Читать книгу Mary Janeway - Mary Pettit - Страница 14

Three SETTLING IN

“No formal agreement has been entered into between the home and those receiving the children beyond signing the application form…and the foster-parents see that they are not likely to be interfered with if they overwork and otherwise take advantage of their young charges.” ⁷

July 11, 1892

“WHAT ON earth are you doing with that corn broom? Have you no sense at all, Girl? Use the other one. It's far stronger and I don't want a slipshod job either. I want it done right and proper the first time!” Mrs. Jacques bellowed from her wheelchair across the room as she threw up her hands in a gesture of disgust.

“But you said I could use either, Ma'am,” Mary replied shyly.

“I said no such thing. Now get on with your work and don't talk back, Girl.”

Mary exchanged brooms and said nothing more. As she swept, the woman nattered away without seeming to want a response, just an audience.

“I can't run this household by myself, what with Annie working all day and the boys in the fields. I'm left to see that everything is managed properly. If I can't count on you, then what good are you?”

Having finished the floor by this time, Mary began to clear the breakfast table. Try as she might to ignore the woman, the words still hurt and Mary's eyes filled with tears. It was going to be a long, hot day.

“I have so much to do for tomorrow.”

Mrs. Jacques was referring to the work bee that was to take place in her home at two o'clock the next day. Work bees, as they were called, had become very popular. The idea that “many hands make light work” had been a part of life since early pioneer days. A work bee could be organized for a variety of reasons: to shear sheep, erect a building, husk corn, pare apples for drying and, in Mrs. Jacques' case, to sew carpet rags.

At the moment, rag carpets could be found only in the Jacques' parlour, but Mrs. Jacques wanted them elsewhere as well. Such profusion was considered a sign of prosperity. Her nearest neighbours, Mrs. Graves and Mrs. McLaren, had accepted her invitation.

While the intention of work bees was to accomplish a job, they were also social gatherings. Country folks had little opportunity for visiting their neighbours, enjoying each other's company and dispensing the latest gossip. Not unlike Rachel Lynde who sojourned to Green Gables to inspect the “Anne” girl, the neighbours were curious about the “little immigrant” who had come to live with May and Daniel Jacques.

Mrs. Jacques nattered on, “I need you to get the rag boxes out of the loft. Put them in the front room. My sewing basket's in the bottom drawer of the jam cupboard. See that it's out as well.”

As much as Mary did not look forward to extra chores, the thought of having someone besides Mrs. Jacques in the house was a pleasant one. She longed to hear voices and laughter from people even if they were strangers.

Mindlessly, she went through the daily routine her mistress had so carefully mapped out. Luckily, fetching water, sweeping and scrubbing the floor and washing dishes could all be done while her mind wandered.

Mary thought about Cat and wondered what it did all day in the barn. How she would love to have had the cat in the house with her. But she did not dare ask! In fact, she had not even mentioned it for fear somehow Mrs. Jacques would put an end to this pleasure. With a smile on her face, she imagined how wonderful it would be to curl up with Cat beside her on her cot in the loft, and fall asleep next to its gentle purring.

“I don't know what you're so happy about.” Mrs. Jacques sharp tongue brought Mary back to her dishwashing chore with a sudden jolt. “There's so much to be done. I want the grey rug in the hall taken outside and swept after your regular chores are done. I expect my home to look proper for my guests.”

“It was done on Tuesday, Ma'am,” Mary interjected, speaking for the second time in over an hour.

The vegetable garden was an important source of supply for the farm kitchen. Caring for the fledgling plants would be a chore assigned to one of the younger children. This young boy, obviously a good worker, may have resembled Daniel Jr. Courtesy Barry Hoskins, Heritage Cards.

“And it will be done again today.”

Mary was getting discouraged. The weather was warm and the sunshine inviting. She had hoped to get her work done by mid-afternoon so she would have a little free time before preparing supper. But with extra jobs to do, this was not likely to happen.

