Douglas Amanda M.
Kathie's Soldiers

CHAPTER VIII
COMFORT IN NEED

"WELL, Kathie, was the visit a success?"

They had ridden a long way before Uncle Robert asked this question. He had been remarking the changes that passed over Kathie's face like light drifts of summer clouds.

"I am very glad that we went."

"What perplexes you then, Kitty?"

"A good many things, Uncle Robert. Some grave questions that I cannot understand," in a half-hesitating way.

"Can I help you?" The tone was gravely sweet.

"You always do," – smiling. "Something Mrs. Strong said troubled me. Sarah is ambitious, she has a desire for education, and a longing for refinement," – with deliberation in her slow tones. "But what if – she should be ashamed of her home, after all? It is not so very attractive, – pretty, I mean. Why, the only lovely thing in that great parlor was the bright blazing fire."

"If Sarah takes hold of the right end of life, she will try to make her home more pleasant for the others as well as herself."

"But, Uncle Robert, it is so hard to see when you are right in the midst of a thing, – a sort of muddle. A person standing on the outside would be likely to discover the best paths. And I thought – what if I should be the means of making her discontented instead of happy."

"So you are not quite convinced that it is wisest to sow beside all waters?" – with his peculiar smile.

"If I was certain I had the right seed."

"The seed is all alike, – love, faith, patience. Yes, I can catch your meaning," – as the little face grew very sober. "You do not want to rouse her to a sense of and love for beauty to which she can never attain."

"That is it."

"I do not imagine you need begin to feel anxious immediately. Her crude attempts at beautifying will be very good exercise for her awakening brain, and she has so much of the practical to learn that she will be less likely to run into vanity, at least no more than one would naturally expect. If you choose, Kathie, you might help her in a very good work."

"I do choose."

"When you find that you have too much on your small hands, you must pass the heaviest over to me. Remember that I shall always stand ready. And doing these bits of girl-work for girls will make the woman-work plainer by and by. It is taking up the little opportunities as they come, not waiting for a great deed to be shaped to your hand presently."

"I think I must always do little deeds. They seem so much safer to me than the large ones."

"I heard Sarah ask if she might write to you; what did you answer?"

"I said that I should be glad to hear. And I shall want to know how she likes her books. You do not think mamma would object?"

"O no. It is the best and wisest act that you could do for her. There was something so sweet and grateful in her sending you the lichen that I have a good deal of faith in her capabilities. It will be good ground in which to sow seed. Sarah's whole life may be the better for the chance friendship."

"But if she should become refined and – "

"That is looking to the flavor of the fruit, my dear. God means that we shall not see it any faster than it can grow."

She smiled, satisfied.

The air was very keen indeed now. A bitterly cold night it would be. The tender heart went out to the thousands on "tented field," and prayed for peace, that they might return to warm, pleasant firesides.

Aunt Ruth ran down stairs as she saw them coming.

"Let Freddy take the horses," she said. "A telegram has come for you, and it may be important."

Freddy was elated with the permission. He was indulged now and then with short drives, but, being rather anxious to display his skill, he was sometimes quite venturesome.

Kathie drew a long, anxious breath. As was natural, her first thought was for Rob.

An expression serious almost to pain crossed Uncle Robert's face.

"Sad tidings for the close of our happy day," he said. "I am summoned to Alexandria immediately. Mr. Meredith – " Then he handed the slip of paper to Kathie.

Mr. Meredith had been severely wounded, and sent to the hospital at Alexandria, whether fatally or not the message did not state.

"The express train goes through at six," Uncle Robert said, "and in this case there is no time to be lost."

They all felt that when Mr. Meredith sent, the summons must be urgent indeed. Mr. Conover had more than an hour to make the few preparations he would require. But there were two or three letters to answer, so he went to the library, while Mrs. Alston hurried the tea.

Kathie stood by the window in a mood of peculiar silence. Somehow, though she had known the danger all along, with the confidence of love she could hardly believe that any evil would betide her soldiers. Numbers of men had served their three years without any serious mishap, and it seemed as if God would watch over these two among the many thousands.

"Aunt Ruth, do you suppose – "

"My darling, we can suppose nothing, only hope for the best."

"But it is so terrible to think of him – in any great peril."

