A Little Country Girl Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE MANUAL OF PERFECT GENTILITY.

  MRS. GRAY'S storm had indeed come. All the next day it rained, and theday after it rained harder, and on the third day came a thick fog; so itwas not till the very end of the week that Newport lay again in clearsunshine.

  The first of the wet days Cannie spent happily in the society of MissEvangeline and Mr. Hiawatha, two new acquaintances of whom she felt thatshe could scarcely see enough. Marian found her sitting absorbed on thestaircase bench, and after peeping over her shoulder at the pictures fora while, begged her to read aloud. It was the first little bit offamiliar acquaintance which any of the younger members of the Grayfamily had volunteered, and Candace was much pleased.

  Marian was not yet quite fourteen, and was still very much of a child atheart and in her ways. Her "capable" little face did not belie hercharacter. She was a born housekeeper, always tidying up and puttingaway after other people. Everything she attempted she did exactly andwell. She was never so happy as when she was allowed to go into thekitchen to make molasses candy or try her hand at cake; and her cake wasalmost always good, and her candy "pulled" to admiration. She was anaffectionate child, with a quick sense of fun, and a droll littlecoaxing manner, which usually won for her her own way, especially fromher father, who delighted in her and never could resist Marian's saucy,caressing appeals. It required all Mrs. Gray's firm, judiciousdiscipline to keep her from being spoiled.

  Georgie, who was nearly nineteen, seemed younger in some respects thanGertrude, who was but three months older than Candace. Georgie, too, hada good deal of the housekeeper's instinct, but she was rather dreamyand puzzle-headed, and with the best intentions in the world was oftenled into scrapes and difficulties from her lack of self-reliance, andthe easy temper which enabled any one who was much with her to gain aninfluence over her mind.

  Gertrude--but it is less easy to tell what Gertrude was. In fact, it wasless important just then to find out what she was than what she waslikely to be. Gertrude reminded one of an unripe fruit. The capacitiesfor sweetness and delightfulness were there within her, but all in acrude, undeveloped state. No one could predict as yet whether she wouldripen and become mellow and pleasant with time, or remain alwayshalf-hard and half-sour, as some fruits do. Meanwhile she was theprettiest though not the most popular of the Gray sisters, and she ruledover Georgie's opinions and ideas with the power which a stronger andmore selfish character always has over a weaker and more pliable one.

  Marian was less easily influenced. She and Gertrude often came intocollision; and it was in part the habit of disputing Gertrude'smandates which led her to seek out Candace on that rainy afternoon. Inthe privacy of her own room that morning, Gertrude had made some veryunflattering remarks about their newly arrived relative.

  "It's really quite dreadful to have a girl like that come to spend thewhole summer with one," she said to Georgie. "She hasn't a bit of style,and her clothes are so queer and old-timey; and she's always lived up onthat horrid farm, and hasn't an idea beyond it. Everything surprises herso, and she makes such a fuss over it. You should have heard heryesterday when we were out walking; she said the Cliffs had been therealways, and some of the fashionable people had only just come."

  "What _did_ she mean?"

  "I'm sure I don't know. She says the queerest things. And she looks sofunny and so different from the other girls; and of course everybodywill know that she is our cousin."

  "Mamma has ordered her some dresses from Hollander's," observed Georgie;"and that was a real pretty hat that came home last night."

  "I don't care. They won't look like anything when she puts them on."

  "Gertrude Gray, I think it's real mean to talk so about your owncousin," cried Marian, who, with the instinct of a true "littlepitcher," had heard every word. "It isn't Cannie's fault that she hasalways lived on a farm. She didn't have anywhere else to live. Verylikely she would have preferred Paris," with fine scorn, "or to go toboarding-school in Dresden, as you and Georgie did, if anybody had givenher the choice. She's real nice, I think, and now that her hair is putup, she's pretty too,--a great deal prettier than some of the girls youlike. I'm going down now to sit with her. You and Georgie don't treather kindly a bit. You leave her all alone, and very likely she'shomesick at this moment; but I shall be nice to her, whatever you do."

