The conversation changed to other things. And soon took a fresh springat the entrance of another of the family, an aunt of the girls; wholived in the neighbourhood, and came in to hear the news from New Havenas well as from New York. And then it knew no stop. While the table wasclearing, and while Charity and Madge were doing up the dishes, andwhen they all sat down round the fire afterwards, there went on aceaseless, restless, unending flow of questions, answers, and comments; going over, I am bound to say, all the ground already travelled duringsupper. Mrs. Armadale sometimes sighed to herself; but this, if theothers heard it, could not check them.
Mrs. Marx was a lively, clever, kind, good-natured woman; with plentyof administrative ability, like so many New England women, full ofresources; quick with her head and her hands, and not slow with hertongue; an uneducated woman, and yet one who had made such good use oflife-schooling, that for all practical purposes she had twice the witof many who have gone through all the drill of the best institutions. Akeen eye, a prompt judgment, and a fearless speech, all belonged toMrs. Marx; universally esteemed and looked up to and welcomed by allher associates. She was not handsome; she was even strikingly deficientin the lines of beauty; and refinement was not one of hercharacteristics, other than the refinement which comes of kindness andunselfishness. Mrs. Marx would be delicately careful of another'sfeelings, when there was real need; she could show an exceeding greattenderness and tact then; while in ordinary life her voice was ratherloud, her movements were free and angular, and her expressions veryunconstrained. Nobody ever saw Mrs. Marx anything but neat, whatevershe possibly might be doing; in other respects her costume was oftenextremely unconventional; but she could dress herself nicely and lookquite as becomes a lady. Independent was Mrs. Marx, above all and ineverything.
"I guess she's come back all safe!" was her comment, made to Mrs.Armadale, at the conclusion of the long talk. Mrs. Armadale made noanswer.
"It's sort o' risky, to let a young thing like that go off by herselfamong all those highflyers. It's like sendin' a pigeon to sail aboutwith the hawks."
"Why, aunt Anne," said Lois at this, "whom can you possibly mean by thehawks?"
"The sort o' birds that eat up pigeons."
"I saw nobody that wanted to eat me up, I assure you."
"There's the difference between you and a real pigeon. The pigeon knowsthe hawk when she sees it; you don't."
"Do you think the hawks all live in cities?"
"No, I don't," said Mrs. Marx. "They go swoopin' about in the countrynow and then. I shouldn't a bit wonder to see one come sailin' over ourheads one of these fine days. But now, you see, grandma has got youunder her wing again." Mrs. Marx was Mrs. Armadale's half-daughteronly, and sometimes in company of others called her as hergrandchildren did. "How does home look to you, Lois, now you're back init?"
"Very much as it used to look," Lois answered, smiling.
"The taste ain't somehow taken out o' things? Ha' you got your oldappetite for common doin's?"
"I shall try to-morrow. I am going out into the garden to get some peasin."
"Mine is in."
"Not long, aunt Anne? the frost hasn't been long out of the ground."
"Put 'em in to-day, Lois. And your garden has the sun on it; so Ishouldn't wonder if you beat me after all. Well, I must go along andlook arter my old man. He just let me run away now 'cause I told him Iwas kind o' crazy about the fashions; and he said 'twas a feminineweakness and he pitied me. So I come. Mrs. Dashiell has been a week toNew London; but la! New London bonnets is no account."
"You don't get much light from Lois," remarked Charity.
"No. Did ye learn anything, Lois, while you was away?"
"I think so, aunt Anne."
"What, then? Let's hear. Learnin' ain't good for much, without you giveit out."
Lois, however, seemed not inclined to be generous with her stores ofnew knowledge.
"I guess she's learned Shampuashuh ain't much of a place," the eldersister remarked further.
"She's been spellin' her lesson backwards, then. Shampuashuh's afirst-rate place."
"But we've no grand people here. We don't eat off silver dishes, nordrink out o' gold spoons; and our horses can go without littlelookin'-glasses over their heads," Charity proceeded.
"Do you think there's any use in all that, Lois?" said her aunt.
"I don't know, aunt Anne," Lois answered with a little hesitation.
"Then I'm sorry for ye, girl, if you are left to think such nonsense.Ain't our victuals as good here, as what comes out o' those silverdishes?"
"Not always."
"Are New York folks better cooks than we be?"
"They have servants that know how to do things."
"Servants! Don't tell me o' no servants' doin's! What can they makethat I can't make better?"
"Can you make a soufflé, aunt Anne?"
"What's that?"
"Or biscuit glacé?"
"Biskwee glassy?" repeated the indignant Shampuashuh lady. "What doyou mean, Lois? Speak English, if I am to understand you."
"These things have no English names."
"Are they any the better for that?"
"No; and nothing could make them better. They are as good as it ispossible for anything to be; and there are a hundred other thingsequally good, that we know nothing about here."
"I'd have watched and found out how they were done," said the elderwoman, eyeing Lois with a mingled expression of incredulity andcuriosity and desire, which it was comical to see. Only nobody thereperceived the comicality. They sympathized too deeply in the feeling.
"I would have watched," said Lois; "but I could not go down into thekitchen for it."
"Why not?"
"Nobody goes into the kitchen, except to give orders."
"Nobody goes into the kitchen!" cried Mrs. Marx, sinking down againinto a chair. She had risen to go.
"I mean, except the servants."
"It's the shiftlessest thing I ever heard o' New York. And do you thinkthat's a nice way o' livin', Lois?"
"I am afraid I do, aunt Anne. It is pleasant to have plenty of time forother things."
"What other things?"
"Reading."
"Reading! La, child! I can read more books in a year than is good forme, and do all my own work, too. I like play, as well as other folks; but I like to know my work's done first. Then I can play."
"Well, there the servants do the work."
"And you like that? That ain't a nat'ral way o' livin', Lois; and Ibelieve it leaves folks too much time to get into mischief. When folkshasn't business enough of their own to attend to, they're free to puttheir fingers in other folks' business. And they get sot up, besides.My word for it, it ain't healthy for mind nor body. And you needn'tthink I'm doin' what I complain of, for your business is my business.Good-bye, girls. I'll buy a cook-book the next time I go to New London, and learn how to make suflles. Lois shan't hold that whip over me."
CHAPTER X
LOIS'S GARDEN
Lois went at her gardening the next morning, as good as her word. Itwas the last of March, and an anticipation of April, according to thefashion the months have of sending promissory notes in advance of them; and this year the spring was early. The sun was up, but not much more, when Lois, with her spade and rake and garden line, opened the littledoor in the garden fence and shut it after her. Then she was alone withthe spring. The garden was quite a roomy place, and pretty, a littlelater in the season; for some old and large apple and cherry treesshadowed parts of it, and broke up the stiff, bare regularity of anordinary