So gay and laughing always, so full of vivacity with all his gentlemanly indolence, so strong and buoyant! In fancy she saw him stretched upon a hospital pallet, very white, like Aunt Ruth, last winter, or perhaps having undergone some fearful operation.

And then there came to Kathie a remembrance of the last drive together, of the few lines in the letter. It was so precious to know that, living or dying, all was well with him. Kathie clung to that comfort with all her fond, trembling heart. Was it God's love and grace that brought human souls so near together and made them one great family?

"I have one request to make," exclaimed Uncle Robert, entering the room; "if you should see any of the Darrells do not mention this circumstance, unless they may have heard. I will telegraph home as soon as I reach the hospital, and write at my earliest convenience. Kathie, will you run over to the Lodge and ask Mr. Morrison to drive me to the station by six?"

Kathie wrapped up head and ears in a blanket-shawl, and ran down the drive. When she came back supper was ready and Uncle Robert's portmanteau packed.

They bade him a tender good-by, and Kathie whispered a fond and precious message.

Afterward they went to Aunt Ruth's sitting-room. Kathie felt rather drowsy and indolent with her ride through the keen air, and took possession of Aunt Ruth's lounge; for she was in no mood to read or sew, or even to take up her fancy crocheting.

"Did you have a nice visit?" asked her mother, at length.

That roused Kathie. "It was very peculiar, mamma, and I enjoyed it a good deal. I like Sarah, although she is not – "

"Not much cultivated, I suppose," said Aunt Ruth.

"Mamma, why did not we, when we were very poor, grow careless? I don't know as I can explain just what I mean," Kathie raised her face, perplexed and rosy.

"I think I understand. It is not the result of a few years, or even of poverty, but the lack of culture. Often a whole village or settlement, where there is no particular ambition for education, will fall into careless and rough habits of action and speech. Every one does the same, and it is hardly remarked."

"But I suppose there has always been a school at Middleville, – and it is so near Brookside and other towns."

"Many of these old country settlers are very sensitive. They think their way as good as any one's, and, if a few families are particularly refined, accuse them of holding themselves in high esteem, and being above their neighbors. It often proves difficult to overcome old habits of pronunciation and the manners and customs to which one has always been used. It was different in our case. Aunt Ruth and I were brought up in a city, and had the best advantages. I was not very likely to forget what I had learned as a girl."

It did make some difference, then, whether a person was rich or poor; and if one could not help his or her position —

"Mamma, wasn't it very hard to lose your fortune?"

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Alston answered, simply.

"But we might have been poorer still. There are all the Maybins – and the Allens – and we had a very comfortable home."

"Yes. We owned our cottage, and had an income of just seventy dollars a year. It was a great deal better than nothing, though many a stitch had to be taken to provide for the rest of our needs."

Kathie remembered, – staying in the house to sew long simple seams for mamma, doing errands, washing dishes, sweeping rooms, and wearing dresses that were faded, shoes a little shabby, and never having more than a few pennies to spend. How great the change was! And it did not end with personal comforts merely. Nearly all the rich people in the neighborhood came to visit them. Every one nodded to her as she drove out in her pony-carriage. Yet, if she lost her fortune, would they let her drop out of sight and out of mind? Ah, how very cruel it would be!

"It is a very delightful thing to have an abundance," Mrs. Alston went on, as if she held the key to her daughter's thoughts. "Not that it ever makes a person better, socially or morally, though the world, society, generally gives the precedence to money. It affords you leisure for cultivation; it frees you from a great many harassing cares, though it may bring others in their stead, for no life is exempt. And it certainly does add many new duties."

"It is right to have the cultivation, the pretty houses, the beautiful furniture and pictures and – dresses?"

Kathie asked her question with a sort of hurried abruptness, as if a definite answer was of the utmost importance to her, as if, indeed, she longed for a fuller understanding of the subject.

"Yes," answered her mother, slowly. "All these things were given to us to enjoy, to use, yet not abuse. But when we seek them selfishly, when we think of nothing beyond our own personal needs, and of ministering to our vanity and self-love, they do become a great snare and temptation."

"If one could tell just where the dividing line ought to be," Kathie said, shyly.

"It is quite easily found if one searches in earnest: to think of others rather than of one's self; to give as well as to receive, not merely money or clothes, but sympathy, love, tender thoughts, little acts of pleasure; to minister to the poor in spirit as well as the poor in purse."

