Young Folks Treasury Volume 3 (of 12) - Hamilton Wright Mabie (classic books to read .txt) 📗

family had not tasted any good bread since they had come there, they also were warm in its praise. With some surprise, they heard from the housekeeper that this excellent bread was made by a young girl only twelve years old. The housekeeper, who had known Susan since she was a child, was pleased to have a chance to speak about her.

"She is the busiest little creature, ma'am, in the world," she said to her mistress. "I can't so well call her little now though, since she's grown tall and slender to look at; and glad I am she is grown up good to look at; for handsome is that handsome does, ma'am. She thinks no more of her being handsome than I do myself; yet she has as proper a respect for herself, ma'am, as you have; and I always see her neat, and she is always with her mother, or fit people, as a girl should be. As for her mother, she dotes upon her, as well she may; for I should myself if I had half such a daughter, ma'am; and then she has two little brothers, and she's as good to them and, my boy Philip says, taught them to read more than the school-mistress did; but I beg your pardon, ma'am, I cannot stop myself when I once begin to talk of Susan."

"You have really said enough to make me wish to see her," said her mistress. "Pray send for her now; we can see her before we go out to walk."

The kind housekeeper gladly sent off her boy Philip for Susan, who was never so untidy that she could not come at once when sent for. She had been very busy, but orderly people can be busy and neat at the same time. Putting on her usual straw hat, she set out for the Abbey. On the way she overtook Rose's mother, who was going there too with a basket of fresh muslin. When Susan reached the Abbey, her simple dress and manners and the good sense with which she answered the questions put to her, pleased the ladies greatly. They saw that the housekeeper had not spoken too highly of the farmer's daughter.

These two ladies were the sisters of Sir Arthur Somers. They were kind and wise; kind in wishing to spread happiness among their poor neighbors, and wise in wishing these people to be happy in their own way. They did not wish to manage them, but only to help them. As Sir Arthur was always willing to aid his sisters, it seemed as if they would prove a blessing in in the village near which they had come to live. When Susan took leave of the ladies, she was told they would call at her home that evening at six o'clock. Such a grand event as Susan's visit to the Abbey soon became known to Barbara Case and her maid, and together they watched for her return.

"There she is! She has just gone into her garden," cried Bab; "we'll run in at once and hear all about it."

Susan was gathering some marigolds and parsley for her mother's soup. "Well, Susan, and how are things going with you to-day?" asked Barbara.

"My mother is rather better, she says; thank you, ma'am."

"'Ma'am, how polite we have grown all of a sudden!" said Bab, winking at her maid. "One can see you have been in good company. Come, tell us all about it."

"Did you see the ladies themselves," asked Betty, "or only the housekeeper?"

"What room were you in?" went on Bab. "Did you see Miss Somers or Sir Arthur?"

"Miss Somers," replied Susan.

"Betty, she saw Miss Somers! I must hear about it. Susan, stop gathering those things, and have a chat with us."

"I can't indeed, Miss Barbara, for my mother wants her soup, and I am in a hurry." And Susan ran home.

"Would you believe it, her head is full of soup now?" said Bab to her maid. "She seems to think nothing of her visit to the Abbey. My papa may well call her Simple Susan . But simple or not I mean to get what I want out of her. Maybe when she has settled the grand matter of the soup, she'll be able to speak. I'll step in and ask to see her mother. That will put her in a good humor in a trice."

Barbara went to the cottage and found Susan standing over a pot on the fire. "Is the soup ready?" she asked. "I'll wait till you take it in to your mother and go in with you. I want to ask her how she is, myself."

"Sit down then, miss," said Susan, "I have put in the parsley, so the soup is nearly ready."

Barbara sat down and plied Susan with questions. How was Miss Somers dressed? Were the sisters dressed alike? What were they having for dinner at the Abbey? Above all, what could Miss Somers mean by saying she would call at Farmer Price's cottage at six o'clock that evening? "What do you think she could mean?" asked Barbara.

"What she said," replied Susan, "that she would be here at six o'clock."

"That's plain enough," said Barbara, "but what else do you think she meant? People, you know, often mean more or less than they say."

"They do," answered Susan, with a smile that made Barbara guess of whom she was thinking.

But Bab did not mean Susan to know that she guessed, so she said, "I suppose you think that Miss Somers meant more than she said?"

