Hettys Strange History | Page 6

haven't I? was it wrong for me to come to-night? There are so many things I want to talk over with you. I want to get settled; and all the work on the farm is belated: and I can't have the place run behindhand; that would worry father so."
The tears stood in her eyes, but she spoke in as matter-of-course a tone as if she had simply come as her father's messenger to ask advice. The old deacon pushed his spectacles high upon his forehead, and, throwing his head back, looked at Hetty a moment, scrutinizingly, in silence. Then, he said, half to himself, half to her,--
"You're your grandfather all over, Hetty. Now let me know what I can help you about. You can always come to me, as long as I 'm alive, Hetty. You know that."
"Yes," said Hetty, walking back and forth in the little room, rapidly. "You are the only person I shall ever ask any thing of in that way."
"Sit down, Hetty, sit down," said the old man. "You must be all worn out."
"Oh, no! I 'm not tired: I was never tired in my life," replied Hetty. "Let me walk: it does me good to walk; I walked nearly all last night; it seems to be something to do. You see, Mr. Little," she said,--pausing suddenly, and folding her arms on her breast, as she looked at him,-- "I don't quite see my way clear yet; and one must see one's way clear before one can be quiet. It's horrible to grope."
"Yes, yes, child," said the deacon, hesitatingly. He did not understand metaphor. "You are not thinking of going away, are you, Hetty?"
"Going away!" exclaimed Hetty. "Why, what do you mean? How could I go away? Besides, I wouldn't go for any thing in the world. What should I go away for?"
"Well, I'm real glad to hear you say so, Hetty," replied the deacon warmly; "some folks have said, you'd most likely sell the farm, and go away."
"What fools! I'd as soon sell myself," said Hetty, curtly. "But I can't live there all alone. And one thing I wanted to ask you about tonight was, whether you thought it would do for your James and his wife to come and live there with me: I would give him a good salary as a sort of overseer. Of course, I should expect to control every thing; and that's not much more than I have done for three or four years: but the men will do better with a man to give them their orders, than they will with me alone. I could do this better with Jim than I could with a stranger. I've always liked Jim."
Deacon Little did not reply. His eyes were fixed on the ground, and his face flushed with agitation. At last he said huskily,--
"Would you really take Jim and Sally home to your house, to live with you, Hetty?"
"Why, certainly," replied Hetty, in an impatient tone, "that's what I said: didn't I make it plain?" and she walked faster and faster back and forth.
"Hetty, you're an angel," exclaimed the old man, solemnly. "If there's any thing that could make him hold up his head again, it would be just that thing. But--" he hesitated, "you know Sally?"
"Yes, yes, I know her. I know all about her. She's a poor, weak thing," said Hetty, with no shade of tenderness in her voice; "but Jim was the most to blame, and it's abominable the way people have treated her. I always wished I could do something for them both, and now I've got the chance: that is if you think they'd like to come."
The deacon hesitated again, began to speak, broke off, hesitated, tried again, and at last stammered:--"Don't think I don't feel your kindness, Hetty; but, low's Jim's fallen, I don't quite feel like having them go into anybody's kitchen, especially with black help."
"Kitchen!" interrupted Hetty. "What do you take me for, Deacon Little? If Jim comes to live with me as my overseer, he is just the same as my partner in the place, so far as his position goes. How do you suppose I thought that the men would respect him, and take orders from him, if I meant to put him in the kitchen with C?sar and Nan? No indeed, they shall live with me as if they were my brother and sister. There are plenty of rooms in the house for them to have their own sitting-room, and be by themselves as much as they like. Kitchen indeed! I think you've forgotten that Jim and I were schoolmates from the time we were six till we were twenty. I always liked Jim, and he hasn't had half a chance yet: that miserable affair pulled him down when he