CHAPTER I.

GOING TO BE MARRIED.

"AND so, Letty, you are really going to be married?"

Nobody could have mistaken Mrs. Trescott for any thing but a lady, though she was dressed in a very ancient calico wrapper and a gingham apron, and though her sleeves were turned up to her elbows, and her hands stained with the fruit she was paring. Mrs. Trescott was, in housekeeping phrase, "getting ready to do up her quinces," and had chosen that opportunity to hold a little confidential and friendly chat with her chambermaid, Letty Bright, about her future prospects. Letty had lived a long time with Mrs. Trescott, and had won her great regard.

"And so you are really going to be married?"

Letty hung down her head, blushed and smiled, and said she supposed there was no use in denying it.

"No use, indeed!" said Mrs. Trescott. "You silly child, don't you suppose I have had my eyes open for the last six months and more, while John Caswell has been coming and going about the house? No, indeed. And if I had not known John to be a good, steady young man, in every way worthy of you, do you think I would have allowed matters to go so far without at least trying to keep you from throwing yourself away?"

Mrs. Trescott paused a moment, and then continued, in a graver tone:—

"You see, Letty, you have been with me now a long time; and I should naturally take an interest in you, if only for that reason; but that is not all. You have been a very good girl. You have stayed with and helped me in some very trying times, and I have always found you a comfort and a support. It will be hard for me to part with you, Letty; and I should not be at all reconciled to doing so, if I did not think that you were going to settle in life with as reasonable prospects of happiness as fall to the lot of most people. Now, you needn't cry," added Mrs. Trescott,—while her own eyes were full,—"but tell me when this great event is to take place. Next month, I suppose?"

"Oh, no, ma'am," replied Letty, eagerly. "Not before next spring. You see, we want to have a house of our own to go into, and so begin as we mean to keep on."

"A very good plan," said Mrs. Trescott. "Have you any house in view?"

"Why, yes, ma'am; at least, John has,—for I have not seen the place yet. It is on Myrtle Street."

"Myrtle Street? That runs out through the Bronson property, I believe. Rather a new street, isn't it?"

"Rather new," replied Letty; "though there are some pretty places on it already, John can get a double lot there at a very reasonable price, by paying down one-third of the purchase-money. The house is very nice,—or will be when it is finished; and so we shall go at once into a home of our own."

"Do you know any thing of your neighbours?" asked Mrs. Trescott.

"Our opposite neighbour will be my cousin Agnes," said Letty. "She is going to be married very soon, and they have bought Number ten,—directly opposite. Our house is Number nine. I don't know any thing about our next door neighbours, except that John says they have a beautiful garden. He tells me that he never saw so many plants and flowers crowded into such a small space."

"That is a good sign," said Mrs. Trescott. "I like to see people fond of flowers."

"Another reason why I was willing to wait till next spring," continued Letty, "was that I thought I should like to have a little money beforehand,—at least enough to lay in a little stock of sheets and towels and such things, besides my own clothes. You know I haven't been able to save a great deal, so far."

Mrs. Trescott assented. Letty had almost entirely supported a helpless little sister for several years. It had cost her no small degree of self-denial; but she always said the time would come when it would be made up to her: she was not afraid of losing by it. So she went on for several years, buying none but the cheapest bonnets and dresses, and keeping them in wear so long that her cousin, Agnes Train, said she was really ashamed to be seen in the street with her. But little Sally was dead at last, released from a life short indeed in years, but long in suffering; and Letty had the comfort of thinking, as she followed her sister's remains to the grave, that the poor child had never wanted any thing which care and affection could provide to lighten her burden.

"How much have you beforehand?" asked Mrs. Trescott.

"Only ten dollars, ma'am; but with what you owe me I will have fifteen."

"Well," said Mrs. Trescott, "even fifteen dollars will go a good way, when properly managed; and I have a plan in my head which, if you approve, will enable you to earn more."

