Wishful Seeing. Janet Kellough
others because they found employment at the mill or on one of the ships that carried goods and passengers back and forth along the lake. She understood that these occupations were not open to her. They required physical strength and a fortitude that she was told she didn’t have, although she felt herself to be nearly as strong as any of the boys, and just as ready for a challenge.
Some of the girls left early, too, either because they were needed at home or to work as hired help on one of the local farms until they were old enough to get married and have families of their own. It seemed that women were destined to cook and sew and clean, even if they did it as a business and not just on behalf of their own families — Sophie in the kitchen at the hotel; Meribeth Scully, the seamstress at the dry goods store; Mrs. Crawford, who ran a boarding house near the harbour.
Martha wanted something more. She just didn’t know what it might be. But of one thing she was sure: she stood a far better chance of finding it if she went with Thaddeus than if she stayed home. It wouldn’t quite be the same kind of adventure as sailing on a ship or working at a mill — it would be more cooking and cleaning when you got right down to it — but the unexpected seemed to happen to her grandfather wherever he went, and if Martha lived with him she could be a part of whatever thrilling circumstance came his way.
Thaddeus was in a fine mood as he trotted his horse home toward Cobourg, elated not only by the success of the camp meeting and anticipation of the forthcoming debate, but by the unfamiliar wad of extra money in his pocket. As soon as the meeting ended — “one of the most successful in recent memory,” as everyone agreed — he and Small worked their way through their regular schedule of appointments, not only to further introduce Thaddeus to the Methodist meetings, but to let everyone know that the coming Sunday’s service would offer something special. “You would do well to come,” Thaddeus told them with a sly smile. “It should be most entertaining.”
They all seemed to agree. The news of his confrontation with the Baptist minister had travelled ahead of him, and there were numerous requests for extra meetings, as well as a wedding and two funerals for people who, as far as he knew, had not been members of the Methodist Episcopal Church during their lifetimes. But the families wanted the best for their loved ones, and were willing to pay for it. And pay for it they did, in a motley collection of currency. The Province of Canada was making efforts to standardize its money, but the legislation had yet to be decreed. In the meantime, everyone was anxious to get rid of any currency that might not be accepted after the law passed. An easy way to dispose of it was to throw it into the collection plate. Thaddeus wasn’t particularly worried by the number of American coins and Halifax shillings he had been given. There were plenty of Canadian changemaker banknotes, as well, and, in spite of what the government wanted, he fully expected that foreign currency would continue to circulate the way it always had.
He was in a mood to celebrate, just a little. The collection money went, of course, to the church’s central conference, but any extras — the fees for baptisms and weddings and funerals — was his. Or rather, in the case of the wedding, Martha’s, he supposed. Traditionally, wedding fees had always been handed to the minister’s wife to use as she saw fit. He saw no reason why Martha, as his housekeeper, wouldn’t qualify for the same consideration. He had no need of anything for himself, but there was enough extra money in his pocket that he decided to request a luxury. A chicken dinner. Roast chicken with floury dumplings like Sophie made on special occasions at the hotel. He’d ask Martha about it when she arrived that afternoon.
When Martha stepped from the steamer to the dock, Thaddeus realized that she had grown at least an inch since he’d last seen her, and that she had put her hair up in an arrangement that made her look far older than fifteen.
She was a pretty enough girl, who looked remarkably like her mother had at the same age, but it was the way she carried herself, he realized, that turned young men’s heads and drew old men’s smiles as they walked down the pier toward town. She was so assured. He hoped that he wasn’t about to be faced with a stream of would-be beaus to chase off the doorstep, but as they walked through town arm in arm, he realized that Martha gave none of the gawkers any encouragement. This was a relief, since the problem of male admirers hadn’t occurred to him when he’d asked her to come.
While they waited for her trunk to arrive, he gave her a tour of the house. She immediately made some practical suggestions to streamline her tasks, pointing out, for example, that the kitchen table should be moved over by the window.
“It’s smack dab in the path between the stove and the pantry,” she said. “You have to walk around it all the time. Besides, the sunlight will pour in through that window in the morning. Breakfast will be more cheerful if we’re sitting there.”
She wrinkled her nose at the heavy, dusty curtains in the parlour.
“I’m not sure I can do anything about those,” Thaddeus said. “The manse is furnished by the congregation.”
“Well, at the very least I can take them outside and give them a good airing,” she said, and then moved two stuffed chairs to the other side of the room.
Martha found the manse furnishings old-fashioned and fusty, but she was so delighted to be with her grandfather again that she resolved to make whatever domestic improvements she could and stay mum about any remaining shortcomings. In the meantime, she was determined to earn her keep and look after his every comfort.
“Of course I can make dumplings,” she said when Thaddeus brought it up to her over supper. “Chicken and dumplings it is. And shortcake for dessert, if you like, if I can find something nice to go with it. Is there a good market here?”
“We’ll find out tomorrow. I need to go to the bank, anyway. Then if you want to stock the larder, I can help carry the packages.” He reached into his pocket and counted out a handful of coins, then shoved them across the table to her. “This is yours, by the way.”
“Mine? You mean for housekeeping?” She was taken aback by what a small pile it was. She would have to be very careful indeed to stretch this over a whole week. Maybe a chicken dinner wasn’t possible after all.
“No. I’ll give you the housekeeping money after I go to the bank. This is yours, personally. It’s from a wedding. Wedding money goes to the preacher’s wife, except in this case it goes to the preacher’s granddaughter.”
She was astonished. “Mine? Mine for whatever I want?”
“Yours for whatever you want,” he said.
And suddenly the pile of coins that had seemed so small a moment before became riches beyond belief. Martha had never had any money of her own, other than a few pennies given to her here and there for candy or ribbons. She scarcely knew what she could buy. She would take some time to think about it, she decided. It would be foolish to spend it just for the sake of spending it, when there might be something she truly wanted later. In the meantime, she could revel in the fact that she had it at all.
The next morning, after breakfast, Thaddeus fetched down his coat and gave it a thorough brushing, then carefully wiped the mud from his boots. He looked at Martha a little sheepishly. “I don’t want anyone to wonder what such a pretty girl is doing with such a seedy old coot,” he said.
She laughed. “Oh go on, you’re so handsome, everyone will think you’re my beau, of course.”
The sun shone down brightly as they walked into the heart of the bustling town. Cobourg’s prosperity had grown from the long wharves that formed a safe harbour for the ships and schooners that sailed across and along Lake Ontario, carrying passengers and freight of all descriptions, from the wheat that grew on the upland plains to timber drawn from the back country, as well as the output from the woollen mills and the town’s small manufactories. Tradespeople of all descriptions had found a good living in Cobourg, and an astounding collection of businesses maintained shopfronts on King Street, the main thoroughfare of the town. There were several grocers and provisioners, dry goods stores and tailors, and even a bookseller who offered a large selection of reading materials, both books and periodicals as well as stationery supplies.
But the temperament of Cobourg was