  Whereupon Miss Marian marched out of the room with her nose in the air,and devoted herself to Candace for the rest of that day, much to thelonely little visitor's contentment.

  They grew quite at home with each other over "Evangeline." Birthdaybooks had just come into fashion. Somebody had given Marian one; and shenow brought it and asked Candace to write in it.

  "June 17," she said, as Cannie sought out the right page; "why, that isnext Saturday."

  "So it is, though I shouldn't have remembered it if it hadn't been foryour book."

  "Why, how funny!" cried Marian, opening her eyes wide. "Don't you keepyour birthdays?"

  "Keep them?" repeated Candace, in a tone of perplexity.

  "Yes; keep--celebrate them? Don't people ever give you presents? Didn'tyou ever have a cake?"--her voice increasing in dismay, as Candace inanswer to each question shook her head.

  "Cake--on my birthday, you mean? No, I don't think I ever did. Aunt Myradoesn't believe in cake. She says she liked it when she was young; butsince she was converted to cracked wheat and oatmeal at the age ofthirty-three, she has hardly ever touched it. We never had any at NorthTolland, except gingerbread sometimes."

  "What a dreadful kind of aunt for a girl to have!" remarked Marian,meditatively. She sat for some time longer on the floor, with her headon Candace's knee; but she seemed to be thinking deeply about something,and said she didn't feel like being read to any longer. At last she wentaway "to speak to mamma," she said.

  Candace had forgotten all about this birthday discussion before Saturdaymorning dawned dimly out of the still persistent fog. All the time shewas dressing, her eyes were on "The Golden Legend" which lay open on thebureau beside her; and her thoughts were so much occupied with PrinceHenry and poor pretty Elsie, for whom she felt so very sorry, that shehad none to spare for the comparatively unimportant fact that she,little Candace Arden, had that day turned the corner of her seventeenthyear.

  It was all the more a delightful surprise, therefore, when she went downto breakfast and found a pile of dainty, white, ribbon-tied parcels onher plate, a glass of beautiful roses beside it, and was met with aspecial kiss from Cousin Kate, and a chorus of "Many happy returns" fromthe rest of the family.

  The little softnesses and prettinesses of life, the gifts and surprises,the sweet words, the being made much of on special occasions, were quiteunknown to the old farm-house in North Tolland. Aunt Myra was a stanchPresbyterian. She disapproved on principle of Christmas day, asbelonging to popery and old superstition. She didn't see that one daywas any better than any other day. It was just an accident on what dayof the year you were born, and it was no use to make a fuss about it,she said. There were plenty of people in the world before you came, andthere would have been plenty if you had never come at all. Such was AuntMyra's _dictum_.

  With these views, it may be supposed that Candace's idea of ananniversary was not a very lively one. For a moment she scarcely took inthe meaning of what she saw, but stood regarding the plate-ful ofparcels with a bewildered look on her face.

  "It's your birthday, you know," exclaimed little Marian. "Many happyreturns! Don't you recollect that it's your birthday? We shouldn't havefound it out, though, if it hadn't been for my book."

  "I'm not so sure about that," said Mrs. Gray, smiling at her. "I had thedate of Cannie's birthday put down securely somewhere, and I've beenkeeping a special gift for it. It's something that I brought you fromGeneva, Cannie; but as it had waited so long before getting to you, Ithought it might as well wait a little longer and come on youranniversary."

  "Oh, thank you," said Candace, glancing shyly at the parcels.

  "Ple
ase do begin to open them!" urged Marian. "It is such fun to seepeople open presents. That's mamma's; open it first."

