Mildred's New Daughter

“I don’t know,” was the reply in a meditative tone. “Bring them along if you like and let me see them. I’m inclined to think your better plan would be to buy some muslin and make up the garments; then sell them on your own account here in the store; you may do it and welcome.”

“Oh, thank you! how kind you are!” exclaimed Ethel joyously. Then with a promise to be there early the next day, she bade good-by and hastened on her homeward way in a nutter of excitement. She was, oh, so glad that at last a prospect was opening before her of being some day able to earn money for the support of herself, and her brother and sisters. And how delightful that she could at once relieve her uncles of all expense for her own maintenance. They would surely be pleased that she was to become at once self-supporting; for only a day or two before this she had overheard some talk between her cousins Arabella and Olive in which they spoke of the expense their father and uncle were at in supporting their orphan cousins, pronouncing it a shame that it should be so now when everything was so costly in consequence of the war.

It had made Ethel feel very badly, and greatly increased her longing desire to be able to earn her own living; and surely, taking all this into consideration, her uncles must approve of the effort she was about to make.

And it could hardly be worse to work in that store for so pleasant and kind a woman, as Mrs. Baker evidently was, than to be expected to wait at all times and seasons upon her aunt and cousins, meekly receiving and obeying all their orders, and bearing fault-finding and scolding without retort or remonstrance, no matter how unkind and unjust she might feel it to be. The only hard part would be the separation from her brother and younger sisters, particularly Nannette, who was so accustomed to lean upon her and had been so long her special charge. The tears would fall as she thought of that.

But suddenly realizing that she had certainly been out much longer than she had expected, and would probably be assailed with a torrent of reproaches on her arrival at home, she hastily wiped away her tears and quickened her steps.

Her reception on her arrival was even worse than she had feared.

“Mrs. Eldon wants you up there in her dressin’ room right away, Miss Ethel,” said the girl who opened the door and admitted her in answer to her ring.

“Very well,” Ethel replied, and tripped lightly up the stairs, though her heart beat at the prospect before her.

She found her aunt lying idly on the sofa in her dressing gown and slippers, her hair in curl papers, and a paper-covered novel in her hand. “Well, miss,” she exclaimed, “a pretty time you have been gone, leaving me lying here with nobody to read to me; for your cousins are all too busy of course, and not one of them has a voice so well suited to allay the nervousness that drives me so nearly distracted.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Augusta,” replied the young girl in a patient tone. “I did not mean to stay so long, but I had some errands – ”

“Oh, did you match that lace?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethel answered, taking a little roll from her pocket. “Here it is.”

“Then make haste and carry it to the sewing room, and tell Miss Finch to baste it in the neck and sleeves of that new black silk of mine. Then leave your hat and sack in your own room and come here and read to me.”

Ethel, though longing to go in search of Nannette, from whom she must part, in a large measure, so soon, also to consider and gather together what she would need to take with her to Mrs. Baker’s, obeyed the order without any show of reluctance, and spent the next hour in reading to her aunt.

By that time Mrs. Eldon had fallen asleep, perceiving which the young girl stole silently from the room and went to her own.

But she had scarcely reached it and shut herself in when the door was opened again by someone on the outside and Arabella put in her head, asking, “Where’s that sewing silk I told you to get me? and the buttons? did you match them?”

“Yes; here they are,” returned Ethel, taking them from her pocket and handing them to her cousin.

“And why did you not bring them to me at once when you got home?”

“Aunt Augusta has kept me busy ever since.”

“You are not in her room now, are you?” queried Arabella sarcastically.

“No, but I have just come from it, and I really forgot all about the purchases for you, Arabella.”

“Well let me advise you not to forget so readily another time,” was the haughty rejoinder, and Arabella hurried away; but Ethel heard her remark to Minnie and Olive as she went into the room across the hall, “That girl isn’t worth her salt, and papa doing everything for her – feeding, clothing, and educating her. Really it would be a fine thing for him and us if she’d show spirit enough to go off and earn a living for herself.”

“She’s too young,” said Olive, “papa wouldn’t think of letting her do it; and after all she is quite useful to us – doing many a little job of mending and fixing that we wouldn’t care to do for ourselves.”

