The Shoemaker's Daughters CHAPTER 5.
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"The devil!" ejaculated Ike Wilson, with an indignant expression, as he sat rubbing the sole of a boot, one morning before breakfast.
"What's the matter, Ike?" asked Tom.
"Why, I'm mad, and can't get over it."
"What are you mad about?"
"Something that Millie told me this morning."
"And what was that, Ike?" asked both the boys at once, pausing in their work.
"Why, I've found out the reason, the best friend we ever had in this house, has left it."
"Indeed! Who? Anne?"
"Of course."
"What was it, Ike?" was asked by both Tom and Bill, with an earnestness that indicated the strong interest they had in the matter.
"You wouldn't guess in a month of Sundays. But I'll tell you. Millie says, a young gentleman, Mr. Marshall, who keeps the dry goods warehouse up street, came in one night, when Gertrude and Genevra were out, and found Anne in the parlor. He was so pleased with her, that he sat and talked for half an hour. Somehow or other, they found it out, and kicked up an argument about it. They called her, to her face, a base, low, hired girl, and wanted to know how she dared to stick herself up for a lady, and entertain their company."
"The devil!" ejaculated the two eager listeners at the same moment.
"It's true as preaching! Millie says she listened at the parlor door, and heard it all."
"Well, if that doesn't beat all," said Bill. "Now, just look at it. Here's Anne Webster, who's got as much beauty in her little finger, and as much sense in her toe-nail, as Gertrude and Genevra have in their whole bodies — insulted and forced out of the house, because she happened to talk for half an hour with a man who had sense enough to be pleased with her."
"They're proud, stuck up fools! that's what they are!" said Tom, with indignant warmth. "I'll never forget them for this; now see if I do! While Anne was here, we did live a little comfortable — and that's what we never did before. It makes my blood boil all through me!"
"I don't care so much for myself," broke in Ike; "but to have such a sweet, good girl abused and insulted in that kind of a style, is too much for me to bear. Here's my hand to yours, Tom — never to forgive them for it."
"And here's mine, too," said Bill, joining his hand to those of the two worthies, in solemn compact. "I've got the devil in me, I believe, and I don't care if I have. I could bite a tenpenny nail in two!" And he ground his teeth in impotent rage.
"I relished the corn-bread and herrings — the salt beef and potatoes, well enough, after I saw her eat them so cheerfully," continued Ike, "but it made me mad to see her, the only lady in the house, forced to live on that kind of stuff, while them painted powder-monkeys upstairs, could hardly get things delicate enough for their delicate stomachs. How I wanted to give them a piece of my mind! But, then, every time I'd say anything about it, or sneer at them, before Anne, she would smile so sweetly while she checked me, that it made me love her. It was only for her sake, that I kept it in, for I wouldn't have done anything that she didn't want me to do, for the world. But she's gone now, and it will be strange if the devil isn't raised in this house before long."
"Yes, and she's gone to a better place, that's one consolation," added Tom.
"That's true, Tom," said Ike, "and I'm glad in my heart that she's better off. But that don't make the old Queen of Sheba, upstairs, any better, confound her!"
"I've got an old grudge against her, and all the rest," said Bill, "and I'll have it out with them, if I die for it. I'm for striking while the iron's hot. A good deed is always done quickly."
"That's a fact," responded Ike, warmly.
"How shall we begin?" asked Tom.
"There'll be ways enough, and we'll not have to look long to find them," said Ike.
"Them herrings beginning to smell rather bad, I'm thinking," said Bill, turning up his nose with an expression of disgust.
"Yes; and if that butter we've had for the last week wasn't made before Noah's flood, my nose is no judge," added Tom.
"Come to breakfast," said Millie, poking her black face in at the shop door, and showing a couple of rows of snow-white teeth, grinning from ear to ear.
Dropping a kit of tools on benches and floor in admirable disorder, our three worthies were drawing their chairs up to the kitchen table in one minute from the time Millie gave them notice that all was ready. Mrs. Hardamer was at the head of the table, a place she had occupied for the last two days, Anne having been gone for that time. Three herrings, a small piece of butter, and a plate of corn-bread, made up the stereotyped meal. Ike passed the plate of bread around with an air that did not escape the ever-active eyes of Mrs. Hardamer, and which put her more on her guard in observing what was to follow.
"Have some turkey?" he said, cutting a herring in two, and offering a part to Bill.
"I'll take the tail, if you please," said Bill; and Ike shoveled the tail-end off upon his plate.
