Читать книгу Janet's Love and Service - Margaret M. Robertson - Страница 10

Table of Contents

From the time of their arrival, the minister and his family excited great curiosity and interest among the good people of Merleville. The minister himself, as Mr. Snow told Mrs. Nasmyth, was “popular.” Not, however, that any one among them all thought him faultless, unless Mr. Snow himself did. Every old lady in the town saw something in him, which she not secretly deplored. Indeed, they were more unanimous, with regard to the minister’s faults, than old ladies generally are on important subjects. The matter was dispassionately discussed at several successive sewing-circles, and when Mrs. Page, summing up the evidence, solemnly declared, “that though the minister was a good man, and a good preacher, he lacked considerable in some things which go to make a man a good pastor,” there was scarcely a dissenting voice.

Mrs. Merle had ventured to hint that, “they could not expect everything in one man,” but her voice went for nothing, as one of the minister’s offences was, having been several times in at the Judge’s, while he sinfully neglected others of his flock.

“It’s handy by,” ventured Mrs. Merle, again. But the Judge’s wife was no match for the blacksmith’s lady, and it was agreed by all, that whatever else the minister might be, he was “no hand at visiting.” True he had divided the town into districts, for the purpose of regularly meeting the people, and it was his custom to announce from the pulpit, the neighbourhood in which, on certain days, he might be expected. But that of course, was a formal matter, and not at all like the affectionate intercourse that ought to exist between a pastor and his people. “He might preach like Paul,” said Mrs. Page, “but unless on week days he watered the seed sown, with a word in season, the harvest would never be gathered in. The minister’s face ought to be a familiar sight in every household, or the youth would never be brought into the fold,” and the lady sighed, at the case of the youth, scattered over the ten miles square of Merleville. The minister was not sinning in ignorance either, for she herself, had told him his duty in this respect.

“And what did he say?” asked some one.

“Oh! he didn’t say much, but I could see that his conscience wasn’t easy. However, there has been no improvement yet,” she added, with grave severity.

“He hain’t got a horse, and I’ve heard say, that deacon Fish charges him six cents a mile for his horse and cutter, whenever he has it. He couldn’t afford to ride round much at that rate, on five hundred dollars a year.”

This bold speech was ventured by Miss Rebecca Pettimore, Mrs. Captain Liscome’s help, who took turns with that lady, in attending the sewing-circle. But it was well known, that she was always “on the off side,” and Mrs. Page deigned no reply. There was a moment’s silence.

“Eli heard Mr. Snow say so, in Page’s shop yesterday,” added Rebecca, who always gave her authority, when she repeated an item of news. Mrs. Fish took her up sharply.

“Sampson Snow had better let the minister have his horse and cutter, if he can afford to do it for nothing. Mr. Fish can’t.”

“My goodness, Mis’ Fish, I wouldn’t have said a word, if I’d thought you were here,” said Rebecca, with an embarrassed laugh.

“Mr. Snow often drives the minister, and thinks himself well paid, just to have a talk with him,” said a pretty black-eyed girl, trying to cover Rebecca’s retreat. But Rebecca wouldn’t retreat.

“I didn’t mean any offence, Mis’ Fish, and if it ain’t so about the deacon, you can say so now, before it goes farther.”

But it was not to be contradicted, and that Mrs. Fish well knew, though what business it was of anybody’s, and why the minister, who seemed to be well off, shouldn’t pay for the use of a horse and cutter, she couldn’t understand. The subject was changed by Mrs. Slowcome.

“He must have piles and piles of old sermons. It don’t seem as though he needs to spend as much time in his study, as Mrs. Nasmyth tells about.”

Here there was a murmur of dissent. Would sermons made for the British, be such as to suit free-born American citizens? the children of the Puritans? The prevailing feeling was against such a supposition.

“Old or new, I like them,” said Celestia Jones, the pretty black-eyed girl, who had spoken before. “And so do others, who are better judges than I.”

“Squire Greenleaf, I suppose,” said Ruby Fox, in a loud whisper. “He was up there last Sunday night; she has been aching to tell it all the afternoon.”

Celestia’s black eyes flashed fire at the speaker, and the sly Ruby said no more. Indeed, there was no more said about the sermons, for that they were something for the Merleville people to be proud of, all agreed. Mr. Elliott’s preaching had filled the old meeting-house. People who had never been regular churchgoers came now; some from out of the town, even. Young Squire Greenleaf, who seemed to have the prospect of succeeding Judge Merle, as the great man of Merleville, had brought over the judges from Rixford, and they had dined at the minister’s, and had come to church on Sunday. Young Squire Greenleaf was a triumph of himself. He had never been at meeting “much, if any,” since he had completed his legal studies. If he ever did go, it was to the Episcopal church at Rixford, which, to the liberal Mrs. Page, looked considerably like coquetting with the scarlet woman. Now, he hardly ever lost a Sunday, besides going sometimes to conference meetings, and making frequent visits to the minister’s house. Having put all these things together, and considered the matter, Mrs. Page came to the conclusion, that the squire was not in so hopeless a condition as she had been wont to suppose, a fact which, on this occasion, she took the opportunity of rejoicing over. The rest rejoiced too. There was a murmur of dissent from Miss Pettimore, but it passed unnoticed, as usual. There was a gleam which looked a little like scorn, in the black eyes of Miss Celestia, which said more plainly than Miss Pettimore’s words could have done, that the squire was better now, than the most in Merleville, but like a wise young person as she was, she expended all her scornful glances on the shirt sleeve she was making, and said nothing.