"And that brings me back to Sarah, mamma. Her father may be as rich as – we are," rather hesitatingly. "At all events Mrs. Strong spent a good deal at our table at the Fair, and never seemed to mind it a bit. But their house has such a barren look. They have very few books or pictures or pretty articles of any kind, yet I do believe Sarah would be very fond of them. She has not been to school for nearly two years, so she has had very little chance to improve. Her father is afraid that if she should learn a great deal she will be ashamed of her home, and all that. I do not see how she could like it very much, because there is so little in it to please."

"Some old-fashioned people seem to be afraid of education, but I believe it is from a lack of true appreciation of it. Whether rightly or not, civilization has made our wants extend beyond the mere necessities of life. We need some food for the soul as well as for the body."

"But if education should make Sarah discontented and unhappy?"

"We cannot always see what the result will be, but we are exhorted to work, nevertheless."

"She asked me to write to her again, mamma. You do not think it will be – " Kathie could hardly get hold of the right word to use.

"Injudicious, I suppose you mean? No, I do not. You may learn something as well."

Kathie was glad that her mother looked upon it in that light, and yet she smiled a little to herself, not exactly discerning her own lesson in the matter.

"Our Saviour said, 'Freely ye have received, freely give'; and, my little girl, it seems to me that we have received very generously. When I was prosperous before, I am afraid that I did not think much of the needs of those around me; but in my poverty I saw so often where a little would have been of great assistance to me. I feel now as if God had placed a great treasure in my hands to be accounted for to the uttermost farthing at the last day. It will be good then to have other lips speak for us."

Kathie understood. "Yes, it will, mamma." Then she lapsed into silence. How all these things crowded upon one as the years went by! Fourteen now; in three years she would be quite a young lady. Looking at it caused her to shrink back to the cloisters of girlhood.

Afterward her heart wandered out with Uncle Robert on his lonesome night-journey, and to the other face pictured still and white before her. All she could do in this case was to pray.

They went to church on Sunday, and saw Miss Jessie, bright and smiling as usual. Then she did not know! It actually startled Kathie a little.

"Where is your uncle?" Charlie asked, as they were standing together.

"He was called away upon some business," Mrs. Alston answered for Kathie.

The telegram came on Monday. "Arrived safely," it said. "No change in Mr. Meredith. Look for a letter to-morrow."

So they could still tell nothing about him. Kathie had grown so very anxious that it appeared as if she could not wait. The day was a little cloudy, and she made that an excuse for not driving out. Even her music failed to interest. She just wanted to sit and wonder, never coming to any definite conclusion.

The Tuesday letter was long, written at intervals, and contained the whole story. Mr. Meredith was out with a scouting-party early in the week before, when they were surprised by the enemy and made a desperate resistance. But for his coolness and bravery none of them would have escaped. Two or three were killed and several wounded, – he very seriously indeed; and he had been sent immediately to Alexandria. The journey had doubtless aggravated the injury. He was in a high fever now; and though he had recognized Mr. Conover at first, he soon lapsed into forgetfulness again. Mr. George Meredith had been on, and was unable to remain; but Uncle Robert had decided that this was his post of duty for the present. He had also written to Miss Jessie, he said.

"We must give him up willingly, therefore," Mrs. Alston remarked.

Yes; Kathie least of all felt inclined to grudge another the cheerful, comforting presence.

"But it is terrible!" she said; "it did not seem to me as if Mr. Meredith could die."

"He may not. If they can succeed in keeping the fever under control there will be hope. The wound itself is quite manageable, Uncle Robert believes."

But by the end of the week Miss Jessie and her father had been summoned. There was very little if any hope.

One of Ada's occasional letters reached Kathie about this time. "Isn't it dreadful?" she wrote. "Mamma says that she can hardly forgive Uncle Edward for going in the first place, when there really was no need, and he was crazy to enlist afterward; and it puts everything out so! I must tell you that mamma intended to give a grand party. The cards had been printed, and some of the arrangements made, but when papa came home he would not hear a word about it. I have been out quite a good deal this winter, and have several elegant party dresses. I was to have a beautiful new pink silk for this, but mamma wouldn't buy it when she heard the worst news. It's too bad; and if Uncle Edward should be lame or crippled – O, I cannot bear to think of it! If he had been an officer there would have been a great fuss made about it. I really felt ashamed to see just 'Edward Meredith, wounded,' as if he were John Jones, or any common fellow! But I hope he will not die. Death is always so gloomy, and mamma would have to wear black; so there would be an end to gayeties all the rest of the winter."