  It was a flat squarish bundle, tied with a rose-colored ribbon. Cannie'sfingers shook with excitement as she undid the knot. Breakfast meantimewas at a stand-still. The girls were peeping over her shoulders, Mr.Gray watching from behind his newspaper; even Frederic, with a plate ofhot toast in his hand, had paused, and out of one discreet eye wasobserving her movements.

  Inside was a flat case of gray polished wood, with a little silverornament in the middle. It opened with a snap. Cannie pressed thespring, the lid flew up, and there, on a cushion of blue velvet, lay theprettiest little Swiss watch imaginable, with C. V. A. enamelled on itslid. There was a slender gold chain attached, a little enamelledkey,--nothing could be more complete.

  "A watch! for me! to be my own!" cried Candace, hardly able to believeher eyes. "I never thought I should have a watch, and such a darlingbeauty as this. Oh, Cousin Kate!"

  "I am glad it pleases you," said her cousin, with another kiss. "Youshould have had it two years ago; but I thought you rather young to betrusted with a watch then, so I kept it till we should meet."

  "Oh, do make haste and open another! It's such fun to see you," pleadedMarian.

  One by one, the other parcels were unfastened. There was a little ringof twisted gold from Georgie, a sachet of braided ribbons, dark andlight blue, from Gertrude, a slender silver bangle from Marian, and fromMr. Gray a long roll of tissue paper in which lay six pairs of undressedkid gloves in pretty shades of tan color and pale yellow. There wasbesides a big box of candy. This, Mr. Gray declared, was his realpresent. Cousin Kate was responsible for the gloves, but he knew verywell that there never yet was a girl of seventeen who did not have asweet tooth ready for a sugar-plum.

  One bundle remained. It was tied with pink packthread instead of ribbon.Cannie undid the string. It was a book, not new, bound in faded brown;and the title printed on the back was "The Ladies' Manual of PerfectGentility."

  "Who on earth gave you that?" demanded Marian.

  Mrs. Gray looked surprised and not very well pleased.

  "It is a joke, I suppose," she said. "Georgie, Gertrude,--which of youhas been amusing yourself in this odd way?"

  "Not I, mamma," said Georgie. Gertrude felt the reproof in her mother'smanner, but she tried to laugh the matter off.

  "Oh, I put it there just for fun," she said. "I thought the more parcelsthe better, and I happened to see that queer old thing, and thought itwould make Cannie laugh."

  This explanation was not quite sincere. Gertrude had put the book on thetable, hoping to tease Cannie. She had overheard something which hermother was telling Candace the day before,--an explanation about somelittle point of manners,--and it had suggested the idea of the oldvolume. Her shaft had missed its mark somehow, or, like the boomerangsused by the Australian blacks, had returned again to the hand that aimedit; for Cannie did not seem to mind at all, and Mrs. Gray, though shesaid no more at the moment, was evidently meditating a lecture. It cameafter breakfast, and was unexpectedly severe, hurting Gertrude a greatdeal more than her maliciously intended gift had hurt Candace.

  "You are inclined to despise your cousin as countrified and unused tosociety," said Mrs. Gray. "I grant that she is not up in all the littlesocial rules; but let me tell you, Gertrude, that Cannie has the trueinstinct of ladyhood in her, and after the occurrence of this morning Iam beginning to fear that you have not. Good manners are based on goodfeeling. Cannie may be shy and awkward; she may not know how to face aroom full of strangers gracefully,--such things are not hard to learn,and she will learn them in time; but of one thing I am very sure, andthat is, that if you were her guest at North Tolland instead of herbeing yours at Newport, she would be quite incapable of any rudenesshowever slight, or of trying to make you uncomfortable in any way. Iwish I could say the same of you, Gertrude. I am disappointed in you, mychild."

  "Oh, mamma, don't speak so!" cried Gertrude, almost ready to cry; forshe admired her mother as well as loved her, and was cravingly desirousto win her good opinion. "Please don't think I meant to be rude. Itreally and truly was a joke."

