Chapter V

The Ferris tea-table was a very cheery board, where good spirits of a most delightful and commendable kind flowed freely. The stiff and solemn Wilders, who "partook of the joys of life furtively," were inclined to be scandalized. Who cared? Not the Ferrises, and so, as has been said, that happy family enjoyed life despite their critical neighbors, and as they all gathered about the scarlet cloth that evening, they looked like a band that ought never to be broken.

Fun and laughter ran so high that the dear, tired father forgot his legal cares and cracked his jokes. These were more or less bad,--but what matter so long as the children thought him "just the darlingest, funniest man in the world." No guest remained long in that genial atmosphere without discovering the source of this sunny family-life, and the true tendency of the current beneath all the froth and ripple of the nonsense.

From father and mother, down to little Claire, it was a family of _friends_. That was the entire secret. There were no petty animosities, no bickerings; everything was open and above-board. Sincere and loving confidence bound them together. The girls were interested in all their father's cases in court; while he, in turn, listened to all their girlish performances with undivided attention. No new gown or hat was completely satisfactory until he had passed a favorable judgment. Here in his own small court he was "Judge Ferris," in that title's noblest sense. And the mother? She was best sister of all among her daughters,--"Mother and sister and queen,--all in one precious little woman," as Nan said, lifting her off her feet with a vigorous embrace.

But the toast was getting cold, and the festivity began as the plates went 'round. The judicial wrinkles in Mr. Ferris's forehead were pulled out by those radiating from the outer corners of his kind eyes; the mother utterly lost her authority as the mirth rose to a gale; and nobody paid the slightest attention to Lou's request for the honey.

"Nan," said Mrs. Ferris, laughing, "you are the only one who isn't behaving outrageously, so please attend to your sister's wants." But her observant eye did not leave her daughter's thoughtful face, and she asked, during a purely accidental lull in the chatter,--for she sympathized even with moods in her children:--"What is it, dear; what are you thinking about? You seem to be taking the butter-dish into your confidence--we are jealous."

Nan drew her eyes away, and, giving her mother a bright look, she answered: "Why, I was thinking of the time, before we went to boarding-school, when Papa called Evelyn and me to him and asked us which we would rather have him do, scrimp us all our lives on advantages and education, so that he could lay up something for our future, or, instead of dowry or legacy, have our money as we went along, depending upon our ability for the future."

"And we voted as a single man, didn't we?" said Evelyn.

"We did that same, Evelyn; we decided that we wanted but little here below, but that we wanted that little right away!"

"And I recall how magnanimously you promised to share my last crust with me," said Mr. Ferris, hitching Nan's chair nearer to him.

"Yes," continued she, "I'll never desert you. But I was going to say that I don't think I have kept my part of the agreement. You have given me advantages which even richer girls have not had, and I have not done a thing with them yet. I have had a whole year of idleness, and I'm tired of it, and want to go to work."

The family had heard something of this independent mood before, but, as nothing alarming came of it, they received this announcement without any demonstration of surprise; indeed, Mr. Ferris attended to the dissolution of the sugar in his second cup of tea before looking up, and then he said, "Yes?" with a slowly rising inflection.

"Yes!" came from Nan with a short downward one; "Yes, sir, and I have a plan this time, and wish to consult my beloved family before doing anything rash."

"So that you can do it afterward with a clear conscience, I suppose?" ventured her father, wickedly.

"No, I shall do something a hundred times rasher if you oppose this plan, for it is the least revolutionary thing I can think of."

"Well?"--said her father, inquiringly.

"You know how hard Aunt Hettie has tried to induce one of us to come down to New York and spend the winter with her and Uncle Nat, and how we have all begged off because they live so quietly and so far up town, we thought we should simply stagnate? I should like to go there this winter, not, I blush to say, for their sakes alone, but because I wish to study."

"What! study more?" groaned Lou, who was only fourteen, and in the toils of cube-root.

"Yes, study more," asserted Nan. "I want to take a course of lessons in a school of design, for I think I may do something in that line that may pay, after a while. Now, observe the latent beauty of my scheme. By spending the winter with them, I shan't need any new clothes--which means that I intend to pay for my lessons out of my own allowance."

"Oh, never mind that, dear child," Mr. Ferris said lovingly.

"Yes, I _will_ mind! That is just what makes us girls so good-for-nothing;--we don't 'mind' enough! I really think it would be fun to actually _need_ a new dress and know I couldn't have it until I _earned_ it--buttons, whale-bones, and braid. Anyhow, if it were not fun, it would be good for my character. Now what do you all think?" and Nan helped herself to cake, observing that the others had finished theirs.

