Purple Springs - Nellie L. McClung
One thing was evident--it was some sudden happening or suggestion that
had changed his attitude towards her, for there was no mistaking the
tenderness in his messages over the phone the day before--and why did
he remember the day at all, if it were only to tell her that she
was too young to really know her own mind. The change--whatever it
was--had taken place in the interval of his phoning, and her visit,
and Mrs. Crocks had said that a committee had gone to see him and
offer him the nomination! What difference would that make? The subtle
suggestion of the senator's daughter came back to her mind! Was it
possible--that the Watson family were--what she had once read of in an
English story--'socially impossible.' Pearl remembered the phrase. The
thought struck her with such an impact that she pulled her horse up
with a jerk, and stood on the road in deep abstraction.
She remembered the quarrel she had once had with a girl at school. It
all came back in a flash of rage that lit up this forgotten corner of
her memory! The cause of the quarrel did not appear in the record, but
that the girl had flung it at her that her people were nothing and
nobody--her mother a washerwoman and her father a section hand--now
stood out in letters of flame! Pearl had not been angry at the
time--and she remembered that her only reason for taking out the
miserable little shrimp and washing her face in the snow was that
she knew the girl had said this to be very mean, and with the pretty
certain hope that it would cut deep! She was a sorrel-topped, anaemic,
scrawny little thing, who ate slate-pencils and chewed paper, and she
had gone crying to the teacher with the story of Pearl's violence
against her.
Mr. Donald had found out the cause, and had spoken so nicely to Pearl
about it, that her heart was greatly lifted as a result, and the
incident became a pleasant recollection, with only the delightful
part remaining, until this moment. Mr. Donald had said that Pearl was
surely a lucky girl, when the worst thing that could be said to her
was that her two parents had been engaged in useful and honorable
work--and he had made this the topic for a lesson that afternoon in
showing how all work is necessary and all honorable. Out of the lesson
had grown a game which they often played on Friday afternoons, when a
familiar object was selected and all the pupils required to write
down the names of all the workers who had been needed to bring it to
perfection.
And the next day when lunch time came, Mr. Donald told them he had
been thinking about the incident, and how all that we enjoy in life
comes to us from our fellow-workers, and he was going to have a new
grace, giving the thanks to where it belonged. He said God was not the
kind of a Creator who wanted all the glory of the whole world--for he
knew that every man and woman or boy or girl that worked, was entitled
to praise, and he liked to see them thanked as they deserved.
A new grace was written on the board, and each day it was repeated by
all the pupils. Pearl remembered that to her it had seemed very grand
and stately and majestic, with the dignity and thrill of a pipe-organ:
"Give us to know, O God, that the blessings we are about to enjoy
have come to us through the labors of others. Strengthen the ties of
brotherhood and grant that each of us may do our share of the world's
work."
But the aesthetic emotions which it sent through her young soul the
first time she said it, did not in any way interfere with the sweet
satisfaction she had in leaning across the aisle and wrinkling up her
nose at her former adversary!
She began to wonder now if Mr. Donald had been right in his idealistic
way of looking at life and labor. She had always thought so until this
minute, and many a thrill of pride had she experienced in thinking of
her parents and their days of struggling. They had been and were, the
real Empire-builders who subdued the soil and made it serve
human needs, enduring hardships and hunger and cold and bitter
discouragements, always with heroism and patience. The farm on which
they now lived, had been abandoned, deserted, given up for a bad job,
and her people had redeemed it, and were making it one of the best
in the country! Every farm in the community was made more valuable
because of their efforts. It had seemed to Pearl a real source of
proper pride--that her people had begun with nothing, and were now
making a comfortable living, educating their children and making
improvements each year in their way of living and in the farm itself!
It seemed that she ought to be proud of them, and she was!
But since she had been away, she learned to her surprise that the
world does not give its crowns to those who serve it best--but to
those who can make the most people serve them, and she found that
many people think of work as a disagreeable thing, which if patiently
endured for a while may be evaded ever afterwards, and indeed her
mother had often said that she was determined to give her children an
education, so they would not need to work as hard as she and their
father had. Education then seemed to be a way of escape.