  "My dear, you meant a little more by it than that," replied Mrs. Gray,fixing her soft, penetrating look on Gertrude's face. "You haven't begunquite rightly with Candace. I have noticed it, and have beensorry,--sorry for you even more than for her. She is an affectionate,true-hearted girl. You can make a good friend of her if you will; andyou can be of use to her and she to you."

  "Now, what did mamma mean by that?" thought Gertrude, after she had goneupstairs. "I can't, for the life of me, see what use Cannie could be tome. I might to her, perhaps, if I wanted to."

  The "Manual of Perfect Gentility" was destined to excite more attentionthan its donor had intended, in more ways than one. Candace and Marianfell to reading it, and found its contents so amusing that they carriedit to the morning-room, where Georgie was taking a lesson inchina-painting from her mother, who was very clever at all the minor artaccomplishments. Gertrude came in at the same time, in search of somecrewels to match an embroidery pattern; so they were all together.

  "Mamma, mamma, please listen to this!" cried Marian, and she read:--

  "'_Directions for entering the room at an evening party._--Fix your eye on the lady of the house on entering, and advance toward her with outstretched hand, looking neither to the right nor to the left, until you have interchanged the ordinary salutations of the occasion. When this is done, turn aside and mingle with the other guests.'

  Now, mamma, just imagine it,--marching in with your hand out and youreye fixed!" And Marian, relinquishing the Manual to Cannie, flew to thedoor, and entered in the manner prescribed, with her eyes set in a stonyglare on her mother's face, and her hand held before her as stiffly asif it had been a shingle. No one could help laughing.

  "I don't think the hand and the glare are necessary," said Mrs. Gray;"but it is certainly quite proper to speak to the lady of the house,when you come in, before you begin to talk to other people."

  "Here's another," cried Marian, hardly waiting till her mother had donespeaking. "Just listen to these--

  "'_Directions for a horseback ride. Mounting._--The lady should stand on the left side of the horse, with her right hand on the pommel of her saddle, and rest her left foot lightly on the shoulder of her gentleman attendant, who bends before her. When this is done, the gentleman will slowly raise himself to the perpendicular position, and in doing so lift the lady without difficulty to the level of her seat.'"

  "My gracious! suppose he didn't," remarked Georgie, looking up from herpainting. "There she would be, standing on his shoulder, on one foot!Imagine it, on the Avenue!" And the four girls united in a peal oflaughter.

  "But there is something here that I really want to know about," saidCandace. "May I read it to you, Cousin Kate? It's in a chapter called'Correspondence.'"

  "Oh, my!" cried Marian, who still held fast to one side of the Manual."It tells how to refuse gentlemen when they offer themselves to you.Here it all is. You must say,--

  "'SIR,--I regret extremely if anything in my manner has led to a misapprehension of my true feelings. I do not experience for you the affection which alone can make the marriage relation a happy one; so I--'"

  "No, no," interrupted Candace, blushing very pink, and pulling the bookaway from Marian; "that isn't at all what I wanted to ask you about,Cousin Kate. It was--"

  "Oh, then perhaps you meant to accept him," went on the incorrigibleMarian, again getting possession of one side of the "Manual ofGentility." "Here you are:--

  "'DEAR FRIEND,--Your letter has made me truly happy, breathing, as it does, expressions of deep and heartfelt affection, of which I have long felt the corresponding sentiments. I shall be happy
to receive you in my home as an accepted suitor, and I--'"

  "Cousin Kate, make her stop--isn't she too bad?" said Cannie, vainlystruggling for the possession of the book.

  "'And I'--let me see, where was I when you interrupted?" went on Marian."Oh, yes, here--

  "'And I am sure that my parents will give their hearty consent to our union. Receive my thanks for your assurances, and believe--'"

  But Candace had again got hold of the volume, and no one ever learnedthe end of the letter, or what the lover of this obliging lady was to"believe."

