Part 3

As he left me I turned to study more the grouping of the rooms we had visited. They were on either side an elliptical shaped hallway that terminated in a graceful entrance to the dining-room which was the full width of the house at the rear. In the center of the hall was a most ingeniously constructed fountain which served not only to beautify, but also as a convenient place for drinking water for that floor. It represented a miniature lake in which, indeed, sweet waterlilies appeared to float. They proved to be, however, but fine enamel work in colors so natural as to tempt one to gather the lilies as they lay there. From the ewer in the right hand of the exquisitely carved figure in the center, the water poured forth to the lake beneath, while in the left hand another beautiful lily was upheld, completely hiding in its cup a drinking-glass.

I lingered here with admiring gaze. The incandescent lights above had shades of green and white only, and I longed for evening to come when I could see the fountain in its full beauty. The potted ferns arranged so cleverly amid the large pieces of natural rock made the effect very charming. On the previous evening, being somewhat fatigued and enthralled by all that I had seen before entering the house, I had given this delightful spot only a cursory glance and had not realized how beautiful it was.

Ascending the broad stairway I happened to meet Mrs. Chester and with her had the pleasure of visiting several of the rooms and their occupants.

Among the first on whom we called was an elderly gentleman. There he sat in his easy chair, looking bright and cheerful despite the gray clouds without. Our introduction revealed the fact that I had known some of the younger members of his family, but they were all gone, and he, the last, had come to this haven of rest and peace. Though a little feeble, he was able to get about, slowly but surely, with the younger people’s help, and I was happy to see as his companion a young boy who had been sitting there so quietly that we had hardly noticed him.

“And who may you be,” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “I call myself Mr. Lansing’s ‘chum,’ because we spend so much time together, but my name is Ned Tompkins.”

“So you are Mr. Lansing’s ‘chum.’ What do you mean by that?” I inquired.

“It is this way,” he said, “when they found and brought me here six years ago Mr. Lansing saw me and began to take particular interest in me. Though they were all good his kindness seemed to touch the right spot and was very welcome to a waif like me, for he seemed like a grandpa would be to a boy if he had one, and I never knew how nice it was to have a real grandpa, but used to imagine it lots of times. So I’ve tried to be all I could to him and have grown to love him dearly, and we are good comrades. Aren’t we, Mr. Lansing?” he broke off abruptly.

“That we are, my lad,” Mr. Lansing answered, “and very glad I am to have you.” Turning to me he continued, “He makes the days go happily by for me by bringing me the papers and reading (for my eyes don’t see just as they used), and now and then we play checkers or the other games dear to such old people as I, and days when I can’t get around so well, he never forgets me up here.”

“But you don’t tell,” interposed Ned, “all you do for me, how you have taken the old books down in the library and explained things to me as I have read, and how we have built bridges, cut out steamboats from paper and wood, and had the most wonderful trains and locomotives, and how we have played we were in different stations and telegraphed and telephoned, and best of all how we made a tiny little elevator and ran it with electricity by attaching a wire to the current. Why, we have had the greatest fun you ever saw, and now I am getting so big and strong that he can trust himself to me and I am very proud and happy.” And he tried to hide the tears that would come, despite his being ‘big and strong,’ because, I suppose, they were tears of joy like many of us have, in that he was able to do something in return for the old gentleman’s kindness.

“Ned is a good boy,” said Mrs. Chester, “and every day we learn the wisdom of our decision in taking the lad into our hearts and home.” The kindly hand on the boy’s shoulder as she spoke these words and gentle pat as we turned to go I know helped to keep warm his love and affection for the dear good woman.

“I am very glad to have seen you both,” I said, in parting, “and know that we shall meet often, for I am going to be here too for a while, and enjoy this happy home. But good morning to you now, I want to see more of the people here.”

As we left them I, as usual, immediately plied Mrs. Chester with many questions.

“The man is no longer young,” I said, “in what way does he contribute to your home here, for of course, like all the rest, he prefers to do something.”

“In the first place,” replied Mrs. Chester, “his many fine attributes and noble character are a lesson to each of us and an incentive to try to become likewise.

‘He wears the marks of many years well spent, Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience.’