"Heads or tails, Tom?" continued Ike, cutting another herring in two.
"Tails," responded Tom.
"Tails it is," said Ike, scraping another half off of the dish.
Mrs. Hardamer's blood went up to fever heat at this piece of bold disregard of her presence.
"Come, mind what you are about, my young gentlemen!" she said tartly, her face assuming the color of scarlet.
Ike poured out his cup of pale, lukewarm, rye-coffee, and lifting his saucer daintily to his lips, sipped a little, and then leisurely poured the fluid back into his cup, and replaced it in the saucer.
"What's the matter with your coffee, Ike?" said Mrs. Hardamer, unable to contain herself.
"I didn't say anything was the matter with it, ma'am," replied Ike, with a respectful air.
"Why don't you drink it, then?" she asked, in a loud, angry voice.
"Because it's so cold, it turns my stomach!" said Ike, decidedly.
Just as Ike made this answer, Bill leisurely replaced his tail-end of the herring upon the plate from which he had received it, at the same time giving his nose a very perceptible curl upwards.
"And what's the matter with your herring, Bill?" said the old lady, turning towards that worthy, with a fiery countenance.
"It isn't good, ma'am," said Bill.
"Isn't good, ha! What's wrong with it!"
"I think it had hung in the yard rather long, ma'am."
"Do you know who you are talking to, sir? What do you mean?"
Just at this moment, her eye detected a movement of Tom's, not to be mistaken. That gentleman was coolly and leisurely scraping off from the smooth surface of his corn-bread the thin stratum of rancid, oleaginous matter, which had been dignified by the name of butter, and depositing it on the edge of his plate, while an expression of ill-concealed disgustsat upon his countenance. This was like fire to gunpowder, and Mrs. Hardamer exploded with a loud noise. Having no desire to bandy words with their mistress, as that was by no means their game, the three chaps beat a quick retreat. But they were not to escape her so easily, for, following them into the shop, she poured upon them a volley of abuse, which quickly attracted the attention of Mr. Hardamer, and brought him at once to the spot.
"What's the matter here, ha?" he exclaimed, with an expression of both anger and alarm upon his countenance.
"Why, they've insulted me at the table," began Mrs. Hardamer, in a loud, shrieking voice, "and I won't bear it, the low-life, dirty vagabonds! Talk to me of spoiled herring, ha! Mighty dainty your stomachs have become all at once!"
"What does all this mean, I'd like to know?" broke in Hardamer, looking fiercely towards the boys, who had hastily seated themselves, and were in the posture of bending over their work.
"Why, you see, Ike there, the impertinent scoundrel! undertook to play off his pranks at the table, and Bill and Tom must both join him in it. One couldn't drink the coffee, another said the herring was spoiled, and Tom, there, turned up his nose at the butter."
"You villains! what do you mean?" said Hardamer, losing all command of his feelings.
"We didn't mean to insult Mrs. Hardamer," replied Ike, in a respectful tone.
"You did! — you did! — you lying vagabond!" said Mrs. Hardamer, breaking in upon him. "How dare you put on that sanctified look about it!"
"Indeed, then, ma'am, we did not."
"Hush up your tongue, you impertinent fool, you!" responded the old lady, wrought up to a high pitch of indignation.
"Come, come! — enough of this!" said Hardamer, impatiently, "I want to know the truth of this matter."
"The truth of the matter, indeed! The truth of the matter! What do you mean by the truth of the matter, sir? I want to know if I haven't told you the truth of the matter? A pretty thing, indeed, when you talk to me about the truth of the matter!"
"If you want me to settle this affair, madam," said Hardamer to his wife, in a low tone, not so low, however, but that the boys heard it distinctly, "you must go into the house, and let me alone. I've heard your story, and now I'll hear their's."
Mrs. Hardamer turned upon him with increased fury — and then he left her in full possession of the field. After berating the boys for five minutes longer, all of which they stood with silent heroism — she retired, still full of wrath, to her own part of the house.
"She's sharp, now, isn't she?" said Bill, as soon as she was fairly beyond ear shot.
"As sharp as a razor!" responded Ike.
"A whole team!" added Tom.
"I wonder what old Hardamer will do, and how?" he continued. "The queen has got her back up as round as a cat's, and, I'm thinking, we can easily creep under it, and escape with whole skins."
"Never fear; the old chap's had a taste of our quality, and its my opinion that he doesn't care to have another," said Ike.
"He will have another taste, though; and not only a taste, but a good bottleful; and if he don't get drunk on it, it will not be our fault, I'm thinking," said Bill.
