Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

Thus it happened that the eventful drive in the barouche had a very different effect upon the reputations of the three persons concerned. Mr. Burke was lowered from his position as a man of means enjoying his fortune, for even his building operations were probably undertaken for the purpose of settling himself in Mrs. Cliff's neighborhood, and so being able to marry Willy as soon as possible.

Willy Croup, although everybody spoke of her conduct as absolutely ridiculous and even shameful, rose in public estimation simply from the belief that she was about to marry a man who, whatever else he might be, was of imposing appearance and was likely to be rich.

As to Mrs. Cliff, there could be no doubt that the general respect for her was on the increase. If she were rich enough to attract Mr. Burke to the town, she was probably rich enough to do a good many other things, and after all it might be that that new house at the corner was being built with her money.

Miss Shott was very industrious and energetic in expressing her opinion of Mr. Burke. "There's a chambermaid at the hotel," she said, "who's told me a lot of things about him, and it's very plain to my mind that he isn't the gentleman that he makes himself out to be! His handkerchiefs and his hair-brush aren't the kind that go with fur overcoats and high hats, and she has often seen him stop in the hall downstairs and black his own boots! Everybody knows he was a sailor, but as to his ever having commanded a vessel, I don't believe a word of it! But Willy Croup and that man needn't count on their schemes coming out all right, for Sarah Cliff isn't any older than I am, and she's just as likely to outlive them as she is to die before them!"

The fact that nobody had ever said that Burke had commanded a vessel, and that Miss Shott had started the belief that Mrs. Cliff was in a rapid decline, entirely escaped the attention of her hearers, so interested were they in the subject of the unworthiness of the fine gentleman at the hotel.

Winter had not yet really set in when George Burke, who had perceived no reason to imagine that he had made a drop in public estimation, felt himself stirred by emotions of triumphant joy. The new building on the corner lot was on the point of completion!

Workmen and master-workmen, mechanics and laborers, had swarmed in, over, and about the new edifice in such numbers that sometimes they impeded each other. Close upon the heels of the masons came the carpenters, and following them the plumbers and the plasterers; while the painters impatiently restrained themselves in order to give their predecessors time to get out of their way.

The walls and ceilings were covered with the plaster which would dry the quickest, and the paper-hangers entered the rooms almost before the plasterers could take away their trowels and their lime-begrimed hats and coats. Cleaners with their brooms and pails jostled the mechanics, as the latter left the various rooms, and everywhere strode Mr. Burke. He had made up his mind that the building must be ready to move into the instant it arrived at its final destination.

It was a very different building from what Mrs. Cliff had proposed to herself when she decided to add a dining-room to her old house. It was so different indeed, that after having gone two or three times to look upon the piles of lumber and stone and the crowds of men, digging, and hammering, and sawing on the corner lot, she had decided to leave the whole matter in the hands of Mr. Burke, the architect, and the contractor. And when Willy Croup endeavored to explain to her what was going on, she always stopped her, saying that she would wait until it was done and then she would understand it.

Mr. Burke too had urged her, especially as the building drew near to completion, not to bother herself in the least about it, but to give him the pleasure of presenting it to her entirely finished and ready for occupancy. So even the painting and paper-hanging had been left to a professional decorator, and Mrs. Cliff assured Burke that she was perfectly willing to wait for the new dining-room until it was ready for her.

This dining-room, large and architecturally handsome, was planned, as has been said, so that one of its doors should fit exactly against the side hall door of the little house, but the other door of the dining-room opened into a wide and elegant hall, at one end of which was a portico and spacious front steps. On the other side of this hall was a handsome drawing-room, and behind the drawing-room and opening into it, an alcove library with a broad piazza at one side of it. Back of the dining-room was a spacious kitchen, with pantries, closets, scullery, and all necessary adjuncts.

In the second and third stories of the edifice were large and beautiful bedrooms, small and neat bedrooms, bath-rooms, servants' rooms, trunk-rooms, and every kind of room that modern civilization demands.

