What Diantha Did.

by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

CHAPTER I. HANDICAPPED

One may use the Old Man of the Sea, For a partner or patron, But helpless and hapless is he Who is ridden, inextricably, By a fond old mer-matron.

The Warden house was more impressive in appearance than its neighbors.

It had "grounds," instead of a yard or garden; it had wide pillared porches and "galleries," showing southern antecedents; moreover, it had a cupola, giving date to the building, and proof of the continuing ambitions of the builders.

The stately mansion was covered with heavy flowering vines, also with heavy mortgages. Mrs. Roscoe Warden and her four daughters reposed peacefully under the vines, while Roscoe Warden, Jr., struggled desperately under the mortgages.

A slender, languid lady was Mrs. Warden, wearing her thin but still brown hair in "water-waves" over a pale high forehead. She was sitting on a couch on the broad, rose-shaded porch, surrounded by billowing ma.s.ses of vari-colored worsted. It was her delight to purchase skein on skein of soft, bright-hued wool, cut it all up into short lengths, tie them together again in contrasting colors, and then crochet this hashed rainbow into afghans of startling aspect. California does not call for afghans to any great extent, but "they make such acceptable presents,"

Mrs. Warden declared, to those who questioned the purpose of her work; and she continued to send them off, on Christmases, birthdays, and minor weddings, in a stream of pillowy bundles. As they were accepted, they must have been acceptable, and the stream flowed on.

Around her, among the gay blossoms and gayer wools, sat her four daughters, variously intent. The mother, a poetic soul, had named them musically and with dulcet rhymes: Madeline and Adeline were the two eldest, Coraline and Doraline the two youngest. It had not occurred to her until too late that those melodious terminations made it impossible to call one daughter without calling two, and that "Lina" called them all.

"Mis" Immerjin," said a soft voice in the doorway, "dere pos"tively ain"t no b.u.t.ter in de house fer supper."

"No b.u.t.ter?" said Mrs. Warden, incredulously. "Why, Sukey, I"m sure we had a tub sent up last--last Tuesday!"

"A week ago Tuesday, more likely, mother," suggested Dora.

"Nonsense, Dora! It was this week, wasn"t it, girls?" The mother appealed to them quite earnestly, as if the date of that tub"s delivery would furnish forth the supper-table; but none of the young ladies save Dora had even a contradiction to offer.

"You know I never notice things," said the artistic Cora; and "the de-lines," as their younger sisters called them, said nothing.

"I might borrow some o" Mis" Bell?" suggested Sukey; "dat"s nearer "n"

de sto"."

"Yes, do, Sukey," her mistress agreed. "It is so hot. But what have you done with that tubful?"

"Why, some I tuk back to Mis" Bell for what I borrered befo"--I"m always most careful to make return for what I borrers--and yo" know, Mis"

Warden, dat waffles and sweet potaters and cohn bread dey do take b.u.t.ter; to say nothin" o" them little cakes you all likes so well--_an"_ de fried chicken, _an"_--"

"Never mind, Sukey; you go and present my compliments to Mrs. Bell, and ask her for some; and be sure you return it promptly. Now, girls, don"t let me forget to tell Ross to send up another tub."

"We can"t seem to remember any better than you can, mother," said Adeline, dreamily. "Those details are so utterly uninteresting."

"I should think it was Sukey"s business to tell him," said Madeline with decision; while the "a-lines" kept silence this time.

"There! Sukey"s gone!" Mrs. Warden suddenly remarked, watching the stout figure moving heavily away under the pepper trees. "And I meant to have asked her to make me a gla.s.s of shrub! Dora, dear, you run and get it for mother."

Dora laid down her work, not too regretfully, and started off.

"That child is the most practical of any of you," said her mother; which statement was tacitly accepted. It was not extravagant praise.

Dora poked about in the refrigerator for a bit of ice. She had no idea of the high cost of ice in that region--it came from "the store," like all their provisions. It did not occur to her that fish and milk and melons made a poor combination in flavor; or that the clammy, sub-offensive smell was not the natural and necessary odor of refrigerators. Neither did she think that a sunny corner of the back porch near the chimney, though convenient, was an ill-selected spot for a refrigerator. She couldn"t find the ice-pick, so put a big piece of ice in a towel and broke it on the edge of the sink; replaced the largest fragment, used what she wanted, and left the rest to filter slowly down through a ma.s.s of grease and tea-leaves; found the raspberry vinegar, and made a very satisfactory beverage which her mother received with grateful affection.

"Thank you, my darling," she said. "I wish you"d made a pitcherful."

"Why didn"t you, Do?" her sisters demanded.

"You"re too late," said Dora, hunting for her needle and then for her thimble, and then for her twist; "but there"s more in the kitchen."

"I"d rather go without than go into the kitchen," said Adeline; "I do despise a kitchen." And this seemed to be the general sentiment; for no one moved.

"My mother always liked raspberry shrub," said Mrs. Warden; "and your Aunt Leicester, and your Raymond cousins."

Mrs. Warden had a wide family circle, many beloved relatives, "connections" of whom she was duly proud and "kin" in such widening ramifications that even her carefully reared daughters lost track of them.

"You young people don"t seem to care about your cousins at all!" pursued their mother, somewhat severely, setting her gla.s.s on the railing, from whence it was presently knocked off and broken.

"That"s the fifth!" remarked Dora, under breath.

"Why should we, Ma?" inquired Cora. "We"ve never seen one of them--except Madam Weatherstone!"

"We"ll never forget _her!"_ said Madeline, with delicate decision, laying down the silk necktie she was knitting for Roscoe. "What _beautiful_ manners she had!"

"How rich is she, mother? Do you know?" asked Dora.

"Rich enough to do something for Roscoe, I"m sure, if she had a proper family spirit," replied Mrs. Warden. "Her mother was own cousin to my grandmother--one of the Virginia Paddingtons. Or she might do something for you girls."

"I wish she would!" Adeline murmured, softly, her large eyes turned to the horizon, her hands in her lap over the handkerchief she was marking for Roscoe.

"Don"t be ungrateful, Adeline," said her mother, firmly. "You have a good home and a good brother; no girl ever had a better."

"But there is never anything going on," broke in Coraline, in a tone of complaint; "no parties, no going away for vacations, no anything."

"Now, Cora, don"t be discontented! You must not add a straw to dear Roscoe"s burdens," said her mother.

"Of course not, mother; I wouldn"t for the world. I never saw her but that once; and she wasn"t very cordial. But, as you say, she might do _something._ She might invite us to visit her."

"If she ever comes back again, I"m going to recite for her," said, Dora, firmly.

Her mother gazed fondly on her youngest. "I wish you could, dear,"

she agreed. "I"m sure you have talent; and Madam Weatherstone would recognize it. And Adeline"s music too. And Cora"s art. I am very proud of my girls."

Cora sat where the light fell well upon her work. She was illuminating a volume of poems, painting flowers on the margins, in appropriate places--for Roscoe.

"I wonder if he"ll care for it?" she said, laying down her brush and holding the book at arm"s length to get the effect.

"Of course he will!" answered her mother, warmly. "It is not only the beauty of it, but the affection! How are you getting on, Dora?"

Dora was laboring at a task almost beyond her fourteen years, consisting of a negligee shirt of outing flannel, upon the breast of which she was embroidering a large, intricate design--for Roscoe. She was an ambitious child, but apt to tire in the execution of her large projects.