"I was not thinking of Miss Somers when I said what I did," replied Susan.

There was a pause, and then Bab remarked, "How nice the soup looks!"

Susan had poured it into a basin, and as she dropped over it the bright yellow marigold, it looked very tempting. She tasted it and added a little salt; tasted it again, and added a little more. Then she thought it was just as her mother liked it.

"Oh, I must taste it!" said Bab, seizing the basin greedily.

"Won't you take a spoon?" said Susan, trembling as she saw the big mouthfuls Barbara took with a loud noise.

"Take a spoon, indeed!" exclaimed Bab. "How dare you, how dare you speak so to me? 'Take a spoon, pig!' was what you meant to say! I'll never enter your cottage again!" And she flounced out of the house.

Susan stood still, amazed at the beginning of Barbara's speech, but her last words explained the sudden outburst.

Some years before this time, when Susan was a very little girl and could scarcely speak, as she was eating a basin of bread and milk for supper at the cottage door, a great pig came up and put his nose into the basin. Susan was willing that the pig should have some share of the bread and milk, but as she ate with a spoon and he with his large mouth, she soon found that he was likely to have more than his share; and she said to him, "Take a poon, pig." The saying became a proverb in the village, and Susan's little companions quoted it when any one claimed more than his share of anything good. Barbara, who was then not Miss Barbara, but plain Bab, and who played with all the poor children in the village, was often reproved by Susan's proverb. Susan, as she grew up, forgot the childish saying, but Barbara remembered it, and it was this that she thought was in Susan's mind when she asked her to take a spoon.

"Indeed, miss," said Betty, when she found Barbara in a passion upon her return from the cottage, "indeed I wonder you set your foot within the door. Your own papa has been at the Abbey all morning, and you can hear all you wish to know from him."

Barbara at once ran to her father's parlor, but saw at a glance that he was in no mood to answer questions. Instead of leaving him alone, she did all in her power to find out why he had been at the Abbey, and what he had seen and heard there. And when she found that her father would tell her nothing, she ran back to her maid, saying, "Papa is so cross! I cannot put up with him."


V

SUSAN'S PET LAMB


It is true that Attorney Case was not in a happy mood. His visit to the Abbey had made him feel sure that Sir Arthur and he would not agree about the treatment of the farmers who lived on the estate. One matter they had talked about was Sir Arthur's wish to enlarge his grounds and make a drive round them. A map of the estate lay upon the table and they looked at it together.

"Ah! but I see this new road for the drive would run through Farmer Price's garden," said Sir Arthur. "That would never do."

"It need not trouble you," said Attorney Case, "you may do as you like with Price's land."

"How so?" asked Sir Arthur. "His lease will not be out for ten years, I believe."

"True, that would have been the case had there not been a mistake in it. I have the lease and can show you." The heartless man then went on to explain to Sir Arthur what the mistake was.

Sir Arthur remained silent.

"Oh! I see," said the Attorney. "You do not wish to annoy Farmer Price. But just put the matter into my hands and I will manage it for you."

"You seem to forget that to take the farm out of this poor man's hands would be to ruin him," replied Sir Arthur, quietly.

"Indeed," said the wicked Attorney, "indeed I should be sorry for that, if it were not that Farmer Price is such an unruly, stubborn man."

"An unruly man, is he? If that be so, the sooner he leaves the place the better. When you go home, you will be good enough to send me the lease that I may, for myself, see the mistake."

Attorney Case got up to go. But before he went, he thought he must try to find out if Sir Arthur was going to employ him to look after the estate, that is, if he was to be the agent. "I will not trouble you about this lease, Sir Arthur," he said, "but will hand it to your agent, if you will inform me who is to have that post."

"I mean to be my own agent," answered Sir Arthur, "and will myself look after the happiness of the people among whom I have come to live."

It was the surprise of this reply that had sent Attorney Case home so cross that Barbara had said to Betty she could not put up with him.

When his daughter had left him atone, the Attorney walked up and down the room deep in thought. "At any rate," he said to himself at last, "if Sir Arthur means to manage the estate himself in summer, he at least will need an agent in winter. I must try to get the post." And he still walked up and down, trying to think of some plan by which he would find favor at the Abbey. Now that morning he had heard the housekeeper at the Abbey ask the servants if any lamb were to be had in the village, as Sir Arthur would like to have it one day soon for dinner.

Knowing that