Helen Grant's Schooldays

by Amanda M. Douglas

"You wait until you get a house full of children," said her mother with a touch of annoyance.

The girls sat out on the old bench that had gone a little more to splinters. Uncle Jason came in; he had not quite worked Nathan up to the point of Sam's usefulness. Aunt Jane didn't mean to lead off with any fuss for Helen, so supper was in the kitchen, but the tablecloth was clean—the other had met with a big accident at noon.

Nothing was much changed except the children were a year older and larger. Two or three of them still talked at once. Jenny sat by and had a cup of tea. Aurelia and Fanny were a little awed by Helen's fine ways, and began to eye her furtively. Jenny kept most of the talk and when the meal was through took Helen out on the front stoop. What was the school like and were there many rich girls in it? And what did Mrs. Van Dorn mean to do with her when she was through with school?

Helen was relieved when she branched off on her own affairs. How much the egg and butter money had amounted to, and another scheme she had struck. She helped mother out with her sewing, but she found in the winter she had a good deal of time on her hands, so she began to sew for the neighbors. "You know I always did like running the machine," she declared. "And you'd be surprised at the money I've earned. I don't see how women can dawdle away their time so, when they've small families. I think working in a shop is a grand good training. You must be there at a certain hour, you must put in every moment if you are going to be a success, and you get brisk ways if there's anything at all to you."

Joe came over presently, and the two farmers smoked and talked. Then Jenny said she would take Helen home with her, she had such a nice spare room, and she and Aunt Jane had some words over it, but Jenny carried her point. It was lovely and quiet, and Helen was thankful.

Yes, she had grown away from them; while she loved them just as well, she thought she loved Uncle Jason better. The life was so different. It need not be so hard and,—yes, it was coarse, really untender. Aunt Jane would have suffered anything for her children's sake, but it must be in her way. After all these years of married life, children, and a certain degree of hard-won prosperity, she knew better than anyone else how the world could be managed.

'Reely and Fan were fascinated with Helen, and Jenny said she had a good deal of common sense, and she supposed all the airish ways were just right at school, but they seemed queer among common folks. It was inevitable that Helen and Aunt Jane should clash, and Helen felt even at the risk of being misunderstood and wrongfully accused, she must establish her own standing. She had not come home to help with housework.

"I wish I'd never let you gone over there to wait on that old woman, and have your head filled with airs and graces that you think sets you up above your family. I knew that day I should be sorry for it. And this is all the thanks I get for what I've done for you, while you'll crawl on the ground after her."

"No, I shouldn't; I do not," replied Helen with dignity. "I shall always feel thankful to you and Uncle Jason for what you have done, and, Aunt Jane, when I get to where I can earn money I want to pay you back for my keep after father died——"

Helen's face was scarlet and the hot blood was racing up and down in her pulses.