Were there nothing else, it would be enough to have such a grand example before us day after day to study. Beyond that, as you probably gathered from what the boy said, Mr. Lansing is a fine scholar and can give of his store of knowledge much for our benefit. Till his mind shall fail utterly, we can draw from him in every way, and in any case, we shall give of the love and kindness that fills our hearts for him. Ned is indeed very glad that he is growing large, for when Mr. Lansing feels too weak to attempt the long walk through the halls to meals, or out of doors, he has a comfortable wheel-chair in which Ned not only rolls him to the elevator to bring him downstairs, but takes him out in the open air so that he has opportunity to enjoy with the rest of us all of God’s precious gifts. He has but to ring his bell for anything wanted or to share in whatever the hour may have in store, and we gladly serve him or help him to join us. His prayers in our hours of religious service are most helpful and beautiful, and not infrequently we hear his voice, though weak, joining in our songs of praise and hymns of thanksgiving.”

“You can not realize how all this thoughtfulness and unselfish consideration for older people impresses me, but does Ned never tire of Mr. Lansing’s company, or is it the old story of opposites having strong attraction for each other?” I smilingly asked.

“No,” replied Mrs. Chester, “Ned seems never too weary. On the contrary, soon after his arrival he asked if he could not have a room near to Mr. Lansing’s, which privilege we granted, and their constant and close association has developed into a most loving relationship which is a delight to us all.”

“It is most fortunate,” I answered, “that this is true as it works in so satisfactorily with your aims and purposes.”

“It is but one more of the many things for which we have to be thankful,” said Mrs. Chester in a tone of gratitude.

During our conversation we had walked leisurely along the hall, which in itself was as attractive as every other part of the home. Beautiful pictures graced the walls and evidently these people did not believe in confining flowers, books, newspapers or other literature to any particular spot, for there were numerous plants in unexpected corners, whose bright bloom and delicate fragrance charmed you to them, and magazines and papers on tables or in racks tempted one to gather a bit of knowledge while resting in one of the easy chairs conveniently at hand.

I glanced in the various chambers as we passed along and saw they were being rapidly put in order. I wondered what sort of system could make this part of the work run with almost clocklike precision, but when Mrs. Chester told me that each who was able took care of her own rooms and that the rest were looked after by voluntary choice and understanding between the female constituency, I could quickly realize that with every convenience at hand and willing, loving hearts, labor in all directions for every one was as much pleasure as toil.

“As for the men,” said Mrs. Chester in farther explanation, “those who seem best fitted for certain lines of work are given opportunity to carry out their tastes and efforts in that direction, varying it during leisure moments with whatever diversion appeals to them or a different kind of work, if they choose, which latter they very often do. But how this plan works you will find out later. Let us stop here and visit for a while,” she concluded, at the same time knocking at the door of another chamber.

A sweet voice bade us enter and on opening the door we found the occupant to be, as I had supposed, a young woman of about twenty. She was reclining against a bed-rest with comfortable pillows, but something about her led me to think that she was a little helpless.

“This is Miss Delancey,” said Mrs. Chester in introducing us and I came close so as to cordially press the fragile hand extended in greeting. We chatted a while, and then Mrs. Chester said that she would excuse herself and leave me with Miss Delancey for a little visit. I quite enjoyed the prospect of seeing something of the character of this young lady.

“Having found such an abundance of everything here to contribute to the highest degree of health and happiness,” I said, “I think I hardly expected to find any one who has not, seemingly, taken the elixir of life and become proof against age or disease.”

“No,” she answered, smiling a little, “here is one who must ever be dependent on the kindness of others. Though with assistance I can sometimes get from the bed to a chair, the spine is affected and there is little hope of my ever recovering. Ofttimes I have nearly given up, but with the cheer and comfort of all these kind people I feel that I have still much for which to be thankful, and so have tried to find my special corner in life and to fill it as best I can even though a cripple. God has blessed me with all the senses, and when I realize the value of these contrasted with the loss of sight, hearing, or the power of speech, life has become almost dazzling with all that it holds out for me. You see,” she broke off, “that if nothing else, I am ever anxious to talk to a willing listener.”

“And,” I added, “you certainly have a most willing one in me. I am only too glad to hear that you may have to say, and am more than pleased that you are inclined to talk so freely of yourself.”

“Yes,” she continued, somewhat meditatively, “I have decided that if there is anything in my enforced invalidism that can be turned into a joy, I am resolved to make it so. But at first you don’t know how hard it was not to feel envious, disheartened, cross and fretful, until, as I have said, I suddenly woke up and found that there was much for my brain and hands to do if only the heart gave them the right impulse. So the good people here give me what I ask for, within reason, and I spend my time thinking, planning and studying to give of whatever in myself is worth the giving. Fortunately, Mr. Andrews being a doctor, insures for me the best of care. Also, one of the ladies here has been and is a most excellent trained nurse and is kindness itself to me. Her generous consideration of my welfare, and constant help and attention are a boon and solace to my heart. All women have their vanities and weaknesses you know,” she jestingly concluded.