The minister was then allowed to rest a little while, and the other members of the family were discussed, with equal interest. Upon the whole, the conclusion arrived at was pretty favourable. But Mrs. Page and her friends were not quite satisfied with Graeme. As the minister’s eldest daughter, and “serious,” they were disposed to overlook her youthfulness, and give her a prominent place in their circle. But Graeme hung back, and would not be prevailed upon to take such honour to herself, and so some said she was proud, and some said she was only shy. But she was kindly dealt with, even by Mrs. Page, for her loving care of the rest of the children had won for her the love of many a motherly heart among these kind people. And she was after all but a child, little more than fifteen.

There were numberless stories afloat about the boys—their mirth, their mischief, their good scholarship, their respect and obedience to their father, which it was not beneath the dignity of the ladies assembled to repeat and discuss. The boys had visited faithfully through the parish, if their father had not, and almost everywhere they had won for themselves a welcome. It is true, there had been one or two rather serious scrapes, in which they had involved themselves, and other lads of the village; but kind-hearted people forgot the mischief sooner than the mirth, and Norman and Harry were very popular among old and young.

But the wonder of wonders, the riddle that none could read, the anomaly in Merleville society was Janet, or Mrs. Nasmyth, as she was generally called. In refusing one of the many invitations which she had shared with the minister and Graeme, she had thought fit to give society in general a piece of her mind. She was, she said, the minister’s servant, and kenned her place better than to offer to take her tea with him in any strange house; she was obliged for the invitation all the same.

“Servant!” echoed Mrs. Sterne’s help, who was staying to pass the evening, while her mistress went home, “to see about supper.”

And, “servant!” echoed the young lady who assisted Mrs. Merle in her household affairs.

“I’ll let them see that I think myself just as good as Queen Victoria, if I do live out,” said another dignified auxiliary.

“She must be a dreadful mean-spirited creature.”

“Why, they do say she’ll brush them great boys’ shoes. I saw her myself, through the study-door, pull off Mr. Elliott’s boots as humble as could be.”

“To see that little girl pouring tea when there’s company, and Mrs. Nasmyth not sitting down. It’s ridiculous.”

“I wouldn’t do so for the President!”

“Well, they seem to think everything of her,” said Miss Pettimore, speaking for the first time in this connection.

“Why, yes, she does just what she has a mind to about house. And the way them children hang about her, and fuss over her, I never see. They tell her everything, and these boys mind her, as they do their father.”

“And if any one comes to pay his minister’s tax, it’s always, ‘ask Mrs. Nasmyth,’ or, ‘Mrs. Nasmyth will tell you.’ ”

“They couldn’t get along without her. If I was her I’d show them that I was as good as them, and no servant.”

“She’s used to it. She’s been brought up so. But now that she’s got here, I should think she’d be sick of it.”

“I suppose ‘servant’ there, means pretty much what ‘help’ does here. There don’t seem to be difference enough to talk about,” said Rebecca.

“I see considerable difference,” said Mrs. Merle’s young lady.

“It beats all,” said another.

Yes, it did beat all. It was incomprehensible to these dignified people, how Janet could openly acknowledge herself a servant, and yet retain her self-respect. And that “Mrs. Nasmyth thought considerable of herself,” many of the curious ladies of Merleville had occasion to know. The relations existing between her and “the bairns,” could not easily be understood. She acknowledged herself their servant, yet she reproved them when they deserved it, and that sharply. She enforced obedience to all rules, and governed in all household matters, none seeking to dispute her right. They went to her at all times with their troubles and their pleasures, and she sympathised with them, advised them, or consoled them, as the case might need. That they were as the very apple of her eye, was evident to all, and that they loved her dearly, and respected her entirely, none could fail to see.

There were stories going about in the village to prove that she had a sharp tongue in her head, and this her warmest friends did not seek to deny. Of course, it was the duty of all the female part of the congregation to visit at the minister’s house, and to give such advice and assistance, with regard to the arrangements, as might seem to be required of them. It is possible they took more interest in the matter than if there had been a mistress in the house. “More liberties,” Janet indignantly declared, and after the first visitation or two she resolutely set her face against what she called the answering of impertinent questions. According to her own confession, she gave to several of them, whose interest in their affairs was expressed without due discretion, a “downsetting,” and Graeme and the boys, and even Mr. Elliott, had an idea that a downsetting from Janet must be something serious. It is true her victims’ ignorance of the Scottish tongue must have taken the edge a little off her sharp words, but there was no mistaking her indignant testimony, as regarding “upsettin’ bodies,” and “meddlesome bodies,” that bestowed too much time on their neighbours’ affairs, and there was some indignation felt and expressed on the subject.

