The two women went away.
This was the end of Anna’s service with Miss Mary Wadsmith, and soon her new life taking care of Dr. Shonjen was begun.
Keeping house for a jovial bachelor doctor gave new elements of understanding to Anna’s maiden german mind. Her habits were as firm fixed as before, but it always was with Anna that things that had been done once with her enjoyment and consent could always happen any time again, such as her getting up at any hour of the night to make a supper and cook hot chops and chicken fry for Dr. Shonjen and his bachelor friends.
Anna loved to work for men, for they could eat so much and with such joy. And when they were warm and full, they were content, and let her do whatever she thought best. Not that Anna’s conscience ever slept, for neither with interference or without would she strain less to keep on saving every cent and working every hour of the day. But truly she loved it best when she could scold. Now it was not only other girls and the colored man, and dogs, and cats, and horses and her parrot, but her cheery master, jolly Dr. Shonjen, whom she could guide and constantly rebuke to his own good.
The doctor really loved her scoldings as she loved his wickednesses and his merry joking ways.
These days were happy days with Anna.
Her freakish humor now first showed itself, her sense of fun in the queer ways that people had, that made her later find delight in brutish servile Katy, in Sally’s silly ways and in the badness of Peter and of Rags. She loved to make sport with the skeletons the doctor had, to make them move and make strange noises till the negro boy shook in his shoes and his eyes rolled white in his agony of fear.
Then Anna would tell these histories to her doctor. Her worn, thin, lined, determined face would form for itself new and humorous creases, and her pale blue eyes would kindle with humour and with joy as her doctor burst into his hearty laugh. And the good Anna full of the coquetry of pleasing would bridle with her angular, thin, spinster body, straining her stories and herself to please.
These early days with jovial Dr. Shonjen were very happy days with the good Anna.
All of Anna’s spare hours in these early days she spent with her friend, the widow Mrs. Lehntman. Mrs. Lehntman lived with her two children in a small house in the same part of the town as Dr. Shonjen. The older of these two children was a girl named Julia and was now about thirteen years of age. This Julia Lehntman was an unattractive girl enough, harsh featured, dull and stubborn as had been her heavy german father. Mrs. Lehntman did not trouble much with her, but gave her always all she wanted that she had, and let the girl do as she liked. This was not from indifference or dislike on the part of Mrs. Lehntman, it was just her usual way.
Her second child was a boy, two years younger than his sister, a bright, pleasant, cheery fellow, who too, did what he liked with his money and his time. All this was so with Mrs. Lehntman because she had so much in her head and in her house that clamoured for her concentration and her time.
This slackness and neglect in the running of the house, and the indifference in this mother for the training of her young was very hard for our good Anna to endure. Of course she did her best to scold, to save for Mrs. Lehntman, and to put things in their place the way they ought to be.
Even in the early days when Anna was first won by the glamour of Mrs. Lehntman’s brilliancy and charm, she had been uneasy in Mrs. Lehntman’s house with a need of putting things to rights. Now that the two children growing up were of more importance in the house, and now that long acquaintance had brushed the dazzle out of Anna’s eyes, she began to struggle to make things go here as she thought was right.
She watched and scolded hard these days to make young Julia do the way she should. Not that Julia Lehntman was pleasant in the good Anna’s sight, but it must never be that a young girl growing up should have no one to make her learn to do things right.
The boy was easier to scold, for scoldings never sank in very deep, and indeed he liked them very well for they brought with them new things to eat, and lively teasing, and good jokes.
Julia, the girl, grew very sullen with it all, and very often won her point, for after all Miss Annie was no relative of hers and had no business coming there and making trouble all the time. Appealing to the mother was no use. It was wonderful how Mrs. Lehntman could listen and not hear, could answer and yet not decide, could say and do what she was asked and yet leave things as they were before.
One day it got almost too bad for even Anna’s friendship to bear out.
“Well, Julia, is your mamma out?” Anna asked, one Sunday summer afternoon, as she came into the Lehntman house.
Anna looked very well this day. She was always careful in her dress and sparing of new clothes. She made herself always fulfill her own ideal of how a girl should look when she took her Sundays out. Anna knew so well the kind of ugliness appropriate to each rank in life.
It was interesting to see how when she bought things for Miss Wadsmith and later for her cherished Miss Mathilda and always entirely from her own taste and often as cheaply as she bought things for her friends or for herself, that on the one hand she chose the things having the right air for a member of the upper class, and for the others always the things having the awkward ugliness that we call Dutch. She knew the best thing in each kind, and she never in the course of her strong life compromised her sense of what was the right thing for a girl to wear.
On this bright summer Sunday afternoon she came to the Lehntmans’, much dressed up in her new, brick red, silk waist trimmed with broad black beaded braid, a dark cloth skirt and a new stiff, shiny, black straw hat, trimmed with colored ribbons and a bird. She had on new gloves, and a feather boa about her neck.
Her spare, thin, awkward body and her worn, pale yellow face though lit up now with the pleasant summer sun made a queer discord with the brightness of her clothes.
She came to the Lehntman house, where she had not been for several days, and opening the door that is always left unlatched in the houses of the lower middle class in the pleasant cities of the South, she found Julia in the family sitting-room alone.
“Well, Julia, where is your mamma?” Anna asked. “Ma is out but come in, Miss Annie, and look at our new brother.” “What you talk so foolish for Julia,” said Anna sitting down. “I ain’t talkin’ foolish, Miss Annie. Didn’t you know mamma has just adopted a cute, nice little baby boy?” “You talk so crazy, Julia, you ought to know better than to say such things.” Julia turned sullen. “All right Miss Annie, you don’t need to believe what I say, but the little baby is in the kitchen and ma will tell you herself when she comes in.”
It sounded most fantastic, but Julia had an air of truth and Mrs. Lehntman was capable of doing stranger things. Anna was disturbed. “What you mean Julia,” she said. “I don’t mean nothin’ Miss Annie, you don’t believe the baby is in there, well you can go and see it for yourself.”
Anna went into the kitchen. A baby was there all right enough, and a lusty little boy he seemed. He was very tight asleep in a basket that stood in the corner by the open door.
“You mean your mamma is just letting him stay here a little while,” Anna said to Julia who had followed her into the kitchen to see Miss Annie get real mad. “No that ain’t it Miss Annie. The mother was that girl, Lily that came from Bishop’s place out in the country, and she don’t want no children, and ma liked the little boy so much, she said she’d keep him here and adopt him for her own child.”
Anna, for once, was fairly dumb with astonishment and rage. The front door slammed.
“There’s ma now,” cried Julia in an uneasy triumph, for she was not quite certain in her mind which side of the question she was on.
“There’s ma now, and you can ask her for yourself if I ain’t told you true.”
Mrs. Lehntman came into the kitchen where they were. She was bland, impersonal and pleasant, as it was her wont to be. Still to-day, through