Читать книгу Cherry Square - Grace S. Richmond - Страница 3

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When Josephine Jenney came by, Mrs. Norah O'Grady on hands and knees was fiercely scrubbing the square front-porch floor of the old Cherry House which stood on the Brook Street side of Cherry Square, in the small town of Cherry Hills. Now the old Cherry House, though there were reaches of lawn and garden beside and behind it, stood so close to the street that a bare two yards of distance separated the white picket fence from the iron-railinged steps. Therefore, Jo Jenney, passing by, was so near to Mrs. O'Grady's back that she could see the tight muscles stand out on the red, capable arm which wielded the scrubbing brush. Mopping a long unused front-porch floor wasn't good enough for Norah O'Grady; it had to be scoured as though it were an ancient buried monument just retrieved from the drifting sands of Egypt.

"Good morning, Mrs. O'Grady. So somebody really is going to live in this delightful-looking old house again. I'm so glad."

One swift glance over her shoulder confirmed Mrs. O'Grady's impression that it was Miss Jenney who was speaking. Norah particularly liked this young teacher in the village school, who had been in the place only a year, but who in that short time had done wonders with the intelligence of bullet-headed Patsy O'Grady, the pride of his mother's heart. So though Norah didn't stop working for an instant she answered Jo less brusquely than she had answered much the same question—only they called it "the old Cherry House"—from some nine women and five men who had previously passed by. To most of these she had vouchsafed not much more than a nod, refusing to be drawn into conversation. The town would know all about it soon enough. Let them wait. It wasn't often she had the chance to withhold so much interesting information.

"I'm glad mesilf, Miss Jenney. It's too long the place has been like a tomb. Now we'll see some life about it."

"Who's coming, Mrs. O'Grady—if you don't mind telling?"

"I do mind tellin'," said Mrs. O'Grady frankly, with a last vigorous swish of her scrubbing brush. "Because I was told not to tell—just yet. But if ye can think of a good r'ason why I should be tellin' ye an' denyin' the rest, maybe I'll give ye a hint. It's more than human nature can stand to tell no one at all. Annyhow, they'll soon be here. An' the town guessin' everybody except the right ones—and the right ones the very ones that should be here."

"Do you mean—some of the Cherry family?"

Mrs. O'Grady nodded. "I mean that. It's old Miss Cherry's niece, that married the city minister ten years ago, an' she used to come here when she was a girl. Now she's comin' back, with her children, while her husband goes travellin' on his vacation. He's tired out, she says, what with his big city parish, an' he's goin' over the water with a party of men, while she comes here for the summer. An' it's my notion that she's glad to get away from bein' a minister's wife for a few short months."

Jo Jenney laughed appreciatively. "Now, how do you come to think that?" she questioned. "Because of course she didn't say so."

"Anny minister's wife," said Norah O'Grady, "is bound to be tired of bein' it. If he needs a vacation she needs two o' thim. I've been in two ministers' houses in my time, an' I know. An' I don't suppose bein' in a big city, an' havin' her husband preachin' to ten hundred people instead of one hundred, makes it anny easier. There's just that manny more women to criticize her."

She glanced down the street. A group of women were approaching with eyes upon the colloquy between herself and Miss Jenney. She rose from her knees.

"Go on, dear," she said under her breath, "or I'll be in trouble. Slip round to the back gate down the garden, and I'll let ye in when the storm's passed by."

In the twinkling of an eye she had vanished into the house, and the heavy green door with its brass knocker had swung uncompromisingly shut behind her. Jo proceeded on her way, walking rapidly. The women whom she met gave her curious nods, and one turned as if to speak, but Jo's momentum carried her safely by. Round the corner and down the lane she reached the narrow green gate at the foot of the garden, and two minutes later Mrs. O'Grady's strong hands, red and rough with work, wrested the long-unused gate open. At the same moment, at the front of the house, two women tried in vain to open the locked front gate.

"Well, whoever's coming," one of them said, "I hope they put an end to this foolish business of keeping the place barred like a prison."

"Maybe Eldora Cherry left it in her will that it should be. And Norah O'Grady would just enjoy doing it, anyway. Isn't she a character?"

"She certainly is. The other day. . . ."

Anecdotes of Mrs. O'Grady's well-known and tantalizing reticences followed, taking the minds of the group from the annoyance of having been unable to corner her. Meanwhile, inside the house, Jo Jenney watched Norah polish brass sconces. Polishing was among the best things Norah did. The violent effort seemed to ease her unceasing urge for work.

"Are you going to stay after Mrs. Chase comes?" Jo asked.

"To be sure, I'm that. I'm to come every day for the laundry work an' the cl'anin! There'll be plenty of both, with three little children. Mrs. Chase come up here an' engaged me, one evenin', when the town had gone to bed an' missed it. Drove up in her big car, with a girl an' a man with her—cousins of hers. Come in my house an' had a fine visit with me, who used to know her. She's the swate person, an' always was. Said she'd bring a cook, an' a nurse for the baby, an' would I find some girl up here to be second maid for her, to do the rooms an' wait on table, an' that. An' my oldest boy Jimmy's to kape the outdoors tidy for her, an' look after her car an' the ridin' horses she'll be gettin'."

"Have you found the second maid?"

"I have not. I wrote her she'd have to bring one. The kind of girl she'd want, around here, won't work in other folks' houses. I don't know what she wants of so manny, but I think she's used to havin' plinty to wait on her, in her father's house. There ain't manny ministers' wives have four. But that's neither here nor there. What Sally Cherry wanted she always had—till she married the minister—an' then she had more yet. But she had to pay for it. They was both of them of rich families—but I'm talkin' too much, Miss Jenney. I been kapin' my mouth so tight shut these days, I have to blither and blather when I get the chanct."

