CHAPTER XV.

Mrs. Stevens gains a Triumph.

The Garies had now become thoroughly settled in Philadelphia, and, amongst the people of colour, had obtained a very extensive and agreeable acquaintance.

At the South Mr. Garie had never borne the reputation of an active person. Having an ample fortune and a thoroughly Southern distaste for labour, he found it by no means inconvenient or unpleasant to have so much time at his disposal. His newspaper in the morning, a good book, a stroll upon the fashionable promenade, and a ride at dusk, enabled him to dispose of his time without being oppressed with ennui.

It was far happier for him that such was his disposition, as his domestic relations would have been the means of subjecting him to many unpleasant circumstances, from which his comparative retirement in a great measure screened him.

Once or twice since his settlement in the North his feelings had been ruffled, by the sneering remarks of some of his former friends upon the singularity of his domestic position; but his irritation had all fled before the smiles of content and happiness that beamed from the faces of his wife and children.

Mrs. Garie had nothing left to wish for; she was surrounded by every physical comfort and in the enjoyment of frequent intercourse with intelligent and refined people, and had been greatly attracted toward Esther Ellis with whom she had become very intimate.

One morning in November, these two were in the elegant little bed-room of Mrs. Garie, where a fire had been kindled, as the weather was growing very chilly and disagreeable. "It begins to look quite like autumn," said Mrs. Garie, rising and looking out of the window. "The chrysanthemums are drooping and withered, and the dry leaves are whirling and skimming through the air. I wonder," she continued, "if the children were well wrapped up this morning?"

"Oh, yes; I met them at the corner, on their way to school, looking as warm and rosy as possible. What beautiful children they are! Little Em has completely won my heart; it really seems a pity for her to be put on the shelf, as she must be soon."

"How—what do you mean?" asked Mrs. Garie.

"Oh, this will explain," archly rejoined Esther, as she held up to view one of the tiny lace trimmed frocks that she was making in anticipation of the event that has been previously hinted.

Mrs. Garie laughed, and turned to look out of the window again.

"Do you know I found little Lizzy Stevens, your neighbour's daughter, shivering upon the steps in a neighbouring street, fairly blue with cold? She was waiting there for Clarence and Em. I endeavoured to persuade her to go on without them, but she would not. From what I could understand, she waits for them there every day."

"Her mother cannot be aware of it, then; for she has forbidden her children to associate with mine," rejoined Mrs. Garie. "I wonder she permits her little girl to go to the same school. I don't think she knows it, or it is very likely she would take her away."

"Has she ever spoken to you since the night of her visit?" asked Esther.

"Never! I have seen her a great many times since; she never speaks, nor do I. There she goes now. That," continued Mrs. Garie, with a smile, "is another illustration of the truthfulness of the old adage, 'Talk of—well, I won't say who,—'and he is sure to appear.'" And, thus speaking, she turned from the window, and was soon deeply occupied in the important work of preparing for the expected little stranger. Mrs. Garie was mistaken in her supposition that Mrs. Stevens was unaware that Clarence and little Em attended the same school to which her own little girl had been sent; for the evening before the conversation we have just narrated, she had been discussing the matter with her husband.

"Here," said she to him, "is Miss Jordan's bill for the last quarter. I shall never pay her another; I am going to remove Lizzy from that school."

"Remove her! what for? I thought I heard you say, Jule, that the child got on excellently well there,—that she improved very fast?"

"So she does, as far as learning is concerned; but she is sitting right next to one of those Garie children, and that is an arrangement I don't at all fancy. I don't relish the idea of my child attending the same school that niggers do; so I've come to the determination to take her away."

"I should do no such thing," coolly remarked Mr. Stevens. "I should compel the teacher to dismiss the Garies, or I should break up her school. Those children have no right to be there whatever. I don't care a straw how light their complexions are, they are niggers nevertheless, and ought to go to a nigger school; they are no better than any other coloured children. I'll tell you what you can do, Jule," continued he: "call on Mrs. Kinney, the Roths, and one or two others, and induce them to say that if Miss Jordan won't dismiss the Garies that they will withdraw their children; and you know if they do, it will break up the school entirely. If it was any other person's children but his, I would wink at it; but I want to give him a fall for his confounded haughtiness. Just try that plan, Jule, and you will be sure to succeed."

"I am not so certain about it, Stevens. Miss Jordan, I learn, is very fond of their little Em. I must say I cannot wonder at it. She is the most loveable little creature I ever saw. I will say that, if her mother is a nigger."

"Yes, Jule, all that may be; but I know the world well enough to judge that, when she becomes fully assured that it will conflict with her interests to keep them, she will give them up. She is too poor to be philanthropic, and, I believe, has sufficient good sense to know it."

"Well, I'll try your plan," said Mrs. Stevens; "I will put matters in train to-morrow morning."

Early the next morning, Mrs. Stevens might have been seen directing her steps to the house of Mrs. Kinney, with whom she was very intimate. She reached it just as that lady was departing to preside at a meeting of a female missionary society for evangelizing the Patagonians.

"I suppose you have come to accompany me to the meeting," said she to Mrs.
Stevens, as soon as they had exchanged the usual courtesies.

"Oh, dear, no; I wish I was," she replied. "I've got a troublesome little matter on my hands; and last night my husband suggested my coming to ask your advice respecting it. George has such a high opinion of your judgment, that he would insist on my troubling you."