“May I ask how you employ the hours to make the time slip by with other than lagging footsteps?”

“Certainly,” Miss Delancey answered. “Being a woman and an invalid I one day bethought me of the many who were afflicted likewise, but not so happily situated, and I immediately tried to think what I could do and how I could do it to make the days less weary for them as, perhaps, they too lay in bed, unable to be up and doing. So I have taken from various magazines and papers attractive pictures and good literature, and from these the younger unfortunates have made small books, not too heavy, with carefully arranged pages of different colored muslins. It has been a pleasure also to select a short piece of poetry and search for a picture or two to illustrate it. Again, I have taken prose writings and, having a little ability for sketching, have drawn on white muslin, pictures which I thought might make the story more readable. I have made a number of such books for old and young, sending them far and wide, and many are the letters of thanks I have received and wept over, realizing from their tone that the writers had little idea that the maker of the books was herself a cripple. Then too, I can sew fairly well and knit, so the variation resulting from these occupations, besides reading and studying for my own benefit, has given me plenty of employment and sometimes I almost forget that I can’t walk and dance as many of my age like to do.”

“Would that I could make you a sort of traveling object lesson in the study of patience and submission,” I said, fearing not to give offense by this remark, “for it seems to me that there are many persons blessed with abundance of strength and health who could learn much from you and make their own lives and the lives of those about them much happier. But am I not staying too long, and, if you will pardon the question, may I ask how you get your meals or join in the other activities of the household?”

“If you only knew how glad I am to have you,” she cordially responded, “you would not ask if you were staying too long. But in reply to your other question,” she continued, “it is easy enough. The lady whom I have mentioned, Mrs. Marvin (and by the way I hope you will meet her and learn more of her) seems never to forget me, and either comes herself or sends some one else, if something specially interesting is going on downstairs, and at meal times it rests with myself as to whether I shall be taken down or eat up here. Another young lady of almost my own age has the next room and next to hers is Mrs. Marvin’s chamber. Our rooms open into a fourth which serves as a little individual sitting-room for all three and this we have most cosily arranged. We can even have our own musicales, for the young lady plays the guitar and I the mandolin, and we have many pleasant hours with ourselves and any others who come to spend their leisure with us. To hear the laughter and ripple of talk that emanates from here would hardly lead one to think that such a poor one as I was among the number.”

As we were thus talking, a pleasant-faced woman entered the room after a gentle rap, which must have been hers individually, because Miss Delancey seemed to know who it was immediately.

“I am so glad you came just now, Mrs. Marvin,” she said, “as I was anxious that I, particularly, should have the pleasure of making you acquainted with our new friend here, which I do gladly.”

Mrs. Marvin’s gracious manners and genuine cordiality stamped her as the sort of “spirit” one could never weary of, and I marveled not at Miss Delancey’s affection for her.

She impressed me as the sort of woman to whom one would feel free to go for sympathy and advice and who could be relied on. Though she was not young, you could see in the smile on her lips, the brightness of her eyes, and the elasticity of her movements that she had taken life aright,—growing into womanhood with all that maturity of years and judgment means, yet not failing to remember that we can keep the heart young and so carry with us, notwithstanding advancing years, the beautiful attributes of noble womanhood, even as the rose in its full bloom has yet all the sweet fragrance of the opening bud.

Mrs. Marvin brought us to a realization that time was going and that the next meal was about ready. Looking out I saw that though there was hardly any sign of the early morning shower, save a diamond drop here and there on the leaves and flowers, it was of course unwise to eat out of doors, and concluded that we should have dinner, also, in the house. As Miss Delancey had spoken of not always going downstairs, it occurred to me to exercise my privilege of being a member of the family now, and suggest that we three dine together. I therefore said,

“If it would be agreeable to both of you, it would be a pleasure to me to have our meal up here and I shall be only too glad to get it for us if you will direct me how and where to go. I want to learn everything, you know,” I concluded with a little laugh.

“That would be very nice,” said Miss Delancey, “for me particularly, and we shall endeavor to have sunshine within even if good old Sol does feel like hiding his face a little today.”

