University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.
“THE HARROWS.”

This same introduction has unavoidably called for so many
words, that we must hasten over some minor points in the character
and situation of our young friends. It would require a
long story to express fully the difficulties under which these
sweet girls laboured, in trying to soften for their mother a lot
which they could cheerfully have endured themselves. Mrs.
Clifford's habits were imperative, her prejudices immoveable.
All that had yet occurred had failed to make her perceive that it
was necessary to do without everything but the bare requisites
of subsistence; and to keep this sad necessity from her eyes had
been the constant study of her children. She had, indeed, no
idea of their efforts and sacrifices, or of the real condition of the
household.

“Where is the silver chocolate-pot, Anna?” Mrs. Clifford inquired
one morning at breakfast.

“You, know, mamma, the handle was loose, and I took it to
the village.”

“But what a length of time it has been gone! Pray inquire
for it! I do so hate this earthen thing!”

The poor lady would have been without chocolate, and without
tea also, if the chocolatière had not been transferred, at least pro.
tem. to the possession of our village dealer-in-all-things. But
the idea of such a transaction would almost have crazed her;
and she had so far lost the train of cause and effect, that she
thought the last bank-note brought in by Augustus had sufficed

for six weeks' family expenses. The girls never gathered courage
to enlighten their mother's views as to pecuniary matters,
though they were sometimes obliged to run away to hide their
tears when she would remark the meanness of their dress, and
fear they were contracting habits which would unfit them to enjoy
better fortune. Anna Clifford and her sister, forced by suffering
to learn a premature prudence, often wished, in the grief of their
hearts, that no prospect of an inheritance had prevented their
mother from accommodating her ideas to her present condition.
This “waiting for dead men's shoes” is proverbially enervating
to the character.

When I entered the little parlour, I was somewhat startled by
the sight of two rough-looking men, one fanning himself with his
hat, the other drumming on the table with his long, black, horny
nails, and both taking a deliberate survey of the apartment and
all that it contained. In the accustomed chair sat Mrs. Clifford,
a purple spot on each cheek, and a look of helpless anger in her
eye, while her daughters, one on either side of her, stood, pale as
death, gazing on these strange guests.

“Well! I guess we may as well levy, if you've nobody to stay
judgment,” said the straw hat, who seemed to be principal.
“Mr. Grinder told us the money or the things. That's the hang
of it. No mistake. Turn out what you like, or we'll take what
we like. No two ways about it! You ha'n't hid nothing, have
ye? If you have, you'd better rowst it out at once't! We've a
right to sarch.”

Mrs. Clifford gasped for breath.

“Who sent you here?” she said.

“Oh! we're for Grinder. That bill, you know. Your son
there confessed judgment. I s'pose he thought levyin' time would
never come. We want a hundred dollars, or goods to that amount.
You've got a good deal more than the law allows—now what'll
you turn out? Come, be lively, gals, for we can't wait!”

This was said quite facetiously.

“Couldn't you grant a little time, till we can hear from my
brother?” said Anna, who seemed more self-possessed than her
mother or Rose.

“Can't go it! No fun in waitin'. Hearin' from him won't do
no good, unless he sends money. Do you expect money?”

“Yes—that is—we hope—”

“Ha! ha! hope starved a rattlesnake! We can't eat nor
drink hope. Come, Woodruff, they a'n't a goin' to turn out any
thing but talk. Go ahead!”

Our poor friends were overwhelmed, but seeing no present
remedy, they could only sit quietly looking on while the officers
proceeded to execute this trying process of law. I must do Mr.
Beals and his assistant the justice to say that, allowing for their
rude natures, they were not wilfully insulting, but performed
their duty with as few words as possible. Indeed, nothing can
be more foreign to the character of the men of this country than
any thing like intentional rudeness to a woman. We must not
blame them for not respecting feelings which they could not understand.

When they had departed, Mrs. Clifford's pride came to the
rescue. In reply to the words of sympathy which one cannot
help offering in such cases, she said it was a thing of no importance
at all. “My son will come or send before these people
actually proceed to sell our property! It can never be that the
very furniture of my house is to be taken away by a low person
like Grinder! I cannot imagine why Augustus does not write!
I expected he would have sent us funds long ago!”