Mr. Ferris, heaving an involuntary sigh, began:

"Well, dear, as you know, your mother and I consider it our duty to bring up our girls so that each can, if the necessity should come, earn her own living; and perhaps the time is here for one to fly out of the nest to try her wings,--ah, me!"

"But that is just what I don't want to do; and one reason I hit upon this plan is that it will take me away from home only one winter, perhaps, and then not among strangers," said Nan.

"But," objected Mr. Ferris, "do you know anything about this school?"

"The Cooper Institute? I should think so. Why, it was reading about this particular branch of decorative art in the newspaper, the other day, that made me think of it."

"Then, little girl," he said fondly, "I think I am pleased with your plan."

When they were all grouped before the fire, and Mr. Ferris had drawn Nan close to him, as though somehow he were about to lose her, Evelyn took her mother's hand in hers and began:

"Papa, don't think I am going to do nothing; I am not like Nan, nor can I do the things she can; but I try to believe each has a special talent, and if I have a passion, it is for housekeeping; and Mother and I have a lovely plan!" And those two exchanged a laughing glance of great portent.

Anything like secrecy immediately aroused in the Ferris family the most vehement denunciation.

"What _do_ you mean?" demanded the chorus.

"Well, then, Mother hasn't the slightest idea what we are going to have for breakfast to-morrow morning, because _I_ am the housekeeper of this house, and I am going to buy everything and plan everything, and pay all the bills,--with a little pecuniary aid from you, Papa,--and make a study of beef and poultry, while Mother is going to do fancy-work and read French novels. But I am only going to learn to do well what ninety-nine girls out of every hundred have to do,--so there!"

"Splendid! splendid!" shouted Mr. Ferris, going over to this oldest of the flock and taking her face lovingly between his hands. "I declare, I don't know of which to be proudest; you mutually surpass each other, my children."

"Wait until after to-morrow morning's breakfast, and I fear you will be able to decide!" called the new housekeeper, as she disappeared to have a consultation with the cook.

All these revolutionary measures were not of the sudden growth that their speedy results seem to indicate. Any girl who enjoys the luxury of aimlessness during that long-desired period after she has "finished," will, sooner or later, encounter that arch-fiend of happiness, satiety,--the Apollyon of those who exist merely to have a "good time." Nan had been reared amidst the most healthy influences, and her vigorous young nature demanded more nourishing rations than those offered by the life she had been leading. However, this longing had only come of late, for she had been most devoted to the pomps and vanities, while her parents had looked on with some anxiety, but held their peace, trusting that she would "come out all right."

Bert's surroundings were different, her home influences being wholly worldly, her mother desiring nothing more of her daughter than that she should move among the best circles, finally making a brilliant marriage. Bert had not only dutifully but eagerly explored those aristocratic precincts, and had enjoyed herself hugely, as she observed everything in her own original and critical way, amusing herself with her own conclusions. Her wit and breeziness made her always welcome, and she could even enliven the clammy atmosphere of a young ladies' luncheon, as there was always sure to be grateful laughter at her end of the table. This success was exhilarating for a while, until she began to discover that she got very little for her pains. She herself needed stimulating; she demanded equal exertion from others; "why should she be interested in uninteresting people?" she should like to know. She didn't find out. She was already very privately admitting to herself that she "would like to shake the best circles from center to circumference." But the poor girl did not know what might be the social result, and to make a break had never occurred to her as a possibility until Nan's audacity suggested it.

So, while Bert sat on the other side of her father's desk and signed letters in her most elegant hand, "Mitchell & Co., per B.," wondering if the junior members of the firms to which she had been writing would ever guess who "B." was, or if they would conclude it stood for some stupid, round-shouldered Brown or Bates or Baker,--Nan sped down to Cathy's to be the first to announce Bert's business career, as Evelyn's new cares detained her at home.

Nan found Cathy filling a fireplace with a yellow glory of golden-rod.

"That's lovely!" commented Nan. "But what if you want a fire some of these cool evenings?"

"Why, that's the beauty of my idea; the fire is all ready to light under these, and when we want one all we have to do is to let the whole thing burn up; the golden-rod will be dried by that time, and then I can get more. See?"

"Good; that's sensible; for if there is anything I hate, it is a grate too fine to have a big, roaring fire in it. You always were an artist in flowers. But that isn't what I came to remark. What do you suppose Bert has done now?"

