Three Lives | Page 5

I won't," said Sallie.
And now it was all peaceful for some weeks and then Sallie with
fatuous simplicity began on certain evenings to resume her bright red
waist, her bits of jewels and her crinkly hair.
One pleasant evening in the early spring, Miss Mathilda was standing
on the steps beside the open door, feeling cheerful in the pleasant,
gentle night. Anna came down the street, returning from her evening
out. "Don't shut the door, please, Miss Mathilda," Anna said in a low
voice, "I don't want Sallie to know I'm home."
Anna went softly through the house and reached the kitchen door. At
the sound of her hand upon the knob there was a wild scramble and a
bang, and then Sallie sitting there alone when Anna came into the room,
but, alas, the butcher boy forgot his overcoat in his escape.
You see that Anna led an arduous and troubled life.
Anna had her troubles, too, with Miss Mathilda. "And I slave and slave
to save the money and you go out and spend it all on foolishness," the
good Anna would complain when her mistress, a large and careless
woman, would come home with a bit of porcelain, a new etching and
sometimes even an oil painting on her arm.
"But Anna," argued Miss Mathilda, "if you didn't save this money,
don't you see I could not buy these things," and then Anna would soften
and look pleased until she learned the price, and then wringing her
hands, "Oh, Miss Mathilda, Miss Mathilda," she would cry, "and you
gave all that money out for that, when you need a dress to go out in so
bad." "Well, perhaps I will get one for myself next year, Anna," Miss
Mathilda would cheerfully concede. "If we live till then Miss Mathilda,
I see that you do," Anna would then answer darkly.
Anna had great pride in the knowledge and possessions of her
cherished Miss Mathilda, but she did not like her careless way of
wearing always her old clothes. "You can't go out to dinner in that
dress, Miss Mathilda," she would say, standing firmly before the

outside door, "You got to go and put on your new dress you always
look so nice in." "But Anna, there isn't time." "Yes there is, I go up and
help you fix it, please Miss Mathilda you can't go out to dinner in that
dress and next year if we live till then, I make you get a new hat, too.
It's a shame Miss Mathilda to go out like that."
The poor mistress sighed and had to yield. It suited her cheerful, lazy
temper to be always without care but sometimes it was a burden to
endure, for so often she had it all to do again unless she made a rapid
dash out of the door before Anna had a chance to see.
Life was very easy always for this large and lazy Miss Mathilda, with
the good Anna to watch and care for her and all her clothes and goods.
But, alas, this world of ours is after all much what it should be and
cheerful Miss Mathilda had her troubles too with Anna.
It was pleasant that everything for one was done, but annoying often
that what one wanted most just then, one could not have when one had
foolishly demanded and not suggested one's desire. And then Miss
Mathilda loved to go out on joyous, country tramps when, stretching
free and far with cheerful comrades, over rolling hills and cornfields,
glorious in the setting sun, and dogwood white and shining underneath
the moon and clear stars over head, and brilliant air and tingling blood,
it was hard to have to think of Anna's anger at the late return, though
Miss Mathilda had begged that there might be no hot supper cooked
that night. And then when all the happy crew of Miss Mathilda and her
friends, tired with fullness of good health and burning winds and
glowing sunshine in the eyes, stiffened and justly worn and wholly ripe
for pleasant food and gentle content, were all come together to the little
house--it was hard for all that tired crew who loved the good things
Anna made to eat, to come to the closed door and wonder there if it was
Anna's evening in or out, and then the others must wait shivering on
their tired feet, while Miss Mathilda softened Anna's heart, or if Anna
was well out, boldly ordered youthful Sallie to feed all the hungry lot.
Such things were sometimes hard to bear and often grievously did Miss
Mathilda feel herself a rebel with the cheerful Lizzies, the melancholy
Mollies, the rough old Katies and the stupid Sallies.

Miss Mathilda had other troubles too, with