Kathie felt rather shocked over this, it sounded so heartless. Was death only an interruption to pleasure? As for her, she carried the thought in her heart day and night, and began to feel what the Saviour meant when he said, "Pray without ceasing." How easy it seemed to go to him in any great sorrow!

"But O, isn't it lonely?" she said to her mother. "If Uncle Robert had been compelled to go, how could we have endured it? – and Rob away too, – dear Rob!"

That reminded her that she owed him a letter. It was such an effort nowadays to rouse herself to any work of choice or duty. "Which is not marching steadily onward," she thought to herself. "I can only pray for Mr. Meredith, but I may work for others. Rouse thee, little Kathie!"

CHAPTER IX
THORNS IN THE PATH

IT appeared to Kathie that she had never known so long a fortnight as the first two weeks of Uncle Robert's absence; yet everything had gone on just the same, none of the duties were changed, only the absence and the dreadful suspense.

Yet something else had happened, or was working itself out slowly day by day. Among the new scholars were several quite stylish and fashionable girls, who felt inclined to draw a line, or make some kind of a social distinction.

Foremost among these was Isabel Hadden, a tall, showy girl, who prided herself upon her figure and style. Her father had made a fortune as an army contractor, and was now in Washington. He had purchased a very pretty country residence at Brookside, and installed his family there, though Mrs. Hadden frequently joined him for weeks at a time.

Belle had been at a second-rate boarding-school for a year before the family had attained their present grandeur. Now a distant connection filled the position of governess to the host of younger children; but Belle considered herself too large to come in with "that crowd," as she rather disdainfully termed them.

She was sent to school every morning in the carriage, and it not infrequently came for her in the afternoon. Rather distant and haughty at first, she had not made friends very easily. Mrs. Thorne happened to meet Mrs. Hadden at an evening party, and it was followed by a mutual acquaintance. Thereupon Isabel and Lottie became friends, though the latter was somewhat younger. Lottie's mother was very ambitious for her, and since Mr. Thorne would not consent to the expense of a boarding-school, she sent Lottie to Mrs. Wilder, as it was so much more genteel.

Belle became the leader of the small clique who discussed fashions habitually. She criticised the dresses, cuffs, collars, and laces for the edification of her youthful hearers, until Emma Lauriston said one day, "Miss Hadden is as good as a fashion-magazine. I don't know but she would be invaluable in a fancy goods' store."

Lottie still kept to her old habit of calling upon Kathie for assistance when lessons were puzzling. For several days in succession she had occupied Kathie's short intermission, and Mrs. Wilder found that she began to depend too much upon this kindly help.

"Miss Kathie," her teacher said at length, "I have a request or a command in my mind, – you can consider it as which ever is easiest to obey," and Mrs. Wilder smiled.

Kathie smiled as well, in her pleasant fashion.

"I am sorry to find fault with any generous deed that school-girls do for one another, but I think Lottie Thorne has come to depend altogether too much upon you. It is hardly fair to occupy your few moments of recreation when by a little closer application she could solve her own problems and translations. This is really necessary for her own good."

"I did not like to be disobliging," Kathie answered, by way of excuse.

"Your generosity is carried almost to a fault at times. You must learn to say 'No' occasionally."

Kathie's soft eyes were downcast. It would be very hard to refuse.

"Lottie has as much time to study her lessons at home as you have, and I am always ready to explain any difficulty. That is one of my duties towards my pupils. I am in a measure answerable for her improvement; and if she slips through upon the assistance of others she will be the loser in the end. You understand what I mean? – that while I do not wish to discourage a helpful feeling among the girls, I desire that each one should study for herself."

"Yes," Kathie said, in a low tone.

"And, my little friend, it is necessary that one should learn to be just as well as generous."

Kathie felt the force of the remark. Uncle Robert had explained this occasionally to her in connection with Rob, who was rather fond of making her extensively useful. Then she always hated to say no to others. It was easier to sacrifice her own pleasures or desires.