Letty looked a little alarmed. "I should not like to think of going to another place, Mrs. Trescott, as long as you are suited with me."

Mrs. Trescott smiled. "I am not so unselfish as that, Letty," said she. "But what I was thinking of is this. You know Mrs. Davis is going away next week. We are only two in the family, now that Mr. Trescott is gone; and I have been thinking that we might manage with one girl. Do you think you could undertake the work?"

Letty did not know. She thought she might.

"Of course I shall not expect you to sew," continued Mrs. Trescott, "and I shall help you a good deal myself. You shall have your evenings to yourself; and I will pay you two dollars a week. That will enable you to lay up a nice little sum against the spring; or you can be buying and making up your household linen as you go along. Moreover, you will be learning to cook, and so be better prepared for housekeeping."

Letty considered a little. The work would not be so very hard, after all, and the house was extremely convenient. She would not have so much time to go out; but she did not care about that, so long as she had the evenings to herself. She made a little calculation in her own mind. Two dollars for twenty-five weeks would be fifty dollars. She need be at no present expense for her clothes, since she had bought plain, respectable mourning when Sally died, which she meant to wear all winter. Fifty dollars, with the fifteen already in hand, would do a good deal towards buying the respectable "setting-out" on which she had set her heart. Moreover, as Mrs. Prescott said, she would all the time be acquiring knowledge which would be useful to her as the mistress of a family.

Letty did not look forward to keeping a girl. She knew she should have her own work to do; and she very sensibly thought that the more she knew about housekeeping beforehand, the easier it would be to take the whole responsibility. So she accepted the proposal, with the stipulation that she should be allowed to go to church on Sunday, and to Bible-class, as usual,—to which Mrs. Trescott very readily agreed; and it was understood that she should enter upon her duties the next Monday.

When Letty mentioned this new arrangement at her aunt Train's, whither she usually went to tea every other Sunday afternoon, there was a great outcry. The Trains thought it rather derogatory to their dignity that a niece of theirs should "live out" at all; and they had made many attempts, both direct and indirect, to induce Letty to leave her place and learn a trade, or at least work in the shop, as Agnes did.

But Letty knew when she was well off. She had a comfortable home at Mrs. Trescott's,—far more comfortable, to her mind, than her aunt's house; where, except in the one front room kept for company, nothing ever seemed to be in its place from one year's end to another. She was sure of her wages the year round; whereas Agnes was often out of work for weeks at a time. Moreover, she had a feeling that the company with which Agnes was associated in the rooms where she worked would not please her at all. Mrs. Train said to herself that Letty was a strange girl,—a very obstinate girl, with very little self-respect and many queer notions,—and saved the family dignity by always speaking of her niece as Mrs. Trescott's seamstress. And now here she was actually turning herself into a maid-of-all-work! It was too bad!

"Letty Bright, a'n't you ashamed of yourself?" she exclaimed. "Why, you will be neither more nor less than a kitchen-girl,—a regular drudge! You had better go out to washing, and have done with it!"

"There is no use in talking to Letty, mother," said Agnes. "She will have her own way, you know. But I must say, this is too bad; and all for such a paltry sum, when you might make three times that by working in the shop. Why, I earned six dollars only last week."

"Out of which you had to pay for your board," said Letty,—"to say nothing of streetcar tickets, which use up money very fast. Take out your expenses, and how much are you better off than I am, after all?"

"Nonsense!" said Agnes. "I hate such close calculations. At least I have the pleasure of spending it, and a home of my own."

"So have I," replied Letty,—"and a good home, too."

"Yes,—in a kitchen," sneered her aunt.

"As to that," said Letty, "you and Agnes always sit in the kitchen; don't you? I never remember finding you anywhere else, except when you had company."

"And washing, too!" continued Mrs. Train, not finding it convenient to notice Letty's remark.

"How finely you will feel when John Caswell comes in some morning and finds you up to your elbows in the wash-tub!"

