Part 1 (2/2)

”We never have done so yet, sir,” said Mrs. Bell timidly. Could she let this young wolf in among her lamb-fold? He might be a wolf;-- who could tell?

”Mr. Bell seemed to think it would suit,” said Aaron.

Had he acquiesced in her timidity and not pressed the point, it would have been all up with him. But the widow did not like to go against the big uncle; and so she said, ”Perhaps it may, sir.”

”I guess it will, finely,” said Aaron. And then the widow seeing that the matter was so far settled, put down her work and came round into the pa.s.sage. Hetta followed her, for there would be housework to do. Aaron gave himself another shake, settled the weekly number of dollars--with very little difficulty on his part, for he had caught another glance at Susan's face; and then went after his bag.

'Twas thus that Aaron Dunn obtained an entrance into Mrs. Bell's house. ”But what if he be a wolf?” she said to herself over and over again that night, though not exactly in those words. Ay, but there is another side to that question. What if he be a stalwart man, honest-minded, with clever eye, cunning hand, ready brain, broad back, and warm heart; in want of a wife mayhap; a man that can earn his own bread and another's;--half a dozen others' when the half dozen come? Would not that be a good sort of lodger? Such a question as that too did flit, just flit, across the widow's sleepless mind. But then she thought so much more of the wolf!

Wolves, she had taught herself to think, were more common than stalwart, honest-minded, wife-desirous men.

”I wonder mother consented to take him,” said Hetta, when they were in the little room together.

”And why shouldn't she?” said Susan. ”It will be a help.”

”Yes, it will be a little help,” said Hetta. ”But we have done very well hitherto without winter lodgers.”

”But uncle Bell said she was to.”

”What is uncle Bell to us?” said Hetta, who had a spirit of her own.

And she began to surmise within herself whether Aaron Dunn would join the Baptist congregation, and whether Phineas Beckard would approve of this new move.

”He is a very well-behaved young man at any rate,” said Susan, ”and he draws beautifully. Did you see those things he was doing?”

”He draws very well, I dare say,” said Hetta, who regarded this as but a poor warranty for good behaviour. Hetta also had some fear of wolves--not for herself perhaps; but for her sister.

Aaron Dunn's work--the commencement of his work--lay at some distance from the Springs, and he left every morning with a lot of workmen by an early train--almost before daylight. And every morning, cold and wintry as the mornings were, the widow got him his breakfast with her own hands. She took his dollars and would not leave him altogether to the awkward mercies of Kate O'Brien; nor would she trust her girls to attend upon the young man. Hetta she might have trusted; but then Susan would have asked why she was spared her share of such hards.h.i.+p.

In the evening, leaving his work when it was dark, Aaron always returned, and then the evening was pa.s.sed together. But they were pa.s.sed with the most demure propriety. These women would make the tea, cut the bread and b.u.t.ter, and then sew; while Aaron Dunn, when the cups were removed, would always go to his plans and drawings.

On Sundays they were more together; but even on this day there was cause of separation, for Aaron went to the Episcopalian church, rather to the disgust of Hetta. In the afternoon, however, they were together; and then Phineas Beckard came in to tea on Sundays, and he and Aaron got to talking on religion; and though they disagreed pretty much, and would not give an inch either one or the other, nevertheless the minister told the widow, and Hetta too probably, that the lad had good stuff in him, though he was so stiff-necked.

”But he should be more modest in talking on such matters with a minister,” said Hetta.

The Rev. Phineas acknowledged that perhaps he should; but he was honest enough to repeat that the lad had stuff in him. ”Perhaps after all he is not a wolf,” said the widow to herself.

Things went on in this way for above a month. Aaron had declared to himself over and over again that that face was sweet to look upon, and had unconsciously promised to himself certain delights in talking and perhaps walking with the owner of it. But the walkings had not been achieved--nor even the talkings as yet. The truth was that Dunn was bashful with young women, though he could be so stiff- necked with the minister.

And then he felt angry with himself, inasmuch as he had advanced no further; and as he lay in his bed--which perhaps those pretty hands had helped to make--he resolved that he would be a thought bolder in his bearing. He had no idea of making love to Susan Bell; of course not. But why should he not amuse himself by talking to a pretty girl when she sat so near him, evening after evening?

”What a very quiet young man he is,” said Susan to her sister.

”He has his bread to earn, and sticks to his work,” said Hetta. ”No doubt he has his amus.e.m.e.nt when he is in the city,” added the elder sister, not wis.h.i.+ng to leave too strong an impression of the young man's virtue.

They had all now their settled places in the parlour. Hetta sat on one side of the fire, close to the table, having that side to herself. There she sat always busy. She must have made every dress and bit of linen worn in the house, and hemmed every sheet and towel, so busy was she always. Sometimes, once in a week or so, Phineas Beckard would come in, and then place was made for him between Hetta's usual seat and the table. For when there he would read out loud. On the other side, close also to the table, sat the widow, busy, but not savagely busy as her elder daughter. Between Mrs. Bell and the wall, with her feet ever on the fender, Susan used to sit; not absolutely idle, but doing work of some slender pretty sort, and talking ever and anon to her mother. Opposite to them all, at the other side of the table, far away from the fire, would Aaron Dunn place himself with his plans and drawings before him.

”Are you a judge of bridges, ma'am?” said Aaron, the evening after he had made his resolution. 'Twas thus he began his courts.h.i.+p.

”Of bridges?” said Mrs. Bell--”oh dear no, sir.” But she put out her hand to take the little drawing which Aaron handed to her.

”Because that's one I've planned for our bit of a new branch from Moreau up to Lake George. I guess Miss Susan knows something about bridges.”

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