Nobody

"I try to have it always. Grandmother thinks that the way – the bestway – to keep a Sunday school together, is to make the lessonsinteresting."

"I am sure she is right!" said Mr. Dillwyn.

"But to the point," said Mrs. Barclay. "Lois, they will do this thing,I can see. The question now is, do you care whether it is done ill orwell?"

"Certainly! If it is done, I should wish it to be as well done aspossible. Failure is more than failure."

"How about ways and means?"

"Money? O, if the people all set their hearts on it, they could do itwell enough. But they are slow to take hold of anything out of thecommon run they are accustomed to. The wheels go in ruts atShampuashuh."

"Shampuashuh is not the only place," said Philip. "Then will you let anoutsider help?"

"Help? We would be very glad of help," said Madge; but Lois remarked,

"I think the church ought to do it themselves, if they want to do it."

"Well, hear my plan," said Mr. Dillwyn. "I think you objected to tworival trees?"

"I object to rival anythings," said Lois; "in church mattersespecially."

"Then I propose that no tree be set up, but instead, that you let Santa

Claus come in with his sledge."

"Santa Claus!" cried Lois. "Who would be Santa Claus?"

"An old man in a white mantle, his head and beard covered with snow andfringed with icicles; his dress of fur; his sledge a large one, andwell heaped up with things to delight the children. What do you think?"

Madge's colour rose, and Lois's eye took a sparkle; both were silent.

Then Madge spoke.

"I don't see how that plan could be carried out, any more than theother. It is a great deal better, it is magnificent; but it is agreat deal too magnificent for Shampuashuh."

"Why so?"

"Nobody here knows how to do it."

"I know how."

"You! O but, – that would be too much – "

"All you have to do is to get the other things ready, and let it beknown that at the proper time Santa Claus will appear, with awell-furnished sled. Sharp on time."

"Well-furnished! – but there again – I don't believe we can raise moneyenough for that."

"How much money?" asked Dillwyn, with an amused smile.

"O, I can't tell – I suppose a hundred dollars at least."

"I have as much as that lying useless – it may just as well do somegood. It never was heard that anybody but Santa Claus furnished his ownsled. If you will allow me, I will take care of that."

"How splendid!" cried Madge. "But it is too much; it wouldn't be rightfor us to let you do all that for a church that is nothing to you."

"On the contrary, you ought to encourage me in my first endeavours tomake myself of some use in the world. Miss Madge, I have never, so far, done a bit of good in my life."

"O, Mr. Dillwyn! I cannot believe that. People do not grow useful soall of a sudden, without practice," said Madge, hitting a great generaltruth.

"It is a fact, however," said he, half lightly, and yet evidentlymeaning what he said. "I have lived thirty-two years in theworld – nearly thirty-three – without making my life of the least use toanybody so far as I know. Do you wonder that I seize a chance?"

Lois's eyes were suddenly lifted, and then as suddenly lowered; she didnot speak.

"I can read that," he said laughingly, for his eyes had caught theglance. "You mean, if I am so eager for chances, I might make them!Miss Lois, I do not know how."

"Come, Philip," said Mrs. Barclay, "you are making your characterunnecessarily bad. I know you better than that. Think what you havedone for me."

"I beg your pardon," said he. "Think what you have done for me. Thatscore cannot be reckoned to my favour. Have no scruples, Miss Madge, about employing me. Though I believe Miss Lois thinks the good of thisundertaking a doubtful one. How many children does your school number?"

"All together, – and they would be sure for once to be alltogether! – there are a hundred and fifty."

"Have you the names?"

"O, certainly."

"And ages – proximately?"

"Yes, that too."

"And you know something, I suppose, about many of them; something abouttheir families and conditions?"

"About all of them?" said Madge. "Yes, indeed we do."

"Till Mrs. Barclay came, you must understand," put in Lois here, "wehad nothing, or not much, to study besides Shampuashuh; so we studiedthat."

"And since Mrs. Barclay came? – " asked Philip.

"O, Mrs. Barclay has been opening one door after another of knowledge, and we have been peeping in."

"And what special door offers most attraction to your view, of themall?"

"I don't know. I think, perhaps, for me, geology and mineralogy; butalmost every one helps in the study of the Bible."

"O, do they!" said Dillwyn somewhat dryly.

"I like music best," said Madge.

"But that is not a door into knowledge," objected Lois.