"John never comes in the morning: he is always busy in the shop," said Letty, laughing; "and, besides, he will have to get used to seeing me with my arms in the suds, sooner or later, you know. I don't expect to hire my washing done out of the house: do you, Agnes?"

"John won't care," said Agnes. "He is just such another humdrum body as Letty herself. I don't believe he ever took a holiday, or went to the theatre or circus, in all his life. Only think, mother! He told Joe that he was willing to consent to Letty's notion of putting off their marriage till next spring, because he did not mean to put an article of furniture in his house that was not paid for; and he wished to use what money he had by him in making his payments on the place. There is a romantic lover for you!"

Letty only laughed. She knew very well where John's romance lay; but she did not care to speak about these affairs to her aunt and cousin; and they, seeing that she was not to be moved, began to talk of something else. The new topic, however, was not more fortunate than the other.

"Have you begun to think about winter clothes yet, Letty?" asked Agnes. "I suppose you will wear black, as you don't mean to be married till spring. What bonnet do you mean to have? I saw one which would just suit you, at Smith's,—made of black mode, with beautiful black-and-white flowers, all for five dollars. Wasn't it cheap?"

"Yes, I dare say, if one wanted it," said Letty; "but I don't mean to buy any thing new this fall. I bought two nice new dresses when I put on black; and the black-and-white checked shawl I bought new last winter is perfectly suitable for mourning."

"Well, if ever! And so you mean to wear that black alpaca dress and blanket shawl to church, and everywhere else, all winter!"

"I have a merino, too, you know," said Letty; "and I think the shawl is very nice. It is just like Miss Catherine Trescott's. Mrs. Trescott said she thought it as suitable as any thing I could have."

"Miss Trescott? Yes; but you don't find her wearing hers to church."

"Yes, she does, very often,—in damp and cool weather. And, besides that, Agnes, there would be no sense or propriety in my trying to dress like Miss Trescott. It would not be at all suitable."

"I don't see why. You are as good as she is, any day in the week."

"I am not so sure of that," replied Letty smiling; "but, even if I were, I could not afford it. Miss Catherine's father gives her three hundred dollars a year just for her dress and spending money."

"Does he?" said Agnes. "I never should have guessed that. I am sure that I could dress better than she does, for that money. She is always as plain as a Quaker, when in church. I hardly ever saw her wear any thing but a black silk or a merino."

"Miss Catherine has some beautiful dresses," said Letty; "but both she and her mother always dress plainly in church, because they think it right. I have heard Mrs. Trescott say that she did not like to wear a new dress or bonnet to church, if she could help it. But Miss Catherine does not spend nearly all her money in dress. She buys a good many books and pictures, and spends money on her painting,—besides what she gives away. She made each of her girls in Sunday-school a new cape and hood last winter, all alike, and of new stuff. You don't know how nicely the little things look. But, as I was saying, there would be no sense in my trying to dress like Miss Trescott; and it would be wrong, besides."

"Wrong!" repeated Agnes. "Do you think it any more wrong to wear a pretty dress than an ugly one?"

"No; certainly not. But I think it is always wrong for people to spend so much in dress as to have nothing to spare for any other use. Besides, Agnes, that is not a fair way of putting it. We need not wear ugly or unbecoming things because our dresses are cheap. Pretty calicoes and delaines cost no more than ugly ones."

"But what use have you for money except for dress?" asked her aunt. "You often boast that you have no other expenses."

"Why, you know, while Sally lived I had to care for her—"

"I am not talking about Sally," interrupted Mrs. Train, rather peevishly. "She is dead and gone, poor thing!—all the better for her and for every one else. Moreover, there was never any need of that, either. You might have got her into the Home, or the Hospital, as well as not. It was not as if she had been your own sister. She was no relation to you at all,—only your step-mother's child."

