CHAPTER XVII

A Family Council

Luncheon was over and Mrs. Carruth, the girls and Mammy were seated in the library; Mammy's face being full of solicitude for her Miss Jinny. Mammy could no more have been left out of this family council than could Eleanor.

"An' you haint got dat 'surance money and cyant git hit, Baby?" she asked, when Mrs. Carruth had finished explaining the situation to them.

"No, Mammy; it is impossible. I have hoped until the last moment, but now I must give up all hope."

"But--but I done _paid_ de prem'ym ter dat little Sniffin's man, an' _he_ say we _git_ de money all right an' straight," argued Mammy, loath to give up _her_ hope.

"I know that, Mammy. He told you so in all good faith. It is not his fault in the least. It would have been settled at once, had we not--had we not--" Mrs. Carruth hesitated. She was reluctant to lay the blame upon Eleanor.

"Oh, it is _all_ my fault! All. If I had not brought those hateful acids into the house we would _never_ have had all this trouble. I shall never forgive myself, and I should think you'd all want to kill me," wailed the cause of the family's misfortune, springing to her feet to pace rapidly up and down the room, quite unconscious that a long feather boa which happened to have been upon the back of her chair, had caught upon her belt-pin and was trailing out behind in a manner to suggest Darwin's theory of the origin of man.

"My child you need not reproach yourself. You were working for our mutual benefit. You knew nothing of the conditions--"

"Knew nothing! Knew nothing!" broke in Eleanor. "That's just _it_. It was my business to know! And I tell you one thing, in future I _mean_ to know, and not go blundering along in ignorance and wrecking everybody else as well as myself. I'm just no better than a fool with _all_ my poring over books and experimenting. After this I'll find out where my _feet_ are, even if my head _is_ stuck in the clouds. And now, mother, listen: Since I _am_ responsible for this mess it is certainly up to me to help you to pull out of it, and I'm going to _do_ it, I've spoken to Mr. Hillard, and asked him about coaching, and he says he can get me plenty of students who will be only too glad if I can give them the time. And I'm going to do it three afternoons a week. I shall have to do it between four and six, as those are my only free hours, and if I can't coach better than some I've known to undertake it, I'll quit altogether."

As Eleanor talked, Mammy's expression became more and more horrified. When she ceased speaking the old woman rose from the hassock upon which she sat, and crossing the room to Mrs. Carruth's side laid her hand upon her shoulder as she asked in an awed voice:

"Baby you won't _let_ her do no sich t'ing as dat? Cou'se you won't. Wimmin folks now-a-days has powerful strange ways, dat I kin see myse'f, but we-all don' do sich lak. Miss Nornie wouldn't never in de roun' worl' do _dat_, would she, honey? She jist a projectin', ain't she?"

Mammy's old face was so troubled that Mrs. Carruth was much mystified.

"Why Mammy, I don't know of anything that Eleanor is better qualified to do than coach. And Mammy, dear, we _must_ do something--every one of us, I fear. We can not all live on the small interest I now have, and I shall never touch the principal if I can possibly avoid doing so. Eleanor can materially help by entering upon this work, and Constance has already shown that she can aid also. Even Baby has helped," added Mrs. Carruth, laying her arm caressingly across Jean's shoulders, for Jean had stuck to her side like a burr.

"Then you _will_ let me go to East Riveredge with the candy?" cried Jean, quick to place her entering wedge.

"We will see," replied Mrs. Carruth, but Jean knew from the smile that the day was won.

"I know all dat, honey," resumed Mammy, "but dis hyer coachin' bisness. I ain' got _dat_ settle in my mind. Hit just pure scandal'zation 'cordin' ter my thinkin'. Gawd bress my soul what we-all comin' to when a Blairsdale teken ter drive a nomnibus fer a livin'? Tck! Tck!" and Mammy collapsed upon a chair to clasp her hands and groan.

Then light dawned upon the family.

"Oh, Mammy! I don't intend to become a stage-coach driver," cried Eleanor, dropping upon her knees beside the perturbed old soul, and laying her own hands upon the clasped ones as she strove hard not to laugh outright. "You don't understand at _all_, Mammy. A coach is someone who helps other students who can't get on well with their studies. Who gives an hour or two each day to such work. And it is very well paid work, too, Mammy."

Mammy looked at her incredulously as though she feared she was being made game of. Then she glanced at the others. Their faces puzzled her, as well they might, since the individuals were struggling to repress their mirth lest they wound the old woman's feelings, but still were anxious to reassure her.

"Miss Jinny, is dat de solemn prar-book truf?"

"It surely is Mammy. We are not quite so degenerate as you think us," answered Mrs. Carruth soberly, although her eyes twinkled in spite of her.

"Well! Well! Jes so; Jes so. I sutin'ly is behine de times. I speck I ain' unnerstan dese yer new-fangled wo'ds no mor'n I unnerstan de new-fangled stoves. If coachin' done tu'ned ter meanin' school marmin' I hatter give up. Now go on wid yo' talkin': I gwine tek a back seat an' listen twell I knows sumpin'," and, wagging her head doubtingly, Mammy went back to her hassock.

