"It was exactly like him to speak as if that matter was a give-and-take affair! The fact is, the boy's mother, a widow, took it into her head, like all mothers, that her son was something remarkable, and ought to be sent to college; of course without a penny to do it with. She disclosed her mind to Dr. James, and the end of it was, that he has taken him clean off her hands, gives him a nice little salary for the work he does in the dispensary, and is educating him, besides, to be a first-rate physician; and I suppose when the doctor goes away from this town, young Richards will just step into his place and have it all his own way. I know all this, you see, because I know the mother. The doctor never breathed a word of it, you may be sure; but she told me all about it. And this is what Dr. James calls a mutual-benefit society, or something of the sort."
Margaret laughed; but she was not disposed to praise or admire the doctor, chiefly because she was aware that her aunt expected and wished her to do so. She listened attentively, however, to this, and as much more information as Miss Spelman chose to volunteer about her favorite, now and then putting in a doubtful question, or slightly depreciatory remark, which only elicited fresh praises; until sometimes the little lady would dimly perceive the game her niece was playing, and retire into silence and dignity.
CHAPTER IX.
STUDY OF HUMAN NATURE.
A month had gone, Margaret was astonished to find how quickly. She was contented and happy; interested, too, in her various occupations, and, except for missing Jessie's sympathy and companionship, feeling no regret for her former life. Such a state of things would have been impossible, had she not been utterly wearied with the whirl of gayety and the accumulation of engagements which seemed to her unavoidable while she remained in New York. But the complete change was reviving to her, and, as she said, she had taken up the study of human nature, which really meant that she had become interested in one person, and that person was Dr. James. She saw him a good deal; for he came freely to Miss Spelman's house, he had taken her sleigh-riding, accompanied her on expeditions in search of coasting or skating, played chess with her, and lent her books.
Since that occasion, on their first drive to Sealing, when "the mistress of a poor man's household" had been alluded to, that ideal person was frequently spoken of with considerable enjoyment of the joke by both parties, and once Margaret had asked him outright, what he would consider necessary accomplishments in such a person.
"I don't know that a poor doctor's wife would differ from the wife of any other poor man," he had answered her. "I have in my mind a woman not afraid of work, not requiring amusement nor excitement, able to do her own work; you see I say able—not that I would object to her having a servant, or perhaps two; but she should understand and be able to explain and direct all the domestic arrangements of the house. She should wait on herself; therefore her dress should be plain and simple. Especially should she know how to cook and sew, to market well, and to be considerate and cheerful to her servants. Then, as concerns my professional business, I should think a slight acquaintance with simple medicines and remedies, and where they are kept in the shop, in case of emergency, would be useful; fortitude to bear the sight of, and even to suffer, pain and sickness, so as to set a good example; and, to sum up, a cool head, a steady hand, and presence of mind."
When Dr. James had ended this minute description, he was struck by the extent of his requirements; and as Margaret's eye met his, they both laughed heartily, and though at the time she made no comment on his ideal poor man's wife, she often alluded to her virtues afterward, before other people, who, of course, could not understand what she meant, while the doctor, she was delighted to see, was slightly embarrassed and at a loss for a reply.
Margaret had seen a little of the Sealing society at a few tea-parties, which aimed at being so genteel that they were insufferably stiff and drowsy. Margaret longed to do something to wake up the young men, who, dressed in their best, with the stiffest of collars and the most surprising cravats, sat with folded hands and feet placed close together, helplessly, just where they happened to be put, without daring to do more than assent in as few words as possible to the stream of conversation kept up by the ladies, who seemed to consider it the business of the evening to entertain them. She very nearly proposed "blind-man's buff" on one occasion, but her courage failed her at the last moment; she thought it would be a hopeless undertaking to attempt to infuse life and activity into such frozen figures. At last, one young woman, named Mary Searle, gave a small party, and had the independence to propose playing games; and when Margaret warmly seconded the movement, and set the example by suggesting "fox and geese," she was astonished to behold every body become at once natural and merry. The young men were metamorphosed, forgot their feet and hands, and performed wonders of agility. It dawned upon Margaret that all this restraint must have been occasioned wholly by her presence, and she did her best to dispel all respect for "city ways" by showing that she could romp with the merriest. The evening ended with a Virginia-reel, and from that time the ice was broken, and Margaret saw the people in their pleasantest light—without affectation, simple, kindly, and cheerful. But of "society" she saw little; the Sealing young ladies complained that she was not "sociable," though when they were with her they got on very well; she said she was "too busy" to visit much, and so managed to keep a good deal to herself.
Of Martha Burney, however, she saw a good deal, and before long made an arrangement to drive her every morning to her school. The Marchioness had come, and Margaret had hired a little sleigh for her own use and pleasure.
"You see I have to get up early now, for my drive with Miss Burney," she explained to the doctor; for she was anxious that he should not think she was trying to please him. After leaving her companion, who returned in the afternoon by the cars, she sometimes stopped for her organ lesson, and sometimes came directly home, where she practised, or shut herself up to study Latin. This latter, however, was a secret. The day she visited Dr. James's dispensary, she had noticed Latin names on his jars and vials, and had then and there decided in her own mind that some acquaintance with Latin would be indispensable to "a poor doctor's wife." So she had bought a dictionary, grammar, and one or two Latin books, and now worked laboriously in private, every day, while in the afternoons she walked, drove, or read with her aunt.