Now that the building was finished, Mr. Burke almost regretted that he had not constructed it upon the top of a hill in order that he might have laid his smooth and slippery timbers from the eminence to the side of Mrs. Cliff's house, so that when all should be ready he could have knocked away the blocks which held the building, so that he could have launched it as if it had been a ship, and could have beheld it sliding gracefully and rapidly from its stocks into its appointed position. But as this would probably have resulted in razing Mrs. Cliff's old house to the level of the ground, he did not long regret that he had not been able to afford himself the pleasure of this grand spectacle.

The night before the day on which the new building was to be moved, the lot next to Mrs. Cliff's house was covered by masons, laborers, and wagons hauling stones, and by breakfast-time the next morning the new cellar was completed.

Almost immediately the great timbers, which, polished and greased, had been waiting for several days, were put in their places, and the great steam engines and windlasses, which had been ready as long a time, were set in motion. And, as the house began to move upon its course, it almost missed a parting dab from the brush of a painter who was at work upon some final trimming.

That afternoon, as Mrs. Cliff happened to be in her dining-room, she remarked to Willy that it was getting dark very early, but she would not pull up the blind of the side window, because she would then look out on the new cellar, and she had promised Mr. Burke not to look at anything until he had told her to do so. Willy, who had looked out of the side door at least fifty times that day, knew that the early darkness was caused by the shadows thrown by a large building slowly approaching from the west.

When Mrs. Cliff came downstairs the next morning she was met by Willy, very much excited, who told her that Mr. Burke wished to see her.

"Where is he?" said she. "At the dining-room door," answered Willy, and as Mrs. Cliff turned towards the little room in which she had been accustomed to take her meals, Willy seized her hand and led her into the side hall. There, in the open doorway, stood Mr. Burke, his high silk hat in one hand, and the other outstretched towards her.

"Welcome to your new dining-room, madam!" said he, as he took her hand and led her into the great room, which seemed to her, as she gazed in amazement about her, like a beautiful public hall.

We will not follow Mrs. Cliff, Willy, and the whole body of domestic servants, as they passed through the halls and rooms of that grand addition to Mrs. Cliff's little house.

"Carpets and furniture is all that you want, madam!" said Burke, "and then you're at home!"

When Mrs. Cliff had been upstairs and downstairs, and into every chamber, and when she had looked out of the window and had beheld hundreds of men at work upon the grounds and putting up fences; and when Mr. Burke had explained to her that the people at the back of the lot were beginning to erect a stable and carriage house, – for no dining-room such as she had was complete, he assured her, without handsome quarters for horses and carriages, – she left him and went downstairs by herself.

As she stood by the great front door and looked up at the wide staircase, and into the lofty rooms upon each side, there came to her, rising above all sentiments of amazement, delight, and pride in her new possessions, a feeling of animated and inspiring encouragement. The mists of doubt and uncertainty, which had hung over her, began to clear away. This noble edifice must have cost grandly! And, for the first time, she began to feel that she might yet be equal to her fortune.

CHAPTER XII

THE THORPEDYKE SISTERS

The new and grand addition to Mrs. Cliff's house, which had been so planned that the little house to which it had been joined appeared to be an architecturally harmonious adjunct to it, caused a far greater sensation in Plainton than the erection of any of the public buildings therein.

Its journey from the corner lot was watched by hundreds of spectators, and now Mrs. Cliff, Willy, and Mr. Burke spent day and evening in exhibiting and explaining this remarkable piece of building enterprise.

Mr. Burke was very jolly. He took no credit to himself for the planning of the house, which, as he truthfully said, had been the work of an architect who had suggested what was proper and had been allowed to do it. But he did feel himself privileged to declare that if every crew building a house were commanded by a person of marine experience, things would move along a good deal more briskly than they generally did, and to this assertion he found no one to object.

Mrs. Cliff was very happy in wandering over her new rooms, and in assuring herself that no matter how grand they might be when they were all furnished and fitted up, nothing had been done which would interfere with the dear old home which she had loved so long. It is true that one of the windows of the little dining-room was blocked up, but that window was not needed.

