The Gold of Chickaree

by Susan Warner; Anna Bartlett Warner

And did Hazel spend all her income wisely? Not always perhaps, at first; that could hardly be expected. It is not easy for even experienced hands to escape a deception now and then. But slowly, surely, she made progress; chiefly by two things. First, an eager desire to be a good steward with the power put in her hands, which just guided and warned and stimulated too the also eager desire to help everybody. Then Wych Hazel "prayed her way," and took counsel. And by dint of loving all people and feeling for all need, the way generally opened out. One thing was soon decided,she would put her finger in every good work; everywhere her hand touched and left its token. But then went the nameless rills and drops of refreshment to hidden spots and places of need known to nobody else. Poor students fitted out and paid through college; poor invalids served with the best of medical care. Overworked ministers sent on a pleasure trip, wife and all. A nice dress here, a barrel of flour there, a wonderful book somewhere else. Ice to the sick, boxes of tea to the needy. Then from her odds and ends storehouse she showered prettiness upon the lives that were dry and dusty with toil. Flowers to one, a flower dish to anotherwherever she went she left a touch of light and colour. People did not bend to kiss her shadowas of Florence Nightingale: they turned and shaded their eyes to catch the light. Not the sheen of mere wealth, dazzling the sight of their poverty; but the joy and brightness of truth and love, reflected down upon her, and from her to them.

If you would know, dear reader, part of the sequel to all the foregoing, you may, if you will take a walk some summer day through Mill Hollow. We will say it is ten years since Wych Hazel's marriage.

It is June, and you may smell the roses as soon as you get to the entrance of the valley. Wych Hazel's dream has been realized. The valley is a garden of roses. They climb the walls of the cottages, they cluster on the palings, they stand by the way side. They are set in a ground of smoothest green; for the turf everywhere is perfectly cared for as if the valley were a park; smooth and rich and luxuriant, it carpets the whole valley, except only where the footpaths run and where the houses and gardens stand. The houses nowhere stand close together; there is plenty of garden room; and maples and oaks and American elms especially shade the valley deliciously. In another ten years they will be very fine.

The place is as full of business as of roses, and as full of prosperity as of either. You see that at every step. Not a house but is in perfect repair and in perfect condition; the low white paling fences glitter in their purity; the window are bright and clear. And meet whom you will, man, woman or child, no rags or penury or squalor will offend you; but the look is of respectable comfort and real and hopeful life.

And why not? See that substantial stone building a little way up the slope of the valley side; that is the Library. There are reading rooms, for evening use, and well used by the hands. They have a variety of papers and magazines and maps; and the stock of books and pictures is large and excellent. Adjoining is the coffee room, where refreshments of a simple kind are always to be had. There is a reading room for the women and one for the men; large, lofty, airy, well lighted, beautiful rooms, with every comfort of tables and chairs and desks, for writing and reading.

On the other side of the valley, nearly opposite, is another large and sightly edifice. It is the store. Everything the villagers need is to be had there, at little over wholesale prices; it costs the owner nothing, it saves the people a vast deal. Nobody can purchase goods there except the hands and employees of Mill Hollow. There is no place for the sale of liquor in all the village.

You see the two churches; one would not accommodate the population. For Mr. Rollo has not ruined himself; on the contrary his business has grown and spread and increased. He is a richer man to-day than ten years before. That is, his income is larger; his reserve capital never will be. Let us go up out of the valley by one of these gentle and well-trodden ways.

Over the brow of the ridgeand there stretches before you a wide landscape of cultivated park ground. It is a park, of many acres, for the pleasure-taking of the hands of the Hollow. What is not here! Groves and lawns, walks and seats under the trees; prepared places for cricket and base ball and gymnastic exercises; swings for the children. Flowers are cultivated here in profusion, of rare as well as common kinds; and they are in abundance enough to be on hand whenever floral decorations are wanted for a wedding or a funeral in the cottages, or a festival in church or schoolhouse. For there are festivals every now and then, besides the three national ones. The park has great plantations of fruit trees also; the fruit free to all, from the time it is officially declared to be ripe. And I assure you, it is very little disturbed before such announcement. The park is under an excellent police, and nothing but the most perfect order prevails.

On the further edge of the park, if you go so far, you will see a low elegant building of grey stone, with many cosy little windows and doors. It is the home for the disabled and superannuated old people. No herding in one common community of forlornness; each small apartment or establishment is perfect in its way, with its own entrance, and its own little kitchen and sleeping room. There are people appointed to look after the comfort of those who are finishing their days there, but nobody to interfere with it. Wych Hazel is there very often, and her pony chaise never stops before a door but to bring brightness within.

But down in the Hollow there are the schools yet to visit; they are the pleasantest schoolrooms you ever saw. There is the bank. There are the public baths. And I know not what beside. The schools are provided with means and teachers for the art instruction of those who show capability for art proficiency; and designers and mechanics for Roll's work are growing up under Rollo's eyes. And nobody enters work at his mills but wants to stay with him; and nobody ever wishes, in all the Hollow, I think, to do anything but what the master wishes; for they all know he does not live to himself.