Dorothy at Skyrie

However, here he was and supper was ready, and he was invited to draw near; yet to the surprise of all, with the provision stipulated for by the host:

"To-night, Mr. Babcock, we consider you our guest: but should you engage to work for us I would like to arrange that you should board yourself. Mrs. Chester has no servant."

"Sir, I admire her for it! Let every member of society serve himself and the reign of equality begins. My wife is a fine cook and there will be no difficulty in our arrangements. Oliver Sands is my good friend, and it is by his suggestion that I am here. He is a man as is a man! There is no giving of titles by him. A plain man, Oliver, though not – not quite as fully imbued with the doctrines of universal equality and brotherhood as I should desire. Sir, are you a – Socialist?"

Certainly this strange man was what his daughter had described him, "a good talker," judging from the ready flow of language, and of better quality than is commonly found in men of his class. Though this may be accounted for by the fact that he was a greedy reader – of any and every thing which came his way. But to this suddenly propounded inquiry Mr. Chester answered, with his own merry smile:

"No, indeed! Nothing half so 'uplifted' or ambitious. Just a poor, afflicted fellow out of work and anxious to make a living for his family. Let us get through our meal and come to business."

Fortunately, while Pa Babcock was eating he could not well talk, and he was one, as Alfaretta had said, "could always relish his victuals." He now relished so many of prudent mother Martha's that her heart sank, knowing that food costs money and money was unpleasantly scarce in that cottage; but, at last, he seemed satisfied and pushed back from the table, saying:

"Now, let's settle things. I was sent here, first off, by my friend Oliver Sands, to negotiate a loan for him – for your benefit. He's a forehanded fellow, Oliver is, and always ready to help those along who are in trouble or – He's wanted to put a mortgage on my place in Cat Hollow, so's to give me time and opportunity – meaning cash – to promulgate the principles of – "

"Yes," said John impatiently.

"Of course, you understand. All sensible persons do and I shall eventually convert you to my ideas – "

"Possibly, possibly! But return to your errand from the miller, please. It's growing late and we've had a fatiguing day."

"I was just coming to it. He was so pleased by you and your family, so delighted to find your wife, here, such a woman of business, that he wished me to say that in case you were in need of funds, a little ready money, you know, he would feel perfectly safe in advancing it: securing it, of course, by the necessary documents."

Mr. and Mrs. Chester exchanged glances, which Dorothy did not see. She had escaped the obnoxious presence of this man by simply going to bed, meaning to get up again, as soon as he should depart, and bid her parents good-night. Then said the ex-postman, after this brief telegraphing of opinions:

"Mr. Sands has guessed correctly. We are in need of ready money – to get things into running order; but the property is my wife's and, like your friend, I have the fullest confidence in her business ability. She will do as she thinks best."

Now what a cruel thing is jealousy! It had embittered the honest heart of Jim Barlow, earlier in the day, and now attacked the tender one of Martha Chester. It was quite true – they did need money. True, also, that they had expected to raise it by a mortgage on Skyrie, at present free and clear. They knew that this money would be forthcoming from the mistress of Deerhurst, simply upon application, and upon the most favorable terms. She had already delicately hinted at the matter, and had her visit to the cottage been made that morning, as she intended, it would doubtless have been settled.

But Martha Chester disliked to be beholden to the old gentlewoman who "made so much of Dorothy" and who, the mother fancied, was superseding herself in the child's heart. It had become a habit of Dorothy's to quote Mrs. Cecil as a paragon of all the virtues, and the child's ambition was to form her own manners and opinions upon her "fairy godmother's."

Now offered a chance for independence which Mrs. Chester eagerly seized, without protest from her husband, though inwardly he disapproved putting themselves in the power of a stranger when there stood ready to take his place a tried, true friend.

"Shall you see Mr. Sands again, to-night?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. I'm due to deliver an oration in the 'Sons of Freedom' Hall, Upper Village, eight o'clock sharp, tickets twenty-five cents. Oliver directed me to say that if you would send your little daughter to Heartsease, his place, to-morrow morning he would make it his pleasure to call and arrange everything. He's a sort of lawyer, himself. And, oh yes! If you should need anything in the way of feed or fodder he is always ready to supply his customers, at the ruling prices and with dispatch.

"Which brings me, ma'am and sir, to the subject of wages between ourselves; and if it's handy, to the payment for my services in erecting a pig-pen and repairing a cow-manger. Let me see. Two hours, at a dollar an hour – Two dollars, I make it. Do you find me right?"

Well! Pa Babcock might look like a simpleton, but he could use his queer voice to his own advantage!

John Chester shrugged his shoulders and Martha replied with considerable crispness:

"A dollar an hour! I never heard of such a thing. In Baltimore – "

"We are not in Baltimore, much as I should admire to visit that city. Skilled labor, you know – "

"But the skill was poor Jim Barlow's, and the lumber mine. At such a rate your farm services would be worth a fortune, and far more than I could pay. I hoped to get somebody to work 'on shares'; or at least, very cheaply."