Mr. Burke was not willing to give Mrs. Cliff more than a day or two for the contemplation of her new possessions, and urged upon her that while the chimneys were being erected and the heating apparatus was being put into the house, she ought to attend to the selection and purchase of the carpets, furniture, pictures, and everything which was needed in the new establishment.

Mrs. Cliff thought this good advice, and proposed a trip to Boston; but Burke did not think that would do at all, and declared that New York was the only place where she could get everything she needed. Willy, who was to accompany Mrs. Cliff, had been to Boston, but had never visited New York, and she strongly urged the claims of the latter city, and an immediate journey to the metropolis was agreed upon.

But when Mrs. Cliff considered the magnitude and difficulties of the work she was about to undertake, she wished for the counsel and advice of some one besides Willy. This good little woman was energetic and enthusiastic, but she had had no experience in regard to the furnishing of a really good house.

When, in her mind, she was running over the names of those who might be able and willing to go with her and assist her, Mrs. Cliff suddenly thought of the Thorpedyke ladies, and there her mental category stopped as she announced to Willy that she was going to ask these ladies to go with them to New York.

Willy thought well of this plan, but she had her doubts about Miss Barbara, who was so quiet, domestic, and unused to travel that she might be unwilling to cast herself into the din and whirl of the metropolis. But when she and Mrs. Cliff went to make a call upon the Thorpedykes and put the question before them, she was very much surprised to find that, although the elder sister, after carefully considering the subject, announced her willingness to oblige Mrs. Cliff, Miss Barbara agreed to the plan with an alacrity which her visitors had never known her to exhibit before.

As soon as the necessary preparations could be made, a party of five left Plainton for New York, and a very well-assorted party it was! Mr. Burke, who guided and commanded the expedition, supplied the impelling energy; Mrs. Cliff had her check book with her; Willy was ready with any amount of enthusiasm; and the past life of Miss Eleanor Thorpedyke and her sister Barbara had made them most excellent judges of what was appropriate for the worthy furnishing of a stately mansion.

Their youth and middle life had been spent near Boston, in a fine old house which had been the home of their ancestors, and where they had been familiar with wealth, distinguished society, and noble hospitality. But when they had been left the sole representatives of their family, and when misfortune after misfortune had come down upon them and swept away their estates and nearly all of their income, they had retired to the little town of Plainton where they happened to own a house.

There, with nothing saved from the wreck of their prosperity but their family traditions, and some of the old furniture and pictures, they had settled down to spend in quiet the rest of their lives.

For two weeks our party remained in New York, living at one of the best hotels, but spending nearly all their time in shops and streets.

Mrs. Cliff was rapidly becoming a different woman from the old Mrs. Cliff of Plainton. At the time she stepped inside of the addition to her house the change had begun, and now it showed itself more and more each day. She had seen more beautiful things in Paris, but there she looked upon them with but little thought of purchasing. In New York whatever she saw and desired she made her own.

The difference between a mere possessor of wealth and one who uses it became very apparent to her. Not until now had she really known what it was to be a rich woman. Not only did this consciousness of power swell her veins with a proud delight, but it warmed and invigorated all her better impulses. She had always been of a generous disposition, but now she felt an intense good-will toward her fellow-beings, and wished that other people could be as happy as she was.

She thought of Mrs. Ferguson and remembered what she had said about her daughters. To be sure, Mrs. Ferguson was always trying to get people to do things for her, and Mrs. Cliff did not fancy that class of women, but now her wealth-warmed soul inclined her to overlook this prejudice, and she said to herself that when she got home she would make arrangements for those two girls to go to a good school; and, more than that, she would see to it that Mr. Ferguson was moved. It seemed to her just then that it would be a very cheerful thing to make other people happy.

The taste and artistic judgment of the elder Miss Thorpedyke, which had been dormant for years, simply because there was nothing upon which they could exercise themselves, now awoke in their old vigor, and with Mrs. Cliff's good sense, reinforced by her experience gained in wandering among the treasures of Paris, the results of the shopping expedition were eminently satisfactory. And, with the plan of the new building, which Mr. Burke carried always with him, everything which was likely to be needed in each room, hall, or stairway, was selected and purchased, and as fast as this was done, the things were shipped to Plainton, where people were ready to put them where they belonged.

