American fiction -- 19th century; Dime novels; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Upper class -- Fiction
Mrs. Ferguson went out at once, and, left to themselves, the two girls
began to talk, Reinette asking numberless questions by the way of
drawing her cousin out and judging what she was. It did not take long
for her to learn that Anna had been for three quarters to a young
ladies’ seminary in Worcester, that she had studied algebra, geometry,
astronomy, chemistry, physiology, botany, rhetoric, zoology, English
literature, German and French; she had dabbled a little in water-colors,
had taken lessons on the piano, and sometimes played the melodeon in
Sunday school.
“Dear me,” said Reinette, drawing a long breath, “how learned you must
be. I have never studied half those things. I hate mathematics, and
rhetoric, and geology, and literature, and you are posted in them all.
But tell me, now you are through school, what do you do? Merrivale is a
small place; there cannot be much to occupy one outside. What do you do
all day, when it rains, for instance, and you can’t go out? and when you
first came from school; time must have hung heavily then.”
Reinette had no particular object in asking so many questions; she only
wished to make talk, and she had no suspicion of the effect her words
had upon Anna, who turned scarlet, and hesitated a moment; then,
thinking to herself, “It don’t matter; I may as well spit it out,” she
said:
“Reinette, you will know some time how I live, and so I’ll tell you
myself, and let you judge whether my life is a happy one. You know of
course that we are poor. I don’t mean that we have not enough to eat and
wear, but we _work_ for a living, and that in America makes quite as
much difference as it does in Europe. Father keeps a small grocery and
mother is a dressmaker and, talk as you please of the nobility of labor,
and that ‘a man’s a man for a’ that,’ the man must have money and the
woman, too; and there are lots of girls in town no better than I am,
with not half as good an education, who look down upon me because my
mother makes their dresses, and I help her sometimes. You ask what I did
when I first came from school. I’ll tell you. Mother was very busy, for
there was a grand wedding in progress to which I was not bidden, but I
had to work on the dresses, and take some of them home, and when I rang
the front door-bell at Sue Granger’s, I was told by an impudent
house-maid to step round to the side door as her lady had visitors in
the parlor, and it was no place to receive parcels. I tell you I was
mad, and I’ve never carried a budget since, and never will; and I shall
be so glad if we ever get out of the business, for I hate it, and I am
just as good as Sue Granger, whose mother they say once worked in a
cotton mill. Thank goodness, I am not as low as that. There’s good blood
in my veins, too, if I am poor. The Rices (mother was a Rice) are highly
connected with some of the best families in the State. Governor Rice is
a distant relative of mine, and the Fergusons are well enough.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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