Reels and Spindles: A Story of Mill Life

CHAPTER VI.

SETTLEMENTS

On the following morning the guest was the first person astir at Fairacres, not even excepting Cleena, who rose with the birds; and when she opened her kitchen door, the sight of him pacing the grass-grown driveway did not tend to put her in good humor.

But there was little danger of her breaking bounds again, in the matter of behavior. A short talk had passed between her mistress and herself, before they bade each other good night, that had not left the too devoted servant very proud of her overzeal; and she now turned to her stove to rattle off her indignation among its lids and grates. But she kept "speakin' with herself," after her odd fashion, and her tone was neither humble nor flattering.

"Arrah musha! The impidence of him! Hasn't he decency to wait till all's over 'fore he struts about that gait? But, faith, an' I'll show him one thing: that's as good a breakfast as ever he got in the old lady's time, as one hears so much tell of."

Whereupon, with this praiseworthy ambition, a calm fell upon poor Cleena's troubled spirit, and when, a couple of hours later, the family assembled in the dining room, everybody was astonished at the feast prepared; while all but the stranger knew that a week's rations had been mortgaged to furnish that one meal. However, nobody made any comment, though Mr. Wingate found in this show of luxury another explanation of the Kayes' financial straits.

"Cuthbert will not be down this morning, Archibald. I hope thee rested well. Hallam, will thee take thy father's place?"

Mrs. Kaye's manner, as she greeted her kinsman, betrayed little of what must have been her real feeling toward him, nor had her children ever seen her more composed and gentle, though Hallam noticed that she was paler than ever, and that her eyes were dull, as if she had not slept.

"It's going to be a miserable day outside," remarked the guest, a little stiffly.

"Inside, too, I fancy," answered Amy. "I hate undecided things. I like either a cheerful downpour or else sunshine. I think wobbly weather is as bad as wobbly folks – trying to a body's temper."

Mr. Wingate laughed, though rather harshly. Amy was already his favorite in that household, and he reflected that under different circumstances than those which brought him to Fairacres, he would have found her very interesting.

"The weather should not be allowed to affect one's spirits," said Mrs. Kaye.

"No, mother; I suppose not. Yet, it was so pretty here, last night; and now the leaves over the windows are all shrivelled up, while this border on the tablecloth is as crooked as can be. It all has such an afterward sort of look. Ah, it is raining, good and fast."

Mrs. Kaye excused herself and went to look out toward the library. The wind was howling in that direction, and she exclaimed, anxiously: —

"Cleena, go at once and see if it is doing any harm out there! That broken door and window – put something against them, if it is."

"I don't think there's any danger of harm. I've sent for a carpenter more than an hour ago," observed Mr. Wingate.

"Thee?"

For a moment there was a flash in the matron's eyes, but she did not remark further, though Hallam took up her cause with the words: —

"I suppose you meant it for kindness, but my father does not allow any one to interfere with that place. Even if it rained in, I think he would rather give his own orders."

"Probably," answered the guest, dryly, while Cleena deposited a dish of steaming waffles upon the table with such vigor as to set them all bouncing.

"Sure, mistress, you'll be takin' a few of these, why not. I never turned me finer, an' that honey's the last of the lot, three times strained, too, an' you please."

"Waffles, Cleena? Did thee take some up to the master? I am sure he would enjoy them."

"Indeed, I did that. Would I forget? So eat, to please Cleena, and to be strong for what comes."

Even Mrs. Kaye's indifference was not proof against the tempting delicacy, and doubtless the food did give her strength the better to go through a trying interview. For immediately breakfast was over, she rose, and, inviting the visitor into the old parlor, bade her children join them.

"What our cousin Archibald has to say concerns us all. I leave it to him to tell the whole story," and she sat down with Amy snuggled beside her, while Hallam stood upon his crutches at her back.

Somehow, Mr. Wingate found it a little difficult to begin, and after several attempts he put the plain question abruptly: —

"When can you leave, Salome?"