"For the present, ma'am, there wouldn't be any 'shares.' The ground is absolutely profitless. But I am not exorbitant, nor would I grind the face of the poor. I am a poor man myself. I glory in it. I think that two dollars and a half a day would be fair to both sides."

With this the high, thin voice subsided and John Chester took up the theme, like his wife quoting their old city as a unit of measurement:

"In Baltimore, or its suburbs, a day or farm laborer would not earn more than a dollar and a half, or even so low as a dollar and a quarter."

"Per day, working on every consecutive day?" asked this would-be employee, leaning back in the rocker and folding his arms. It seemed he never could form a sentence without putting into it the largest words at his command, and listening to him, Martha almost hoped that their present discussion would prove fruitless. However could they endure his wordiness!

"Yes. Of course it would be every day," she answered.

But his next remark came with an originality worthy none other than himself:

"Very well. I have my price and my opinion – you have yours. Let us meet one another halfway. I will work only every other day – I can do as much as two ordinary men, anyway – and thus you will be called upon for no more than you would have had to pay some assistant from privileged Baltimore."

"But we could not board you!" protested John Chester. "I cannot have extra labor imposed upon my wife."

Pa Babcock rose, stretching all his mighty limbs as if he would convince these strangers that he could, indeed, accomplish the work of two ordinary men per day; then, waving the trivial matter of board aside with an airy lightness which his recent exhibition of appetite scarcely warranted, announced:

"We will consider the affair closed. I will work every other day, Sundays excluded, at two dollars and a half per day and find myself. I will enter upon my duties to-morrow morning, and I now wish you good-night. I go to establish the rule of equality in this unenlightened neighborhood."

So saying he slipped out of the house, a fearsome-looking but wholly harmless "crank," who seemed rather to have left his shadow behind him than to have taken it with him. As he departed the roar of thunder, the brilliant flash of lightning, filled the room; and, forestalling a remonstrance she feared might be forthcoming, mother Martha exclaimed:

"The storm is coming at last. I must go see to all the windows."

"I'll limp around and help you; and, wife dear, I can't help feeling we should think twice before we take up with that miller's offer. He's too sweet to be wholesome and I know that Mrs. Calvert – "

"The matter is settled, John. You reminded me that Skyrie was my property. I claim the right to use my own judgment in the case. I will send Dorothy to see that kind old Quaker early to-morrow."

She did. But as her husband went about with her that evening, making all secure against the tempest, the shadow that Pa Babcock had left behind him – the shadow of almost their first disagreement – followed her light footsteps and the tap-tap of his crutches from room to room.

Till at last they came to the little upper chamber which they had both vied in making attractive for Dorothy's homecoming and saw her sleeping there; her lovely innocent face flushed in slumber and dearer to them both than anything else in life.

"It was for her, else I'd have let John have his way and ask Mrs. Cecil. But I cannot have her drawn away from me – and she's being drawn, she's being drawn," thought mother Martha, stopping to straighten a moist curl and kiss the pretty cheek.

"Oh! if only for that darling's sake we had trusted Mrs. Cecil. She has trusted us: but Martha – Well, women are kittle cattle. I don't understand them, but somehow I'm sorry," was his reflection.

So they went down again, he limping, she skipping almost like a girl, but with a division of thought which saddened both.

CHAPTER XII

SETH WINTERS AND HIS FRIENDS

Seth Winters was known as the best blacksmith in the country. The horses he shod never went lame, the tires of the wheels he repaired rarely loosened: consequently his patronage was extensive and of the best. Better than that, his patrons liked the man as well as his work and they were more than willing to grant him a favor – almost the first he had ever asked of them.

First, he visited Mrs. Cecil and counseled with her concerning the scheme he had formed: and she having most heartily approved it, he lost no time in mentioning it to each and all who came to his shop. The result was that on a sunny morning, not long after Dorothy's homecoming, there gathered before the little smithy an assemblage of all sorts and conditions of men and vehicles, which filled the road for a long distance either way, and even strayed into the surrounding woods for a more comfortable waiting-place.

In the wagons were also many women, farm-wives mostly, all gay with the delight of an unexpected outing and the chance to bestow a kindness.

"Amazing! How it warms the cockles of one's heart to be good to somebody!" cried Seth, his benign face aglow with the zest of the thing, as one after another team drew near and its occupants bade him a smiling "Good-morning!" "The very busiest time of all the year for farmer folk – haying, crop-raising, gardening – yet not a soul I asked has failed to respond, in some shape or other."

"Of course not! It's as good as a county fair or a Sunday-school picnic, Cousin Seth! I wouldn't have missed it for anything!" cried a merry old voice behind him, and he turned to see Mrs. Calvert nodding her handsome head in this direction and that, with that friendly simplicity of manner which had made her so generally liked. For, though she could be most austere and haughty with what she called "common and presumptuous people," she had an honest liking for all her fellow-creatures who were honest and simple themselves.