Willy Croup was not always of service in the purchasing expeditions, for she liked everything that she saw, and no sooner was an article produced than she went into ecstasies over it; but as she had an intense desire to see everything which New York contained, she did not at all confine herself to the shops and bazaars. She went wherever she could and saw all that it was possible for her to see; but in the midst of the sights and attractions of the metropolis she was still Willy Croup.

One afternoon as she and Miss Barbara were passing along one of the side streets on their return from an attempt to see how the poorer people lived, Willy stopped in front of a blacksmith's shop where a man was shoeing a horse.

"There!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight, "that's the first thing I've seen that reminds me of home!"

"It is nice, isn't it!" said gentle Miss Barbara.

CHAPTER XIII

MONEY HUNGER

During the latter part of their sojourn in the city, Willy went about a good deal with Miss Barbara because she thought this quiet, soft-spoken lady was not happy and did not take the interest in handsome and costly articles which was shown by her sister. She had been afraid that this noisy bustling place would be too much for Miss Barbara, and now she was sure she had been right.

The younger Miss Thorpedyke was unhappy, and with reason. For some months a little house in Boston which had been their principal source of income had not been rented. It needed repairs, and there was no money with which to repair it. The agent had written that some one might appear who would be willing to take it as it stood, but that this was doubtful, and the heart of Miss Barbara sank very low. She was the business woman of the family. She it was who had always balanced the income and the expenditures. This adjustment had now become very difficult indeed, and was only accomplished by adding a little debt to the weight on the income scale.

She had said nothing to her sister about this sad change in their affairs because she hoped against hope that soon they might have a tenant, and she knew that her sister Eleanor was a woman of such strict and punctilious honor that she would insist upon living upon plain bread, if their supply of ready money was insufficient to buy anything else. To see this sister insufficiently nourished was something which Miss Barbara could not endure, and so, sorely against her disposition and her conscience, she made some little debts; and these grew and grew until at last they weighed her down until she felt as if she must always look upon the earth and could never raise her head to the sky. And she was so plump, and so white, and gentle, and quiet, and peaceful looking that no one thought she had a care in the world until Willy Croup began to suspect in New York that something was the matter with her, but did not in the least attribute her friend's low spirits to the proper cause.

When Miss Barbara had favored so willingly and promptly the invitation of Mrs. Cliff, she had done so because she saw in the New York visit a temporary abolition of expense, and a consequent opportunity to lay up a little money by which she might be able to satisfy for a time one of her creditors who was beginning to suspect that she was not able to pay his bill, and was therefore pressing her very hard. Even while she had been in New York, this many-times rendered bill had been forwarded to her with an urgent request that it be settled.

It was not strange, therefore, that a tear should sometimes come to the eye of Miss Barbara when she stood by the side of her sister and Mrs. Cliff and listened to them discussing the merits of some rich rugs or pieces of furniture, and when she reflected that the difference in price between two articles, one apparently as desirable as the other, which was discussed so lightly by Mrs. Cliff and Eleanor, would pay that bill which was eating into her soul, and settle, moreover, every other claim against herself and her sister. But the tears were always wiped away very quickly, and neither Mrs. Cliff nor the elder Miss Thorpedyke ever noticed them.

But although Willy Croup was not at all a woman of acute perceptions, she began to think that perhaps it was something more than the bustle and noise of New York which was troubling Miss Barbara. And once, when she saw her gazing with an earnest eager glare – and whoever would have thought of any sort of a glare in Miss Barbara's eyes – upon some bank-notes which Mrs. Cliff was paying out for a carved cabinet for which it was a little doubtful if a suitable place could be found, but which was bought because Miss Eleanor thought it would give an air of distinction in whatever room it might be placed, Willy began to suspect the meaning of that unusual exhibition of emotion.

"She's money hungry," she said to herself, "that's what's the matter with her!" Willy had seen the signs of such hunger before, and she understood what they meant.