To smooth the matter for her, Mrs. Wilder announced that morning that she wished each girl's translations to be exclusively her own work, and if there was any great difficulty she would be glad to have them apply to her.

Kathie left the school-room the instant recess began. Lottie was still puzzling over her algebra, and, having finished that, she took up her imperfect French, meaning to go in search of her little helper.

Two or three girls were discussing a party.

"I helped Hattie Norman make out her list last night," said Belle Hadden. "It is to be very select. Her mother insisted that all the Brookside rabble should not be invited."

Hattie Norman was one of the new-comers. Lottie's heart beat a little faster as she wondered whether she would be classed among the rabble.

"The Norman boys are elegant," pursued Belle. "They have all been to dancing-school; and there will be two of Hattie's cousins from the city, – five young gentlemen of one's own."

"You might tell us who the lucky ones are," pleaded a voice.

"That is my secret. The invitations are to be sent out to-day. I wouldn't miss it for anything. Mamma brought me an elegant tarlatan overskirt the last time she came from New York. It is just a mass of fluted ruffling. I shall wear it over my blue silk, I think; blue is so becoming to me."

Lottie lingered, talking and listening, and before she imagined the moments were half gone the bell on Mrs. Wilder's table rang.

"O Kathie, just stop an instant!" she cried; but the girls were hurrying in, and somehow Kathie passed on with them. Fifteen minutes after, the French class was summoned.

"You must write your translation over for to-morrow, Miss Thorne; and yours, Miss Hadden, is not very perfect; a little revision would improve it."

Much as she disdained the patient governess at home, Belle found her very useful.

Kathie kept out of Lottie's way. It looked rather mean to her, but it was better than an open refusal.

The trial came the next day, however. To Lottie's great delight, she was invited to the party, and her head had been so full of it that all the lessons suffered. She was casting about in her mind what she could have new, or what could be altered to look like new.

"O Kathie!" she exclaimed at recess, "just help me out with these few lines. I made so many blunders yesterday, and I was so busy last evening."

"You remember what Mrs. Wilder said on Tuesday." Kathie's heart beat rapidly with the effort, and she felt quite inclined to run away like a little coward.

"What? – O, about asking her! but then she never tells one anything. You might, I am sure; or if you will just let me read over your translation."

"It would not be quite fair." Kathie's tone was rather slow and hesitating.

"You needn't be so afraid! I should not copy," was the sharp answer. "Just tell me this case."

One answer surely would not be a crime.

"And this line; I can't make beginning nor end of it."

"I am sorry, Lottie; but Mrs. Wilder said the girls were not to help each other so much, – that each one was to get her own translation – "

"Well, I mean to get my own; I just asked you a question. You are very short and hateful about it!"

"O Lottie, I do not want to disobey Mrs. Wilder! I would help you if I could – if it was right." Kathie uttered the words hurriedly, as if after a moment she should not have the courage to say them at all.

"You are setting up for a saint, we all know; and it is very convenient to talk about right when one means to be cross and disobliging! I would do anything I could for a friend, I am sure."

Kathie was silent. She knew by experience that Lottie had a habit of teasing until she accomplished her purpose.

"So you really won't do that little favor?"

"Miss Alston!" called one of the girls; and Kathie was glad to go.

Lottie dropped two or three tears of mortification and disappointment. She had come to depend a great deal upon Kathie, and it was hard doing without the help. "She is a hateful little thing, after all," was her internal comment.

Belle Hadden let her look over her translation "just a moment." Lottie had a quick eye and a good memory; but the lesson was not so perfect that it could escape Mrs. Wilder's attention.

"Please take a little more pains, Miss Thorne," she said; "I shall have to mark you for both days."

Coming out of school, they paused, in girl fashion, to say a few last words. A rather rusty-looking rockaway wagon passed by, in which were two females, one of whom was driving. The other leaned out suddenly, with a cry of joy: "O Miss Kathie! Mother, stop, – do!"

Kathie colored a little. There was the identical purple bonnet and red roses, and Sarah Ann had two long rooster-feathers stuck in her jockey hat, which certainly were waving in the breeze rather ungracefully; but the child went straight up to the wagon, thrusting aside the cowardly shame.

"I'm so glad to see you! Do you go to school there? O my! what a lot of – young ladies!" and Sarah blushed. "There's the one that laughed at mother when we were at the Fair! Do you like her?"

