An Unwilling Guest (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill
Were they afraid of the smallpox?"
"Oh, dear no!" said Allison, this time surprised out of her gravity into a genuine laugh. "There isn't any smallpox in town, only perhaps that one case you know. No, we never keep more than one servant. I did not say she had left; I said we had none now. She's not a maid in the sense you meant; she's the maid-of-all-work. She has been with mother since we were little children, but she is away on a vacation now. She always goes for a month every fall to visit her brother in Chicago, and during that month mother and I do all the work, all but the washing. She only went to Chicago day before yesterday, so we are just getting broken in, you see."
"Oh!" said Miss Rutherford slowly, trying to take in such a state of things and the possibility that anybody could accept it calmly. "And you only keep one servant? I'm sure I don't see how ever in the world you manage. Why, we keep four always, and sometimes five, and then things are never half done right. I should think you would just hate to have to do the work. Don't you?"
"Why, no," said Allison slowly. "I rather like it. Mother and I have such nice times doing it together. I love to make bread. I always do that part now; it's a little too hard for mother."
"Do you mean to say you can make bread?" The questioner leaned forward and looked curiously at the other girl, as though she had confessed to belonging to some strange tribe of wild people of whom she had heard, but whom she had never expected to look upon.
"Why, certainly!" said Allison, laughing heartily now. "I can make good bread too, I think. Wasn't that good you had for supper?"
"Yes, it was fine. I think it was the best I ever ate, but I never dreamed a girl could make it. Don't you get your hands all stuck up? I should think it would ruin them forever. I've always heard work was terrible on the hands," and she looked down at her own white ones sparkling with jewels in the moonlight as if they might have become contaminated by those so lowly nearby.
"I have not found that my hands suffered," said Allison, in a cold tone, spreading out a pair as small and white and shapely as those adorned with rings. Her guest looked at her curiously again. Sitting there on the step in that graceful attitude, with the white scarf about her head and shoulders which her mother had placed there when she went in, and the moonlight streaming all about her, Miss Rutherford suddenly saw that the other girl was beautiful too. The delicately cut features showed clearly with the pure line of profile against the dark foliage in shadow behind her. Evelyn Rutherford knew that here was a face that her brother would rave over as being "pure Greek." What a pity that such a girl must be shut in by such surroundings, a little quiet village wherein she was buried, and nothing to do but wash dishes and make bread. Curiosity began to grow in her. She would try to find out how this other girl reconciled herself to such surroundings. Did she know no better? or had she never heard of any other world, of life and gayety? What did she do with her time? She decided to find out.
"What in the earth do you do with yourself the rest of the time? You only have to wash dishes and make bread one month you say. I should think you would die buried away out here? Is there any life at all in this little place?"
If Allison had been better acquainted with her visitor she would have known that her tone was as near true pity as she had ever yet come in speaking to another girl. As it was, she recognized only a scornful curiosity, and it seemed an indignity put upon her home and her upbringing. She grew suddenly angry and with her habit of self-control waited a moment before she answered. Her questioner studied her meanwhile and wondered at the look that gradually overspread her face. She had lifted her eyes for steadying to the brilliant autumn skies, studded with innumerable stars. Did they speak to her of the Father in heaven whom she recognized, of his wealth and power and all the glories to which she was heir? Did it suddenly come to her how foolish it was that she should mind the pity of this other girl, whose lot was set, indeed, amid earthly pleasures, but whose hope for the future might be so lacking? For suddenly the watcher saw a look almost of triumph mixed with one which seemed like pity, come over the fair young face before her, and then a joyous laugh broke out clear and sweet.
"Why, Miss Rutherford," she said, turning to look at her straight in the face, "I would not change my lot for that of any other girl in the world. I love Hillcroft with all my heart, and I love my life and my work and my pleasures. Why, I wouldn't be you for anything in the world, much as you may wonder at it. As for life here, there is plenty of it if you only know where to look for it."
Miss Rutherford about made up her mind that the investigation was not worth pursuing. It was not pleasant to have pity thrust back upon one in this style. She straightened back in the comfortable rocking-chair and asked in an indifferent tone:
"Then there is something going on? I always thought from aunt's letters that it must be a very poky place. What do you do?"
"There are plenty of young people here, and we are all interested in the same things. I suppose we do a great deal as they do in other places," mused Allison, wondering where to begin to tell about her life which seemed so full. Instinctively she felt that she must not mention first the pursuit dearest to her heart, her beloved Sunday-school class of boys, for it would not be understood. She thought a minute and then went on.
"We have a most delightful club," she said eagerly, her eyes kindling with pleasures past and to come. "I think you would enjoy that."
"Club?" said Miss Rutherford, stifling a yawn. "Girls or men?"
"Both," said Allison. 'The girls meet early and do the real, solid hard work, and in the evening the boys come and enjoy and learn and give the money."
"You don't say!" said Miss Rutherford, with interest. "How odd! I never heard the like. What do you do? I suppose you make fancy work and the men buy it for charity and then you have a good time in the evening. Is that it? What do you do? Dance? Or perhaps you are devoted to cards."
She was quite at home now and began to feel as if perhaps her exile might be tolerable after all.
"Oh, no!" said Allison, almost shocked to see how far she had been from making her visitor understand. "Why it is a club of the young people of the church."
"Do you mean it is a religious society?" questioned the girl, a covert sneer on her face.
"No, not religious," answered Allison; "but it is made up of the young people in our church. It is wholly secular and we have delightful times, but it is not a bit like society. We don't any of us play cards or dance, at least a great many of us don't know how and don't care anything about those things. But we have most delightful meetings."
Then Allison entered into a detailed and glowing account of the last meeting of their unique club of young people, wherein was combined the intellectual, useful, and social. She warmed to the subject as she went on till it seemed to her that her guest could not but see how fascinating such evening entertainments could be. She told how her hostess had contrived clever ways to make the entertainment of the evening bring in the subject which had been the theme of the afternoon's discussion; and described the dainty arrangement of tables, flowers, lights, and refreshments to suit the occasion until she felt sure Miss Rutherford would see that she understood how things ought to be as well as if she lived in New York. Then she turned at the close to meet cold unresponsiveness and hear in the tone of entire indifference the word, "Indeed!" from Miss Rutherford.
In truth the visitor had heard very little of what was said. It sounded to her like a country church sociable—though she had never attended such a gathering—and she was simply bored by the account. Her mind was not sufficiently awake as yet to appreciate the cleverness manifested by these village girls in supplying the needs of social life which in the city are ministered to by professionals as a matter of course. She had been idly studying the sweet face before her and wondering what haunting memory was awakened by the expression that flitted across it now and again. Where had she seen some one of whom these people reminded her?
Allison suddenly subsided. She was aware that she had been casting her precious pearls before—well, she was hardly prepared to finish the sentence. But she was a girl whose likes and dislikes were intense, and when she went into anything she put her whole heart into it. This young people's club was dear to her. She did not relish seeing it despised. She was glad that her mother came out