She caught her breath, and Amy felt the arm about her waist grow rigid, but she answered by another question: —

"Must thee really turn us out, Archibald?"

The plain, affectionate "thee" touched him, yet for that reason he settled himself all the more firmly in his decision.

"What has to be done would better be done at once. It is a long time, Salome, since I have had any recompense for the use of this – my property – "

"Your property?" cried Hallam.

"Yes, mine. Mine it should have been by lawful inheritance, save for a rank injustice and favoritism. Mine it is now, by right of actual purchase, the purchase of my own! Your mother seems to desire that you should at last learn the whole truth, and I assure you that I have advanced more than twice the money required to buy this place, even at an inflated market value. So, lad, don't get angry or indignant. I make no statements that I cannot prove, nor can your parents deny that I notified them to vacate these premises more than two years ago."

"Mother, is that so?"

"Yes, Hallam."

"Why didn't we go, then?"

"Our cousin had a heart and did not force us."

"Why do you now, sir?"

"Because I'm tired of waiting. The case grows worse each day. I'm sick of throwing good money after bad, while, all the time, such folly as is yonder goes on," pointing toward the distant studio. "One man is as good to labor as another. Cuthbert Kaye has had money all his life; my money, of which I was defrauded – "

"Archibald! Beg pardon, but that is not so."

"But it is so, Salome. If you have been hoodwinked and believed false tales, it is time these youngsters learned the facts. They are Kayes, like you and me. It is honest blood, mostly, that runs in all our veins. Well then, the life they are living is not an honest life. No man has a right to more than he can pay for. Can Cuthbert – "

"Archibald, thee shall leave him out of the question!" cried the wife, roused from her firm self-control. There was something so appealing in her tone that her children watched her in alarm.

"Very well. So be it. Since he is not man enough to stand by you in the trouble he has brought upon you – "

"If thee continues, we will leave the room."

"Why haven't I been able ever to meet him then? Why has he always thrust you between himself and me? If he thought because you were a woman I would forever put off the day of judgment, he has for once reckoned without his host. I tell you the end has come."

Mrs. Kaye sank back in her chair, trembling; but still her lips were closed until the angry guest had finished his speech and had walked off some of his excitement in a hasty pacing of the long room. At length he paused before her and said, more quietly: —

"There is no need of our having recourse to legal force. You should leave without being put out. That is why I came, to arrange it all to your satisfaction. You are a good woman, Salome, as good as any of your race before you, and just as big a simpleton when your affections are touched. A little more firmness on your part, a little less devotee sort of worship of a – "

"Archibald, remember thee is speaking of what does not concern thee. There is no need for rudeness, nor, indeed, 'legal' violence. Had I understood, two years ago, that thee needed – needed – this old home for thyself, I would have left it then. It has, of course, been to our advantage to occupy it, but it has also been to thine. An empty house goes swift to ruin. Everything here has been well cared for, as things held in trust should be. We will leave here as soon as I can find a house somewhere to shelter us."

Mrs. Kaye rose, as if to terminate the interview; but Mr. Wingate cleared his throat and lifted his hand as if he had something further to say.

"I suppose you have thought about this many times, Salome. What are your plans?"

"They are not definite. House-hunting is the first, I suppose, since we cannot do without a roof to cover us."

"How – I can't forget that we are kinsfolk, Salome – how do you propose to live? I am a plain business man, as practical as – I mean, use common sense. There are few houses to rent in this out-of-the-way town, where everybody, except the mill folks, owns his own home, – and even some of them do. I've come into possession of a house which might suit you – 'Hardscrabble.' I'll let you have it cheap."

"'Hardscrabble'! The 'Spite House'?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Archibald!"

"Exactly. I knew how it would strike you. We both know the story of the place, but our grandfather's enemy took good care to make his tenement comfortable inside, even if it was ugly as sin outside."

For a while Mrs. Kaye remained silent, debating with herself. Very soon she was able to look up and smile gratefully.

"Thee knows as well as I what a stab thee has given my pride, Archibald; but there is that saving 'common sense' in the offer, and love is stronger than pride. Tell me what rent thee will ask, and I will take the place if I can."