“Well, yes, she does; but if she were not here we’d do them ourselves and papa would be saved that much needless expense.”

“Needless?”

“Yes; for she is now old enough to earn her own living. There’s many a younger girl than she doing that.”

“Nonsense! you know well enough, that neither papa nor Uncle George would let her do it,” Ethel heard her cousin Minnie exclaim; but then, with a sudden recollection that she was hearing what was perhaps not intended for her ear, she closed the door with tears of wounded feeling rolling down her cheeks, and began her work of gathering together articles of clothing and other things she must take with her to her new abode.

She was glad that she had said positively she would go, for if her uncles should object she could tell them she had made a promise and must be allowed to keep it. Yet, oh, how she dreaded the telling!

At the six o’clock dinner she was very silent and a close observer might have detected traces of tears on her cheeks, but her uncle’s thoughts were upon the news of the day and some business transaction, and he failed to notice anything peculiar about his little niece.

On leaving the table he went into the library and took up the evening paper. His wife and older daughters had gone to their own apartments to dress for an evening party or concert, the younger children to the playroom, and he was alone till Ethel stole quietly in after him.

He glanced up at her as she drew near his chair.

“What is it, Ethel, my dear? have you something to say to me?” he asked pleasantly, “something you want no one else to hear?” Then noticing how her color came and went, that her eyes were full of tears and she was trembling visibly, “Why, what is it, child?” and he drew her near to his side, put an arm about her as he spoke, and bade her not to be afraid to tell him all that troubled her.

“Oh, uncle, you are so kind!” she sobbed, the tears now rolling down her cheeks; “I do love you so, but – but I can’t bear to stay here and be such an expense and burden to you when you have so many children of your own to provide for and I ought to be earning my own living.”

“Tut, tut, who has put all that nonsense into your head?” he asked in a tone of mingled amusement and irritation. “I won’t have it. I am entirely able to take care of my brother’s little girl as well as my own. So stop crying, dry your eyes, and be as happy and merry as you can, nor ever think that uncle grudges you your home, victuals, and clothes.”

“Oh, I don’t, I don’t think that, dear Uncle Albert,” she said, putting her arms about his neck and kissing him with ardent affection; “but I’m almost a woman now and I want to earn my own living and, as soon as I’m able, to help my brother and sisters; and, and – oh, please don’t be angry with me, but I – I’ve made an engagement to be a clerk in a little store with a very nice kind woman who will treat me just like one of the family and – ”

“Is it possible, Ethel!” exclaimed Mr. Eldon, and his tone was full of displeasure. “Indeed I shall allow nothing of the kind. Let my brother’s daughter go into a store? No, indeed! not while I have abundant means to support her as well as my own family.”

“But, uncle, I’ve promised,” sobbed Ethel, “and you know we must keep our promises.”

“I dare say the woman will release you from the promise; at least for a consideration, if not without. Ah, here comes your Uncle George,” as just then that gentleman entered the room.

“What do you think, brother? This foolish child has – without consulting you or me, or anybody else for that matter – engaged herself as clerk to a woman keeping a little thread and needle store.”

“Well, that’s astounding news!” exclaimed Mr. George Eldon, seating himself and looking very hard, with something of a frown on his face, at Ethel. “Come here, child, and tell me all about it.”

Ethel obeyed, wiping her eyes and saying pleadingly, “Please, uncle, don’t be angry with me. I – I can’t bear to be such an expense to Uncle Albert now when I’m getting so old, and so – ”

“Ay, yes, very big and very old,” he returned, taking her hand and drawing her to him; “so big and so old that it must cost a great deal to feed and dress you. Uncle Albert ought to be very glad to get rid of such an expense. And you are never of any use; don’t do any errands for Aunt Augusta or her daughters or make yourself useful in any way.” He looked so grave and spoke in such a serious tone that Ethel felt puzzled.

“I have tried to be of use, uncle,” she said humbly, “but I know they can do very well without me. And I want to learn to make money, so that I can help Blanche and Harry and Nannette; because after a while it will cost a great deal to clothe and feed and educate them; and you and Uncle Albert have your own children to take care of.”