That night Willy lay in her bed, having the very unusual experience of thinking so much that she could not sleep. Her room adjoined Miss Barbara's, and the door between them was partly open, for the latter lady was timid. Perhaps it was because this door was not closed that Willy was so wakeful and thoughtful, for there was a bright light in the other room, and she could not imagine why Miss Barbara should be sitting up so late. It was a proceeding entirely at variance with her usual habits. She was in some sort of trouble, it was easy to see that, but it would be a great deal better to go to sleep and try to forget it.

So after a time Willy rose, and, softly stepping over the thick carpet, looked into the other room. There was Miss Barbara in her day dress, sitting at a table, her arms upon the table, her head upon her arms, fast asleep. Upon her pale face there were a great many tear marks, and Willy knew that she must have cried herself to sleep. A paper was spread out near her.

Willy was sure that it would be a very mean and contemptible thing for her to go and look at that paper, and so, perhaps, find out what was troubling Miss Barbara, but, without the slightest hesitation, she did it. Her bare feet made no sound upon the carpet, and as she had very good eyes, it was not necessary for her to approach close to the sleeper.

It was a bill from William Bullock, a grocer and provision dealer of Plainton. It contained but one item, – 'To bill rendered,' and at the bottom was a statement in Mr. Bullock's own handwriting to the effect that if the bill was not immediately paid he would be obliged to put it into the hands of a collector.

Willy turned and slipped back into her room. Then, after sitting down upon her bed and getting up again, she stepped boldly to the door and knocked upon it. Instantly she heard Miss Barbara start and push back her chair.

"What are you doing up so late?" cried Willy, cheerfully. "Don't you feel well?"

"Oh, yes," replied the other, "I accidentally fell asleep while reading, but I will go to bed instantly."

The mind of Willy Croup was a very small one and had room in it for but one idea at a time. For a good while she lay putting ideas into this mind, and then taking them out again. Having given place to the conviction that the Thorpedykes were in a very bad way indeed, – for if that bill should be collected, they would not have much left but themselves, and Mr. Bullock was a man who did collect when he said he would, – she was obliged to remove this conviction, which made her cry, in order to consider plans of relief; and while she was considering these plans, one at a time, she dropped asleep.

The first thing she thought of when she opened her eyes in the morning was poor Miss Barbara in the next room, and that dreadful bill; and then, like a flash of lightning, she thought of a good thing to do for the Thorpedykes. The project which now laid itself out, detail after detail, before her seemed so simple, so sensible, so absolutely wise and desirable in every way, that she got up, dressed herself with great rapidity, and went in to see Mrs. Cliff.

That lady was still asleep, but Willy awakened her, and sat on the side of the bed. "Do you know what I think?" said Willy.

"How in the world should I!" said Mrs. Cliff. "Is it after breakfast-time?"

"No," said Willy; "but it's this! What are you going to do in that big house, with all the bedrooms, parlor, library, and so forth? You say that you are going to have one room, and that I'm to have another, and that we'll go into the old house to feel at home whenever we want to; but I believe we'll be like a couple of flies in a barrel! You're going to furnish your new house with everything but people! You ought to have more people! You ought to have a family! That house will look funny without people! You can't ask Mr. Burke, because it would be too queer to have him come and live with us, and besides, he'll want a house of his own. Why don't you ask the Thorpedykes to come and live with us? Their roof is dreadfully out of repairs. I know to my certain knowledge that they have to put tin wash-basins on every bed in the second story when it rains, on account of the holes in the shingles! If they had money to mend those holes, they'd mend them, but as they don't mend them, of course they haven't the money. And it strikes me that they aren't as well off as they used to be, and they'll have a hard time gettin' through this winter. Now, there isn't any piece of furniture that you can put in your house that will give it 'such an air of distinction,' as Miss Eleanor calls it, as she herself will give it if you put her there! If you could persuade Miss Eleanor to come and sit in your parlor when you are having company to see you, it would set you up in Plainton a good deal higher than any money can set you up."