"Ten dollars a month."

The prompt, strictly business-like answer fairly startled its hearer. Then she smiled again.

"I have never lived anywhere save at Fairacres, thee knows. I must trust thee in the matter. I have no definite ideas about the values of houses, but I think I can pay that. I must. There is nowhere else to go. Yes, I will take it."

"It's dirt cheap, Salome. You will never think kindly of me, of course, but I'm dealing squarely, even generously by you. If 'thee'd,'" for the second time he dropped into the speech of his childhood, which his cousin Salome had always retained, and she was quick to observe this, "if thee had trusted me years ago, things might have gone better with us both. When will thee move?"

"To-day."

"To-day? There's no need for quite such haste."

"Thee said 'the sooner the better,' and I agree. Get the lease ready as soon as possible, and I will sign it. I've only one thing to ask about that: please don't have the name put as either 'Hardscrabble' or 'Spite House.' I'd like it called 'Charity House.'"

"Upon my word, Salome, you're the queerest mixture of business and sentiment that I ever met. You're as fanciful as a girl, still. But the name doesn't matter. Call the place 'Faith' and 'Hope' as well as 'Charity,' if you wish, after you get there; but I won't alter the lease which I brought along with me last night."

"Brought already, Archibald? Thee expected me to go to that place, then?"

"Under the circumstances, Salome, and, as you've just admitted, I didn't see what else you could do. I've sent 'Bony' into the village for my lawyer, because I want you should have things all straight. He'll witness our signatures to the lease, and if you'll pick out such furniture as you most especially care to have, I'll try to spare it, though the mortgage covers all."

But the speaker's glance moved so reluctantly and covetously over the antique plenishing that Mrs. Kaye promptly relieved his anxiety.

"It would be a pity to disturb these old, beloved things in their appropriate places – "

"You're right," interrupted the gentleman. "I've a better notion than that. I'll leave whatever is in 'Spite House' for your use, and not break up Fairacres at all."

"Is it still furnished, then?"

"Yes, according to old Ingraham's ideas – for hard use and no nonsense. He had a big family and nothing much but his temper to keep it on. However, if there's anything actually needed, I suppose I could advance a trifle more. It would be for your sake, only, Salome."

"Thank thee, but I hope not to run further into thy debt, Archibald, save in case of direst need. And do not think but that I fully understand and appreciate all the kindness which has permitted us to stay at Fairacres so long. In some things, as thee will one day discover, thee has mistaken and misjudged us; but in one thing I have understood and sympathized with thee, always, and with all my heart: the passionate love which a Kaye must feel for his home and all this."

There was pathos and dignity in the quiet gesture which Salome Kaye swept over the apartment that had been her own for all her life; but there was also courage and determination in her bearing as she walked out of it, leaning lightly upon Amy's shoulder, and with Hallam limping beside her. Somehow, too, Archibald Wingate did not feel quite as jubilant and successful as he had anticipated, and he welcomed, as an agreeable diversion, the approach of a buggy, conveying his friend, Lawyer Smith, to witness the lease and to give any needful advice in the matter.

"Hello, Smith. Quite a rainy day, isn't it? I've been studying that row of old pines and spruces. How do you think the avenue'd look if I was to have 'em trimmed up, say about as high as your head, from the ground? Give a better view of the old Ardsley Valley, wouldn't it?"

The lawyer stepped down from his vehicle, backward and cautiously, then turned, screwed up his eyes, and replied deliberately: —

"Well, it might; and then again it mightn't. It's taken a good many years for those branches to grow, and once they're off they can't be put back again. If I was in your place, I'd rather let things slide easy for a spell; then – go as you please. Have you come to a settlement? Will they quit without lawing?"

"Yes, they'll quit at once. Say, woman! You, Cleena, bring me a hatchet, will you? I'll just lop off a little limb on one side, and see the effect. Hurry up!"