Senator Keith, of Hampton, with his forty sections all rented out, did
not work. Miss Keith, his daughter, did not work. They did not need to
work--they had escaped!
It was quite a new thought to Pearl, and she pondered it deeply. The
charge against her family--the slur which could be thrown on them was
not that of dishonor, dishonesty, immorality or intemperance--none of
these--but that they had worked at poorly paid, hard jobs, thereby
giving evidence that they were not capable of getting easier
ones. Hard work might not be in itself dishonorable--but it was a
confession.
Something in Pearl's heart cried out at the injustice of this. It was
not fair! All at once she wanted to talk about it to--some one, to
everybody. It was a mistaken way of looking at life, she thought; the
world, as God made it, was a great, beautiful place, with enough of
everything to go around. There is enough land--enough coal--enough
oil. Enough pleasure and beauty, enough music and fun and good times!
What had happened was that some had taken more than their share, and
that was why others had to go short, and the strange part of it all
was that the hoggish ones were the exalted ones, to whom many bowed,
and they--some of them--were scornful of the people who were still
working--though if every one stopped working, the world would soon be
starving.
"It is a good world--just the same," said Pearl, as she looked away to
her left, where the Hampton Hills shoved one big blue shoulder into
the sky-line. "People do not mean to be hard and cruel to each
other--they do not understand, that's all--they have not thought--they
do not see."
From the farm-houses set back in the snowy fields, came the cheerful
Spring sounds of scolding hens and gabbling ducks, with the occasional
bark of a dog. The sunshine had in it now no tang of cold or
bitterness, for in Pearl's heart there had come a new sense of
power--an exaltation of spirit that almost choked her with happiness.
Her eyes flashed--her hands tingled--her feet were light as air. Out
of the crushing of her hopes, the falling of her house of dreams, had
come this inexplicable intoxication, which swept her heart with its
baptism of joy.
She threw back her head and looked with rapture into the limitless
blue above her, with something of the vision which came to Elisha's
servant at Dothan when he saw the mountains were filled with the
horses and the chariots of the Lord!
"It is a good world," she whispered, "God made it, Christ lived in
it--and when He went away, He left His Spirit. It can't go wrong
and stay wrong. The only thing that is wrong with it is in people's
hearts, and hearts can be changed by the Grace of God."
A sudden feeling of haste came over her--a new sense of
responsibility--there were so many things to be done. She roused the
fat pony from his pleasant dream, to a quicker gait, and drove home
with the strange glamour on her soul.
CHAPTER VI
RED ROSES
When Pearl rode in to the farmyard, she saw her brother Tommy coming
in great haste across the fields, waving his arms to her with every
evidence of strong excitement. The other children were on their way
home, too, but it was evident that Thomas had far outrun them. Tommy
had a tale to tell.
"There is going to be real 'doin's' at the school on Friday," he
cried, as soon as he was within calling distance of her. "Mr. Donald
has asked all the big people, too, and the people from Purple Springs,
and the women are going to bring pies and things, and there will be
eats, and you are to make the speech, and then maybe there will be a
football match, and you can talk as long as you like, and we are all
to clap our hands when your name is mentioned and then again when you
get up to speak--and it's to be Friday."
Tommy told his story all in one breath, and without waiting to get
a reply, he made his way hurriedly to the barn where his father and
Teddy were working. There he again told it, with a few trifling
variations. "You are all to come, and there will be a letter tomorrow
telling you all about it, but it is a real big day that is going to be
at school, and all the big people, too, and it is to hear Pearl talk
about what she saw and heard in the city, and there will be cakes and
stuff to eat and the Tuckers said they would not come and Jimmy said
'Dare you to stay away' and they did not take his dare."
Teddy, in true brotherly fashion, professed some doubts of the success
of the undertaking.
"Pearl is all right to talk around home, but gee whiz, I don't believe
she can stand right up and talk like a preacher, she'll forget what
she was goin' to say, I couldn't say two words before all those
people."
