. It was thick and lumpy, and only half cooked. Besides the salt had been forgotten. There was pork and greasy fried potatoes, but they were both cold, and unseasoned. The coffee was weak and muddy. Celia swallowed a few bites. She felt that she could go hungry for one day. Then she said a soft good-bye to aunt Hannah, squeezing her hand under her napkin so the boarders would not see and slipped away.

Aunt Hannah finished all she cared to of her meal and went back to Mrs. Morris. Molly Poppleton sat down to her breakfast in undisguised disgust. Nothing but the prospect of the power that was to be hers held her tongue from expressing her mind on the subject of good food decently cooked. She did not even pretend to eat much, and she looked at the slatternly form of Maggie as she lounged in to gather some plates, with animosity in her eye. She spent most of her time in the dining-room counting the fly specks and finger marks on the wall and windows. She made up her mind that she would get time for those windows somehow before dinner, if possible. If not, they should be done before another dawn of light and breakfast anyway.

Meantime Mrs. Morris was showing aunt Hannah the house. This room brought so much a week, and that one only so much, and so on, and at each room she had a tale to tell of its various inmates during the years she had kept a boarding-house. Aunt Hannah listened quietly, mentally making notes of what she would and would not do. She saw, without seeming to do so, the worn furniture, the need of a patch on a carpet, or a turning of furniture to hide it, the need of a wardrobe, or bureau in some cases. She set down in her mind the number of window shades torn, or worn out or lacking, and thought how much some cheap muslin curtains would improve things. She felt like a rich fairy, as she went from room to room seeing its need, and knowing that she could wave a wand and change it all. Sometimes the bareness or the attempt at decoration by the boarder was pitiful. She paused a moment before a picture of a quiet sweet-faced woman, in a dark velvet frame on Harry Knowles’ bureau, and wondered who she was, and if the young man whom Mrs. Morris said roomed there was worthy of a mother with such a face as that. Then she went at Mrs. Morris’ request with her to her room and sat there during an hour of conversation, in which Mrs. Morris, with many sighs and tears, detailed her entire life and troubles for her benefit. Aunt Hannah’s quiet, respectful attention and sympathy led her on until she had unburdened all her heart. Then was the Christian woman’s opportunity, and she spoke the word in season to the other woman, that word which cannot fail to bear fruit in due time. Mrs. Morris, with her empty life and joyless spirit, while she received the words with tears and some gratitude, but gave no outward sign that they had more than touched the surface of her life, yet remembered what had been said to her, and as she sat in the train that afternoon, speeding far away from the scene of her disappointments and disheartening, her fare paid by one Christian, her house taken and managed by another whom she saw must be a true saint, pondered all these things in her heart.

Mrs. Morris was gone, and aunt Hannah descended to the kitchen, bidding the impatient Molly Poppleton wait until she called her.

Just before Mrs. Morris’ departure, she had informed the sullen-looking Maggie that Miss Grant was the woman who was to take her place. Maggie had responded with a significant look, which did not promise much for taking the new mistress into her favor. She met Miss Grant in the middle of the dining-room during her progress to the kitchen. Her hair was frowsy, her dress soiled and torn, and her arms akimbo. Altogether she would have furnished a formidable encounter to a woman who was not used to managing servants and holding the reins of her household well in her own hands.

“I just came to see what you wanted fer dinner,” she announced. “There’s some things come from a new place where we never deal. I thought I’d let you know.”

Aunt Hannah thought a minute. Then she said:

“Yes, Maggie, I’ll be out in the kitchen soon to attend to dinner, but meantime it is only one o’clock and there is time enough to get this room in order first. I think you would better wash those windows.”

Maggie stood aghast.

“And what’s the matter with this room, I’d like to know?” she said in a loud, belligerent tone. “It’s just the same as it always is, and what’s good enough fer Mis’ Morris ought to be good enough fer you. Indeed I’ll wash no windows to-day. I’ve got me afternoon’s work all planned out. This room’ll be swep’ when I sets the table fer dinner, an’ that’s all it’ll get to-day. And you needn’t trouble your self about comin’ in the kitchen. I never likes to have the missus in the kitchen, it flusters me. I know me business and I ’tend to it, and I likes to have them as I live with attend to theirs. If you’ve got any orders, give ’em, and I’ll get dinner on time, you needn’t worry about that.”

Maggie had backed up against the kitchen door, her arms still akimbo, and stood as if to defend the fortress of her dominion.

Aunt Hannah waited till she had drawn down a crooked shade and rolled it straight again, pinning the torn edge, before she answered. Then she turned and calmly faced the irate Maggie.

“I always manage my own kitchen, Maggie,” she said, in a quiet voice, “and I intend to do so still. I want this dining-room put in order first, before anything else is attended to. Get some cloths and hot water right away, please.”

There was a dignity about aunt Hannah that was new in Maggie’s experience. She had been accustomed to intimidate Mrs. Morris by such conversation as she had just used, and she supposed she could do the same by her new mistress. She never expected to have it treated with such calm indifference. She was forced to her last resort.

“I can’t stay in a house where things are managed that way. No lady goes into the kitchen. I know me business, and I don’t like to be interfered with. If you ain’t suited with me doing as I think best, I can find plenty of places.”

“Oh, certainly, if you prefer,” said aunt Hannah, pulling down the other shade and fixing it neatly.

“Well, if I do, I’ll go right away, and then what’ll you do?” burst out the astonished Maggie. “There’s all them boarders got to have their dinner. You can’t fool with boarders, you know. They’ll all leave you.”

“I shall do very well,” answered aunt Hannah. “I brought one of my home servants with me, and I can get others very easily. If you choose to stay and do as I say I would like to have those windows washed at once, otherwise you may go.”

Poor Maggie! She was crestfallen. This was new treatment. The mistresses she was used to had to cater to the desires of their servants. She did a great deal of work, and she preferred to do it her way. But aunt Hannah was firm. Molly at that moment, too impatient to begin to be able to wait any longer, put her head in at the door and asked if Miss Hannah was ready for her. She eyed the crestfallen Maggie with the superiority of a conqueror. That was enough. Maggie tossed her head and declared she would not do another stroke of work in that house, and demanded back pay. Miss Hannah settled up with her, and she departed, leaving Molly monarch of the kitchen and scornfully surveying her new realm.