"I meant, of all the doors Mrs. Barclay has opened to us."

"Mrs. Barclay is a favoured person."

"It is we that are favoured," said Madge. "Our life is a differentthing since she came. We hope she will never go away." Then Madgecoloured, with some sudden thought, and she went back to the formersubject. "Why do you ask about the children's ages and all that, Mr.Dillwyn?"

"I was thinking – When a thing is to be done, I like to do it well. Itoccurred to me, that as Santa Claus must have something on his sledgefor each one, it might be good, if possible, to secure some adaptationor fitness in the gift. Those who would like books should have books, and the right books; and playthings had better not go astray, if we canhelp it; and perhaps the poorer children would be better for articlesof clothing. – I am only throwing out hints."

"Capital hints!" said Lois. "You mean, if we can tell what would begood for each one – I think we can, pretty nearly. But there are fewpoor people in Shampuashuh, Mr. Dillwyn."

"Shampuashuh is a happy place."

"This plan will give you an immensity of work, Mr. Dillwyn."

"What then?"

"I have scruples. It is not fair to let you do it. What is Shampuashuhto you?"

"It might be difficult to make that computation," said Mr. Dillwyndryly. "Have no scruples, Miss Lois. As I told you, I have nothingbetter to do with myself. If you can make me useful, it will be a rarechance."

"But there are plenty of other things to do, Mr. Dillwyn," said Lois.

He gave her only a glance and smile by way of answer, and plungedimmediately into the business question with Madge. Lois sat by, silentand wondering, till all was settled that could be settled that evening, and she and Madge went back to the other room.

CHAPTER XXXVII

AN OYSTER SUPPER

"Hurrah!" cried Madge, but softly – "Now it will go! Mother! what do youthink? Guess, Charity! Mr. Dillwyn is going to take our Sunday schoolcelebration on himself; he's going to do it; and we're to have, not astupid Christmas tree, but Santa Claus and his sled; and he'll be SantaClaus! Won't it be fun?"

"Who'll be Santa Claus?" said Charity, looking stupefied.

"Mr. Dillwyn. In fact, he'll be Santa Claus and his sled too; he'll dothe whole thing. All we have got to do is to dress the children andourselves, and light up the church."

"Will the committees like that?"

"Like it? Of course they will! Like it, indeed! Don't you see it willsave them all expense? They'll have nothing to do but dress up andlight up."

"And warm up too, I hope. What makes Mr. Dillwyn do all that? I don'tjust make out."

"I'll tell you," said Madge, shaking her finger at the othersimpressively. "He's after Mrs. Barclay. So this gives him a chance tocome here again, don't you see?"

"After Mrs. Barclay?" repeated Charity. "I want to know!"

"I don't believe it," said Lois. "She is too old for him."

"She's not old," said Madge. "And he is no chicken, my dear. You'llsee. It's she he's after. He's coming next time as Santa Claus, that'sall. And we have got to make out a list of things – things forpresents, – for every individual girl and boy in the Sunday school; there's a job for you. Santa Claus will want a big sled."

"Who is going to do what?" inquired Mrs. Armadale here. "I don'tunderstand, you speak so fast, children."

"Mother, instead of a Christmas tree, we are going to have Santa Clausand his sled; and the sled is to be heaped full of presents for all thechildren; and Mr. Dillwyn is going to do it, and get the presents, andbe Santa Claus himself."

"How, be Santa Claus?"

"Why, he will dress up like Santa Claus, and come in with his sled."

"Where?"

"In the church, grandmother; there is no other place. The other churchhave their Sunday-school room you know; but we have none."

"They are going to have their tree in the church, though," saidCharity; "they reckon the Sunday-school room won't be big enough tohold all the folks."

"Are they going to turn the church into a playhouse?" Mrs. Armadaleasked.

"It's for the sake of the church and the school, you know, mother.Santa Claus will come in with his sled and give his presents, – that isall. At least, that is all the play there will be."

"What else will there be?"

"O, there'll be singing, grandma," said Madge; "hymns and carols andsuch things, that the children will sing; and speeches and prayers, Isuppose."

"The church used to be God's house, in my day," said the old lady, witha concerned face, looking up from her knitting, while her fingers wenton with their work as busily as ever.

"They don't mean it for anything else, grandmother," said Madge. "It'sall for the sake of the school."

"Maybe they think so," the old lady answered.

