Ragged Lady - William Dean Howells

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I live, a minute,” said Mrs. Atwell. She took the girl from the clerk, and led her to the official housekeeper's room which she said had been prepared for her so that folks need not keep running to her in her private room where she wanted to be alone with her children, when she was there. “Why, you a'n't much moa than a child youaself, Clem, and here I be talkin' to you as if you was a mother in Israel. How old ah' you, this summa? Time does go so!”

      “I'm sixteen now,” said Clementina, smiling.

      “You be? Well, I don't see why I say that, eitha! You're full lahge enough for your age, but not seein' you in long dresses before, I didn't realize your age so much. My, but you do all of you know how to do things!”

      “I'm about the only one that don't, Mrs. Atwell,” said the girl. “If it hadn't been for mother, I don't believe I could have eva finished this dress.” She began to laugh at something passing in her mind, and Mrs. Atwell laughed too, in sympathy, though she did not know what at till Clementina said, “Why, Mrs. Atwell, nea'ly the whole family wo'ked on this dress. Jim drew the patte'n of it from the dress of one of the summa boa'das that he took a fancy to at the Centa, and fatha cut it out, and I helped motha make it. I guess every one of the children helped a little.”

      “Well, it's just as I said, you can all of you do things,” said Mrs. Atwell. “But I guess you ah' the one that keeps 'em straight. What did you say Mr. Landa said his wife wanted of you?”

      “He said some kind of sewing that motha could do.”

      “Well, I'll tell you what! Now, if she ha'n't really got anything that your motha'll want you to help with, I wish you'd come here again and help me. I tuned my foot, here, two-three weeks back, and I feel it, times, and I should like some one to do about half my steppin' for me. I don't want to take you away from her, but IF. You sha'n't go int' the dinin'room, or be under anybody's oddas but mine. Now, will you?”

      “I'll see, Mrs. Atwell. I don't like to say anything till I know what Mrs. Landa wants.”

      “Well, that's right. I decla'e, you've got moa judgment! That's what I used to say about you last summa to my husband: she's got judgment. Well, what's wanted?” Mrs. Atwell spoke to her husband, who had opened her door and looked in, and she stopped rocking, while she waited his answer.

      “I guess you don't want to keep Clementina from Mr. Landa much longa. He's settin' out there on the front piazza waitin' for her.”

      “Well, the'a!” cried Mrs. Atwell. “Ain't that just like me? Why didn't you tell me sooner, Alonzo? Don't you forgit what I said, Clem!”

      IV.

      Mrs. Lander had taken twice of a specific for what she called her nerve-fag before her husband came with Clementina, and had rehearsed aloud many of the things she meant to say to the girl. In spite of her preparation, they were all driven out of her head when Clementina actually appeared, and gave her a bow like a young birch's obeisance in the wind.

      “Take a chaia,” said Lander, pushing her one, and the girl tilted over toward him, before she sank into it. He went out of the room, and left Mrs. Lander to deal with the problem alone. She apologized for being in bed, but Clementina said so sweetly, “Mr. Landa told me you were not feeling very well, 'm,” that she began to be proud of her ailments, and bragged of them at length, and of the different doctors who had treated her for them. While she talked she missed one thing or another, and Clementina seemed to divine what it was she wanted, and got it for her, with a gentle deference which made the elder feel her age cushioned by the girl's youth. When she grew a little heated from the interest she took in her personal annals, and cast off one of the folds of her bed clothing, Clementina got her a fan, and asked her if she should put up one of the windows a little.

      “How you do think of things!” said Mrs. Lander. “I guess I will let you. I presume you get used to thinkin' of othas in a lahge family like youas. I don't suppose they could get along without you very well,” she suggested.

      “I've neva been away except last summa, for a little while.”

      “And where was you then?”

      “I was helping Mrs. Atwell.”

      “Did you like it?”

      “I don't know,” said Clementina. “It's pleasant to be whe'e things ah' going on.”

      “Yes—for young folks,” said Mrs. Lander, whom the going on of things had long ceased to bring pleasure.

      “It's real nice at home, too,” said Clementina. “We have very good times—evenings in the winta; in the summer it's very nice in the woods, around there. It's safe for the children, and they enjoy it, and fatha likes to have them. Motha don't ca'e so much about it. I guess she'd ratha have the house fixed up more, and the place. Fatha's going to do it pretty soon. He thinks the'e's time enough.”

      “That's the way with men,” said Mrs. Lander. “They always think the's time enough; but I like to have things over and done with. What chuhch do you 'tend?”

      “Well, there isn't any but the Episcopal,” Clementina answered. “I go to that, and some of the children go to the Sunday School. I don't believe fatha ca'es very much for going to chuhch, but he likes Mr. Richling; he's the recta. They take walks in the woods; and they go up the mountains togetha.”

      “They want,” said Mrs. Lander, severely, “to be ca'eful how they drink of them cold brooks when they're heated. Mr. Richling a married man?”

      “Oh, yes'm! But they haven't got any family.”

      “If I could see his wife, I sh'd caution her about lettin' him climb mountains too much. A'n't your father afraid he'll ovado?”

      “I don't know. He thinks he can't be too much in the open air on the mountains.”

      “Well, he may not have the same complaint as Mr. Landa; but I know if I was to climb a mountain,' it would lay me up for a yea'.”

      The girl did not urge anything against this conviction. She smiled politely and waited patiently for the next turn Mrs. Lander's talk should take, which was oddly enough toward the business Clementina had come upon.

      “I declare I most forgot about my polonaise. Mr. Landa said your motha thought she could do something to it for me.”

      “Yes'm.”

      “Well, I may as well let you see it. If you'll reach into that fuhthest closet, you'll find it on the last uppa hook on the right hand, and if you'll give it to me, I'll show you what I want done. Don't mind the looks of that closet; I've just tossed my things in, till I could get a little time and stren'th to put 'em in odda.”

      Clementina brought the polonaise to Mrs. Lander, who sat up and spread it before her on the bed, and had a happy half hour in telling the girl where she had bought the material and where she had it made up, and how it came home just as she was going away, and she did not find out that it was all wrong till a week afterwards when she tried it on. By the end of this time the girl had commended herself so much by judicious and sympathetic assent, that Mrs. Lander learned with a shock of disappointment that her mother expected her to bring the garment home with her, where Mrs. Lander was to come and have it fitted over for the alterations she wanted made.

      “But I supposed, from what Mr. Landa said, that your motha would come here and fit me!” she lamented.

      “I guess he didn't undastand, 'm. Motha doesn't eva go out to do wo'k,” said Clementina gently but firmly.

      “Well, I might have known Mr. Landa would mix it up, if it could be mixed;” Mrs. Lander's sense of injury was aggravated by her suspicion that he had brought the girl in the hope of pleasing her, and confirming her in the wish to have her with them; she was not a woman who liked to have her way in spite of herself; she wished at every step to realize that she was taking it, and that no one else was taking it for her.

      “Well,”

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