although fayre was a small connecticut town not two hours away from new york, the greys followed the simple country practice of dining at mid-day. it was much pleasanter, when the mistress of the house and its daughters constituted also its service, for them to be able to draw a long breath when the forenoon's labors were over, and feel that nothing more onerous and damaging to gowns than preparations for tea lay before them. the last dish had been put away, and the delicate towels hung out in the sunshine to dry. most human lots have their compensations, and mrs. grey found the remembrance of her sweet, fine dish-cloths consolatory to her amid the hardships of household drudgery.
rob's brief depression in parting from her father that morning had passed away. rob's heart had not been fashioned to sink under weight; she refused to believe in trouble until[49] it forced itself upon her, and then she still refused to salute it by its proper name. now the girls and their mother had dropped into chairs around the dining-room table, and were enjoying that most restful stolen rest, to which one has no right at that particular moment. no one in the family was quite presentable if anyone should come, and it was already two o'clock; they all felt that they had no right to linger there, still they lingered. yet what they called their "uniform" was pretty and becoming. each sister wore a plain, dark blue gingham, straight-hemmed skirt and blouse waist, with a deep sailor collar, feather-stitched in white, as were the cuffs. the collars opened low, and were tied with a narrow white-linen knotted tie, and the fresh young faces and white throats rose from the dark cotton, looking prettier than usual for the plainness of their setting. the duplicates of these gowns hung, fresh and newly ironed, upstairs; it was the greys' working regalia, "the badge of their labor union," rob said. the warmth of the day, and of getting and clearing away dinner, had made every one of rob's unruly locks stray out over neck and brow, and curl up at their ends. she sat with her elbows on the table, her face in her hands, and prue sat in pre[50]cisely the same position opposite her, both enjoying the unconventional pose, as they did loitering in their working dresses when the old dining-room clock had struck two. oswyth leaned back in her chair, her small, slippered feet thrust out before her, one arm dangling over the chair-back. mrs. grey rocked cosily by the window on the breeze side, and white kiku-san, who was beginning to adjust himself to his new home, though he still approached strange objects with body elongated and with many nervous backward starts, sat now with his head on one side, watching the shadows on the floor of the swaying tendrils of the honeysuckle around the window.
"oh, my heart, the angel!" exclaimed rob, suddenly, in panic-stricken tones. they all looked up. across the newly shorn grass approached a figure, not very tall, but exceedingly awesome, and the greys knew that they were caught.
"aunt azraella!" murmured wythie, uncrossing and drawing in her feet, and bringing her arm to the front to join its mate.
with some incomprehensible notion of endowing her daughter with a celestial name aunt azraella's mother, the late mrs. brown, had christened her by a feminine form, of her own[51] invention, of the name of the dread angel of death. prue had once caustically suggested that it must have been because mrs. brown had foreseen "that she was going to turn out so deadly." there were a great many hard points about the greys' life, but if any one of them was asked suddenly which was her greatest trial she would probably have answered unhesitatingly: "living so near aunt azraella."
the girls speculated privately on what she could have been in her youth to have made their mother's brother—the uncle horace whom they did not remember—marry her. she was one of those persons born with a sure conviction of their fitness and mission to set the world right. she oversaw the greys' expenditures, commented unfavorably on their methods of economy, condemned severely almost all their pleasures as extravagant, was wholly intolerant of what she called "sylvester grey's shiftlessness," and was thoroughly convinced that she could bring up three girls far more strictly, and far better than her sister-in-law—and as to the first half of her proposition she was doubtless correct. yet she was not an ill-intentioned woman—rob said that was the worst of it, "because if she meant to be horrid you could bid her to go to"—and in her[52] peculiar way she really admired and was fond of her late husband's sister.
"i wonder what we've done now," said rob, out of her past experience, and taking a rapid mental survey of events since her aunt had visited them, in a vain attempt to discover a peg on which she could hang blame.
mrs. winslow appeared in the doorway before anyone could reply, revealing herself portly, with a nose that dented in at the tip sharply on each side above its widespread nostrils; the hair, eyes, and skin of this estimable lady were of a uniform drabness.
"good-afternoon," she said, entering. "do you mean to say you aren't dressed? it's quarter—no, seventeen minutes after two! i make it a point to have myself and my house in perfect order every day at half-past one—elvira understands that i demand that of her."
"we can't get our girls to grasp the idea, aunt," said rob, a remark her mother hastily covered by saying: "it was so pleasant here we loitered, yielding weakly to temptation, azraella. take this chair; there's a refreshing little breeze at this window."
"what's that? not a new cat! now, mary, how can you be so indulgent to these girls?[53] don't you know it costs something to feed animals? it may not be much, but you must often give them scraps you could use. it's just in those small leakages that your management fails—they keep you poor," said aunt azraella, sinking into the rocking-chair and removing her severe garden-hat.