“Well, really! she’s not so much of a baby as I had thought,” he said, looking searchingly into her face with a grim sort of a smile on his own. “How old are you, Ethel, my sage niece?”

“In my sixteenth year, uncle. So you see I’m not a baby but almost a woman.”

“Ah, well! let us hear all about these plans and prospects.”

Thus encouraged, Ethel went at once into all the particulars of her interview with Mrs. Baker, what she had engaged to do, and what she hoped to accomplish. Her uncles listened attentively, and finding they could not persuade her to a willing relinquishment of her project, finally consented to allow her to make the trial; stipulating however that if she found the exertion too great, or for any reason was unhappy or uncomfortable in her new quarters, she should at once give up the effort at self-support, and return to her present home; Uncle Albert assuring her of a warm welcome there.

CHAPTER XV

From the library Ethel went up to the schoolroom, where Nannette and the younger cousins were engaged with their tasks for the morrow.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come at last, Ethel, dear,” said Nannette. “It always seems lonesome without you, and besides I want your help with this lesson; it’s so hard, and you always know how to explain things and make them easy.”

Ethel’s eyes filled. What would Nan, dear little Nan, do without her big sister, who had always tried to bear every burden for her? But conquering her emotion by a great and determined effort, she took a seat by her little sister’s side and gave the needed help.

The children were required to study only one hour in the evening, and soon books were laid aside and they ran off to the nursery for a game of romps before going to bed. But Ethel lingered behind, and Miss Olney, the governess, presently enquired in a kindly tone if there was anything she wanted to say to her. Then Ethel’s story came out, and with tears she confessed that the hardest part was the leaving of Nannette without her sisterly care and assistance with her tasks.

“Never mind that, dear child,” Miss Olney said, softly stroking the young girl’s hair; “I will take your place in that. And though I am sorry indeed to part with so docile and industrious a pupil as yourself, I think you are doing just right; and I believe the Lord will bless and help you. And you know you will not be far away and we may hope to see you frequently. From what you tell me of Mrs. Baker I feel assured that she will prove a kind and pleasant employer, making you feel yourself just one of the family – not a stranger about whom they care nothing. Also I think the knowledge that you can come back to your home here at any time if you will, sure of a welcome from your kind uncle – and I dare say all the family – will make it all the easier for you to be happy in your new surroundings.”

“Yes, ma’am, my uncles are very, very kind to me, to my brother and sisters too; and Harry and the girls can come to Mrs. Baker’s sometimes to see me; any of the rest of course, but I hardly suppose my aunt, uncles, or cousins will care to do that.”

“But possibly I may, one of these days,” returned Miss Olney with a smile.

“I’d be delighted to see you,” Ethel said, her eyes shining. “Oh, I don’t think I need feel unhappy or as if I were alone in the world. Would you tell Nan about it to-night, Miss Olney?”

“No, I think not. Let her sleep in peace. I wouldn’t tell her until after breakfast to-morrow.”

Ethel intended to act in accordance with that advice, but on going to her own room found Nan there standing with her eyes fastened upon the trunk her sister had been packing.

“Why, what’s this trunk doing here?” she asked. “Are we going away, sister? Oh, I hope it’s to visit at Mr. Keith’s again, though I didn’t suppose we’d be going there so early in the season.”

“No, we are not, Nan, dear,” returned Ethel in trembling tones, and catching her little sister in her arms she held her close, kissing her again and again while the great tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs almost choked her.

“O, Ethel, what’s the matter?” cried Nan in affright. “Oh, don’t say you’re going away from me! If you are going you must take me along, for I could never, never do without you! You know I couldn’t.”

Ethel struggled with her emotion, and presently finding her voice, “I’m not going very far, Nan, dear,” she said with a fresh burst of sobs; “and I ought not to cry for it’s best I should go – it will be the best in the end I’m sure, and our uncles are willing.”

“Going where?” asked Nan wildly. “Oh, you shan’t go! I can’t do without you, you know I can’t!”

“But it’s to make the home for you and Blanche and Harry and me; besides, I’ll not be far away and we can often visit each other, and when at last we get the dear home, oh, how happy we shall be!”