"Faith, I'll fetch it!" responded Cleena, loudly. But when she did so, she advanced with such a menacing gesture upon the new proprietor of her old home that he shrank back, doubtful of her intent. "Ain't it enough to break hearts, without breakin' the helpless trees your own forebears planted long by? – Aha, my fine gineral, so you're bad penny back again? Well, then, you're the handle o' time. By the way you tacked up them boughs, you'll be clever at packin'. Come by. I'll give ye a job."

Thus, partly to Lawyer Smith's caution and partly to Cleena's indignation, the fine evergreens of Fairacres owed the fact that they, for the time being, escaped mutilation.

CHAPTER VII.

THE "SPITE HOUSE" OF BAREACRE

By nightfall it was all over; and Cleena, Hallam, and Amy, with their self-constituted bodyguard, Fayette, were gathered about a big table in the kitchen of the "Spite House," to eat a supper of bread and milk, and to discuss the events of that memorable day. Strangely enough, as Amy thought, none of them realized anything clearly except the facts of fatigue and hunger.

"Arrah musha! but the face of that lawyer body, when I tells him I was takin' the loan of his bit buggy wagon for the master an' mistress to ride to Burnside the morn, an' how as old Adam would sure send it back by a farm-hand, which he did that same. An' them two goin' off so quiet, even smilin', as if – But there, there! Have some more milk, Master Hal. It's like cream itself, so 'tis; an' that neighbor woman in the cottage yon is that friendly she'd be givin' me three pints to the quart if I'd leave her be."

"Well, dear old Adam will be glad to see them on any terms, he is so fond of father and mother. But knowing they're in such trouble, he'll have the best of everything for them to-night."

"Yes, Adam Burns is as likely as any man creature can be, which I've never been bothered with meself, me guardian angel be praised."

"Well, Cleena, I've seen you work hard before, but you did as much as ten Cleenas in one to-day."

The good woman sighed, then laughed outright. "It's been a hard row for that wicked body to hoe."

"Who, Cleena?"

"That sweet, decent kinsman o' your own. Was many an odd bit o' stuff went into the van 't he never meant should go there. The face of him when I went trampin' up the libr'y stairs, an' caught him watchin' Master Hallam packing the paint trash that he'd allowed the master might have. 'Take anything you want here, my boy,' says he. So, seein' Master Hal was working dainty an' slow, I just sweeps me arm over the whole business; an' I'm thinkin' there'll be 'tubes' a plenty for all the pictures master'll ever paint. In a fine heap, though, an' that must be your job, Master Hal, come to-morrow, to put them all tidy, as 'tis himself likes."

"I'll be glad to do it, Cleena; but in which of these old rooms am I to sleep?"

Cleena had taken a rapid survey of the dusty, musty bedchambers, and her cleanly soul revolted against her "childer" using any of them in their present condition. So for Amy she had put Mrs. Kaye's own mattress on the floor of what might be a parlor, and spread it with clean sheets; for Hallam there was in another place his father's easy lounge; and for herself and Fayette, who insisted upon staying for the night, there were "shakedowns" of old, warm "comforts."

"And it's time we were all off to Noddle's Island. It's up in the mornin' early we must be. So scatter yourselves, all of ye, an' to sleep right away. Not forgettin' your prayers, as good Christians shouldn't."

"Of course not," answered Amy, drowsily; but Fayette looked as if he did not understand.

"Sure, you'll have to be taught then, my fine sir, an' I'll tackle that job with the rest of to-morrow's."

But when daylight broke and roused the active Cleena to begin her formidable task of scrubbing away the accumulated dirt of years there was no Fayette to be found. Dreamily, she recalled the sound of musical instruments, the shouts of voices, and the squealing of the rats that had hitherto been the tenants of "Spite House"; but which of these, if any, was answerable for the lad's absence, she could not guess.

"Well, I was mindin' to keep him busy, had he stayed; but since he's gone, there's one mouth less to feed."