"What else, mother? what else should it be?"

But this she did not answer.

"What's Mr. Dillwyn got to do with it?" she asked presently.

"He's going to help," said Madge. "It's nothing but kindness. Hesupposes it is something good to do, and he says he'd like to beuseful."

"He hain't no idea how," said Mrs. Armadale, "Poor creatur'! You cantell him, it ain't the Lord's work he's doin'."

"But we cannot tell him that, mother," said Lois.

"If the people want to have this celebration, – and they will, – hadn'twe better make it a good one? Is it really a bad thing?"

"The devil's ways never help no one to heaven, child, not if they gosingin' hymns all the way."

"But, mother!" cried Madge. "Mr. Dillwyn ain't a Christian, maybe, buthe ain't as bad as that."

"I didn't mean Mr. Dillwyn, dear, nor no one else. I meant theatrework."

"Santa Claus, mother?"

"It's actin', ain't it?"

The girls looked at each other.

"There's very little of anything like acting about it," Lois said.

"'Make straight paths for your feet'!" said Mrs. Armadale, rising to goto bed. "'Make straight paths for your feet,' children. Straight waysis the shortest too. If the chil'en that don't love their teacherswants to go to the yellow church, let 'em go. I'd rather have the Lordin a little school, than Santa Claus in a big one."

She was leaving the room, but the girls stayed her and begged to knowwhat they should do in the matter of the lists they were engaged toprepare for Mr. Dillwyn.

"You must do what you think best," she said. "Only don't be mixed upwith it all any more than you can help, Lois."

Why did the name of one child come to her lips and not the other? Didthe old lady's affection, or natural acuteness, discern that Mr.Dillwyn was not drawn to Shampuashuh by any particular admiration ofhis friend Mrs. Barclay? Had she some of that preternatural intuition, plain old country woman though she was, which makes a woman see theinvisible and hear the inaudible? which serves as one of the naturalmeans of defence granted to the weaker creatures. I do not know; I donot think she knew; however, the warning was given, and not on thatoccasion alone. And as Lois heeded all her grandmother's admonitions, although in this case without the most remote perception of thispossible ground to them, it followed that Mr. Dillwyn gained less byhis motion than he had hoped and anticipated.

The scheme went forward, hailed by the whole community belonging to thewhite church, with the single exception of Mrs. Armadale. It wentforward and was brought to a successful termination. I might say, atriumphant termination; only the triumph was not for Mr. Dillwyn, ornot in the line where he wanted it. He did his part admirably. A betterSanta Claus was never seen, nor a better filled sled. And genialpleasantness, and wise management, and cool generalship, and fun andkindness, were never better represented. So it was all through theconsultations and arrangements that preceded the festival, as well ason the grand occasion itself; and Shampuashuh will long remember thetime with wonder and exultation; but it was Madge who was Mr. Dillwyn'scoadjutor and fellow-counsellor. It was Madge and Mrs. Barclay whohelped him in all the work of preparing and ticketing the parcels forthe sled; as well as in the prior deliberations as to what the parcelsshould be. Madge seemed to be the one at hand always to answer aquestion. Madge went with him to the church; and in general, Lois, though sympathizing and curious, and interested and amused, was verymuch out of the play. Not so entirely as to make the fact striking; only enough to leave Mr. Dillwyn disappointed and tantalized.

I am not going into a description of the festival and the show. Thechildren sang; the minister made a speech to them, not ten consecutivewords of which were listened to by three-quarters of the people. Thechurch was filled with men, women, and children; the walls were hungwith festoons and wreaths, and emblazoned with mottoes; the anthems andcarols followed each other till the last thread of patience in thewaiting crowd gave way. And at last came what they were waitingfor – Santa Claus, all fur robes and snow and icicles, dragging afterhim a sledge that looked like a small mountain with the heap ofarticles piled and packed upon it. And then followed a very busy anddelightful hour and a half, during which the business was – thedistribution of pleasure. It was such warm work for Santa Claus, thatat the time he had no leisure for thinking. Naturally, the thinkingcame afterwards.

He and Mrs. Barclay sat by her fire, resting, after coming home fromthe church. Dillwyn was very silent and meditative.

"You must be glad it is done, Philip," said his friend, watching him, and wishing to get at his thoughts.

"I have no particular reason to be glad."

"You have done a good thing."

"I am not sure if it is a good thing. Mrs. Armadale does not think so."