"She was the child of the only mother I ever knew," returned Letty, warmly, "and of one who never let me miss a mother's care so long as she lived; and I would not have left her to be dependent on the charity of strangers,—no, not if I had gone in rags all my life, and worked my fingers to the bone besides. I wish you would not talk about Sally in that way, Aunt Susan. And, now that she is gone, I like to have something for those who are poorer than I am, if it is only for her sake."

"Well, for my part," said Mrs. Train, "I think charity begins at home."

"So do I," replied Letty; "but it need not end there."

"But your bonnet, Letty!" urged Agnes. "Surely you do not mean to wear that black straw, trimmed with bombazine, to church all winter? Do have a new one of some sort."

"I cannot afford it, Agnes; and that is all about it," said Letty, decidedly. "Don't let us talk about such things any more. I do not think it is a very good way of spending Sunday evening. Did you go to church this morning? Dr. Burton preached for us. How did you like him?"

Mrs. Train had not been to church. Agnes had been; but she did not know whether she liked the preacher or not,—though she noticed that he wore a seal-ring, which seemed odd for a minister. She thought the service very long, and the singing not so good as usual. She believed that Mrs. Sampson had on a new India shawl. She thought it looked very odd and affected for Miss Patterson to sit with her Sunday-scholars every Sunday, just as if she wanted every one to see how good she was. The Brown girls had all got new dresses alike,—real Irish poplins, she verily believed. Pretty well, that, for girls who got their living by keeping school. Were their mantles of the same, or of corded silk? She supposed Letty must know, as she sat just behind them.

But Letty did not know. She had been thinking of something besides the Miss Browns. She felt vexed and uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken in spite of her remonstrance, and thought she never would come to her aunt's on Sunday evening again. But they were her only surviving relations, except an old grand-aunt who lived in the country; and she did not like to quarrel with them, though they had so little in common.

Presently John Caswell came in, to go to church with Letty. She had not seen him since she had made the new arrangement; and she had, therefore, told him nothing about it. Mrs. Train, however, pounced upon him at once.

"Well, John, Letty has been promoted. I expect she will soon be too grand to speak to any of us. You did not think you were going to make such a great match as to marry a kitchen-girl, did you?"

John looked somewhat surprised, and turned to Letty for an explanation.

"You have not left your place, have you, Letty? I thought you liked Mrs. Trescott too well to leave her for any one,—"

"Except me," he mentally added.

"I have not left her, and do not intend to leave her at present," said Letty, quietly. "I will tell you all about it, presently. It is time for us to go, isn't it? You know we have a long walk."

John thought it was; and Letty went up-stairs to put on her bonnet. When she came down, she heard her aunt talking very earnestly, and she caught the words "strange, foolish notions," and "drive them out of her," which showed her that her own peculiarities were still the theme of discourse.

"What's the matter, Letty?" said John, as they walked away through the quiet, shady streets. "Your aunt seems to be quite excited on the subject of your misdoings, and declares that you will bring disgrace on the family by your notions. What have you been doing?"

Letty laughed. "Nothing very bad, John. Aunt Train is offended because I have undertaken to do all Mrs. Trescott's work, instead of part of it, as heretofore. She seems to think there is a certain disgrace attached to working in the kitchen, and especially to washing; and she asked me how I thought you would feel to come in, of a morning, and find me with my arms in the wash-tub."

John did not seem to think it would be an unbearable calamity to see Letty at any time of day. He could not perceive that any more disgrace attached to washing than to ironing; and as to cooking, he seemed to consider that a desirable accomplishment. "But what about your dress?" he asked. "Mrs. Train says you do not dress fit to be seen."

"What do you think about it, John?" asked Letty, turning upon him with a grave face, but the least little bit of a laugh in her eye.

John's answer is not recorded; but it may be presumed that Letty was satisfied with it.

Then the two fell into a discourse about their future prospects. Letty often thought how happy it was that she and John were like-minded upon the most important of all subjects. They were sure to draw together there; and, that being the case, she could not fear that they would ever be in danger of serious disagreements.

