And so it happened that on the third day after the arrival of the young people, another member was added to their household. Colonel Wainright had welcomed the little old lady and had at once introduced her to Geraldine and Alfred, then he had walked to town, leaving them to their own devices.
It was quite evident that Geraldine’s good humor of the day before had departed, for she acknowledged the introduction with a barely perceptible nod and had risen at once to go to her own room. Never before had she been introduced to a housekeeper as though she were one of her own class. Colonel Wainright was certainly old-fashioned. Servants were servants, she considered, whatever they were called.
Alfred, who had promised to go skating with Jack and Bob, had welcomed the old lady in the friendliest manner, and she knew at once that she was going to love the boy, but the girl—that was quite a different matter.
The Colonel had shown the housekeeper to her pleasant room overlooking the orchard when her trunk and bags had been taken there; he had also introduced her to Ching Lee, the plump, smiling Chinaman in the kitchen. When she was quite alone, the old lady stood by a window in her room gazing out at a sparkling snow-covered scene, and her eyes were misty. How happy she had been when the Colonel had told her she was to make a home, a real home, for a boy and girl. One of the unfulfilled desires of her life was to have had grandchildren. She blinked a bit, then wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and smiled at the scene before her. “Well,” she comforted herself by thinking, “I’ll pretend these two are my grandchildren, and I’ll treat them just as lovingly as though they really were, and I’ll begin that game right now.”
Putting a clean white apron over her soft grey dress, she went down the wide upper hall toward the front room, which was Geraldine’s.
Meanwhile that rebellious girl was unpacking her trunk in a manner which showed that it was a most distasteful task. Never before had she lifted her finger to wait on herself. Susan, her maid, had always done everything for her. She had asked her father to permit her to bring Susan to Sunnyside with her, but he had said that he could not ask his old friend to take three people into his home. As she thought of this injustice, her anger mounted higher and higher, and she took things from her trunk and actually threw them over the bed, chairs and lounge. Every conceivable spot was littered when there came a tap on the door.
“Come in!” the girl said sullenly, supposing that it was her brother who wished to speak with her. Instead a smiling little old lady opened the door.
“Why, Geraldine, child,” she said kindly, “you are busy, aren’t you? Unpacking and hanging things up is quite an undertaking, but I think folks like to do it themselves, then they know where things were put.”
The girl’s face reddened in very evident displeasure. “Well, I don’t like it,” she said coldly, “and I don’t see why I should have to. I’ve always had a maid to wait on me, and I’ve simply got to have one. Now that you’ve come, I suppose you’ll make my bed and keep my room in order.”
The old lady had had a talk with the Colonel about this very matter, and he had definitely said that waiting on the girl was not one of her duties, explaining that Mr. Morrison had especially requested that she learn how to care for herself. Very quietly Mrs. Gray replied: “No, little girl, that is not one of my duties.”