Hesba Stretton - The Ultimate Christmas Library - 100+ Authors, 200 Novels, Novellas, Stories, Poems and Carols

“Who wants to be a ‘shawl-strap’? Not I!” cried Bess, gaily. “I am Queen Bess, monarch of all I survey. Katie!”– the neat little maid had just entered the room—“will you hand me the book I was reading in the other room? I’m too weak to rise. Oh, thanks!”

Grace laughed; but Nan looked a little grave as Katie disappeared again.

“Don’t, honey,” Nan said to her thoughtless chum. “It isn’t nice . The poor girl has necessary work enough without your making up thing’s for her to do. She is on her feet from morning till night. She tells me that her ankles swell dreadfully sometimes, and that is awful for a young girl like her.”

“Why, Nan!” Grace cried, “how did you know?”

“Katie told me,” repeated Nan.

“But— but she never told me,” expostulated their hostess.

“I don’t suppose you ever saw her crying, as I did, while she was setting the dinner table. It was last evening. She had been on her feet more than usual yesterday. The doctor tells her that her arches are breaking down; but she cannot afford to have arch supports made at present, because her mother needs all the money Katie can earn.”

“Mercy!” gasped Bess. “Did you ever see such a girl as Nan? She already knows all the private history of that girl.”

“No, I do not,” said Nan, with some indignation. “I never asked her a thing. She just told me. Lots of girls who have to go out to service are troubled with their arches breaking down. Especially when the floors are polished wood with nothing but rugs laid down. Bare floors may be very sanitary; but they are hard on the feet.”

“There you go!” sighed Bess, “with a lot of erudite stuff that we don’t understand. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I know why Katie, and other people as well, love to tell Nan all their troubles,” said Grace, softly. “Because she is sympathetic. I am afraid I ought to have known about poor Katie’s feet.”

The very next day the little serving maid was sent by Mrs. Mason to the orthopedic shoe shop to be measured for her arch supports and shoes. But it was Nan whom poor Katie caught alone in a dark corner of the hall when she came back, and humbly kissed.

“An’ bless yer swate heart, Miss, for ’twas yer kind thought stirred up Miss Grace to tell the mistress. Bless yer swate heart again, I say!”

Nan kept this to herself, of course; but it pleased her very much that the word she had dropped had had such a splendid result. Grace, she knew, was a lovable girl and never exacting with the servants; and Mrs. Mason was good to her people, too. But it was a rather perfunctory sort of goodness, spurred by little real knowledge of their individual needs.

After this, it was quite noticeable that Grace was even more considerate of Katie and the other maids. Nan Sherwood had had little experience with domestic servants; but the appreciation of noblesse oblige was strong within her soul.

The girls’ time, both day and evening, was fully occupied. The Masons’ was a large household, and there seemed to be always company. It was almost like living in a hotel, only above and over all the freedom and gaiety of the life there, was the impression that it was a real home , and that the Mason family lived a very intimate existence, after all.

Walter and his father were close chums. Grace and her mother were like two very loving sisters. The smaller children were still with their governess and nurse most of the time. But there were times in every day when the whole family was together in private, with the rest of the household shut out.

There was always something going on for the young folk. The day’s activities were usually planned at the general breakfast table. One day Nan had two hours of the forenoon on her hands, while her chum and Grace went shopping with Mrs. Mason. Nan did not like shopping— much.

“Not unless I can have lots of money in my pocket-book, and be extravagant,” she said, laughing.

“You never were extravagant in your life!” declared Bess, in refutation of this.

However, Nan was left alone and Walter found it out. He had brought his black horse down from Freeling with him. He sent for this and the cutter, and insisted that Nan go with him through the park.

Nan went, and would have had a delightful time had it not been for a single incident. As they turned back, suddenly there met them a very handsome, heavy, family sleigh, the pair of horses jingling their harness-bells proudly, and with tossing plumes and uniformed coachman and footman.

“Goodness!” gasped Nan, as she saw a girl in furs lean far out of the great sleigh and wave her muff to Walter.

It was Linda Riggs. Linda quite ignored Nan’s presence behind the black horse.

Nan did not refuse to go shopping every time her school friends went. The big Chicago stores appealed to her just as much as to any country girl who ever fell under their charm. In the Windy City the department stores— that mammoth of modern commerce— is developed to the highest degree.

It was like wandering through an Alladin’s Palace for Nan to walk about Wilson-Meadows, Galsig-Wheelwrights, or any of the other big stores. And it was because she was so much interested in what she saw, that she wandered one day away from her friends and found herself in the jewelry department, where the French novelties loaded the trays and were displayed in the cases.

Nan forgot her friends— and the flight of time. It was not alone the pretty things displayed that interested her, but the wonderfully dressed women who paraded through the aisles of the store.

She found herself beside a beautifully dressed woman, in a loose, full-flowing fur garment, with fur hat to match, who, it seemed to Nan, was quite the most fashionable person she had ever beheld. The woman had a touch of rouge upon her otherwise pale cheeks; her eyebrows were suspiciously penciled; her lips were slightly ruddy. Nevertheless, she was very demure and very much the lady in appearance.

She was idly turning over lavalliéres on a tray— holding them up for inspection, and letting the pretty chains run through her fingers to drop into the tray again, like sparkling water.

“I don’t think I care for any of these, don’t you know?” she drawled, but very pleasantly. “I’m sorry— really.”

She turned away from the counter. Nan was close by and had been secretly watching the pretty woman more than she had the lavalliéres. The clerk— rather an attractive girl with curly, black hair and very pink cheeks; quite an excitable young thing— suddenly leaned over the counter and whispered:

“Oh, madam! Pray! The special lavalliére I showed you is not here.”

“What do you say, child?” demanded the woman, haughtily. “Do you miss anything?”

“The special lavalliére I showed you, madam,” gasped the girl. “Forgive me— do ! But I am responsible for all I take out of the case!”

“It is a mistake,” said the woman, coldly. “I haven’t the thing— surely.”

“It is not here!” wailed the clerk, still in a low key, but fingering madly among the chains upon the tray. “Oh, ma’am! it will cost me twenty dollars!”

The woman turned slowly and her eyes— placid blue before— now shone with an angry light. Her gaze sought the counter— then the excited clerk— lastly, Nan!

“I haven’t your lavalliére,” she said, and although her voice was stern, it was low. “I haven’t your lavalliére. How about this girl, here?” and she indicated Nan, with an air of superb indifference.

“Oh, madam!” gasped the clerk.

“Don’t! don’t!” begged Nan. “Oh! you know I haven’t it!”