But she had her friends, and that not a few, for sweet words and soft came very naturally to Janet’s lips when her heart was touched, and this always happened to her in the presence of suffering and sorrow, and many were the sad and sick that her kind words comforted, and her willing hands relieved. For every sharp word brought up against her, there could be told a kindly deed, and Janet’s friends were the most numerous at the sewing-circle that night.

Merleville was by no means on the outskirts of civilisation, though viewed from the high hill on which the old meeting-house stood, it seemed to the children to be surrounded with woods. But between the hills lay many a fertile valley. Except toward the west, where the hills became mountains, it was laid out into farms, nearly all of which were occupied, and very pleasant homes some of these farm-houses were. The village was not large enough to have a society within itself independent of the dwellers on these farms, and all the people, even to the borders of the “ten miles square,” considered themselves neighbours. They were very socially inclined, for the most part, and Merleville was a very pleasant place to live in.

Winter was the time for visiting. There was very little formality in their entertainments. Nuts and apples, or doughnuts and cheese, was usually the extent of their efforts in the way of refreshments, except on special occasions, when formal invitations were given. Then, it must be confessed, the chief aim of each housekeeper seemed to be to surpass all others in the excellence and variety of the good things provided. But for the most part no invitations were given or needed, they dropped in on one another in a friendly way.

The minister’s family were not overlooked. Scarcely an evening passed but some of their neighbours came in. Indeed, this happened too frequently for Janet’s patience, for she sorely begrudged the time taken from the minister’s books, to the entertainment of “ilka idle body that took leave to come in.” It gave her great delight to see him really interested with visitors, but she set her face against his being troubled at all hours on every day in the week.

“If it’s anything particular I’ll tell the minister you’re here,” she used to say; “but he bade the bairns be quiet, and I doubt he wouldna like to be disturbed. Sit down a minute, and I’ll speak to Miss Graeme, and I dare say the minister will be at leisure shortly.”

Generally the visitor, by no means displeased, sat down in her bright kitchen for a chat with her and the children. It was partly these evening visits that won for Mrs. Nasmyth her popularity. Even in her gloomy days—and she had some days gloomy enough about this time—she would exert herself on such an occasion, and with the help of the young people the visitor was generally well entertained. Such singing of songs, such telling of tales, such discussions as were carried on in the pleasant firelight! There was no such thing as time lagging there, and often the nine o’clock worship came before the visitor was aware.

Even Judge Merle and young Squire Greenleaf were sometimes detained in the kitchen, if they happened to come in on a night when the minister was more than usually engaged.

“For you see, sir,” said she, on one occasion, “what with ae thing and what with anither, the minister has had so many interruptions this week already, that I dinna like to disturb him. But if you’ll sit down here for a minute or two, I daresay he’ll be ben and I’ll speak to Miss Graeme.”

“Mr. Elliott seems a close student,” said the Judge, as he took the offered seat by the fire.

“Ay, is he. Though if you are like the lave o’ the folk, you’ll think no more o’ him for that. Folk o’ my country judge o’ a minister by the time he spends in his study; but here he seems hardly to be thought to be in the way of his duty, unless he’s ca’ing about from house to house, hearkening to ilka auld wife’s tale.”

“But,” said the Judge, much amused, “the minister has been studying all his life. It seems as though he might draw on old stores now.”

“Ay, but out o’ the old stores he must bring new matter. The minister’s no one that puts his people off with ‘cauld kail het again,’ and he canna make sermons and rin here and there at the same time.”

“And he can’t attend to visitors and make sermons at the same time. That would be to the point at present,” said the Judge, laughing, “I think I’ll be going.”

“ ’Deed, no, sir,” said Janet, earnestly, “I didna mean you. I’m aye glad to see you or any sensible person to converse with the minister. It cheers him. But this week it’s been worse than ever. He has hardly had an unbroken hour. But sit still, sir. He would be ill-pleased if you went away without seeing him.”

“I’ll speak to papa, Judge Merle,” said Graeme.

“Never mind, my dear. Come and speak to me yourself. I think Mrs. Nasmyth is right. The minister ought not to be disturbed. I have nothing particular to say to him. I came because it’s a pleasure to come, and I did not think about its being so near the end of the week.”

Graeme looked rather anxiously from him to Janet.

“My dear, you needna trouble yourself. It’s no’ folk like the Judge and young Mr. Greenleaf that will be likely to take umbrage at being kept waiting a wee while here. It’s folk like the ’smith yonder, or Orrin Green, the upsettin’ body. But you can go in now and see if your papa’s at leisure, and tell him the Judge is here.”

“We had Mr. Greenleaf here awhile the ither night,” she continued, as Graeme disappeared. “A nice, pleasant spoken gentleman he is, an no’ ae bit o’ a Yankee.”

The Judge opened his eyes. It was rather an equivocal compliment, considering the person to whom she spoke. But he was not one of the kind to take offence, as Janet justly said.