Rensselaer Union, Volume 10, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 August 1878 — MISS MINT’S FRIEND. [ARTICLE]

MISS MINT’S FRIEND.

“ Frank, do you know anything about the queer little person who sits opposite to us at the dinner-table? Miss Mint, they call her. Is she a teacher, or what?” Frank Hastings—a young man who for six months had enjoyed “ all the comforts and conveniences of a private home” at Mrs. Starkweather’s “select" boarding-house, No. 16 street —lighted a fresh cigar before he answered rather languidly: ” No; she’s something ten times worse —a sort of reporter. She goes round to churches and lecture-rooms, trying to pick up the few stray crumbs the onier reporters leave behind ’em. There’s only one paper employs her regularly, and that at a starvation price. She wears one dress all the year round, sports a bonnet handed down to her by her great-grandmother, and rooms in the attic, for which precious privilege and her dinner she pays Mrs. Starkweather three dollars a week. Bah!” concluded Frank, in a tone of disgust, as he threw one leg over another, and sat gazing into the tire. “ Poor soul! She’s to be pitied, I’m sore,” said Caleb Darley, who, being a hard-working reporter himself, and a tender-hearted man beside, felt some, sympathy for the little creature they were discussing. / “Nonsense!” said Frank, sharply. “ Why don’t she try her hand at something else?—dressmaking or teaching, or som&other work fit for a woman “Perhaps she hasn’t the chalice or the talent to do either,” Darley replied. *• Then let her stay at home aria help about the house. Come to think of it, though, I believe she has no home. She’s an ‘orphing.’ ’Spose ’tjs rather rough for the poor thing,” said Frank, with a slight tinge of compunction in his voice. “But, come, Dailey, let’s drop Miss Mint as a seedy subject. Have another cigar?” “ Thank you, no; I must be off. Ive got to report ’s sermon to-night.” “ Poor fellow! Glad I'm not in your line of business,” said Frank, who was clerk in a large wholesale store. “ Wonder if little Mint’s going? You might escort her home, Darley. It would be quite a new sensation for her, and just think how all the fellows on the street would envy you!” “ Oh, leave poor little Miss Mint alone!” said Darley, as he walked toward the door. “ Remember she’s * swimming against a stiff stream,’ like the most of us, and finds it hard work to keep her head Above water. Don’t throw stones at her." “ ’Pon my word, you’re developing a poetical vein. This is really getting dangerous. Well, good by for the present, old chap; look in again after church, will you?” “No; I must go to the office,” said Caleb, as he went out. In her little room, two stories higher up, Miss Mint was putting on her bonnet, quite unconscious of how she was bping discussed below. She was vriry small i«»d slight, this poor little heroine of ours, with a face that might have been pretty before privation and anxiety stole its bloom and plumpness away. Her glossy brown hair was brushed in smooth waves over her forehead; she had large, tender, gray a mouth that, for all its resolution and character, had a pathetic droop at the corners that seemed to have become habitual. She was nearly twenty-three, but looked at least two years older. Her little room was as bare and comfortless a place as could be imagined. No furnace heat could penetrate up here, and Miss Mint’s hands were so numb with cold she could scarcely pin her shawl. The floor of the room unpainted, and bare save for a strip of rag-carpet by the bed; the ugly little wash-stand in one. corner, with its clumsy bowl and pitcher; the stiff-look-ing wooden chair that made your back ache to look at it; and the bed itself, with its tawdiy, faded counterpane—it was a dreary picture for poor little Ellen Mint’s beauty-loving eyes to rest on. She had done her best to brighten it: two or three pictures she had brought with her hung on the walls, the little table by the window was covered with books, and a delicate glass vase she was too poor to fill with the flowers she loved stood on the bureau. There were a couple of hanging shelves on the wall, of which only the upper one, with bar work-basket on it, was visible; a green and white calico curtain hid the rest. This was her cuphnarn. : But we return to Miss Mint herself, who is down stairs and out of the door by this time. She is a quick walker,and, in a few moments finds herself at the entrance of the church, already besieged by an anxious crowd, who are kept in check by the ushers and a ooupie of policemen. Miss Mint does not attempt to press in here; she slips rountf by a side door, and an usher, who knows her by this time, plants a' chair for her at no great distance from the pulpit. Shesinks mechanically into it, and sits in a sort of stripor for a wfrjie—the change from her dark, chilly i . *