John Watson went on with the fanning of the wheat. He had stopped the
mill only long enough to hear Tommy's message, and Teddy's brotherly
apprehensions, he made no comment. But a close observer would have
noticed that he worked a little faster, and perhaps held his shoulders
a little straighter--they had grown stooped in the long days when he
worked on the section. Although his shoulders had sagged in the long
hard struggle, there had always burned in his heart the hope that
better days would come--and now the better days were here. The farm
was doing well--every year they were able to see that they were making
progress. The children were all at school, and today--today Pearlie
was asked to speak to all the people in the neighborhood. Pearlie had
made a name for herself when she got the chance to get out with other
boys and girls. It was a proud day for John Watson, and his honest
heart did not dissemble the pride he felt in his girl.
Pearl herself had a momentary feeling of fear when she heard the plans
that were being made. The people she knew would be harder to speak
to than strangers. But the exaltation that had come to her heart was
still with her, and impelled her to speak. There were things which
should be said--great matters were before the country. Pearl had
attended many political meetings in the city, and also as many
sessions of the Legislature as she could, and so she knew the
Provincial political situation, and it was one of great interest.
The government had been in power for many years and had built up a
political machine which they believed to be invincible. They had the
country by the throat, and ruled autocratically, scorning the feeble
protests of the Opposition, who were few in number and weak in debate.
Many a time as Pearl sat in the Ladies' Gallery and listened to the
flood of invective with which the cabinet ministers smothered any
attempt at criticism which the Opposition might make, she had longed
for a chance to reply. They were so boastful, so overbearing, so
childishly important, it seemed to her that it would be easy to make
them look ridiculous, and she often found herself framing replies
for the Opposition. But of course there was a wide gulf between the
pompous gentlemen who lolled and smoked their black cigars in the
mahogany chairs on the redcarpeted floor of the House, and the
bright-eyed little girl who sat on the edge of her seat in the gallery
and looked down upon them.
She had been in the gallery the day that a great temperance delegation
had come and asked that the bar might be abolished, and she had
listened to every word that had been said. The case against the bar
had been so well argued, that it seemed to Pearl that the law-makers
must be moved to put it away forever. She did not know, of course,
that the liquor interests of the province were the strong supporters
of the Government, and the source of the major portion of their
campaign funds; that the bars were the rallying places for the
political activities of the party, and that to do away with the bars
would be a blow to the Government, and, as the Premier himself had
once said, "No Government is going to commit suicide," the chances for
the success of the delegation were very remote. Pearl did not know
this, and so she was not prepared for it when the Premier and one of
his Ministers stoutly defended the bar-room as a social gathering
place where men might meet and enjoy an innocent and profitable hour.
"It is one of our social institutions that you are asking us to
destroy," cried the Minister of Education, "and I tell you frankly
that we will not do it. The social instincts distinguish man from the
brute, and they must be cherished and encouraged. Your request is
not in the best interests of our people, and as their faithful
representatives who seek to safeguard their interests and their
highest welfare, we must refuse."
And the Government desks were pounded in wild enthusiasm! And Pearl
had come away with a rage in her heart, the wordless rage of the
helpless. After that she attended every meeting of the Suffrage
Society, and her deep interest and devotion to the cause won for her
many friends among the suffrage women.
The news of the proposed meeting in the school brought out many and
varied comments, when it was received in the homes of the district.
Mr. Donald sent to each home a letter in which he invited all the
members of each family to be present to "do honor to one who has
brought honor to our school and district."
Mrs. Eben Snider, sister of Mrs. Crocks, a wizened little pod of a
woman with a face like parchment, dismally prophesied that Pearl
Watson would be clean spoiled with so much notice being taken of her.
"Put a beggar on horseback," she cried, when she read the invitation,
"and you know where he will ride to! The Watsons are doing too
well--everything John Watson touches turns to money since he went on
that farm, and this last splurge for Pearl is just too much. I won't
be a party to it! It is too much like makin' flesh of one and fowl of
the other. Mr. Donald always did make too much of a pet of that girl,
and then all those pieces in the paper, they will spoil her, no girl
of her age can stand it--it is only puttin' notions in her head, and
from what I can hear, there's too much of that now among women. I
never had no time to be goin' round makin' speeches and winnin'
debates, and neither has any other decent woman. It would suit Pearl
better to stay at home and help her mother; they say she goes around
town with her head dressed up like a queen, and Jane says she's as
stiff as pork when a person speaks to her. I'll tell Mr. Donald what I
think of it."
