A Daughter Worth Having.
By Mrs. Annie A. Preston
"HARVEY MILLS has failed!" said Mrs. Smithson, one chilly spring evening, as she ran in to see her next-door neighbor and intimate friend, Mrs. James. "My husband just came home, and he says that what we supposed to be a rumor only, is a sad fact; the assignment was made yesterday. I threw on a shawl, and ran right over to tell you. They are to keep the house under some sort of an arrangement; but they have discharged all their servants, and what in the world the Mills will do, Mrs. James, with Mrs. Mills's invalid habits, and Miss Helena with her dainty ways and refined bringing up, is more than I know," and pretty, shallow Mrs. Smithson looked at her nerve-loving friend and neighbor with the air of an epicure regarding some favorite dish. "I heard all about it late last evening," said Mrs. James, adjusting the pink ribbons at the throat of her black silk dinner-dress, "and this morning I presumed upon our cousinship so far as to drive over and see how they were getting along. And really, Mrs. Smithson, you will be surprised when I tell you that, although I expected to find the family in great confusion and distress, I never saw them in such a comfortable way and in such good spirits. The worst was over, of course, and they had all settled into the new order of things as naturally as could be. My cousin, Mrs. Mills, was sitting as calm as you please, up there in her sunny morning room, looking so fresh and dainty as she ate her crisp toast and sipped her coffee. "Our comfortable and cosey appearance is all due to Helena," said she. "That dear child has taken the helm. I never dreamed she had so much executive ability. We were quite broken down at first; but she made her father go over all the details of his business with her, and they found that by disposing of Helena's grand piano, the paintings, and slabs, and costly bric-a-brac her father had always indulged her in buying, we could pay dollar for dollar, and so keep the house. My husband's old friend, Mr. Bartlett, who keeps the art store, you know, and who has always taken a great interest in Helena, bought back the paintings, statuary, vases, etc., at a small discount; and Barker, who sold us the piano a year ago or so, and who is another old friend, and knew, of course, just how we were situated, took it back, deducting only twenty-five dollars. "Helena has just gone into the kitchen. What she will do there I don't know; but she says she needs the exercise, that she has not attended the cooking-school here in the city for nothing, and that so long as the meals are served regularly and properly, and the house is kept in good order, her father and I are not to worry." After she told me that, I drew my call to a close, and ran down into my cousin's kitchen to see her dainty daughter there. And what do you think? I found that girl at the sink, with her sleeves rolled up, an immense water-proof apron on, washing a kettle! "Washing a kettle!" repeated Mrs. Smithson, holding up both her soft, white hands in unmeasured astonishment. "Yes, Mrs. Smithson, washing a great, black, greasy iron kettle that meat had been boiled in, and that had been left unwashed and gummy when the cook left. And, do you know? she was laughing over it all, and saying to her youngest brother, who stood near by, that she really liked it; for she now felt she was making herself useful." "The idea! Liking to wash kettles!" and the two fine ladies looked at each other in open-eyed wonder. "It seems to me as if Helena Mills was trying to make the best of her father's altered fortunes, and was simply doing her duty in the premises," spoke Miss Carlton, Ida James's new drawing-teacher, who was that evening engaged in giving her pupil a lesson on the opposite side of the center table. She spoke earnestly and yet in a modest way, and it being the vogue in New City just then to patronize Miss Carlton, the pretty and accomplished graduate from Vassar, the two ladies looked at her amiably, and she went on— "Somebody must wash the kettles; and it is always best, when one has a disagreeable duty to perform, to do it not only at once, but cheerfully." "Yes, perhaps," replied Mrs. Smithson; "but how could a young girl of real native refinement [both sides of the Smithson family were of the 'old stock'] take so kindly to washing pots and kettles? The fact of it is, people have been mistaken in Helena Mills. She never possessed that innate gentility she has had credit for. But every one finds her level sooner or later—he, he!" These two women having thus summarily disposed of Helena Mills socially, they repeated their belief that the lovely and dutiful young girl had now found her proper level over and over in their set until it was the common talk in New City. Miss Carlton, in her round of professional calls among the so-called elite, was entertained in nearly every household with the information that Helena Mills had given up her studies even, and gone into the kitchen to work—"and, if you'll believe it, she likes it!" Then would follow reflections upon the natural ability and bias of mind of a young woman who was "fond of washing dishes." This sensible, accomplished little drawing-teacher was the only one to be found, who mingled in the "upper circles" of New City, who said a word either in praise or defense of Helena Mills's new vocation. Miss Carlton always and everywhere protested that the young girl's course was not only praiseworthy, but beautiful. She maintained that every woman, young or old, high or low, who takes upon herself the labor of elevating the much abused as well as despised vocation of housework—upon which the comfort of every home depends—to a fine art, is a public benefactor. Miss Carlton's friends all listened and laughed, and then went on with their senseless and malicious tirade. She was heartily glad when her engagements in New City were ended, and she was no more obliged to move in such "select" society, whose ideas were always a mere echo of opinions—no matter how trivial and foolish—which had been expressed by a few of its more wealthy members. Mrs. Dr. Forbes, nee Miss Carlton, had heard very little about New City society for five years. But having occasion to pass through the place on the cars lately, she treated herself to a little gossipy chat with the conductor, whom she had known in New City. "There is no particular news, Mrs. Forbes," said he, "unless it is the engagement of Helena Mills to young lawyer Bartlett, son of Col. James Bartlett, you remember, owner of the big corner art store. A capital choice the young squire has made, too. She's as good as gold, and everybody says she's the best girl in the city. She's a perfect lady, withal, and treats everybody well. Not a bit of nonsense or shoddy about her. Why, bless you, Mrs. Forbes, when her father failed in '75, she took entire charge of the family, and she has managed the house ever since. "Her father is now in business again for himself, and employs more men than ever. Her mother, who had been an invalid for years, was forced by Helena's example to try to exert herself so as to share her daughter's burden to some extent. As a result of the new, active life she has followed, she has lost all her ailments, and is now a happy, hearty, healthy woman. Helena's brothers have grown up to be fine, manly, helpful fellows, and the whole family are better off every way than ever before. As things were going on before Mr. Mills's failure, the whole family were in danger of being spoiled by too much luxury. "There was a great deal of talk at first among the bigbugs about Helena's 'pots and kettles,' and they used to say she had found her true 'level.' I always thought there was a spice of malice in their talk; for the girls of her set envied her beauty and accomplishments. I am rather fond of telling them now that Helena Mills has found her 'level' in the richest, most influential, and just the best family in New City."—Mrs. Annie A. Preston, in Christian at Work.