It would have been unavailing to convince the poor lady that
her son might not probably find it very easy to pick up money,
even in the city, in these times; so we turned the discourse gradually
to other things. I stated the purpose of my long walk and
its ill success; and after some attempts at conversation—laboured
enough when all hearts were full of one subject, and that, one
that did not bear handling—I invited Mrs. Clifford with her daughters
to remove to our house until Augustus should return.

The old lady's manner was stately enough for Queen Elizabeth.
She thanked me very graciously, but felt quite too sad, as
well as too infirm, she said, to think of quitting home. And with
this reply I was about to take my leave, when Anna, suddenly
turning to her mother, declared she should like very much to accept
the invitation.

It was as easy to read high displeasure in the countenance of
the mother as most painful surprise in that of the gentle Rose.
But Anna, though her cheek was flushed and her lip quivering
with emotion, persisted in her wish.

“You will return with me now?”

“Not just now, but this evening.”

And I promised to send.

“What must you have thought of me?” said the dear girl as I
welcomed her. “But you could not suppose for a moment that
I really coveted a visit when my poor mother's heart was so cruelly
wrung! Ah no! it was a lucky thought that struck me
when you said Mrs. Larkins wanted a servant. It flashed upon
me that in that way I might earn a pittance, however small, on
which mamma and Rose can subsist until we hear from Augustus.
You see what these horrid debts come to, and we are absolutely
without present resources. Ah! I see what you are going to
say; but do not even speak of it! Mamma would rather die, I
believe! Only get me in at Mrs. Larkins', and you shall see
what a famous maid I'll make! I have learned so much since
we came here! And I have arranged it all with Rose, that mamma
shall never discover it. Mamma is a little deaf, you know,
and does not hear casual observations, and Rose will take care
that nobody tells her. Poor Rose cried a good deal at first, but
she saw it was the best thing I could do for mamma, so she consented.
She can easily do all that is needed at home, while my
strong arms”—and here she extended a pair that Cleopatra might
have envied, so round, so graceful, so perfect—“my strong arms
can earn all the little comforts, that are every thing to poor mamma!
Won't it be delightful! Oh, I shall be so happy! There
is only one sad side. My mother will think—till Augustus returns—that
I have selfishly flown from her trials.” And at the
thought she burst into tears, for the remembrance of her mother's
displeasure weighed sorely upon her.

I have not thought it necessary to record the various interruptions
which I could not help making to this plan. Anna's warmth
overpowered all I could say, and she succeeded in convincing my
reason at least, if not my feelings, that it was the best thing for

the present. Her eyes did not allow of close application to the
needle, and the uncertainty of that most laborious of all ways of
earning a poor living, was a further objection. In the country
few persons undertake needlework as a business. Sometimes a
widow with children, or a wife whose husband frequents the tavern,
earns a scanty and ill-paid addition to her means in this way,
and with such it seems hardly right for the young and healthy
to interfere. But “girls” are universally in request, and get as
well paid and much better treated than schoolmistresses, with far
less wearing employment. I knew that at Mrs. Larkins' Anna
would meet with decent treatment, and be sure of a punctual dollar
per week; since Mr. Larkins hates mixing griddle-cakes too
much ever to lose a girl for want of this essential security.

The thing was settled, and all I could do was to procure the
introduction.

Mrs. Larkins was at first a little afraid of “such a lady” for
a help, but after a close and searching examination, she consented
to engage Miss Clifford for a week.

I left Anna in excellent spirits, and, during several evening
visits which she contrived to make me in the course of this her
first week of servitude, she declared herself well satisfied with
her situation, and only afraid that Mrs. Larkins would not care
to retain one who was so awkward about many things required in
her household. But she must have underrated her own skill, for
on the Saturday evening, Mr. Larkins put into her hands a silver
dollar, with a very humble request for a permanent engagement.

The spending of that dollar, Anna Clifford declared to me was
the greatest pleasure she could remember.