Susan Warner - Nobody

Lois was getting rested by this time, and she gathered up her toolsagain, with the thought that breakfast would taste good. I suppose awhiff of the fumes of coffee preparing in the house was borne out toher upon the air, and suggested the idea. And as she went in shecheerfully reflected that their plain house was full of comfort, if notof beauty; and that she and her sisters were doing what was given themto do, and therefore what they were meant to do; and then came thethought, so sweet to the servant who loves his Master, that it is all for the Master; and that if he is pleased, all is gained, the utmost, that life can do or desire. And Lois went in, trilling low a sweetMethodist hymn, to an air both plaintive and joyous, which somehow – asmany of the old Methodist tunes do – expressed the plaintiveness and thejoyousness together with a kind of triumphant effect.

Lois had a voice exceedingly sweet and rich; an uncommon contralto; andwhen she sang one of these hymns, it came with its fall power. Mrs.Armadale heard her, and murmured a "Praise the Lord!" And Charity, getting the breakfast, heard her; and made a different comment.

"Were you meaning, now, what you were singing when you came in?" sheasked at breakfast.

"What I was singing?" Lois repeated in astonishment.

"Yes, what you were singing. You sang it loud enough and plain enough;ha' you forgotten? Did you mean it?"

"One should always mean what one sings," said Lois gravely.

"So I think; and I want to know, did you mean that? 'The time for suchtrifles' – is it over with you, sure enough?"

"What trifles?"

"You know best. What did you mean? It begins about 'this world's vainstore;' ha' you done with the world?"

"Not exactly."

"Then I wouldn't say so."

"But I didn't say so," Lois returned, laughing now. "The hymn means, that 'this world's vain store' is not my treasure; and it isn't. 'Thetime for such trifles with me now is o'er.' I have found somethingbetter. As Paul says, 'When I became a man, I put away childishthings.' So, since I have learned to know something else, the world'sstore has lost its great value for me."

"Thank the Lord!" said Mrs. Armadale.

"You needn't say that, neither, grandma," Charity retorted. "I don'tbelieve it one bit, all such talk. It ain't nature, nor reasonable.Folks say that just when somethin's gone the wrong way, and they wantto comfort themselves with makin' believe they don't care about it.Wait till the chance comes, and see if they don't care! That's what Isay."

"I wish you wouldn't say it, then, Charity," remarked the oldgrandmother.

"Everybody has a right to his views," returned Miss Charity. "That'swhat I always say."

"You must leave her her views, grandma," said Lois pleasantly. "Shewill have to change them, some day."

"What will make me change them?"

"Coming to know the truth."

"You think nobody but you knows the truth. Now, Lois, I'll ask you.Ain't you sorry to be back and out of 'this world's vain store' – out ofall the magnificence, and back in your garden work again?"

"No."

"You enjoy digging in the dirt and wearin' that outlandish rig you puton for the garden?"

"I enjoy digging in the dirt very much. The dress I admire no more thanyou do."

"And you've got everythin' you want in the world?"

"Charity, Charity, that ain't fair," Madge put in. "Nobody has that; you haven't, and I haven't; why should Lois?"

"'Cos she says she's found 'a city where true joys abound;' now let'shear if she has."

"Quite true," said Lois, smiling.

"And you've got all you want?"

"No, I would like a good many things I haven't got, if it's the Lord'spleasure to give them."

"Suppose it ain't?"

"Then I do not want them," said Lois, looking up with so clear andbright a face that her carping sister was for the moment silenced. AndI suppose Charity watched; but she never could find reason to thinkthat Lois had not spoken the truth. Lois was the life of the house.Madge was a handsome and quiet girl; could follow but rarely led in theconversation. Charity talked, but was hardly enlivening to the spiritsof the company. Mrs. Armadale was in ordinary a silent woman; couldtalk indeed, and well, and much; however, these occasions were mostlywhen she had one auditor, and was in thorough sympathy with that one.Amidst these different elements of the household life Lois played thepart of the flux in a furnace; she was the happy accommodating mediumthrough which all the others came into best play and found their fullrelations to one another. Lois's brightness and spirit were neverdulled; her sympathies were never wearied; her intelligence was neverat fault. And her work was never neglected. Nobody had ever to remindLois that it was time for her to attend to this or that thing which itwas her charge to do. Instead of which, she was very often ready tohelp somebody else not quite so "forehanded." The garden took on fastits dressed and ordered look; the strawberries were uncovered; and theraspberries tied up, and the currant bushes trimmed; and pea-sticks andbean-poles bristled here and there promisingly. And then the greengrowths for which Lois had worked began to reward her labour. Radisheswere on the tea-table, and lettuce made the dinner "another thing;" androws of springing beets and carrots looked like plenty in the future.Potatoes were up, and rare-ripes were planted, and cabbages; and cornbegan to appear. One thing after another, till Lois got the garden allplanted; and then she was just as busy keeping it clean. For weeds, weall know, do thrive as unaccountably in the natural as in the spiritualworld. It cost Lois hard work to keep them under; but she did it.Nothing would have tempted her to bear the reproach of them among hervegetables and fruits. And so the latter had a good chance, and throve.There was not much time or much space for flowers; yet Lois had a few.Red poppies found growing room between the currant bushes; here andthere at a corner a dahlia got leave to stand and rear its statelyhead. Rose-bushes were set wherever a rose-bush could be; and therewere some balsams, and pinks, and balm, and larkspur, and marigolds.Not many; however, they served to refresh Lois's soul when she went topick vegetables for dinner, and they furnished nosegays for the tablein the hall, or in the sitting-room, when the hot weather drove thefamily out of the kitchen.

Before that came June and strawberries. Lois picked the fruit always.She had been a good while one very warm afternoon bending down amongthe strawberry beds, and had brought in a great bowl full of fruit. Sheand Madge came together to their room to wash hands and get in orderfor tea.

"I have worked over all that butter," said Madge, "and skimmed a lot ofmilk. I must churn again to-morrow. There is no end to work!"

"No end to it," Lois assented. "Did you see my strawberries?"

"No."

"They are splendid. Those Black Princes are doing finely too. If wehave rain they will be superb."

"How many did you get to-day?"

"Two quarts, and more."

"And cherries to preserve to-morrow. Lois, I get tired once in a while!"

"O, so do I; but I always get rested again."

"I don't mean that. I mean it is all work, work; day in and day out, and from one year's end to another. There is no let up to it. I gettired of that."

"What would you have?"

"I'd like a little play."

"Yes, but in a certain sense I think it is all play."

"In a nonsensical sense," said Madge. "How can work be play?"

"That's according to how you look at it," Lois returned cheerfully. "Ifyou take it as I think you can take it, it is much better than play."

"I wish you'd make me understand you," said Madge discontentedly. "Ifthere is any meaning to your words, that is."