rootrfto’this warmth and dazzle of light makes her head swim and her heart tremble. But her nerve* are naturally strong anti, steady, and she soon.roUSoh hers*s,'determined not to give way to a weakness she has Mwr Ttie grand voice of the organ echoes through the church, and Ellen, who the cares and sorrows of this world, The uuisio and the prayers are the richest part of the service to her: in reporting the sermon she has to follow every word so closely that it takes away from the enjoyment of listening. Caleb Darley, seated ampng the other reporters, catches a glimpse of her, and after that his keen gray eyes wander in that direction pretty often. Thernls a mingling of pity and interest in his glance—he Is a large-hearted, chivalrous sort of fellow, ail the more ready to befriend a woman because she is lonely and unprotected. ♦The services were over, and little Miss Mint, slipping her note-book and pencil Into her pocket, threaded her way through thecrqwd to the side door. “ Good-eveaing, Miss Mint,” said a voice at her elbow as she stepped out into the fresh air.

and looked up. “ Oh, Good-evening, Mr. Darley,” she said, a litHe confusedly, as she recognized him. “Will you take my arm?” said Caleb, offering it in such a matter-of-fact way that Ellen complied at once, though feeling more embarrassed than pleased by the attention. “I see you are in my line of business, Miss Mint,” said Caleb, pleasantly, as they left the crowded street for one that led to their boarding-house. Ellen laughed a little; and he went on, with a kindness of manner that made you laugh at its bluntness: “ And how do you like the life? Excuse me if I’m rude, but I can’t help taking an interest in a fellow-laborer, you know.” “You are very kind," said Ellen, simply. "As for the life, I try to like it, because there’s nothing else I can do. I’ve tried to find a teacher's place; I’ve tried to find sewing to do; but it was no use. I’m sure I’m thankful there is a way I can earn my bread. Wasn’t the music beautiful to-night, Mr. Darley?” • -anxious to change the subject. "Yes,” said Caleb, rather absently, for his heart was full of pity for the little creature beside him. and he was already debating in his mind various plans for her relief. " What a chill there is in the air tonight!” he said, rousing himself. His overcoat was hardly a protection, and he thought, with dismay, how his companion must be shivering under her thin shawl. "Well, here we are, Miss Mint. 1 must be/ off to the office. "Sit by the fire till you are thoroughly warm, and tell our/ landlady to make you something /hot and comforting; I see you have a cold coming on.” “Thank you, Mr. Darley; you are quite a doctor,” laughed Ellen. “1 hope it hasn’t taken you out of your way coming home with me?” / " Oh, it won’t take me ten minutes to walk to the office,” said Caleb. “Good-night, Miss Mint,” and he walked briskly away. Caleb Darley was between thirty-sev-en and thirty-eight —a big, broadshouldered giant of a man, with strong-ly-marked features, a profusion of sandy hair, and an expression of mingled good-nature and determination. He has had to fight his own wav inlife since he was twelve years old, but the battle, though a tough one, has never made him forgetful of the sufferings of others.

wonder, Norah, how long Miss Mint means to keep this up?” “Kape what up, ma’am?” “Why, lying in bed this way, and to be waited on like a lady. I don’t doubt but she's as well as I am.” “ Well, I guess you wouldn’t say so, ma’am, if you was to see her. She can’t speak above a whisper, and is as white as the wall. Astor ‘ waitingon,’ it’s not much she gets of it, poor thing, for Bridget and I has our hands full already.” “ What’s the matter with her?” spoke out Caleb, from a corner, where he sat reading the newspaper. He had been away tor three days,.and only returned the night before. “Sakes alive! Mr. Darley, are you there?” said Mrs. Starkweather, a little startled. “I never saw you. What’s the matter with Miss Mint, did you say? Oh, she’s got a bad celd, and so have I, but I can’t go to bed, for all that.”