"we have a third of a cow, you know, aunt," said rob, gravely, "and none of us likes milk. we get more than three quarts a day, so it leaves us enough for charity. and there are crumbs that fall from a poor man's table as well as from a rich one's, aunt azraella. they're smaller, and not such fat crumbs, but our loving and grateful friends take them in the spirit in which they're given."
"they ought to go to the chickens," said mrs. winslow.
"our arrangement with mr. flinders in regard to the chickens was that he was to feed them, and we provide only the space for them—and grasshoppers in summer," added mrs. grey, with a smile. "we have all the eggs we need, but not nearly as many as he keeps for his own use. i think this little white kitten won't impoverish us."
"you had a party yesterday, i noticed," said[54] aunt azraella, dropping the subject of pets and pouncing on the one which she had come over especially to discuss, in what rob felt was rather like a feline way of pouncing on a mouse.
"yes. did you see what a pleasant one it was?" asked mrs. grey. "we had a good time, and accomplished something besides."
"i saw three tall men here and a girl—i supposed it was the silsby girl," said aunt azraella. "and i saw you had tea on the lawn."
"'the three men' were the three rutherford lads—aren't they tall creatures?" laughed mrs. grey. "but they are only about six months older, each, than our girls. such nice, kindly, well-bred lads they seem to be!"
"where were you, aunt azraella? why didn't you come in? we didn't see you," said rob, with apparent innocence.
"i was at home, too busy to gad," said her aunt. "i got a few late currants, mary, and i put them up—they made nine glasses of jelly. i was short this year. you did not see me, roberta, because i was not in sight. i have no time to waste. but i saw you had a party, and i made out the tea on your lawn with my field-glasses."
rob had known this quite well before she was[55] told, but she dearly loved to extract the information for the benefit of the others each time that their aunt came to reproach them for misdeeds which she had discovered by a method of which she seemed never to be ashamed, but which filled the grey girls with wrath or amusement, according to their mood at the moment.
now prue choked, and oswyth's lips twitched, but roberta looked aunt azraella straight in the eyes, her own brilliant dark ones blankly quiet.
"oh!" she exclaimed, as if enlightened. "jelly-glasses and field-glasses, currants with an a, and currents with an e—currant jelly and current news! didn't we look pretty, aunt? we had out lots of the old china and pewter."
this was pure malice on rob's part, for mrs. winslow coveted the winslow heirlooms, to which as a childless widow, winslow but by marriage, she had no claim.
mrs. grey glanced at her second daughter. "if some of us don't make ourselves presentable we shall be caught in our uniforms by someone whom we mind seeing more than we do aunty, children," she said. "suppose we take turns in dressing, and rob and prue go first?"
roberta arose. "shall i wear my bridle,[56] mardy?" she inquired. "not very hard to see through, the lady grey, is she?" she added to her younger sister when they were in the hall.
"i really don't see, mary, i do not see, how, situated as you are, you can reconcile it with your conscience to give lawn-parties," said aunt azraella, severely. "these girls ought to understand that they cannot expect the sort of youth they would have if their father were other than he is. they ought to help you; not waste money in entertaining."
"azraella, azraella," cried mrs. grey, stung to impatience by this double thrust at her husband and her children. "you really should acquire the habit of learning facts before you form opinions. no girls were ever more cheerfully helpful and ready to do without the good times other girls have than mine are. roberta tried—dear child, she is always trying something desperate—to cut the overgrown grass, since we had no man to do it. she borrowed your lawn-mower for it, but the grass was too long to use it. the rutherford boys volunteered to the rescue, and mowed all this great lawn. what you took for an extravagant lawn-party was in reality a mowing-bee.
"i hope roberta did not ruin my lawn-mower;[57] i had no idea she wanted it for that tough grass, or i would never have lent it—she ought to have known better," said aunt azraella, shifting her attack.
"we didn't hurt it at all, aunt; we tried it, and when it wouldn't work we gave up at once," said oswyth, beginning to tremble. she never could vent her wrath in lingual fireworks, as rob did, and was sorely torn by the necessity of bottling it up. now she longed to say that they would have been glad if their aunt had lent her burly aaron, who was a great friend to the grey girls, and would have come willingly, to cut the grass, but even rob would hardly have ventured this.
"i need someone to help elvira," said mrs. winslow, going off on a tangent—she had "irruptions of the brain," rob said. "i have been thinking that i would take one of your girls, mary. i would give her twelve dollars a month, and she could come home every night, and it would be time enough if she got up on the hill by half-past eight each morning. it would give you a little extra income. prue would answer, if you can't spare oswyth—i won't have roberta."
before mrs. grey could reply oswyth sprang[58] up, her face dark red to her hair, and saying in a choking voice, "excuse me, mother; i must dress," ran upstairs without waiting for a dismissal.
"goodness, wythie, what is it now?" cried rob, as her sister flung open the chamber-door with a bang. "you look mad."
"mad? mad?" echoed gentle wythie. "i'm furious! don't you go back there, either of you. she's more maddening than ever. she wants me or prue for a servant to help elvira—she won't have rob."