"We are all schoolmates, you know," said Kathie, in a peculiar, but gentle tone. "Are you well? This is quite a surprise!"

"You are a good, sensible gal," remarked Mrs. Strong, with a meaning look, which showed Kathie that she was not so deficient in perception, after all.

"O yes! How is your uncle? Jim thinks he's just splendid! We did have such a nice time that day! I've commenced a long letter to you, and I've read both books aloud. We liked the story so much! and I cried over the Evangeline, – I couldn't help it. I'm so glad to have the picture! Wasn't it sad?" and the ready tears came into Sarah's eyes.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you"; and Mrs. Strong's face softened to a motherly glow. "I've come down to get a cousin whose husband was killed in Tennessee fightin', and the poor thing's a'most begged her way back with one little child, so I want her to come up and make a good visit while she's gettin' over the worst. Sez I to father, 'We ain't suffered any from the war, and gettin' good prices all the time for farmin' truck, and it's a pity if we can't make it a little easier for them who have.' She was such a nice young gal, and used to teach school there at Middleville; but she's seen sights o' trouble sence. And then Sary Ann begged to come, 'cause her father give her money to buy a new gown."

"And I coaxed mother to go to your house, but she wouldn't," said Sarah, shyly. "I wanted to hear something about you so much! I'm so glad!"

"And so am I," returned Kathie, warmly.

Plain and unrefined as Mrs. Strong was, she had a good, generous heart. "We must not keep Miss Kathie standin' here in the cold," she said. "Which way you goin'?"

"Straight on to Crosby Street."

"I wish you'd jump in and ride."

"O do!" pleaded Sarah.

The girls had pretty well dispersed. Even Emma Lauriston was walking slowly down the street. Kathie declined at first, but they urged so strongly that finally she acceded; and, driving slowly, they had quite a nice talk, though Mrs. Strong insisted upon taking her nearly home, as their shopping was all done.

But the episode had not been suffered to pass unremarked.

"What an elegant turnout!" sneered Belle Hadden. "Some of Kathie Alston's country relations, I suppose."

"No," answered Lottie, "it is some people she met at the Fair."

"What horrid taste, – and what coarse, uncouth creatures! Who is Kathie Alston, anyhow? A decided parvenu, to my thinking. Are they really rich, – the Alstons?"

"No, it is Kathie's uncle, Mr. Conover. He made a fortune off in Australia, I believe. They were poor enough before!" Lottie uttered this rather spitefully. Kathie's refusal to assist her that noon still rankled in her mind.

"Did they live here then?"

"O yes! in one of a row of little cottages; and Mrs. Alston had to sew for a living."

The murder was out. Lottie had a misgiving that this was decidedly mean and treacherous; and yet, she said to herself, it was every word true. Why should the Alstons be ashamed of it? Only it did seem mortifying.

"This is just about what I thought. Kathie Alston hasn't a bit of style or dignity; and how they do dress her! There was some common linen edging on that ruffle she wore to-day, and I don't believe she ever has more than two dresses at the same time. Plebeian blood will tell. Hattie Norman asked me about them, but I told her Kathie was only a little chit that she wouldn't care to invite. I don't suppose they let her go to parties, or that she knows how to dance. What is the inside of their house like?"

"It is very beautiful."

"Tawdry and cheap, I fancy. Such people have no taste. There is a great deal in birth. My mother was one of the Van Cortlands, of New York, – real old blue blood; and I can always tell commoners. I wish there could be some distinction here."

"Mrs. Alston is considered very ladylike," said Lottie, with a touch of remorse.

"By people who are no judges, I suppose. And Mrs. Wilder treats Kathie as if she were the greatest lady in the land! I think we ought to put her down. Where I went to boarding-school we had two parties, – patricians and plebeians, – and the plebeians were made to keep their places. There ought to be just such a distinction here. The idea of being intimate with a girl whose mother has worked for a living! Why, we shouldn't think of recognizing our dressmaker in society!"

This sounded quite grand to foolish Lottie. That she was considered good enough to go to the Normans' to a party was a great thing. And then Lottie remembered about some great-grandmother of hers, who had belonged to the French nobility, and escaped during one of the revolutions. Didn't that make her blood a little blue? If it would only make the French exercises come easy as well!