“But where are you going? and how do you expect to make the home?”

In answer to that Ethel told the whole story, winding up with, “You see, Nan, dear, it will not be so very hard; in fact, I think I shall like it very much – it will be so nice to feel that I am earning money toward the dear home we shall surely have some day. The worst of it is leaving you; but then it is not at all as if I were going far away; we can see each other very often, perhaps almost every day, and you can tell me all your little secrets just as you always have, and whatever I can do to help you I will. You’re sure of that, aren’t you, darling little sister?”

“Yes, yes; but oh, I shall miss you so much! I don’t see what I can do without you.”

“You won’t be all alone, dear,” returned Ethel soothingly; “the dear Lord Jesus will be just as near and able to help and comfort you as ever, and just as ready to hear your prayers as if you were a woman. You won’t forget that?”

“No; but oh, I shall want you too!” wailed Nan, hiding her face on Ethel’s shoulder.

“But, remember, I’m not going far away, dear Nan, and we may see each other very often,” repeated Ethel. “Besides, you will be here with dear Uncle Albert; and the cousins are almost always kind nowadays. Now let us kneel down and say our prayers and then get into bed and go to sleep, and you will feel better in the morning.”

“O Ethel, is this the last time we’ll sleep together?” sobbed Nan, creeping into her sister’s arms as they laid themselves down upon the bed.

“For a while, I suppose,” returned Ethel, trying hard to speak cheerfully. “But don’t think about that, dear Nan, but about the good time coming, when we shall have our own home – all four of us together – and oh, such a good, happy time!”

“But oh, it will be so long to wait,” sighed the little girl, and Ethel felt like echoing the sigh, for her heart was very sore over Nan’s distress as well as her own sorrow, that they must now learn to live apart, at least for a time. But both at length wept themselves to sleep.

The situation did not look very much brighter to them in the morning, and there were traces of tears upon the cheeks of both when they took their places at the breakfast table.

Their aunt had not come down. She was seldom present at that early meal. But all the cousins except Arabella were in their places, and it seemed that all the older ones looked askance and with no very pleasant expression at her.

But her uncle said good-morning in a very kindly tone, and heaped her plate and Nannette’s with the most tempting viands the table afforded.

Ethel’s heart was very full. She ate with but little appetite and had finished her meal before any of the rest had satisfied their appetites. Her uncle saw it, and on leaving the table called her into the library, where he could speak to her alone.

“Well, my child,” he said, “I hope you have thought better of it by this time and do not want to leave us.”

At that Ethel’s tears began to fall. “I’m sorry, oh, so sorry, to leave you, uncle,” she replied, “but you know promises have to be kept, and I did promise to try it. So please don’t be angry with me.”

“I am sorry, like yourself, my dear child,” he said; “but do not blame you. Perhaps it is best you should try the plan; for as you can come back whenever you wish, it will not be risking a great deal, and I fear you will never be content until you have made the experiment. Your aunt and cousins all know about it and naturally are rather displeased, thinking it a proof that you do not value your home here as you might.”

“Oh, uncle, how can they think that! I am very, very grateful for your kindness in giving me such a home for so many years; but it would be asking too much of you to keep on supporting me and my sister Nannette now when I have grown old enough to do something for myself and may hope, if I begin at once to learn to make money, that in a few years I may be able to help her and Blanche and Harry till they too are able to earn their own living. Don’t you really think, uncle, that it is what is right and best for me to do?”

“That is a question we need not discuss now, since you are decided to try it,” he said, looking at his watch. “Well, child, I must be off to my business now; so let me kiss you good-by, and do not forget that if you want to come back at any time, your Uncle Albert’s door is always open to you – his dead brother’s daughter.” He took her in his arms and caressed her tenderly as he spoke.

“Dear uncle, you have always been so good, so good and kind to me!” she sobbed, clinging about his neck. “Oh, don’t ever think for one minute that it’s because I don’t love you dearly, dearly, that I’m going away.”

“No, I do not think that,” he said soothingly, caressing her hair and cheek with his hand, “but if you come back soon to stay with me, I shall think that is a proof that you do love me.”

