A Cry in the WildernessWaller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
General
A Cry in the Wilderness
Waller, Mary E. (Mary Ella)
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Québec (Province) -- Fiction
Cale vacated the pung, and the Doctor and I filled it. He took the
reins; the beautiful creatures rose as one in the exuberance of life;
shook their heads, and the bells with them, as they poised a moment on
their hind feet; then they planted their hoofs in the crisping snow,
and we were off.
"Your ears must have burned more than a little this forenoon, Miss
Farrell," he said, after driving in silence for ten minutes during
which time he proved conclusively to the French horses that he was a
"whip" of the first order, and to be respected henceforth as such. It
was a pleasure to see his management of the high-lifed animals.
"Mine? I was n't conscious of anything unusual about them."
"We were speaking of you and your evident executive ability, and we
took the time on our drive to try to settle a little business matter
that concerns you. ("Ah, wages," I thought with satisfaction.) We
tried to agree but we failed; and although we did not come to blows
over the question, it was not settled to my satisfaction, at least.
You don't mind my speaking very frankly?"
"No, indeed; I wish you would." I looked up at him over the turned-up
fur collar of Mr. Ewart's fox skins--"pelts" is our name for them in
New England--and smiled merrily. I was right glad to get down, at
last, to some business basis and know where I stood. Again I saw the
perplexed look in his eyes.
"Why?"
"Because, naturally, you know, I look for pay day to help out."
"Naturally," he repeated gravely; then laughed out, a hearty,
good-comrade laugh. "Just how long have you been here?"
"A month yesterday."
"And wages overdue!"
I nodded emphatically. I felt as if I could tell this man beside me,
with his wide experience of humankind, about the pitiful sum of
twenty-two dollars I had saved from my wreck of life in New York; about
my scrimpings; even of the two pair of stockings, and the square of
newspaper reposing at that very minute on my chest and crackling
audibly when I drew a deeper breath. There was no feeling of
soul-shame on account of my poverty with him, any more than I should
have felt physical shame at the nakedness of my body if subject to one
of his famous surgical operations. Had not this man helped to bring me
into the world? Should I have been here but for him? Had he not known
me as an entity before I knew anything of the fact of life? This idea
of him disarmed my pride.
"H'm," he said at last, thoughtfully, "I must live up to my reputation
of owing no man or woman over night. You shall have it so soon as we
get back to the house--and well earned too," he added; "I had no idea
an advertisement could bring about such a satisfactory result."
"Do you mean me or the refurbished house?"
"I mean you. And now that we 're alone, do you mind telling me
something of how it came about? I 'll own to asking you to come with
me that we might have a preliminary chat together."
"I thought so."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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