At the Steadman home, the news of the meeting had a happier reception,
for Mr. Steadman, who was the local member of Parliament, was asked
to preside, and as the elections were likely to take place before the
year was out, he was glad of this chance to address a few remarks to
the electors. He had been seriously upset ever since he heard that the
young doctor was to be offered the nomination for the Liberals. That
would complicate matters for him, and make it imperative that he
should lose no opportunity of making himself agreeable to his
constituents.
Before the news of the meeting was an hour old, Mr. Steadman had begun
to arrange his speech, and determined that he would merely make a few
happy random extempore remarks, dashed off in that light, easy way
which careful preparation can alone insure; and Mrs. Steadman had
decided that she would wear her purple silk with the gold embroidery,
and make a Prince of Wales cake and a batch of lemon cookies--some of
them put together with a date paste, and the rest of them just loose,
with maybe a date or a raisin in the middle.
Mrs. Watson was in a state of nerves bordering on stage fright, from
the time that Tommy brought home the news, a condition which Pearl did
her best to relieve by assuming a nonchalance which she did not feel,
regarding the proposed speech.
"What ever will you talk about, Pearlie, dear," her mother cried in
vague alarm; "and to all them people. I don't think the teacher should
have asked ye, you could do all right with just the scholars, for any
bit of nonsense would ha' done for them, but you will have to mind
what you are sayin' before all the grown people!"
Pearl soaked the beans for tomorrow's cooking, with an air of
unconcern.
"Making a speech is nothing, Ma," she said, "when a person knows how.
I have listened to the cabinet ministers lots of times, and there's
nothing to it. It is just having a good beginning and a fine flourish
at the end, with a verse of poetry and the like of that--it does not
matter what you say in between. I have heard the Premier speak lots of
times, and they go crazy over him and think he is a wonderful speaker.
He tells how he was once a farmer's boy and wandered happily over the
pasture fields in his bare feet, and then how he climbed the ladder
of fame, rung by rung--that is fine stuff, every one likes that; and
whenever he got stuck he told about the flag of empire that waves
proudly in the breeze and has never known defeat, and the destiny of
this Canada of ours, and the strangers within our gates who have come
here to carve out their destiny in this limitless land, and when he
thought it best to make them sniffle a little he told about the sacred
name of mother, and how the tear-drop starts at mention of that dear
name, and that always went big, and when he began to run down a
little, he just spoke all the louder, and waved his arms around, and
the people did not notice there was nothing coming; we used to go over
and listen to the speeches and then make them when the teachers were
not in the room--it was lots of fun. I know lots of the Premier's
speeches right off. There is nothing to it, Ma, so don't you be
frightened."
"Pearl, you take things too light," said her mother severely, "a
person never knows when you are in earnest, and I am frightened about
you. You should not feel so careless about makin' speeches, it is
nothing to joke about. I wish you would be for writin' out what you
are goin' to say, and then we could hear you go over it, and some one
could hold the paper for you and give you the word if you forget--it
would be the safest way!"
"All right, Ma," said Pearl, "I'll be making it up now while I peel
the potatoes."
While they were talking there came a knock at the door, and when it
was opened, there stood Bertie from the livery stable, with a
long green-wrapped box in his hand, which he gave to Mrs. Watson,
volunteering without delay, all the information he had regarding it.
Bertie never failed to reveal all the truth as he knew it--so, keeping
nothing back, he gave the history of the box so far as he had been
able to gather it.
"It's for Pearl--and the doctor sent it out. I don't know why he
didn't give it to her when she was in, for she was in his office--it's
flowers, for it is marked on it--and they came from Hampton."
Bertie would have stayed to see the flowers opened, for he knew that
Mrs. Crocks would be much interested to know just what they were, and
what Pearl said, and what her mother said--and if there was a note
inside--and all the other good stuff he would be able to gather, but
Pearl took them, with an air of unconcern, and thanking Bertie, said
quite carelessly:
"Don't wait for an answer, Bertie, I can phone if there is any need,
and I know you are in a hurry--we must not keep you."
And before Bertie knew what had happened, he found himself walking
away from the door.
