further.
"She's been spellin' her lesson backwards, then. Shampuashuh's afirst-rate place."
"But we've no grand people here. We don't eat off silver dishes, nordrink out o' gold spoons; and our horses can go without littlelookin'-glasses over their heads," Charity proceeded.
"Do you think there's any use in all that, Lois?" said her aunt.
"I don't know, aunt Anne," Lois answered with a little hesitation.
"Then I'm sorry for ye, girl, if you are left to think such nonsense.Ain't our victuals as good here, as what comes out o' those silverdishes?"
"Not always."
"Are New York folks better cooks than we be?"
"They have servants that know how to do things."
"Servants! Don't tell me o' no servants' doin's! What can they makethat I can't make better?"
"Can you make a soufflé, aunt Anne?"
"What's that?"
"Or biscuit glacé?"
"Biskwee glassy?" repeated the indignant Shampuashuh lady. "What doyou mean, Lois? Speak English, if I am to understand you."
"These things have no English names."
"Are they any the better for that?"
"No; and nothing could make them better. They are as good as it ispossible for anything to be; and there are a hundred other thingsequally good, that we know nothing about here."
"I'd have watched and found out how they were done," said the elderwoman, eyeing Lois with a mingled expression of incredulity andcuriosity and desire, which it was comical to see. Only nobody thereperceived the comicality. They sympathized too deeply in the feeling.
"I would have watched," said Lois; "but I could not go down into thekitchen for it."
"Why not?"
"Nobody goes into the kitchen, except to give orders."
"Nobody goes into the kitchen!" cried Mrs. Marx, sinking down againinto a chair. She had risen to go.
"I mean, except the servants."
"It's the shiftlessest thing I ever heard o' New York. And do you thinkthat's a nice way o' livin', Lois?"
"I am afraid I do, aunt Anne. It is pleasant to have plenty of time forother things."
"What other things?"
"Reading."
"Reading! La, child! I can read more books in a year than is good forme, and do all my own work, too. I like play, as well as other folks; but I like to know my work's done first. Then I can play."
"Well, there the servants do the work."
"And you like that? That ain't a nat'ral way o' livin', Lois; and Ibelieve it leaves folks too much time to get into mischief. When folkshasn't business enough of their own to attend to, they're free to puttheir fingers in other folks' business. And they get sot up, besides.My word for it, it ain't healthy for mind nor body. And you needn'tthink I'm doin' what I complain of, for your business is my business.Good-bye, girls. I'll buy a cook-book the next time I go to New London, and learn how to make suflles. Lois shan't hold that whip over me."
CHAPTER X
LOIS'S GARDEN
Lois went at her gardening the next morning, as good as her word. Itwas the last of March, and an anticipation of April, according to thefashion the months have of sending promissory notes in advance of them; and this year the spring was early. The sun was up, but not much more, when Lois, with her spade and rake and garden line, opened the littledoor in the garden fence and shut it after her. Then she was alone withthe spring. The garden was quite a roomy place, and pretty, a littlelater in the season; for some old and large apple and cherry treesshadowed parts of it, and broke up the stiff, bare regularity of anordinary square bit of ground laid out in lesser squares. Suchregularity was impossible here. In one place, two or three great appletrees in a group formed a canopy over a wide circuit of turf. The hoeand the spade must stand back respectfully; there was nothing to bedone. One corner was quite given up to the occupancy of an old cherrytree, and its spread of grassy ground beneath and about it was againconsiderable. Still other trees stood here and there; and the stems ofnone of them were approached by cultivation. In the spaces between,Lois stretched her line and drew her furrows, and her rows of peas andpatches of corn had even so room enough.
Grass was hardly green yet, and tree branches were bare, and theupturned earth was implanted. There was nothing here yet but the Springwith Lois. It is wonderful what a way Spring has of revealing herself, even while she is hid behind the brown and grey wrappings she hasborrowed from Winter. Her face is hardly seen; her form is notdiscernible; but there is a breath and a smile and a kiss, that arelike nothing her brothers and sisters have to give. Of them all,Spring's smile brings most of hope and expectation with it. And thereis a perfume Spring wears, which is the rarest, and most untraceable, and most unmistakeable, of all. The breath and the perfume, and thesmile and the kiss, greeted Lois as she went into the old garden. Sheknew them well of old time, and welcomed them now. She even stood stilla bit to take in the rare beauty and joy of them. And yet, the appletrees were bare, and the cherry trees; the turf was dead and withered; the brown ploughed-up soil had no relief of green growths. Only Springwas there with Lois, and yet that seemed enough; Spring andassociations. How many hours of pleasant labour in that enclosed bit ofground there had been; how many lapfuls and basketfuls of fruits therich reward of the labour; how Lois had enjoyed both! And now, here wasspring again, and the implanted garden. Lois wanted no more.
She took her stand under one of the bare old apple trees, and surveyedher ground, like a young general. She had it all mapped out, and knewjust where things were last year. The patch of potatoes was in thatcorner, and a fine yield they had been. Corn had been here; yes, andhere she would run her lines of early peas. Lois went to work. It wasnot very easy work, as you would know if you had ever tried to reduceground that has been merely ploughed and harrowed, to the smoothevenness necessary for making shallow drills. Lois plied spade and rakewith an earnest good-will, and thorough knowledge of her business. Donot imagine an untidy long skirt sweeping the soft soil andtransferring large portions of it to the gardener's ankles; Lois wasdressed for her work in a short stuff frock and leggins; and looked asnice when she came out as when she went in, albeit not in any costumeever seen in Fifth Avenue or Central Park. But what do I say? If shelooked "nice" when she went out to her garden, she looked superb whenshe came in, or when she had been an hour or so delving. Her hat fallenback a little; her rich masses of hair just a little loosened, enoughto show their luxuriance; the colour flushed into her cheeks with theexercise, and her eyes all alive with spirit and zeal – ah, the fairones in Fifth or any other avenue would give a great deal to look so; but that sort of thing goes with the short frock and leggins, and willnot be conjured up by a mantua-maker. Lois had after a while a strip ofher garden ground nicely levelled and raked smooth; and then her linewas stretched over it, and her drills drawn, and the peas were plantedand were covered; and a little stick at each end marked how far theplanted rows extended.
Lois gathered up her tools then, to go in, but instead of going in shesat down on one of the wooden seats that were fixed under the greatapple trees. She was tired and satisfied; and in that mood of mind andbody one is easily tempted to musing. Aimlessly, carelessly, thoughtsroved and carried her she knew not whither. She began to drawcontrasts. Her home life, the sweets of which she was just tasting, setoff her life at Mrs. Wishart's with its strange