"Well _two_ of us have settled upon our plan of action, now what are _you_ going to do, Connie? You said you were determined to make your venture a paying one. What is your plan?" asked Eleanor, turning to Constance, who thus far had said very little.

"I can't tell you right now. I've had so many plans simmering since I began to make my candy, but Mammy has always set the kettle on the back part of the stove just as it began to boil nicely, haven't you Mammy?" asked Constance, smiling into Mammy's face.

"'Specs I's 'sponsuble fer a heap o' unbiled kittles, dough hits kase I hates p'intedly ter see de Blairsdales fixin' ter bu'n dey han's," was the good soul's answer.

"Our hands can stand a few burns in a good cause, Mammy, so don't worry about it. We're healthy and they'll heal quickly," was Constance's cheerful reply.

"Mebbe so," said Mammy skeptically.

"Seriously, Constance, what have you thought of doing, dear?" asked Mrs. Carruth, a tender note coming into her voice for this daughter who had been the first to put her shoulder to the wheel for them all.

"Well, you let me answer that question day after to-morrow, Mumsey? Or, perhaps, it may take even a little longer. But I'll tell you all about my simmering ideas when I have had time to make a few inquiries. Don't grow alarmed, Mammy; I'm not going to apply for a position as motor-girl on a trolley car," said Constance, as she laughingly nodded at Mammy.

"Aint nothin' ever gwine 'larm me no mo', I reckons. Speck some day I fin' dat chile stanin' down yonder on de cawner sellin' candy an' stuff. Mought mos' anyt'ing happen," answered Mammy, as she rose from her hassock. "Well, if _yo'_-all gwine go inter bisness, I specs _I_ gotter too, so don' be 'sprised ef yo' see me. Now I'se gwine ter get a supper dat's fitten fer ter _eat_; dat lunch weren't nothin' but a disgrace ter de hull fambly," and off she hurried to the kitchen to prepare a supper that many would have journeyed far to eat.

"Children," said Mrs. Carruth, as Mammy disappeared, "whatever comes we must try to keep together. We can meet almost any difficulty if we are not separated, but _that_ would nearly break my heart, I believe; father so loved our home and the companionship of his family, that I shall do my utmost to keep it as he wished. We may be deprived of the major portion of our income, and find the path rather a stony one for a while, but we have each other, and the affection which began more than twenty years ago, when I came North to make my home has grown deeper as the years have passed. Each new little form in my arms made it stronger, and the fact that father is no longer here to share the joys or sorrows with us can never alter it. In one sense he is always with us. His love for us is manifested on every hand. We will face the situation bravely and try to remember that never mind what comes, we have each other, and his 'three little women,' as he used to love to call you, are worthy of that beautiful name. He was very proud of his girls and used to build beautiful 'castles in Spain' for them. If he could only have been spared to realize them." Mrs. Carruth could say no more. The day had been a trying one for her, and strength and voice failed together as she dropped upon a settee and the girls gathered about her. Jean with her head in her lap as she clasped her arms around her; Eleanor holding her hands, and Constance, who had slipped behind the settee, with the tired head clasped against her breast and her lips pressed upon the pretty hair with its streaks of gray.

For a few moments there was no sound in the room save Mrs. Carruth's rapidly drawn breaths as she strove to control her feelings. She rarely gave way in the presence of her children, but they knew how hard it was for her to maintain such self-control. It was very sweet to feel the strength of the young arms about her, and the presence of the vigorous young lives so ready to be up and doing for her sake.

"Come up-stairs and rest a while before supper," said Constance, softly. "Will you? Do, please. We'll be your handmaidens."

"Yes do, Mumsey, dear. I'll tuck you all up 'snug as a bug in a rug,'" urged Jean.

"And I'll go make you a cup of tea just as you love it," added Eleanor hurrying from the room. As Mrs. Carruth rose from the settee Constance slipped her strong arm about her to lead her up to her own room, Jean running on ahead to arrange the couch pillows comfortably. Presently Mrs. Carruth was settled in her nest with Jean upon a low hassock, at her feet, patting them to make her "go byelow," she said. In a few moments Eleanor came back with a dainty little tray and tea service, which she set upon the taborette Constance had placed for it, and proceeded to feed her mother as she would have fed an invalid.

"Do you want to quite spoil me?" asked Mrs. Carruth, from her nest of pillows.

"Not a bit of it! We only want to make you realize how precious you are, don't you understand?" said Eleanor, kissing her mother's forehead. "There! That is the last bite of cracker and the last drop of tea. Now take 'forty winks' and be as fresh as a daisy for supper. Come on, Jean, let Mumsey go to sleep."

"Oh, please let me stay here cuddling her feet. I'll be just as quiet as a mouse," begged Jean.

"Please _all_ stay; and Connie, darling, whistle me to the land o' nod," said Mrs. Carruth, slipping one hand into Constance's and holding the other to Eleanor, who dropped down upon the floor and rested her cheek against it as she nestled close to the couch.

Only the flickering flames of the logs blazing upon the andirons, lighted the room as the birdlike notes began to issue from the girl's lips. She whistled an air from the Burgomeister, its pretty melody rippling through the room like a thrush's notes.

Presently Mrs. Carruth's eyelids drooped and, utterly wearied by the day's exciting events, she slipped into dreamland upon the sweet melody.