"Mrs. Armadale has rather narrow notions."

"I don't know. I should be glad to be sure she is not right. It'sdiscouraging," he added, with half a smile; – "for the first time in mylife I set myself to work; and now am not at all certain that I mightnot just as well have been idle."

"Work is a good thing in itself," said Mrs. Barclay, smiling.

"Pardon me! – work for an end. Work without an end – or with the end notattained – it is no better than a squirrel in a wheel."

"You have given a great deal of pleasure."

"To the children! For ought I know, they might have been just as wellwithout it. There will be a reaction to-morrow, very likely; and thenthey will wish they had gone to see the Christmas tree at the otherchurch."

"But they were kept at their own church."

"How do I know that is any good? Perhaps the teaching at the otherschool is the best."

"You are tired," said Mrs. Barclay sympathizingly.

"Not that. I have done nothing to tire me; but it strikes me it is verydifficult to see one's ends in doing good; much more difficult than tosee the way to the ends."

"You have partly missed your end, haven't you?" said Mrs. Barclaysoftly.

He moved a little restlessly in his chair; then got up and began towalk about the room; then came and sat down again.

"What are you going to do next?" she asked in the same way.

"Suppose you invite them – the two girls – or her alone – to make you avisit in New York?"

"Where?"

"At any hotel you prefer; say, the Windsor."

"O Philip, Philip!" —

"What? – You could have pleasant rooms, and be quite private andcomfortable; as much as if you were in your own house."

"And what should we cost you?"

"You are not thinking of that?" said he. "I will get you a house, ifyou like it better; but then you would have the trouble of a staff ofservants. I think the Windsor would be much the easiest plan."

"You are in earnest!"

"In earnest!" he repeated in surprise. "Have you ever questioned it?You judge because you never saw me in earnest in anything before in mylife."

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Barclay. "I always knew it was in you. What youwanted was only an object."

"What do you say to my plan?"

"I am afraid they would not come. There is the care of the oldgrandmother; they would not leave everything to their sister alone."

"Tempt them with pictures and music, and the opera."

"The opera! Philip, she would not go to a theatre, or anythingtheatrical, for any consideration. They are very strict on that point, and Sunday-keeping, and dancing. Do not speak to her of the opera."

"They are not so far wrong. I never saw a decent opera yet in my life."

"Philip!" exclaimed Mrs. Barclay in the greatest surprise. "I neverheard you say anything like that before."

"I suppose it makes a difference," he said thoughtfully, "with whateyes a man looks at a thing. And dancing – I don't think I care to seeher dance."

"Philip! You are extravagant."

"I believe I should be fit to commit murder if I saw her waltzing withanybody."

"Jealous already?" said Mrs. Barclay slyly.

"If you like. – Do you see her as I see her?" he asked abruptly.

There was a tone in the last words which gave Mrs. Barclay's heart akind of constriction. She answered with gentle sympathy, "I think I do."

"I have seen handsomer women," he went on; – "Madge is handsomer, in away; you may see many women more beautiful, according to the rules; butI never saw any one so lovely!"

"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Barclay.

"I never saw anything so lovely!" he repeated. "She is most like – "

"A white lily," said Mrs. Barclay.

"No, that is not her type. No. As long as the world stands, a rose justopen will remain the fairest similitude for a perfect woman. It'scommonness cannot hinder that. She is not an unearthly Dendrobium, sheis an earthly rose —

'Not too goodFor human nature's daily food,'

– if one could find the right sort of human nature! Just so fresh, unconscious, and fair; with just such a dignity of purity about her. Icannot fancy her at the opera, or dancing."

"A sort of unapproachable tea-rose?" said Mrs. Barclay, smiling at him, though her eyes were wistful.

"No," said he, "a tea-rose is too fragile. There is nothing of thatabout her, thank heaven!"

"No," said Mrs. Barclay, "there is nothing but sound healthy life abouther; mental and bodily; and I agree with you, sweet as ever a humanlife can be. In the garden or at her books, – hark! that is for supper."

For here there came a slight tap on the door.

"Supper!" cried Philip.

"Yes; it is rather late, and the girls promised me a cup of coffee, after your exertions! But I dare say everybody wants some refreshmentby this time. Come!"