It did not take the observant woman long to discover that the outlook for the comfort of "her folks" was even less by daylight than it had seemed the night before. Her heart sank, though she lost no time in useless regrets, and she did most cordially thank that "guardian angel" to whom she so constantly referred for having prevented her spending the last twenty-five dollars she possessed. This would long ago have wasted away had it not been placed in the care of that true friend of the family, Adam Burns, with whom her master and mistress had now taken refuge.

"Alanna, that's luck! I was for usin' it long syne, but the old man wouldn't leave me do it. 'No, Cleena, thee's not so young as thee was, an' thee might be wantin' it for doctor's stuff,' says he. Twenty-five dollars! That'd pay the rent an' buy flour an' tea, an' what not;" and with cheerful visions of the unlimited power of her small capital, the old servant stooped to fill her apron with the stray chips and branches the bare place afforded.

At that moment there fell upon her ears the familiar sound of Pepita and Balaam braying in concert for their breakfast.

"Now what's to feed them is more nor I know; yet never a doubt I doubt it would clean break the colleen's heart must she part with her neat little beast."

The braying roused Hallam and Amy, also, from a night of dreamless sleep; and as they passed out from the musty house into the crisp air of a frosty morning, they felt more cheerful than they considered was quite the proper thing, under the circumstances. Then Amy looked at her brother and laughed.

"Isn't it splendid after the rain? and isn't it funny to be here? Yesterday it seemed as if the world had come to an end, and now it seems as if it had just been made new."

"'Every morn is a fresh beginning,'" quoted Hallam, who loved books better than his sister did.

"Let's go down to the gate, or place where a gate should be, and take a good look at our – home."

"All right. Though we've seen it at a distance, I suppose it will appear differently to us at near hand."

"And uglier. Oh, but it's horrid! horrid!" and with a sudden revulsion of feeling Amy buried her face in her hands and began to cry. "I hate it. I won't stay here. I will not. I'd rather go home and live in the old stable than here."

"That wouldn't have been a bad idea, only we shouldn't have been allowed."

"Who could have hindered that? Who'd want an empty stable?"

"Our cousin Archibald!" answered Hallam, with scornful emphasis. "I believe he feels as if he had a mortgage on our very souls. Indeed, he said I might sometime be able to earn enough to buy the place back, as well as pay all other debts. He said he couldn't live forever, and it was but fair he should have a few years' possession of 'his own.' He – Well, there's no use talking. I wish – I wish I were – "

"No, no! you don't! No, you don't either, Hallam Kaye! I know what you began to say, and you shall not finish. You shall not die. You shall get well and strong and do all those things he said. I'm ashamed of myself that I cried. I felt last night as if my old life were all a beautiful dream, and that I had just waked up into a real world where I had to do things for myself and for others; not have others do for me any longer."

"That was about the state of the case, I fancy."

"Well, that isn't so bad. It shouldn't be, that is; for I have such health and strength and everything. Nothing matters so much as long as we are all together."

"Nobody knows how long we shall be. I don't like these 'attacks' of father's, Amy. I'm afraid of them. It will kill him to live here."

It needed but the possibility of giving comfort to somebody to arouse all Amy's natural hopefulness, and she commanded with a shake of her forefinger: —

"Hallam Kaye, you stop it! I won't have it! If you keep it up, I shall have to – to cuff you."

"Try it!" cried the brother, already laughing at her fierce show of spirit; yet to tempt her audacity he thrust his fingers through her short curls and wagged her head playfully.

She did not resent it; she could resent nothing Hallam ever did save that morbid talk of his. She had been fighting with this spirit ever since she could remember, and their brief "tussle" over, she crept closer to him along the old stone wall and begged: —

"Cleena has tied the burros out to graze in the weeds, and that will be their breakfast, and while we're waiting for ours, I wish you'd tell me all you know about 'Spite House.' I've heard it, of course, but it's all mixed up in my mind, and I don't see just where that cousin Archibald comes in."

"Oh, he comes in easily enough. He's a descendant of old Jacob Ingraham as well as of the house of Kaye. I believe it was in this way: our great-grandfather Thomas Kaye and Jacob were brothers-in-law, and there was some trouble about money matters."