When the roses had been put in water, and each of the children had
been given a smell and a feel of the velvety petals, and Mrs. Watson
had partially recovered from the shock that the sight of flowers in
the winter, always gave her for they reminded her so of her father's
funeral, and the broken pillar which the Oddfellows sent; Pearl read
the card:
"To Pearl--eighteen-going-on-nineteen,
Hoping that the years will bring her nothing
but joy."
It was written on one of the doctor's professional cards, and that was
all. But looking again into the envelope there was a folded note which
she did not read to the assembled and greatly interested group. When
she was alone in the little beamed room upstairs, she read it:
"Dear Pearl:--I forgot to give you the roses when you were in this
afternoon. Accept them now with my deep affection. You have been a
bright spot in my life, and you will always be that--like a red rose
in a dull room. Your success will always be very dear to me, and my
prophecy is that you will go far. I will always think of you with
deepest admiration and pride. Ever yours,
"HORACE CLAY."
Pearl read it twice; then impulsively pressed it to her cheek.
"It sounds like good-bye," she said, with her lips trembling, "it
sounds like the last of something. Why won't he tell me? It is not
like him."
A wither of loneliness went over her face as she clasped the note
between her hands.
"I don't believe it is that," she said fiercely. "I won't believe it!"
Mrs. Crocks' words were taunting her; "the doctor thinks more of blue
blood than he does of money, and if he goes into politics it will mean
a lot to him to be related to the senator."
An overwhelming rage was in Pearl's heart, in spite of her
determination not to believe the suggestion; a blind, choking rage--it
was all so unfair.
"My dad is more of a man than Senator Keith," she said to herself,
"for all his fine clothes and his big house. He was nothing but a
heeler for the party, and was made Senator because there was no dirty
job that he would not do to get votes for them. I know how he bought
liquor for the Galicians and brought them in by the car-load to vote,
like cattle, and that's blue blood, is it? Sure it is--you can see it
in his shot-silk face and his two bad old eyes swollen like oysters!
If the doctor wants him he can have him, and it's blamed little
frettin' I'll do!... My dad eats with his knife, does he? All right,
he bought the knife with honest money, and he earned what's on it too.
All the dirty money they have would not buy him, or make him do a mean
trick to any one. I am not ashamed of him--he suits me, and he can go
on eating with his knife and wearing his overalls and doing anything
he wants to do. He suits me!"
When Pearl went back to the kitchen, her father was taking off his
smock. Supper was ready, and he and Teddy had just come in. The dust
of the fanning-mill was on his face and his clothes. His unmittened
hands were red and rough, and bore traces of the work he had been
doing. In his hair were some of the seeds and straws blown out by the
mill. There was nothing very attractive about John Watson, unless it
was his kindly blue eye and the humorous twist of his mouth, but
in Pearl's heart there was a fierce tenderness for her father, a
protective love which glorified him in her eyes.
"Did you hear the news, pa," she cried, as she impulsively threw her
arms around his neck. "Did you know that I am going to speak in the
school, and they are all coming out to hear me. Are you glad, Pa, and
do you think I can do it?"
Her burning cheek was laid close to his, and he patted her shoulder
lovingly.
"Do I think you can do it, Pearlie, that I do--you can do whatever you
go at--I always knew that."
"Pearl, child," cried her mother, "don't be hugging your Pa like that,
and you with your good dress on; don't you see the dust and dirt on
him--you will ruin your clothes child."
Pearl kissed him again, and gave him one more hug, before she said,
"It is clean dirt, Ma, and it will brush off, and I just couldn't
wait; but sure and it's clean dirt anyway."
"It is gettin' colder," said John Watson, as he hung up his smock
behind the door, "our Spring is over for awhile, I think. I saw two
geese leggin' it back as fast as they could go, and each one scoldin'
the other one--we'll have a good spell or winter yet, I am afraid, in
spite of our two warm days and all the signs of Spring."
"Weather like you is too good to last," said Mrs. Watson complacently,
"I knew it wasn't the Spring, it was too good to last."
Pearl went to the window and looked out--already there was a threat of
snow in the whining wind, and as she watched, a stray flake struck the
window in front of her.