"What's all this fuss about, ha?" said the individual just alluded to, in an angry voice, suddenly breaking in upon the young plotters of insubordination.
"Do you hear, you young scoundrels?" he continued, after a moment's pause, seeing that none showed a disposition to respond to his interrogation.
"Ike, what's been the matter?" he now said, addressing the ringleader of the mischief.
"I didn't do anything, sir, but turn my coffee back into my cup, and refuse to drink it. Millie always sends on the table such lukewarm, watery stuff, that I can't get it down any longer; I tried this morning, but, indeed, sir, I couldn't drink it," said Ike, in a respectful manner.
"And what caper is this you've been cutting up, ha?" he said, turning angrily towards Bill.
"I didn't do nothing; only I couldn't eat the herrings, for they were spoiled. Millie lets them hang up in the sun until they're spoiled, sometimes. She doesn't care how we get our food."
Even to this, Hardamer felt no disposition to reply, and he addressed Tom.
"You turned up your nose at the butter, did you? I know that to have been downright impudence, for I always buy the best of fresh butter in the market twice a week."
"We don't get that butter, though," said Ike, speaking up, "Millie always takes ours out of the keg of cooking lard — and, you know, that is strong enough to knock down an ox."
"Confound that girl!" said Hardamer, at once retiring, and making his way to the kitchen.
"Didn't we put it off on poor Millie, though!" said Ike, exultingly. "That was done to a charm! It's a good rule, and we ought to adopt it, never to throw blame on a man's wife."
"It'll be better times now, I'm thinking," said Tom. "Old Hardamer's a little mad with the queen, and he'll reform matters, if it's only in spite. After a while, we'll give a little more to do. It will never do to eat corn-bread and drink rye-coffee much longer. We're just as good as they are, and work to support them, and it's not fair to put us off with slop."
"We'll reform that matter when we once begin. Slow and sure must be our motto," said Tom.
Upon investigation, Hardamer found that there was real cause of complaint, and, this being the case, he thought it best to pass over the rude conduct of his boys towards Mrs. Hardamer. She was indignant at the censure which she received, and declared that it was "good enough for them, and as good as they'd get."
"It's no use for you to talk, Sally," responded Hardamer, to her indignant threat of keeping them on the old fare. "The boys work hard, and must be attended to. Besides, they're beginning to feel their age, and if things shouldn't go on pretty smoothly, they'd surely leave; and their loss, let me tell you, would be no light matter."
"Put a beggar on horseback, and he'll ride to — you know where," said Mrs. Hardamer. "If you go to giving in to their insolent demands, the house will soon be too small to hold us all. Give them an inch, and they'll take a mile. You must make them toe the mark all the while, or they'll go zigzag, like a worm-fence. I'm astonished at you, Mr. Hardamer!"
Hardamer felt, in some degree, the force of what she said. But he stood in this unpleasant predicament. He had treated his boys like slaves while they were small, and now, from having no respect for him — they had ceased to fear him. In their first act of insubordination, they had conquered him, and he felt that his power over them was at an end. From the very necessity of his position, he was compelled to regard their comfort. Yet, at the same time, he felt that the young rebels would not be contented with the power they had already gained. Not disposed, however, to take much share of the blame to himself, he replied to his wife's last remark:
"It's just as bad to hold the rein too tight as to let it go loose. While I have been trying to keep things in a right trim, you have been galling the boys in the tenderest places, by not giving them palatable food. I don't blame them for not eating those herrings, and I wouldn't have given that butter to a dog!"
"It was all good enough for the discontented vagabonds! Do they think we can afford to feed them on fancy cake!" said Mrs. Hardamer, warmly.
"I tell you it was not good enough, madam!" replied the husband, much excited.
"Well, I tell you that it was, sir!" responded his high-tempered wife.
"Go to — !" But he kept in the angry word, and retreated in disorder to the front shop, where he resumed his work at the boot he had been dressing up, and choked in his indignation as best he could. Mrs. Hardamer, it will be perceived, had as much need as the boys, to understand rightly the meaning of the word subordination.
In a few evenings, Mr. Marshall again called upon the Misses Hardamer, as they liked to be called, in hopes of again catching a sight of Anne, in whom his interest began steadily to increase. On that day which she had left her uncomfortable retreat for something like a home, with a lady, in the true sense of the word — a Mrs. Flathers. No allusion could, of course, be made to her by Mr. Marshall; and, after sitting an hour, he retired, without, of course, catching a glance of the one he so much desired to see.