"why, i don't believe she will," drawled rob, with a flash of her bright eyes. "yet i would be good for her; a discipline, not unlike a scourge."
prue thrust her head through the door between her room and the girls' chamber. she could not raise it because she was combing her fly-away locks over her face, forward from the neck, having heard that this treatment made the hair more fluffy. from the golden veil in which this enveloped her she spoke: "wants me for a servant to help elvira? did you say that, wythie? what did mardy say?"
"i didn't wait to hear—i didn't dare. i felt as though i should have apoplexy," said wythie. "she had been saying things before that."
[59]
"she's always saying things—and seeing things," remarked rob. "the worst of the little grey house is that it stands where the hill-house overlooks it."
prue, inarticulate for a moment from the indignity offered the pretty self which she did not underestimate, found her voice. "well, let her wait till she gets me," she said, in a tone so sarcastic as to make up for the feebleness of the retort.
"we've made a 'sloka' since we came upstairs—prue and i," said rob. "we are going to sing it when aunt azraella gets too unbearable; it's better to sing things about her than to preserve your rage, as she does her sharp currants."
"i'm afraid it isn't very nice," said wythie, doubtfully.
"yes, it is; it's a lovely 'sloka.' of course, you can't be sure it's nice till you've heard it. just listen." and rob sang softly:
"there is a queer person in fayre,
who trails fury and wrath everywhere;
she's a dragon-like breath,
so they named her for death,
and when she comes calling: beware!
we love our dear aunt azraella,
for she lectures us—every grey feller![60]
and she spies with her glass
what does not come to pass,
while our feelings we scarcely dare tell her."
wythie could not help laughing, and felt better for it.
"now, you and prue, sit under the tree where you can warn mardy if anyone comes to see her. i'm going for a stroll," announced rob, and before wythie could object she had disappeared without wasting time on the empty ceremonial of donning a hat.
straight through the old orchard she went, climbed the fence, and took her course down the back road. she had a definite end in view. three-quarters of a mile away lived a second cousin of her father, a blind woman, whom the greys had from their childhood called "cousin peace," though her name was charlotte.
often, when life and herself got too tumultuous for rob, she ran down for a breath of cousin peace's atmosphere. she saw the pale, calm face she sought at the window as she drew near the house, and, opening the gate, she went up and leaned on the sill without speaking.
miss charlotte grey's thin right hand went out to touch her head. "ah, roberta dear, how[61] are you to-day?" she said, as she felt the soft tendrils of curls which she had never seen.
"pretty horrid, thank you, cousin peace," said rob, penitently, "but very well."
"anything wrong?" asked "cousin peace."
"nothing new, nothing much, and everything," said rob, with delphic ambiguity. "we're not any richer, and mardy's been worried, but we've found some nice new boy friends. still, aunt azraella's there this afternoon, rather more trying than ordinarily—she even made wythie furiously mad. so you can see whether good or bad prevails."
"your aunt azraella must not prevail—to anger you, dearie," said cousin peace, gently. "she is one of those unfortunate souls that can't see any difference in size between her mountains and her mole-hills. she always reminds me of the old fable of the astronomer who had a fly in his telescope, and thought a new world had rolled into space in the field his glass swept. it is quite as bad as being totally blind to lack perspective, i sometimes think, robin. if you once grasp the fact that only essentials are essential, dear, you will have mastered the secret of good and happy living. and your aunt azraella is not essential," she added, with[62] a merry twist of her lips, as she turned her closed eyes toward rob, and laughed so blithely that it was evident that she did not want to preach, and that all rob's visits to her distant cousin were not serious ones.
"she is certainly not essential to my happiness, dear, peaceful cousin," said rob. "you haven't heard the iliad of how the grass was cut. let me relate it." and, seating herself on the upper step, just outside the window, rob began to tell in her most dramatic manner the story of their new acquaintances and how they had befriended the greys. as she listened miss charlotte's pale face flushed with laughing, and she grew so much younger that it was perfectly clear that rob not only received, but gave in these visits to the blind woman.
when she arose to go miss grey held out both hands and kissed rob, who had to hold aside the syringa bushes growing unchecked before the window, in order to reach her cousin.
"dear robin, come soon again; you do me as much good as your blithe feathered namesake," said cousin peace, holding the strong, brown hands a moment between her white ones.
"i'll come; you couldn't keep me away, cousin peace," said rob. "you do me more good than[63] an organ and a stained-glass window, and they help me to feel angelic more than anything i know. oh, why aren't all relations like you?"
and rob departed, soothed and heartened as she always was by blind cousin peace, who saw so clearly. she went up the pretty back road as the shadows were beginning to lengthen, and reached home to find aunt azraella gone, and the kitchen of the little grey house filled with the song of the kettle, and the homely, but comforting odor of toast, as her mother and wythie stepped briskly about getting tea, and prue in the dining-room sang as cheerily as the kettle while she was setting the table.