“Is she very ill, Norah?” asked Caleb, as his landlady flounced out of the room in quest of something. “ Indade, sir, you’d think so if you saw her,” said Norah, lowering her voice that her mistress might not hear. “ It’s my belief the poor thing won’t get over it. Her lungs and throat is that sore she can scarcely breathe; and her room as cold as all out-doors, and the water a lump of ice in her pitcher this morning. I do my best for her, but it’s a sin and a shame the way Miss Starkweather treats her—she’s no more feelin’ than my shoe!” “I’m sorry to keep you waiting so for your breakfast, Mr. Darley,” said Mrs. Starkweather, re-entering. She was generally very gracious to Caleb—he always paid her promptly, never complainea of his meals, and gave her very little trouble in any way. “Do you know if poor little Miss Mint has any friends or relatives anywhere, Mrs. Starkweather?” asked Caleb, ignoring her remark. “ No, I don’t,” said the widow, a little snappishly. Then, in a bantering tone which ill concealed spiteful feeling: “ You and she seem to have grown to be great friends these last three months, Mr. Darley.” “ The poor young lady seems to need friends,” said Caleb, coldly. Then, altering his voice a little: “ You are the most suitable person to befriend her, Mrs. Starkweather, and I am sure you will, . - -.fryT t “ Well, sir, 1 do my best; but you must remember —”

“Sep that she has a comfortable room, and a fire, and a doctor, and all the care she needs,” said Darley, cutting her short, and putting a roll of bills into her hands. “Say nothing about this to her, remember!” with emphasis. “ I don’t wish my name mentioned.” “ Well, sir, you’re a generous man, I must say,” said Mrs. Starkweather, as she turned away. But her inward comment was: “ The greatfool! To throw his money away on this miserable little Miss Mint, when the overcoat he’s wearing doh’t look tit to go out in the street with! But it’s all one tome!” smiling to herself, as she reflected that the result would certainly be some money in her own pocket “ Well, how is Miss Mint?” she said, entering the poor girl’s room, an hour later- Ellen turned h«r bea4 feebly,

too weak to show the surprise she felt. “ How are yen?” repeated Mrs. Starkweather, trying to twist her acid face into a gracious smile as she took the thin hand in. hers. “Pretty vfeak,” whispered Ellen, faintly. . i “ Well, this won’t do, I see. We must have you down stairs where you’ll b« more comfortable. Is the bed rill ready, Norah, and have you made the fire?” “ Yes, ma’anj.” / ’ “Well, do you think you can walk, with my help and Norah’s?” said Mrs. Starkweather. “ But you must let mo help you on with this wrapper first.” Ellen looked at her with a strange mingling of anxiety, gratitude and distrust in her eyes. She scarcely knew what to make of this unforeseen kindness, but she was faint, sick, almost “untodeath,” and could nrit help welcoming it Yet she managed to gasp out: “You know how it is with me; I gave you all the money I had last night. You had better send me to the hospital-” “ Nonsense of hospitals!” said Mrs. Starkweather, as she put back a stray lock from Ellen’s face. “We’re not going to servo you that way. Don’t say another word about it. All you must think aboutnow is how to get well.” A tear trickled down Ellen’s cheek. “ If I get well, your kindness shall not —I will sew for you—anything.” Her voice died away. The quick thought darted through Mrs. Starkweather’s mind that here was a splendid chance to get her brown merino inade over free of charge. But she said aloud: “Now don’t say another/word. You don’t s’pose I’m so hard-hearted as not to feel for you when you r re sick, do you? Here, Norah, raise her up, and we’ll put this wrapper on her. We mean to stake good care of you, and get you well again, my dear.” “Th’ old said Norah, indignantly, to Bridget, when she found herself in the kitchen again. “To see her palaverin’ over the poor thing as if she was the best friend she’d got! Hospital, indeed! Only last night she talked of sendin’ her there herself; and she’d be there before the day is out only for Mr. Caleb. \ He’s a good yobng man, and a kind-hearted; there’s not a many like him, I can tell you now.”