After receiving instructions from Mrs. Marvin I set out to perform my task. She said I need bring only food, as she kept all the necessary articles for setting the table in a closet in her own room. On reaching the kitchen I found that it was quite the easiest thing in the world, apparently, to carry our repast upstairs or anywhere else, for the matter of that. I was given one of the specially arranged light wheel-tables,[A] with its various spaces and hollows in which the dishes sat snugly, without danger of upsetting and their contents being spilled. I took some of everything prepared for the meal, and as I worked, could look into the dining-room where the tables were being made ready. Though all was activity, so thorough was the understanding between each person that everything seemed to go on as smoothly as if it were at all times the duty of one individual to do a certain part and nothing more. I had almost forgotten that my two guests were perhaps patiently waiting for my return, and hastily rolling the table into the elevator I was taken up and soon had everything before my friends for them to make further disposition thereof.

Footnote A:

In studying the economic gain from using, instead of a dumb-waiter, a wheel-table or truck (provided of course one has the use of an elevator) it seems to me that the greatest saving is in the matter of steps, both in carrying and taking articles to and from a dumb-waiter. A wheel-table can be rolled from point to point till everything has been placed upon it. Food needing to be served hot has only to be put in the dishes that are waiting for it, and the whole process to my idea gives better satisfaction than the use of the dumb-waiter, except insofar as the latter will always be convenient for economy of time under certain circumstances too obvious to describe.

I think that meal was a pleasant one to all three of us. The table so invitingly arranged by Mrs. Marvin gave zest to our appetites, and the quiet humor in many of her remarks together with Miss Delancey’s sparkling conversation, made the time speed by rapidly. I was curious to find out the former’s thoughts on women’s dressing and to how great a degree the idea of simplicity was carried out in this establishment.

“Well,” said Mrs. Marvin in answer to my spoken question, “having spent some years in a hospital, naturally my ideas incline strongly to the greatest simplicity in dress for various reasons, among the first of which is freedom of movement, that all the organs and every part of the body may be able to perform without effort those functions for which they were intended.”

I looked at her and frankly said, “If such is your belief and you carry it out, you look neither like a dress reformist, nor yet a fashion-plate figure. How is it that you are so successful in not attracting attention as being either, and yet are such a fine example of a blending of both?”

“Very easily,” replied Mrs. Marvin. “By careful study I have discovered that if our sex will demand certain kinds of materials and sensible fashions there is no question but that they will get both.”

“First of all,” she continued, “I think you will concede that much of the weakness, fretfulness, and constant worrying of women comes from the fact that they suffer, through Fashion’s decree, irritation and annoyance by wearing many useless things which are neither an addition to their looks nor conducive to sweet tempers. When we have learned that high collars cause headaches and affect the eyes, that tight shoes and gloves prevent proper circulation, that the small wasp waist pushes vital organs out of their proper positions, that trailing skirts carry dust and dirt from place to place, even microbes of disease, and finally, when we have become wiser by discarding all these things, then we are on the high road to better health and better dispositions, which in turn bring more contentment and courage to meet the _real_ trials and vexations of life, and ought not this to result in more happiness for ourselves and those coming in contact with us?”

“I can not help agreeing with you,” I replied, “for there is nothing but truth in all you have said. But tell me,” I laughingly said, “how large your store of patience is to hope for such a complete reform as this.”

“Well,” she replied, in the same light spirit, “if we here in this household can set first class examples, at least _some_ steps will have been taken, and after that we can only live in hope. Another thing we have to learn, I think, is that almost one quarter of the life of woman is spent in making garments look fresh and beautiful, only to be soiled and wrinkled in a short while. As for myself, had I not discovered that such articles were obtainable on the market, I think I should have studied the manufacture of wearing materials that I might produce goods for both men and women that would stand all the washing, rubbing, soap and water that one might choose to give them, but would require none of the time, patience and strength to press into smoothness which is placed on the numerous pieces of clothing usually in our wardrobes.”

“Don’t think,” she continued a little banteringly, “that I do not believe in the utmost cleanliness, or in that daintiness which is peculiarly feminine, but I have come to know that we can have both, yet can save three-fourths and more of the energy that is spent by others or ourselves on pieces of clothing which, specially is stiffly starched, make one decidedly uncomfortable, or announce the coming of the wearer by much rustling. I think, however, that everything that is washable should, as nearly as possible, be made of material that will save the labor of hours in making perfectly smooth, only to be crumpled into innumerable wrinkles almost in a moment’s use. Have your laces, have your ribbons full and plenty, but have everything plain and dainty, easy to put on and always attractive by its freshness and simplicity.”

“Your scheme would put out of existence part, at least, of a certain means of livelihood to a number of people. However, since you give them plenty to do in the way of washing I presume they may hope not to starve,” I said jestingly.