"Do you see that, now!" said Gertrude, after he had gone, "that forward hussy has ruined us with Mr. Marshall. All I could do — and I couldn't interest him, so he has gone off in a little or no time."
"I wish I could see her gibbeted!" exclaimed Genevra, in return, who had also begun to look with favorable eyes upon the young merchant, whose real wealth, rumor was beginning to exaggerate. "But she'll come to no good — that's one consolation."
"I do assure you, you wrong Anne, as I have said before," remarked Genevieve, earnestly.
"No one asked for your opinion!" responded Genevra, snappishly.
"It is not kind in you to talk so to me, Genevra," said Genevieve, mildly. "I only speak of Anne as I believe, and I have had some opportunity to know her."
"And I suppose you'd justify her insolence in sticking herself up to entertain our company," said Gertrude, sneeringly.
"I must confess, Gertrude, that I do not, and cannot view her conduct in the light that you do, and therefore must say so," replied Genevieve.
"Now, isn't that too bad!"
"But, in sober reason, Gertrude, I cannot understand in what Anne was to blame — or in what consists her great inferiority."
"I've no patience to talk to you!" said Gertrude, passionately. "If you choose to put yourself on a level with such as her — you can do it; but you can depend upon it, I am not going to keep company with any such characters."
"There is no use, Gertrude, in getting excited about this," said Genevieve, mildly. "Certainly, as sisters, we ought to talk upon any subject without growing angry, or calling hard names. I, for one, have no wish to do so, and will not do so, no matter what you may say to me."
"That's all very well," remarked Gertrude, in a less excited tone, "but it requires patience to hear you take the part of that dirty trollop."
"Indeed, indeed, Gertrude, you are wrong in using such language about a girl who has not been guilty of any impropriety of which she is sensible," said Genevieve.
"Don't talk to her, Gertrude," said Genevra, indignantly. "She's no better, in my opinion, than Anne!"
"I would be glad, Genevra, if I were half as good as Anne," remarked Genevieve, in a calm voice. "In sober earnestness, I would like to know in what you consider Anne so farbeneath respect," said Genevieve. "I am afraid you have, what I had once — too many false notions of true elevation of character. It is not in the external circumstances which surround us — as there can be nothing truly honorable, apart from internal excellence. If, within, there is not purity of affection and uprightness of thought, there can be no real superiority. Elevation in society is, in most cases, the accident of birth. If our father had been very poor, could we have helped it? His being better off than others, can, therefore, impart no merit to us."
"You're a fool!" said Gertrude.
"Aren't you ashamed, Gertrude?" said Genevra.
"No, I am not ashamed! Genevieve talks like a fool, and always was one. Would anyone but a fool have married that worthless vagabond, Anderson, and thus brought disgraceupon the family? It's all very pretty for her to talk about her change of views; but I'm not to be taken in by such foolish nets. She's like the fox that lost his tail, very anxious to bring us down to her level. But she's mistaken if she expects to fool me."
A tear stole out, and rolled over the cheek of Genevieve. The cruel remark of her sister, in reference to her husband — she felt keenly and deeply. Something of returning tenderness, more genuine than anything she had yet felt, had warmed up her heart, since better thoughts and better feelings had found a place in her mind — and she had begun to entertain the hope of one day seeing him a changed man, and of being to him a true wife, and finding him a true husband. She did not again attempt to allude to the subject which had induced the unkind remark, for she felt that it would be useless to do so. In a few minutes she left the parlor, and retired to her own room. "I'm ashamed of you, Gertrude! How could you talk so?" said Genevra, as soon as her sister had withdrawn.
"Let her mind her own business, then!" replied Gertrude. "She's disgraced herself, and now wants to bring us all down to her level. I've no patience with her."
"It somewhat strikes me, that we may not find Genevieve so wrong in the end, in what she says. Though I cannot approve of her taking sides with that intrusive minx, there is no doubt but that she is greatly changed, and is not half so irritable as she used to be. In this, we might take from her a useful lesson. The time was, Gertrude, when she would not have taken from you so calmly, what she did tonight."
"She's only mortified at the figure she cuts as an abandoned wife; that's all the change I see about her. And I'm mortified to death about it, too."
"Well, if you are, Gertrude, I don't see that it has as good an effect upon you, as it has upon her."
"I don't want any of your preaching, Miss Pert — so just shut your fly-trap!" And, with this lady-like speech, the elegant and accomplished Miss Gertrude Hardamer, swept out of the room in proud disdain.
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