There was a cheery supper table spread in the dining-room; coffee, indeed, and Stoney Creek oysters, and excellently cooked. Only Charityand Madge were there; Mrs. Armadale had gone to bed, and Lois wasattending upon her. Mr. DilIwyn, however, was served assiduously.

"I hope you're hungry! You've done a load of good this evening, Mr.

Dillwyn," said Charity, as she gave him his coffee.

"Thank you. I don't see the connection," said Philip, with an air asdifferent as possible from that he had worn in talking to Mrs. Barclayin the next room.

"People ought to be hungry when they have done a great deal of work,"

Madge explained, as she gave him a plate of oysters.

"I do not feel that I have done any work."

"O, well! I suppose it was play to you," said Charity, "but that don'tmake any difference. You've done a load of good. Why, the children willnever be able to forget it, nor the grown folks either, as far as thatgoes; they'll talk of it, and of you, for two years, and more."

"I am doubtful about the real worth of fame, Miss Charity, even when itlasts two years."

"O, but you've done so much good!" said the lady. "Everybody sees nowthat the white church can hold her own. Nobody'll think of makingdisagreeable comparisons, if they have fifty Christmas trees."

"Suppose I had helped the yellow church?"

Charity looked as if she did not know what he would be at. Just then incame Lois and took her place at the table; and Mr. Dillwyn forgot allabout rival churches.

"Here's Mr. Dillwyn don't think he's done any good, Lois!" cried herelder sister. "Do cheer him up a little. I think it's a shame to talkso. Why, we've done all we wanted to, and more. There won't a soul goaway from our church or school after this, now they see what we can do; and I shouldn't wonder if we got some accessions from the otherinstead. And here's Mr. Dillwyn says he don't know as he's done anygood!"

Lois lifted her eyes and met his, and they both smiled.

"Miss Lois sees the matter as I do," he said. "These are capitaloysters. Where do they come from?"

"But, Philip," said Mrs. Barclay, "you have given a great deal ofpleasure. Isn't that good?"

"Depends – " said he. "Probably it will be followed by a reaction."

"And you have kept the church together," added Charity, who was zealous.

"By a rope of sand, then, Miss Charity."

"At any rate, Mr. Dillwyn, you meant to do good," Lois put in here.

"I do not know, Miss Lois. I am afraid I was thinking more of pleasure, myself; and shall experience myself the reaction I spoke of. I think Ifeel the shadow of it already, as a coming event."

"But if we aren't to have any pleasure, because afterwards we feel alittle flat, – and of course we do," said Charity; "everybody knowsthat. But, for instance, if we're not to have green peas in summer, because we can't have 'em any way but dry in winter, – things would bevery queer! Queerer than they are; and they're queer enough already."

This speech called forth some merriment.

"You think even the dry remains of pleasure are better than nothing!"said Philip. "Perhaps you are right."

"And to have those, we must have had the green reality," said Loismerrily.

"I wonder if there is any way of keeping pleasure green," said Dillwyn.

"Vain, vain, Mr. Dillwyn!" said Mrs. Barclay. "Tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe! don't you know? Solomon said, I believe, that all wasvanity. And he ought to know."

"But he didn't know," said Lois quickly.

"Lois!" said Charity – "it's in the Bible."

"I know it is in the Bible that he said so," Lois rejoined merrily.

"Was he not right, then?" Mr. Dillwyn asked.

"Perhaps," Lois answered, now gravely, "if you take simply his view."

"What was his view? Won't you explain?"

"I suppose you ain't going to set up to be wiser than Solomon, at thistime of day," said Charity severely. But that stirred Lois's merrimentagain.

"Explain, Miss Lois!" said Dillwyn.

"I am not Solomon, that I should preach," she said.

"You just said you knew better than he," said Charity. "How you shouldknow better than the Bible, I don't see. It's news."

"Why, Charity, Solomon was not a good man."

"How came he to write proverbs, then?"

"At least he was not always a good man."

"That don't hinder his knowing what was vanity, does it?"

"But, Lois!" said Mrs. Barclay. "Go back, and tell us your secret, ifyou have one. How was Solomon's view mistaken? or what is yours?"

"These things were all given for our pleasure, Mrs. Barclay."

"But they die – and they go – and they fade," said Mrs. Barclay.

"You will not understand me," said Lois; "and yet it is true. If youare Christ's – then, 'all things are yours;… the world, or life, ordeath, or things present, or things to come: all are yours.' There isno loss, but there comes more gain."