She was off with her brasses, to set them up. Jo Jenney stood still, her fine dark brows drawing together with the intensity of a sudden idea, a sudden purpose. When Norah came back Jo's mind was made up. It was an eager mind, few things daunted it.

"See here, Mrs. O'Grady, why couldn't I take the place of that second maid?"

Norah O'Grady stopped stock still, staring at the face of the young woman before her. It was an interesting face, it indeed possessed actual beauty of a spirited sort, but it was notable rather for a certain sturdy look of will which might be counted on to carry away obstacles. To Norah's mind there certainly was a large obstacle looming in the path of such a proposal as this.

"My heart!" she ejaculated. "Do I be hearin' right? An' you a teacher! But you're jokin'—that I know."

She turned away, but Jo's voice pursued her.

"It's vacation," she pointed out. "And I do mean it, Mrs. O'Grady. Why not? I've been wishing for something new to do this summer. I'm anxious to stay in this locality, for certain reasons. So why shouldn't I do this? I saw Mrs. Chase once—in the church where her husband preaches. I could hardly listen to him for looking at her, though I thought he was wonderful—everybody does. But I thought she was more so. I'd like very much to be in her home for a summer."

Mrs. O'Grady was still staring, the current of her work stopped in mid-stream. "Are you thinkin' she'll make a companion of you, maybe, because of your bein' a teacher?" she inquired, with a touch of kindly irony. "Because she won't—not even her that's the real quality an' so ain't the uppish sort at all. But—they don't. Thim as works for 'em they kapes in their places. They're used to that—they don't think to do no other way, and we can't be blamin' 'em."

"I shouldn't expect her to make a companion of me," insisted Josephine Jenney, rather sternly. "Of course I understand, Mrs. O'Grady. And I shouldn't tell her that I'm a teacher. I shouldn't be a teacher while I'm her second maid, should I? And I do want to do something interesting—and I think this would be interesting. Will you recommend me?"

"What'll my Patsy say, that you've taught all he knows, an' more too?"

"Why, Mrs. O'Grady!" Jo was laughing now, with a gleam in her eyes. "If I've taught Patsy anything, it's that we are all free and equal in this country."

"Free an' equal, is it?" Norah O'Grady seemed about to launch into a fiery tirade on the searing irony of this well-worn term, but something in Jo's look halted her. "An' you're serious, Miss Jenney?" she insisted.

"Perfectly serious. And since you've written Mrs. Chase that you can't find anybody—— When did the letter go?"

"Last night."

"Will you catch it with a telegram? 'Have found satisfactory maid on your own terms.' I'll send it, if you like, and pay for it, of course."

When Norah O'Grady had caught her breath, practical details rushed to her mind. She had resumed her work—scrubbing out a pantry—but her thoughts ran free. "Ye'll have to wear what she calls a unyform."

"I know. Black dresses and white aprons. Very attractive."

"And a cap."

For the fraction of a second Jo's assent halted. Then she said undauntedly: "Of course. Most becoming."

"So you don't mind wearin' a unyform? An' a cap?" questioned Norah again, with a sharp look.

"Your Rose wears them."

"Ah, but there's a difference. A trained nurse has her own position. A servant has no position at all."

"I mean to have one," said Jo Jenney lightly. "I mean to be such an unusual servant—such a fascinating servant—that——"

"They'll be takin' ye into the family," finished the Irishwoman scornfully. "Well, since there's nothin' I can say can hinder ye, I may as well give ye my blessin'! An' it's needin' it ye'll be, even though ye work for Mrs. Shyler Wendell Chase. That's the name on the card she give me, with her address. An' it's lucky I'm carryin' it around in me pocket. Handy for thim as sends her tillygrams hirin' thimselves out to her."

She fished in the pocket of her red petticoat, brought out a much rumpled calling card, and handed it somewhat pridefully to Jo.

"Mrs. Schuyler Wendell Chase," read the name, and Jo smiled as she scanned it. Many times she had read it, in the columns of the Sunday edition of the great city daily, which she always bought at the village news-stand for the myriad marvellous contacts it gave her, if only by the printed page.

"I'm going now, to send the message and buy my uniforms," she said.

"I think—I know—Mrs. Chase said she furnishes thim herself," Norah called after her.

Jo shook her head. "I shall furnish one myself, to begin with," she said, "so I can be sure I look the way I want to when she sees me."

Her hand was on the door-latch, but Mrs. Norah O'Grady had the last word, as always. "Ye may as well have that satisfaction for once. After that, ye'll look the way she wants you to," she said sternly.

But when Jo Jenney had gone, Norah smiled contentedly to herself. "There's plinty work before her," she said. "But I like to see thim a bit darin'. It ain't too interestin' a world, at that."

(From Josephine Jenney's Note-book)

Bought a new note-book, the old one not having a blank page left. Must keep notes of this new experience. Invaluable sometime, perhaps. Notes will be staccato ones—shall not have time to draw them out into linked sweetness. But mustn't miss setting down enough to record impressions of J. J. as servant! Boasted to Mrs. O'Grady I could be a fascinating one. Large order!

Put on my uniform just now, and surveyed myself in my two-by-one mirror. Well—really! I almost faltered. To be sure, it's rather becoming. If it could be of black taffeta, with very short skirt, sheer silk stockings, and a tiny lace cap with long streamers, musical comedy style, I'd actually enjoy it. But in dark-blue linen, even though it fits well, with immaculate linen collar and cuffs, and a cap which is almost knowing, I do feel rather odd—and ridiculously demure. But I'm in for it, and I'm not retreating.