Jessamine
by
When the vegetable-man knocked, Jessamine went to the door wearily. She felt quite well acquainted with him. He had been coming all the spring, and his cheery greeting always left a pleasant afterglow behind him. But it was not the vegetable-man after all–at least, not the right one. This one was considerably younger. He was tall and sunburned, with a ruddy, smiling face, and keen, pleasant blue eyes; and he had a spray of honeysuckle pinned on his coat.
“Want any garden stuff this morning?”
Jessamine shook her head. “We always get ours from Mr. Bell. This is his day to come.”
“Well, I guess you won’t see Mr. Bell for a spell. He fell off a loft out at his place yesterday and broke his leg. I’m his nephew, and I’m going to fill his place till he gets ’round again.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry–for Mr. Bell, I mean. Have you any green peas?”
“Yes, heaps of them. I’ll bring them in. Anything else?”
“Not today,” said Jessamine, with a wistful glance at the honeysuckle.
Mr. Bell, junior, saw it. In an instant the honeysuckle was unpinned and handed to her. “If you like posies, you’re welcome to this. I guess you’re fond of flowers,” he added, as he noted the flash of delight that passed over her pale face.
“Yes, indeed; they put me so in mind of home–of the country. Oh, how sweet this is!”
“You’re country-bred, then? Been in the city long?”
“Since last fall. I was born and brought up in the country. I wish I was back. I can’t get over being homesick. This honeysuckle seems to bring it right back. We had honeysuckles around our porch at home.”
“You don’t like the city, then?”
“Oh, no. I sometimes feel as if I should smother here. I shall never feel at home, I am afraid.”
“Where did you live before you came here?”
“Up at Middleton. It was an old-fashioned place, but pretty–our house was covered with vines, and there were trees all about it, and great green fields beyond. But I don’t know what makes me tell you this. I forgot I was talking to a stranger.”
“Pretty little woman,” soliloquized Andrew Bell, as he drove away. “She doesn’t look happy, though. I suppose she’s married some city chap and has to live in town. I guess it don’t agree with her. Her eyes had a real hungry look in them over that honeysuckle. She seemed near about crying when she talked of the country.”
Jessamine felt more like crying than ever when she went back to her work. Her head ached and she was very tired. The tiny kitchen was hot and stifling. How she longed for the great, roomy kitchen in her old home, with its spotless floors and floods of sunshine streaming in through the maples outside. There was room to live and breathe there, and from the door one looked out over green wind-rippled meadows, under a glorious arch of pure blue sky, away to the purple hills in the distance.
* * * * *
Jessamine Stacy had always lived in the country. When her sister died and the old home had to go, Jessamine could only accept the shelter offered by her brother, John Stacy, who did business in the city.
Of her stylish sister-in-law Jessamine was absolutely in awe. At first Mrs. John was by no means pleased at the necessity of taking a country sister into her family circle. But one day, when the servant girl took a tantrum and left, Mrs. John found it very convenient to have in the house a person who could step into Eliza’s place as promptly and efficiently as Jessamine could.
Indeed, she found it so convenient that Eliza never had a successor. Jessamine found herself in the position of maid-of-all-work and kitchen drudge for board and clothes.