Indeed, their acquaintance had begun at Mrs. Willson's Bible-class, two years before. They had gone together from Mrs. Willson's Bible-class to the doctor's class, had joined themselves to the people of God at the same time, and still went to church together every Sunday; though John had taken a Sunday-school class, which Letty could not conveniently do. Letty looked forward with pleasure to setting up her household in the fear and love of God,—to daily morning and evening prayers, and Sunday readings of good books, and grace said at a table neatly set for two persons. By the time they reached the church-door, the unpleasant impressions left by her aunt's remarks had passed away, and she felt fully in tune for the sacred services.

Agnes did not go to church; Joseph was not much of a church-goer. Indeed, it may be doubted whether he had been within the walls of any place of worship a dozen times in six years, till he was engaged to Agnes,—when he went sometimes, to please her. Agnes had been a Sunday-scholar as well as Letty, and at one time Mrs. Willson thought her very hopeful; but of late she had grown giddy and careless. She became very irregular in her attendance at Bible-class; and more than once Mrs. Willson had seen such behaviour in church as gave her great pain. At last she spoke to Agnes about the matter,—very gently, indeed, but plainly, as was her duty.

Agnes first denied the charge, and then grew angry; declared she would not be watched and made to give an account of herself like a baby, and at last left the Bible-class altogether. Mrs. Willson was very sorry; but there seemed no more to be done; and she waited and prayed, hoping that Agnes would see the impropriety of her conduct and return to her duty.

In reality, Agnes meant no particular harm; but she was giddy and easily influenced. She was rather unfortunate in being thrown among such a set of girls as those with whom she worked at the shop. There were two or three who took the lead in every thing; and they were extravagant, showy girls, caring for nothing but dress and company, and vying with each other as to who could get the greatest amount of finery out of their limited earnings, and make the gayest appearance in the street. They affected, too, a great deal of independence,—discussed all sorts of subjects with the greatest freedom, not to say flippancy, and had books circulating among them which were any thing but desirable reading.

Agnes used to be shocked, at first, by many things which she saw and heard; but she soon grew accustomed to them, learned to join in the laugh, even when the joke was by no means a delicate one, and to read books in her own room which she was very careful to hide from her mother. She would have liked to go out in the evenings with her companions, running about from store to store and flirting with the shop-boys, or joining in frolics of a still more questionable nature; but this her mother would not permit.

Mrs. Train was not a very wise woman, but she had sense enough to know that it is a great deal easier for a young girl to get a stain upon her reputation than to wash it off again, and that simple imprudence and giddiness may lead her to do things which she will bitterly repent all her life afterwards. So she looked sharply after Agnes's associates, and, in general, kept her pretty well under her own eyes. It was this very care of her mother's, at which Agnes often grumbled and repined, which won the girl her husband, after all.

Joseph Emerson worked in another department of the same factory where Agnes was employed. He was struck at first by her rather quiet manners; and then he began to observe that he never saw her running about in the evenings with the other girls, and discovered that she went to church with tolerable regularity. Joseph was not always perfectly steady himself, and he made no pretence to religion; but, like many other such men, he admired piety in women, and he thought, too, that it was a very good thing for them to stay at home evenings, instead of running about the streets. So he began to pay Agnes various little attentions; and in process of time they were engaged to be married.

Joseph had a good trade; he was a skilful hand, and earned large wages; but he had never laid by a dollar in his life. He was as fond of dress, in his way, as Agnes was in hers. He liked to smoke, and to drive horses, and a visit to the theatre now and then; and thus, without any thing which could properly be called dissipation, his money melted away about as fast as it came, sometimes, indeed, a little faster. He said to himself that he had now a motive for saving, and he meant to be very careful. He really did economize so far as to be able to make a small payment upon his house, and he hoped before spring to be able to furnish it comfortably. He meant that they should board through the winter and go to housekeeping in the spring. So they were to be married the next month; and Agnes was already buying her wedding-dresses.