CHAPTER VI.
THE BUILDING OF THE HOUSE—THE WORKMEN—THE COLOURED LADY—AN ILLNESS IN THE BARN.
he plans for our house were finished. We had been very fortunate in the choice of our architect, and he had delighted us by working into them, with great taste, all the peculiarly English features, which we had set our hearts upon having, in this far-away Californian home.
There was to be a roomy ingle-nook, and large open fire-places, latticed windows with green shutters, and deep window seats, and great overhanging eaves to the roof. On the gables outside we were to have black beams in white plaster, to look like an old farm. To make the housework easier, and also because we liked it, all the rooms were to be on one floor, the whole second storey being one large attic.
Finally after many negotiations, the contract was signed, and we began to look daily for the coming of the men. We had learnt to dread the desert wind, which according to tradition, comes along in spells of three, or at most four days, but which we found had a nasty habit of staying longer, leaving one painfully parched, inside and out, body and spirit. At such times we watched anxiously for the great bank of white sea fog, rising up behind the mountains on the west, and always a sign that the fresh sea breeze was coming back to us.
It was on a Sunday evening, during a specially diabolical dose of desert wind, when there were bush fires on nearly all the mountains round us, and the air seemed filled with smoke and the pungent smell of burning sage, that our men arrived, bringing with them two waggon loads of materials for putting up the various sheds and tents needed for their comfort, during the eighty days, which was the contracted time for building the house.
They had had a breakdown on the way out from town, and what with this and the scorching heat of the day, had been much tried. However, they were very good tempered, and seemed to consider the whole business as a kind of picnic—a holiday in the country. The contractor, Mr. Scott, who was also the principal carpenter, was a huge man, very capable, as we soon found, and a splendid workman. He had brought his wife with him, to serve the two-fold purpose of a change of air for her, and a satisfactory cook for himself and his men! They had also their two little children with them and Mr. Scott’s dog. Four more carpenters arrived with them; the plumbers, plasterers, and painters, were to follow later, when their work would be wanted.
The whole first day was spent in putting up the temporary houses needed for the little settlement. They were going to make themselves quite comfortable, though it was all done with extraordinary quickness. There was a “cookhouse” as they called it, which was the most ambitious building of all the settlement, and we thought it showed Mr. Scott’s good sense, and promised well for the undertaking, that he provided so royally for the men’s comfort in this particular. The cookhouse had one good-sized dining-room, with a long table down the middle, and a bench on each side; out of this was the kitchen, with two beautiful gasoline cooking stoves, containing large ovens and all the newest American contrivances. A nice cool cupboard or larder opened out of the kitchen, and was made with walls of wire gauze to let the air in freely and keep out the flies. The tent put up for Mr. Scott and his family was quite a work of art; nicely floored and with walls of wood about four feet high, to keep out draughts, the rest of the walls and roof being of canvas. They had it comfortably furnished, and seemed at once quite at home there.
The tents for the men were simpler, but satisfactory. By evening all their preparations were made, and when the lights were lit all over the little settlement, we were strongly reminded of the “Buffalo Bill” shows we had been to at home.
By early morning the men were hard at work, laying the mud sills of the house; and now began an exciting time for us, for these wooden houses are built so quickly, and American carpenters are such clever workmen, that it is most interesting to watch them. They were all good humouredly amused at the plans of our house, and said they had never put down such an irregular and unexpected outline of a house. Now, too, we proved the very great advantage it was to us to be at hand during the building; in this way several mistakes, which would have caused loss of time and vexation, were corrected at once, and some very decided improvements on the original plan were carried out.
Meanwhile our life in the barn was very dusty and hot. The coloured lady had unfortunately taken a great dislike to me, and though she did her work, she was so brutal in her manner, and scowled at me so savagely, that, half in earnest and half in jest, I made an arrangement with my husband and the boys that I should never be left alone with her after dark. In appearance she might have been first cousin to the gorilla, with his large, protruding mouth and big teeth. On Sundays, she would go off hunting for wild bees’ nests, an occupation which seemed to be an absorbing passion with her. At such times, she would wear a very dilapidated print gown, her feet were thrust into men’s boots, her head was covered with a red cotton sun bonnet, and she carried in her hand a tall, heavy stick; and as she came striding along, over the rough hill-side, with a peculiar movement of the hips, like a wild animal, and waving her great club, she looked like some man-eating aboriginal! One day, when her manner had become quite unbearable, I arranged with my husband that I would speak to her before him, for I did not dare tackle her alone. I hoped at least to find out what provoked her specially aggressive manner to me; for she made some slight attempt at friendliness to my husband and the boys. We got no satisfaction however; all she would say, standing meanwhile outside the open barn door, and shouting in her deep bass voice, was, “What does the woman want? I didn’t insult the woman!” We felt it was hopeless, and as the quarters were so rough that few good servants would have put up with them, we decided to bear with our gorilla and her angry mutterings till the house was built. But I was quite determined that whatever happened, she should not set foot in the house, even if I failed to find anyone else.
She much preferred to work with the ranch man, at any outdoor labour, however heavy, rather than do so-called woman’s work. Especially she loved managing the horses, and we could hear her big guffaw out on the ranch, where she would try with the rest to trick or compel Dan, who was giving more and more trouble, into doing his work. All the workmen had some never-failing plan to coerce him, but each in turn was beaten by Dan’s obstinacy, and his readiness to spend all day fighting out the question as to his way or theirs. Poor Dan! before long we discovered what was really amiss with him: he was going blind, and was in a constant state of irritation and excitement at not being able to see. No doubt the two young men who sold him to us, had known that this was coming on (though his eyes betrayed no sign of it), and were glad to be rid of him. Eventually we gave him away, and got a pair of young greys, giving the other horse Joe in part payment for them. Dan has been our only dead loss; all the other animals have turned out particularly well.