Then followed a long talk, such as only girls are equal to, during which Bert's clerkship and Evelyn's housekeeping venture were discussed, and Nan's own plans divulged.

"Oh, me!" Cathy sighed hopelessly. "This is all very soul-stirring; I only am behind. I can't dash about and assert myself as you girls do, and besides, I think it is my duty to stay at home with Mother."

This duty Cathy had borne sweetly, for her mother was a doleful companion, who was making the mistake of casting a shadow over this daughter's life because her only other daughter had not been spared to her. This grief and the loss of her husband many years before had not taught her to make the lives of those still left to her as happy as possible; yet Cathy cheerfully made "sunshine in a shady place," while Fred manfully shouldered his father's business, which weighed heavily on his young shoulders.

"But I do want an object in life besides," continued Cathy, "for staying where I am put is only half my duty. If I should relieve Mother of the housekeeping I believe she would die, so I can't follow Evelyn's example. What _can_ I do?" she asked mournfully.

Nan was reflecting that there were three kinds of girls,--those who led, like Bert; those who are led, like Evelyn; and those who must be pushed, like Cathy. "And maybe it is my duty to push," she thought.

"Well, Catherine," she began, settling herself in her chair, "would you really like to earn your own living?"

"Yes; I most certainly should like to do something toward it, for I have often wondered if dear old Fred didn't forego part of his own profits from the nursery for our sakes. Did you girls find out your vocations all alone, without any help or suggestion from others?" she continued.

"Bert did, of course," said Nan. "Who ever knew her to take advice from anybody? But Evelyn and I talked all day and all night, and alternately propped each other's falling spirits, and last night the jury of the entire family sat upon us!"

"Oh, yes----" and Cathy sighed again. "But you see I have nobody. Mother wouldn't be interested, and Fred wouldn't hear of such a thing. He thinks a girl should be very feminine, and let her brother support her if she has no father. No, I must get on without sympathy."

"But you shan't! _I'm_ here on purpose to help you as I have been helped. I feel it my duty to pass on the impulse."

"You are a dear, good girl, and I love you," Cathy said gratefully. "I'll be your humble servant and do just what you tell me. I wish I could go to New York with you and take lessons in flower-painting."

"You'd never get rich selling a daisy and a lily and a little buttercup. You would better go to raising golden-rod in your brother's nursery, and then peddle it about the city, filling people's fireplaces at a dollar apiece!"

"I wish I could. Do you know, I should just love to raise flowers----"

"_That's it!_" screamed Nan delightedly. "Just the thing! Have a hot-house,--cut-flowers for the million,--beat Haas & Schaeffer out of town! You could do it, Cathy; you have exquisite taste in flowers, and everybody will be crazy to have a basket or bouquet from the high-art green-house! We girls will always buy of you,--why, Haas sent me a lot of carnations for the Atwood party without any _stems_ to them----"

"And he never knows enough to have narcissus or daffodils, or any of those stylish flowers!" excitedly broke in Cathy, with dilated eyes.

"And don't you charge _quite_ five dollars apiece for rose-buds either!"

"And I will cut _lots_ of leaves with them; and funeral people shall _not_ have those hideous 'gates ajar' from my establishment!"

But at this both girls burst into a merry laugh, and seriously set about discussing the ways and means.

Cathy decided to find out the cost of such an undertaking, and the business outlook of the project before consulting Fred.

Nan remembered that her father knew a man somehow connected with a green-house in another city.

Cathy mentioned a certain corner of their grounds where she could build hers.

Nan suggested that she go down to Johnson's and see what books there were on the subject; and so on, until at last they parted with a happy sense of lively stir and aim.

But these four fortunes were not made in a day, and the time seemed long before much but discouragement was achieved. Just here is where the masculine pertinacity is valuable. Business results are slow, and the feminine mind chafes at delay, and wants to see the net gain immediately.

Bert found stenography very tedious, if not quite a bore; and there came many days when she would have been willing to slip back into social inertness, and keep to her slippers and book rather than present herself in the dingy office. Although, when once she had conquered, it wasn't so bad, for there _was_ a bright rug on the floor, and a small feather-duster, hung up by a scarlet ribbon, did effective service. Her sense of the humorous also came to her aid, for the expression of relieved suspense she caught on her father's face as she appeared regularly morning after morning amused her, and the one of loving friendliness that began to settle there more than repaid her.

