THE COLLECTED WORKS OF CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN: Short Stories, Novels, Poems & Essays. Charlotte Perkins Gilman
cars, electric lights, telephones, soda fountains, where they had rather expected to find tents and wigwams.
The house, when they were all safely within it, turned out to be "just like a real house," as Sue said; and proved even more attractive than the doctor had described it. It was a big, rambling thing, at home they would have called it a hotel, with its neat little sign, "The Cottonwoods," and Vivian finally concluded that it looked like a seaside boarding house, built for the purpose.
A broad piazza ran all across the front, the door opening into a big square hall, a sort of general sitting-room; on either side were four good rooms, opening on a transverse passage. The long dining-room and kitchen were in the rear of the hall.
Dr. Bellair had two, her office fronting on the side street, with a bedroom behind it. They gave Mrs. Pettigrew the front corner room on that side and kept the one opening from the hall as their own parlor. In the opposite wing was Miss Elder's room next the hall, and the girls in the outer back corner, while the two front ones on that side were kept for the most impressive and high-priced boarders.
Mrs. Pettigrew regarded her apartments with suspicion as being too "easy."
"I don't mind stairs," she said. "Dr. Bellair has to be next her office—but why do I have to be next Dr. Bellair?"
It was represented to her that she would be nearer to everything that went on and she agreed without more words.
Dr. Hale exhibited the house as if he owned it.
"The agent's out of town," he said, "and we don't need him anyway. He said he'd do anything you wanted, in reason."
Dr. Bellair watched with keen interest the effect of her somewhat daring description, as Miss Orella stepped from room to room examining everything with a careful eye, with an expression of growing generalship. Sue fluttered about delightedly, discovering advantages everywhere and making occasional disrespectful remarks to Vivian about Dr. Hale's clothes.
"Looks as if he never saw a clothes brush!" she said. "A finger out on his glove, a button off his coat. No need to tell us there's no woman in his house!"
"You can decide about your cook when you've tried her," he said to Miss Elder. "I engaged her for a week—on trial. She's in the kitchen now, and will have your dinner ready presently. I think you'll like her, if——"
"Good boy!" said Dr. Bellair. "Sometimes you show as much sense as a woman—almost."
"What's the 'if'" asked Miss Orella, looking worried.
"Question of character," he answered. "She's about forty-five, with a boy of sixteen or so. He's not over bright, but a willing worker. She's a good woman—from one standpoint. She won't leave that boy nor give him up to strangers; but she has a past!"
"What is her present?" Dr. Bellair asked, "that's the main thing."
Dr. Hale clapped her approvingly on the shoulder, but looked doubtingly toward Miss Orella.
"And what's her future if somebody don't help her?" Vivian urged.
"Can she cook?" asked Grandma.
"Is she a safe person to have in the house?" inquired Dr. Bellair meaningly.
"She can cook," he replied. "She's French, or of French parentage. She used to keep a little—place of entertainment. The food was excellent. She's been a patient of mine—off and on—for five years—and I should call her perfectly safe."
Miss Orella still looked worried. "I'd like to help her and the boy, but would it—look well? I don't want to be mean about it, but this is a very serious venture with us, Dr. Hale, and I have these girls with me."
"With you and Dr. Bellair and Mrs. Pettigrew the young ladies will be quite safe, Miss Elder. As to the woman's present character, she has suffered two changes of heart, she's become a religious devotee—and a man-hater! And from a business point of view, I assure you that if Jeanne Jeaune is in your kitchen you'll never have a room empty."
"Johnny Jones! queer name for a woman!" said Grandma. They repeated it to her carefully, but she only changed to "Jennie June," and adhered to one or the other, thereafter. "What's the boy's name?" she asked further.
"Theophile," Dr. Hale replied.
"Huh!" said she.
"Why don't she keep an eating-house still?" asked Dr. Bellair rather suspiciously.
"That's what I like best about her," he answered. "She is trying to break altogether with her past. She wants to give up 'public life'—and private life won't have her."
They decided to try the experiment, and found it worked well.
There were two bedrooms over the kitchen where "Mrs. Jones" as Grandma generally called her, and her boy, could be quite comfortable and by themselves; and although of a somewhat sour and unsociable aspect, and fiercely watchful lest anyone offend her son, this questionable character proved an unquestionable advantage. With the boy's help, she cooked for the houseful, which grew to be a family of twenty-five. He also wiped dishes, helped in the laundry work, cleaned and scrubbed and carried coal; and Miss Elder, seeing his steady usefulness, insisted on paying wages for him too. This unlooked for praise and gain won the mother's heart, and as she grew more at home with them, and he less timid, she encouraged him to do the heavier cleaning in the rest of the house.
"Huh!" said Grandma. "I wish more sane and moral persons would work like that!"
Vivian watched with amazement the swift filling of the house.
There was no trouble at all about boarders, except in discriminating among them. "Make them pay in advance, Rella," Dr. Bellair advised, "it doesn't cost them any more, and it is a great convenience. 'References exchanged,' of course. There are a good many here that I know—you can always count on Mr. Dykeman and Fordham Grier, and John Unwin."
Before a month was over the place was full to its limits with what Sue called "assorted boarders," the work ran smoothly and the business end of Miss Elder's venture seemed quite safe. They had the twenty Dr. Bellair prophesied, and except for her, Mrs. Pettigrew, Miss Peeder, a teacher of dancing and music; Mrs. Jocelyn, who was interested in mining, and Sarah Hart, who described herself as a "journalist," all were men.
Fifteen men to eight women. Miss Elder sat at the head of her table, looked down it and across the other one, and marvelled continuously. Never in her New England life had she been with so many men—except in church—and they were more scattered. This houseful of heavy feet and broad shoulders, these deep voices and loud laughs, the atmosphere of interchanging jests and tobacco smoke, was new to her. She hated the tobacco smoke, but that could not be helped. They did not smoke in her parlor, but the house was full of it none the less, in which constant presence she began to reverse the Irishman's well known judgment of whiskey, allowing that while all tobacco was bad, some tobacco was much worse than others.
CHAPTER V CONTRASTS
Old England thinks our country
Is a wilderness at best—
And small New England thinks the same
Of the large free-minded West.
Some people know the good old way
Is the only way to do,
And find there must be something wrong
In anything that's new.
To Vivian the new life offered a stimulus, a sense of stir and promise even beyond her expectations. She wrote dutiful letters to her mother, trying to describe the difference between this mountain town and Bainville, but found the New England viewpoint an insurmountable obstacle.
To Bainville "Out West" was a large blank space