Finally, she was finished and allowed to go outside. Her favourite game was to take her rubber ball, which she carried in her apron pocket, and bounce it on the far side of the house against the hard clapboard, as far away as possible from Mrs. Jacques' hearing. She invented little challenges like trying to catch it with her left hand or pop it directly in her apron pocket.

Within a few minutes, Daniel Jr., the youngest in the family, appeared at the side of the house. “Would you like to play?” Mary asked.

“Why not,” he shrugged. They threw the ball back and forth and laughed whenever one of them missed. Daniel was obviously much better at catching and throwing but showed a reasonable amount of patience with Mary. For a little while she forgot her loneliness and began to act like a seven-year-old child.

“And what do you think Mother will say about this, Daniel?” The laughter came to an abrupt halt. “Playing with a girl and the help at that!” The words came from his sister's lips. Annie's harsh manner intimidated both of them.

With that, Daniel threw Mary's ball as hard as he could into the thicket of trees at the top of the hill and darted around the corner in the direction of the barn. Annie's mission had been accomplished and she walked back toward the house, thinking about Mary. In Annie's mind, Mary was different. Her clothes were not as nice as hers and she spoke with a slight accent. Mary was not part of her family and never would be. She was a servant girl, needed here on the farm to help her invalid mother. Her brother should not play with a servant—it wasn't proper.

A formal studio photograph of May Jacques with her daughter Annie, circa 1893. Courtesy Joseph Jacques.

Mary raced to the top of the hill in an attempt to find her one and only toy. In a frantic search, she dropped down an all fours, unaware that she was staining the front of her apron. Her tears were not only for the lost ball but also because of her disappointment in Daniel. She thought he was going to be her friend.

Annie's voice, calling her back to the house, interrupted her search. It was time to prepare supper and bake for tomorrow's company.

Daniel avoided looking at Mary at the supper table and nothing was said about the incident. Mary truly believed that he was sorry. She, however, was reprimanded for getting her apron dirty, but Mary had anticipated the scolding. With all that had happened that day, a few more harsh words did not make any difference.

Mrs. Jacques admitted to being unusually fatigued that evening and introduced Mary to yet another task. “When I'm tired like this, I like to have my hair combed,” she said. Her dark, thick straight hair was coiled on top of her head in a bun. She removed several hairpins and the long, black mane fell halfway down her back. It became Mary's job to comb and brush her hair until Mrs. Jacques felt satisfied.

And so she sat in her wheelchair by the stove and Mary stood behind her and brushed and combed, sometimes for as long as an hour, while the others pursued their own activities. Frequently, Mr. Jacques went to the barn since smoking was not allowed in the house.

“I'll let you know when you may stop.”

Mary's arms ached and if she slowed down she would be reminded of her job. “I can't feel it. Press harder with the comb or there's no point in doing it.”

When she was finally given permission to go to bed, Mary was relieved to be alone in her little loft. She longed to hold the barn cat in her arms and fell asleep dreaming about Cat.

Mary found the rhythmic purr of her feline friend soothing. The cat burrowed further under her bent elbow and finally rested its head on her chest. The soft little belly rose and fell as it drifted off to sleep.

Suddenly and without warning, the cat sprang to life and jumped off her body. She had forgotten where she was, of course, the hayloft. The sun was beaming in through open boards. It was far too glorious a day to waste sleeping.

“You're so smart” , she said, peering over the loft at a pair of big green eyes staring up at her. “We should be out in the sun, not stuck here in this loft.” Mary ran to the ladder and climbed down. She slowly pulled the barn door open and before she could step out, the cat slid past her and was gone, moving so fast that Mary was even uncertain as to which direction it had gone.

Her instinct told her the cat probably headed for the grove of trees beyond Mama's clothesline. She ran up the small hill, half expecting to see Will and John playing ball in the clearing but they weren't there. And neither was the cat.

“Cat, where did you go? I know you're hiding. Come on out, Cat, wherever you are.”

She was getting annoyed. “Let's go back to the house. Mama might have a treat for us.” Cat loved Mama's treats, fresh cream or bread and honey. She heard a sound, thought she saw something and reached out to grab it. “Now I've got you,” she laughed.