“ Will you please put that stand by me, Norah, and give me the pen and ink?” “Now, Miss Ellen, it’s not Mr. Caleb would want you to be doing that copying for him, I’m sure, and you so weak you can scarcely raise a finger.” “Oh, I’m much stronger than I was, Norah, and I must really get to work again. Please do as 1 ask you, Norah.” “ Well, miss, but I tell you you’re not fit to do it” As Norah spoke she brought the little stand to Ellen’s side. During the three months that preceded Ellen’s illness Caleb had given her considerable “ copying” to do for himself, and had interested a few others in her. What he did with the numerous manuscripts she copied for him remains a mystery. My opinion is that they were stowed away in the bottom of an old trunk in his room. Ellen worked away for some time, when she was disturbed again by the entrance of Norah. “Miss Ellen, Mr. Darley sends his regards to you, and would you like to take a little ride? He’s got a couple of hours to spare, and you Know the doctor said it would-do you good to go out to-day.” “ Yes, I would like to very much,” said Ellen, her eye lighting up with pleasure. “Tell Mr. Darley I’m much obliged to him. How soon must I be ready?” Norah returned with the message that she must be ready in twenty minutes, and made haste to bring Ellen's wrappings and help her on with them. “There!" said Ellen, suddenly; “I Sromised to rip Mrs. Starkweather’s ress to-day.”

“ Bother Mrs. Starkweather’s dress!” said Norah, indignantly. “Oh. Norah, think how very kind she’s been to me! Will you please bring it down, and after Lget back—•’ But Norah could bear this no longer. “ No, Miss Ellen, I won’t. It passes my patience—to have that scaly old cretur get the credit of everything! It’s Mr. Caleb, bless him! that’s done everything for you, just as if he was your brother.” Ellen turned, red and pale alternately. “ Norah, what do yon mean?”—in a trembling voice. Then Norah told her every thing, though begging her not to speak of it to “ Mr. Caleb. For he’d be fit to kill me, ma’am.” But Ellen would make no such promises. “I am glad you told me, Norah ” —in the tremulous voice. “I think I might move up stairs again,” she added; “ I am so much better.” “Indade you won’t, and get a. collapse, perhaps,” said Norah, sharply. “ There’s Mr Caleb!” —as there came a rap at the door. Caleb, took Ellen to the park, where he drove about for some time. It was a beautiful spring day; the sun was shining, the grass and infant foliage of the trees so fresh and green. 4 “Well, Miss Ellen, you are getting a little color into those pale cheeks,” said Caleb, breaking the long silence. "You don’t know how rve missed you”—with a tender glance into the downcast face beside him. Ellen’s lip trembled, and in a minute more a tear rolled down. She tried to speak, but could not. “Ellen, what is the matter?” said Caleb, taking her hand. Then Ellen sobbed out: “ Oh, I can’t bear it! I’ve just found out all you’ve been doing for me, and how kind you’ve brieh, and I can’t bear it! How can I ever repay”—her voice was choked. “Dear Ellen, shall I tell yon how? Say * yes' to a question I’ve been longing to ask you those three weeks, and you will make me the happiest man in the world.” Ellen looked up, bewildered, and met Caleb’s tender, questioning gaze. She crimsoned to the temples. “Willyou be my little wife, Ellen, and shall we set up our * ain fireside’ together?” '“ Do you really care so much for me as thatr’ said Ellen, with a laugh that was half a sob. “And what win your relatives say to your marrying a poor little reporter?” t , “ Relatives! I Jiave no near ones, and should please myself if I had. Come, Ellen, will you have me? I can’t promise you a very brilliant future; I’m a poor, hard-working dog, and expect to be to the end of my days. A strong arm to serve yon, and a warm heart to love you—that's all 1 can offer you, Ellen dear.” “All!” said Ellen, and laid her little hand in his. “ Thank God!” said Caleb, fervently. “We'll join hands and swim the stream of lite together.”— harper's Baaar.