  "_This_ is what I wanted to ask you about, Cousin Kate," said Candace,when quiet was restored. "The book says:--

  "'The signature of a letter should depend upon the degree of familiarity existing between the writer and the person addressed. For instance, in writing to a perfect stranger a lady would naturally use the form,--

  Yours truly, Mrs. A. M. Cotterell.'"

  "Oh! oh!" interrupted Georgie. "Fancy any one signing herself 'Yourstruly, Mrs. A. M. Cotterell.' It's awfully vulgar, isn't it mamma?"

  "That is a very old-fashioned book," observed Mrs. Gray; "still I don'tthink, even at the time when it was published, that well-bred peopleused a signature like that. It may not be 'awfully vulgar,' but itcertainly is not correct; nothing but the Christian name should ever beused as a signature."

  "But suppose the person you were writing to did not know whether youwere married or not," said Candace.

  "Then you can add your address below, like this;" and she wrote on theedge of her drawing-paper,--

  "Yours truly, "CATHERINE V. GRAY. "MRS. COURTENAY GRAY, "Newport, R. I.

  That is what I should do if I were writing to a stranger."

  "Then there is this about the addresses of letters," went on Candace:--

  "'In addressing a married lady, use her maiden as well as her married name; for example, in writing to Miss Sarah J. Beebe, who is married to George Gordon, the proper direction would be

  Mrs. Sarah B. Gordon, Care of George Gordon, Oshkosh, Michigan.'

  Is that right, Cousin Kate?"

  "No; that is decidedly _wrong_. When Miss Beebe married, she became notonly Mrs. Gordon, but Mrs. George Gordon, to distinguish her from anyother Mrs. Gordons who might happen to exist. She should _sign_ herself'Sarah B. Gordon,' but her letters and cards should bear her marriedname, 'Mrs. George Gordon.'"

  "But people do write to widows in that way, don't they?" asked Gertrude."I recollect, when I went to the post-office with Berry Joy one day,there was a letter for her mother, directed to Mrs. Louisa Bailey Joy."

  "Yes; people do, but not the people who know the right way," her motherreplied dryly. "A man's Christian name doesn't die with him any morethan his surname. I often see letters addressed to Mrs. Jane this andMrs. Maria that, but it never seems to me either correct or elegant. Itis a purely American custom. English people have never adopted it, andit seems very odd to them."

  "Well, about cards," continued Marian, who was turning over the leavesof the "Manual of Gentility." "See what a funny little card this is;and the writer of the book says it is the kind we ought to have." Shepointed to a page on which appeared a little oblong enclosure bearingthe name

  +----------------------+ | | | _Fannie C. Jones._ | | | +----------------------+

  "That isn't nice a bit, is it, mamma?"

  "No, I confess that it does not look to me at all right. Girls oldenough to need cards are old enough to have 'handles to their names.' IfI were that young woman I should spell 'Fanny' without the _ie_, andcall myself 'Miss Frances C. Jones' on my card, and keep my pet name forthe use of my friends, and not print it."

  "I think I've learned a good deal to-day," said Candace. "The funny oldbook isn't right in what it says, but Cousin Kate knows; so it comes tothe same thing in the end. I'm glad you gave it to me, Gertrude."

  Gertrude had the grace to feel ashamed, as she saw Candace's perfectfreedom from shame.

  "Oh, dear! how much there is to learn!" continued Candace, with a sigh.She was still deep in the "Ladies' Manual of Perfect Gentility."

  "Put away that book, Cannie," said her cousin; "or give it to me, and Iwill hide it where Gertrude shall not find it again. Good breeding canbe learned without printed rules."

  "Can it, mamma?"