“Poll,” the little Indian pony for Tip, the younger boy, is quite a character. She finds a trail through the most hopeless-looking bush, without a moment’s hesitation, is as surefooted as a goat on the steep rocky hill-sides, and has no vice about her. So that Tip, who was far from strong when first we came here, has become a very good rider, without accidents or trouble of any kind. He gallops her, bare-backed, up and down the steep hills around us at full speed, sitting on the reins and playing an accordion, waving it about over his head, and making her fly with excitement. Then there is Jennie, a pretty mare belonging to Larry, the elder boy. She is very nervous and high strung, fond of polo, and racing, and good at both, but never quite satisfied to go along on any quiet, everyday business. Ben is a strong, heavy ranch horse, dutiful and hardworking; Rex and Dick, the greys, are general favourites. They were only four years old when we bought them, and they needed always close watching, for they were full of spirits; but now they are more sober, and do their part bravely. Dickie is “the gentleman,” and rarely does much ranch work, but trots the buggy for miles and miles about the country.
By this time, all was going forward wonderfully quickly with the building of the house. The carpenters and workmen enjoyed their trip in the country, and indeed Mrs. Scott prepared such comfortable meals for them in the cookhouse, that I fancy these alone would have reconciled them to a much worse lot. She was very proud of her cooking, and used often to show me her pies, and roasts, and biscuits, etc., as I passed to and fro.
She was rather a grand lady too, and felt very virtuous about working so hard at this job for her husband, but she told me privately that, though he made no show of praising her for doing so well, he always “came down handsome” after any such time, and that this one would probably mean a silk dress for her! So though she grumbled in an ostentatious way at times to me, when he was within hearing, she was really very cheerful and helpful.
Nowadays, when I see our Chinaman, in his clean white jacket, wandering about, carrying a basket in his hand, and returning presently with it full of beautiful tomatoes, we think gratefully of Mrs. Scott and the cookhouse; for the odd bits she threw from her door in those days, came up very shortly in fruitful vines, and by this time they have distributed themselves all over the ranch.
The barn was not a nice place to be ill in, nor was Liza, the darkey, a nurse any invalid would willingly choose, and during a sharp attack of influenza I had while we were there, I wondered sometimes if she worked evil charms over the poultices, before she brought them to me, with such an angry face. To be ill at all was, I think, in her opinion a piece of fine ladyism, to which I had no right whatever. Fortunately I did not depend upon her nursing, but had my three tenderhearted, helpful menfolk. I lay very ill indeed, the influenza bringing on a bad attack of congestion of the lungs, which nearly killed me, and of course in addition to the illness, there was the hopeless discomfort of the surroundings, the heat and dust, and when I was at my worst, a spell of desert wind, and oh! the horror of it all. The barn seemed no protection whatsoever. It was swept through and through by that parched, scorching air, like a draught from a red-hot furnace. The cracking and groaning of every wooden thing was like the wrenching and straining of a ship in a storm; the barn and everything inside the barn protested loudly. Fortunately our furniture was not to be housed for long in a building one plank thick, or there would have been but very little use in bringing it so far; soon it would have been lying about us, in disconnected bits, all sprang apart during desert wind spells.
Once we were in the house, by shutting all doors and windows we could keep the fiend out, sufficiently at least to prevent mischief; though no one can boast of much comfort till our blessed friend the sea breeze returns to us.
However, notwithstanding the desert wind, Liza’s illwill, and the influenza, I recovered a little strength and crept out again before long to see how the house was progressing.
I found the plasterers and brickbuilders hard at work, and their different encampments added to the rest. Each man brought at least one horse, often two, with his “rig,” and a dog and a gun. The horses were tethered all about the land, and we seemed more “Buffalo Bill” like than ever.
The building of the house went forward splendidly, and it promised to be both very pretty and very convenient.
(To be continued.)
[THINGS IN SEASON, IN MARKET AND KITCHEN.]
MARCH.
By LA MÉNAGÈRE.
ith March we are in Lent. Now although we may not approve of any restriction being placed on our dietary with regard to Lent, all the same as spring is approaching we shall find that those restrictions have their foundation laid in sound common sense. We do not now need such substantial faring as we did a month or two earlier; we shall be all the better for occasionally substituting fish for meat, for more eggs, and for fewer cakes and puddings.
March does not bring us much that is new in the way of provisions, but imported fruits and vegetables are not quite so dear as they were, and in our gardens we should be beginning to have mustard and cress and radishes. The first shoots of young sorrel—and how good they are—will be coming above ground, and forced rhubarb is plentiful and cheap.
We are now the worst off for the wherewithal to make our tables pretty, just before the spring flowers come in. We can supply the deficit by having some of the pretty little green ferns in fancy pottery—pteris, ivy, hart’s tongues, and so forth, and few things look nicer. Try, too, for special occasions, the effect of crossed ribbons on the white tablecloth. A table that is well-set with regard to its minor points, namely, salt-cellars, mustard pots, bright knives and forks, clear sparkling glass, and a clean tablecloth, can hardly ever fail to look attractive, even if it has to go without other decoration; just as the most elaborate decoration will never make up for deficiencies in these respects.
At this time of the year we may make plentiful use of such things as rice, macaroni, polenta, and other farinaceous foods; remembering, too, that eggs are at their best as well and fairly reasonable in price.