On Saturday, at the end of her first week, she found a little pile of silver by her plate. She regarded it curiously for a moment, then inquired doubtfully:

"Is this the exact sum you would have paid to a Mr. Snipkins, had such a person been hired in my place, and done the work I have done?"

"Exactly, Bertha; no more, no less," her father replied, smiling.

"_Earned_," she murmured, slowly dropping the pieces one by one into her purse. "What a queer feeling! Money for an equivalent given--I don't believe I shall ever spend it!"

Mr. Mitchell looked particularly pleased, as he said: "Ah, you begin to appreciate what a dollar stands for."

Evelyn's table blossomed out into all manner of pretty devices, each studied from a newly purchased cook-book. The butter reposed in beautifully shaped rolls on a feathery bed of parsley; even homely roasted potatoes looked inviting as they lay in a nest made of the snowy folds of a fringed napkin. Mr. Ferris declared he was twice fed by Evelyn's banquets. So it was all very fine until the bills came in at the end of the month; not that daintiness in serving cost anything, but she had erred in other directions. Evelyn was in consternation, for she had confidently supposed she could save a snug little bit from the sum allotted for housekeeping expenses, and this amount she was at liberty to spend as she chose, and she had already chosen to get a dozen tinted finger-glasses, a Japanese bowl for broken ice, another for salad, and so on, until, to her mind's eye, her table was a dream of color and form; but when that eye opened on the grocery bill, and the butcher's bill, and the milk bill, and then on minus six dollars and eighty-five cents, it nearly dropped a tear of shame and disappointment.

"No," she thought, after suppressing her first impulse to ask her mother what to do, "no! If I have been extravagant, I must find out where, and pay for it; and this deficit shall come out of my own allowance. Next month I will do better."

And she did.

Nan wrote from New York, about the middle of November:

"Thanksgiving is coming, but I'm not. As my highest earthly
desire is to earn twenty-five dollars, I'm not going to spend
that much, especially as I haven't got it, for just two days'
pleasure. I may mention, by way of a mere casual remark, that
at present there isn't the dimmest possibility of my earning a
punched coin this year, unless I happen to take a prize next
spring. In my own humble imagination I have already done this
and have, of course, chosen the things I shall buy with the
money! But I do wish there were no rudiments to learn. They
keep one back so! All this week I've devoted the forces of my
nature to drawing straight lines and angles, However, I have
long suspected that one of my faults was dislike of real hard
work, so I am going to 'peg right along,' and lay foundations.

"There are several nice girls in the class, and Aunt Hettie
says that I may invite Ruth Manning, who has no home to go to,
here to Thanksgiving dinner. I am having a gay time shaking up
this quiet house. I play "loud waltzes on the piano," and sing
at the top of my voice, which you well know penetrates to the
gables of the garret, until the silence of these sepulchral
rooms is put to flight. I am also adding worldly touches to
these same tombs, and dear Aunty sees how much prettier they
look, and wonders she never thought of the little changes I've
made. And what do you think--I trimmed her up a bonnet; quite
different from her usual head-gear, I can tell you, with really
a furtive air of _style_ about it!--and I held her before the
glass until I _made_ her own that she liked it; and when I
marched her in to show it to Uncle Nat, and commanded him to
say it was becoming, he said it looked like one she wore when
he was courting her, whereat he kissed her, and she blushed
with pleasure. _She will wear that bonnet next Sunday_,
although I think she expects instant excommunication.

"Tell Evelyn I long for the locusts and wild honey she seems to
be serving up so charmingly; also that we made a great hit when
we made over my brown suit, for it is quite 'the thing.' I
think it is splendid of Fred Drake to loan Cathy the money to
start her green things.

"I'm going to paper my room with common manilla paper, when I
get home, and then put splashes of gilt on it, happy-go-lucky
style. I saw a room done so.

"Hug yourselves all around, for
"Your loving
"NAN FERRIS."

Yes, Cathy's brother behaved nobly when he once found she was determined; and, when this hitherto gentle and submissive creature announced to him that she could get her house built, heated, and stocked for from six to eight hundred dollars, mentioning other items showing careful study of the subject, and asked if she could not have that amount out of her share of the property, he not only promised to "fix it some way," and chucked her under the chin, as a special mark of tenderness, but offered her the services of a young German boy who was in his employ.

So it was not long before the sound of the hammer was heard in the land, and the first snowflakes of winter fell on countless panes of glass, while her little forest of tender plants sprouted and climbed, and blossomed in the humid air below.

(_To be continued._)

LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY.

BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.