  "Yes; for, as I was saying this morning to Gertrude, good manners arethe result of good feeling. If we really care about other people, andwant to make them happy, and think of them and not of ourselves, weshall instinctively do what will seem pleasant to them, and avoid doingwhat is disagreeable. We shall refrain from interrupting them when theyare speaking. We shall not half listen to what they say, while our eyesare roving about the room, and our attention wandering to other things.We shall be quick to notice if they want anything that we can get forthem. We shall not answer at random, or giggle, or say the wrong thing.We shall not loll back in our chairs, as Georgie is doing at thismoment, with one foot cocked over the other knee, and a paint-brush inour mouths."

  "Mamma!" And Georgie hastily recovered the upright position, and tookher paint-brush from between her lips.

  "We shall not drum idly on window-panes, as Gertrude was doing just now,for fear that the little noise will be disagreeable to our neighbors."

  "Now, mamma!"

  "We shall not walk carelessly between any one and the fire, because weshall be afraid of making them cold; nor shall we upset a work-basketwhile doing so, as Marian upset mine just now."

  "Mamma, I do believe you are giving us all a scolding; I shall just stopyou." And Marian flung her arms round her mother's neck, and gave herhalf a dozen enormous kisses.

  "We shall consider a kiss as a favor," went on Mrs. Gray, inexorably,holding Marian off at arm's length, "not a punishment to be inflictedwhenever we happen to feel like it. We shall never trot one foot when weare nervous, and shake the table."

  "Cannie, that's you. I thought it would be your turn soon," said Marian.

  "Oh! did I trot?" said Cannie. "Please excuse me, Cousin Kate. I havesuch a bad habit of doing that. Aunt Myra says it's my safety-valve."

  "If it's a safety-valve, it's all very well," replied her cousin. "Ididn't know. In short, my dears, as the poet says,--

  'Manners are not idle, but the fruit Of noble nature and of lofty mind.'

  The instinct of self-control, of gentleness, of consideration andforethought and quick sympathy, which go to make up what we call goodbreeding; the absence of noise and hurry, the thousand and one littleways by which we can please people, or avoid displeasing them,--are alltaught us by our own hearts. Good manners are the fine flower ofcivilization. And everybody can have them. I always say that one of thebest-bred men of my acquaintance is Mr. Jarvis, the mason. I have knownhim come up out of a cistern to speak to me, dressed in overalls and aflannel shirt; and his bow and his manner and the politeness of hisaddress would have done credit to any gentleman in the world."

  "Mamma, how funny you are," said Georgie, wonderingly; but Gertrudecaught her mother's meaning more clearly.

  "I rather like it," she said slowly. "It sounds like something in a poemor a storybook, and it would be nice if everybody felt like that, butpeople don't. I've heard Mrs. Joy speak quite rudely to Mr. Jarvis,mamma."

  "Very likely. I never have considered Mrs. Joy as a model of manners,"replied Mrs. Gray, coolly. "And that reminds me to say just one otherword about good breeding toward servants and people who work for us, orare poor and need our help. Gentleness and politeness are even moreimportant with t
hem than they are with other people."

  "Why more, mamma?"

  "Because their lives are harder than ours, and we owe them all thelittle help that courtesy can give. Because, too, we are their models,consciously or unconsciously, and if we are polite to them they will inreturn be polite to us. And besides, they meet us at a disadvantage. Ifa servant 'answers back,' she is called impertinent and discharged; butI should think it must be rather hard _not_ to answer back to somemistresses."

  "Is that why you are always so very polite to Jane?" asked Gertrude.Jane was the cook.

  "Yes, partly that; and partly because I want Jane to be very polite tome; and she always is."

  "There is the sun at last, I do declare," cried Marian, springing up."Hurrah! I should think it was time. Now we shall have some niceweather, Cannie. Newport is lovely after a fog. It looks so nicelywashed, and so green. Mamma, couldn't we have a long drive thisafternoon in the wagonette, across the beaches and way round by thewindmill? I like that drive so much."

  "Yes; and at dinner we will eat Cannie's health in her birthday cake. Itis making now, and Jane has the seventeen little pink candles all ready.How the fog is rolling away! It will be a charming afternoon."