“Indeed, indeed, I do!” she exclaimed earnestly, the tears coursing down her cheeks as she spoke. “And mayn’t I come here to see you when I wish and can be spared from the store?”

“Certainly; and it is possible I may some day call in upon you. Give me your address.”

She gave it, and he wrote it down in his notebook.

“How soon do you go?” he asked.

“I promised to be there by nine o’clock this morning,” she replied.

“So soon? Well, then I think it will not be best for you to see your aunt before starting. She is not likely to be up and would not wish to be disturbed, and you will be in again soon. So just leave your good-by with the girls.”

Ethel was well content with that arrangement, for she had dreaded the parting interview with Mrs. Eldon; besides she was pressed for time to finish her packing and take leave of the others.

The adieus of her cousins were very coldly spoken, and no interest shown in her new enterprise. That saddened her, though she had hardly expected anything else. But the parting with Nannette, who wept and clung to her in an almost frantic abandonment of grief and despair, was the hardest thing of all. Blanche and Harry also were much distressed over the parting, but forgot their own sorrow in efforts to soothe and comfort poor little Nannette. At last Blanche succeeded in doing so in a measure by promising that when they were out for their walk that afternoon they would all go to see Ethel in her new abode.

“Oh, yes, so you must! That’s a good idea, Blanche,” exclaimed Ethel. “I don’t think Mrs. Baker will mind, and I shall be just as glad to see you as you will be to see me.”

“But are we sure to be able to find the place?” asked Harry, standing near. “Here, I’ll write it down – street and number, I mean,” taking a small blank book from his pocket as he spoke, “and then we’ll be sure not to forget.”

“That’s right, Harry,” Ethel said with a faint smile. “I think you are going to make a good business man, as Uncle Albert says.” She gave the requested information, then a hasty and last good-by to each and hurried away, leaving Nannette in tears, the other two looking distressed and woe-begone.

CHAPTER XVI

Ethel left her uncle’s house in tears, but before reaching her destination had wiped them away and assumed an air of determined cheerfulness. Mrs. Baker gave her a kindly reception, said she was glad to see her, hoped she would never find reason to regret having come, and bade her sit down by the stove and get well warmed before taking off her hat and sack, for it was a cold, blustering March day.

“We’ll not be likely to have much custom to-day,” she remarked presently; “it’s so raw and cold out that I should think folks that have no particular call to go abroad would be likely to stay at home. Perhaps it’s a good thing for us, as we’ll have time to look over the bits of needlework you were telling me of. You have brought them along, I suppose?”

“I put them in my trunk,” replied Ethel.

“And that’s come and been carried up to your room; and when you’re right warm you may bring them down, if you choose.”

Ethel presently availed herself of the permission, and Mrs. Baker and her mother, Mrs. Ray, both examined the work with interest. “I think they are very handsome indeed, and shouldn’t wonder if she’d find a customer for them – some of them, anyhow – directly,” remarked the old lady. “I never saw as pretty work done by one so young.”

“I quite agree with you, mother, and hope she’ll make a good deal on them,” returned Mrs. Baker, with a pleasant smile into Ethel’s face, now rosy with pleasure at their warm commendation of her work. “I advise you to keep on, Ethel, as you tell me you have been doing, using spare moments in adding to your stock, and I think you’ll find it paying you well one of these days,” she continued, addressing the young girl. “If you wish, I’ll buy a piece of muslin for you some day soon when I’m out purchasing goods for the store. I think maybe I can get a better bargain than you could, seeing you are so young and not used, as I am, to such business; then I’ll help you with the cutting out of the garments, so that they’ll be ready when you can find time to work on them.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” exclaimed Ethel, tears of gratitude springing to her eyes, “you are very kind to me.”

“Tut, child, I haven’t done anything yet to speak of,” laughed the kind-hearted woman. “But I want to do by you as I’d want anyone to do by my little Jenny, if she should ever be left fatherless and motherless, poor little soul!” glancing with moistened eyes at her four-year-old daughter, who was playing about the floor.

“Dear little thing!” Ethel said, holding out her hand to the child, who had paused in her play to look wonderingly from one to the other, “she reminds me of what my little sister Nan was when God took our father and mother to heaven.”