Mrs. Kinney smiled, and looked gratified at this tribute to her importance.

"And moreover," continued Mrs. Stevens, "it's a matter in which your interest, as well as our own, is concerned."

Mrs. Kinney now began to look quite interested, and, untying the strings of her bonnet, exclaimed, "Dear me, what can it be?"

"Knowing," said Mrs. Stevens, "that you entertain just the same sentiments that we do relative to associating with coloured people, I thought I would call and ask if you were aware that Miss Jordan receives coloured as well as white children in her school."

"Why, no! My dear Mrs. Stevens, you astound me. I hadn't the remotest idea of such a thing. It is very strange my children never mentioned it."

"Oh, children are so taken up with their play, they forget such things," rejoined Mrs. Stevens. "Now," continued she, "husband said he was quite confident you would not permit your children to continue their attendance after this knowledge came to your ears. We both thought it would be a pity to break up the poor girl's school by withdrawing our children without first ascertaining if she would expel the little darkies. I knew, if I could persuade you to let me use your name as well as ours, and say that you will not permit your children to continue at her school unless she consents to our wishes, she, knowing the influence you possess, would, I am sure, accede to our demands immediately."

"Oh, you are perfectly at liberty to use my name, Mrs. Stevens, and say all that you think necessary to effect your object. But do excuse me for hurrying off," she continued, looking at her watch: "I was to have been at the meeting at ten o'clock, and it is now half-past. I hope you won't fail to call, and let me know how you succeed;" and, with her heart overflowing with tender care for the poor Patagonian, Mrs. Kinney hastily departed.

"That's settled," soliloquized Mrs. Stevens, with an air of intense satisfaction, as she descended the steps—"her four children would make a serious gap in the little school; and now, then," continued she, "for the Roths."

Mrs. Stevens found not the slightest difficulty in persuading Mrs. Roth to allow her name to be used, in connection with Mrs. Kinney's, in the threat to withdraw their children if the little Garies were not immediately expelled. Mrs. Roth swore by Mrs. Kinney, and the mere mention of that lady's name was sufficient to enlist her aid.

Thus armed, Mrs. Stevens lost no time in paying a visit to Miss Jordan's school. As she entered, the busy hum of childish voices was somewhat stilled; and Lizzy Stevens touched little Em, who sat next her, and whispered, "There is my mother."

Mrs. Stevens was welcomed very cordially by Miss Jordan, who offered her the seat of honour beside her.

"Your school seems quite flourishing," she remarked, after looking around the room, "and I really regret being obliged to make a gap in your interesting circle."

"I hope you don't intend to deprive me of your little girl," inquired Miss Jordan; "I should regret to part with her—not only because I am very fond of her, but in consideration of her own interest—she is coming on so rapidly."

"Oh, I haven't the slightest fault to find with her progress. That," said she, "is not the reason. I have another, of much more weight. Of course, every one is at liberty to do as they choose; and we have no right to dictate to you what description of scholars you should receive; but, if they are not such, as we think proper companions for our children, you can't complain if we withdraw them."

"I really do not understand you, Mrs. Stevens," said the teacher, with an astonished look: "I have none here but the children of the most respectable persons—they are all as well behaved as school children generally are."

"I did not allude to behaviour; that, for all that I know to the contrary, is irreproachable; it is not character that is in question, but colour. I don't like my daughter to associate with coloured children."

"Coloured children!" repeated the now thoroughly bewildered teacher—"coloured children! My dear madam," continued she, smiling, "some one has been hoaxing you—I have no coloured pupils—I could not be induced to receive one on any account."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," rejoined Mrs. Stevens, "for that convinces me that my fears were groundless. I was under the impression you had imbibed some of those pestilent abolition sentiments coming into vogue. I see you are not aware of it, but you certainly have two coloured scholars; and there," said she, pointing to Clarence, "is one of them."

Clarence, who, with his head bent over his book, was sitting so near as to overhear a part of this conversation, now looked up, and found the cold, malignant, grey eyes of Mrs. Stevens fastened on him. He looked at her for a moment—then apparently resumed his studies.

The poor boy had, when she entered the room, an instinctive knowledge that her visit boded no good to them. He was beginning to learn the anomalous situation he was to fill in society. He had detested Mrs. Stevens ever since the night she had ejected him so rudely from her house, and since then had learned to some extent what was meant by the term nigger woman.

"You must certainly be misinformed," responded Miss Jordan. "I know their father—he has frequently been here. He is a Southerner, a thorough gentleman in his manners; and, if ever a man was white, I am sure he is."

"Have you seen their mother?" asked Mrs. Stevens, significantly.

"No, I never have," replied Miss Jordan; "she is in poor health; but she must unquestionably be a white woman—a glance at the children ought to convince you of that."

"It might, if I had not seen her, and did not know her to be a coloured woman. You see, my dear Miss Jordan," continued she, in her blandest tone, "I am their next-door neighbour and have seen their mother twenty times and more; she is a coloured woman beyond all doubt."

"I never could have dreamed of such a thing!" exclaimed Miss Jordan, as an anxious look overspread her face; then, after a pause, she continued: "I do not see what I am to do—it is really too unfortunate—I don't know how to act. It seems unjust and unchristian to eject two such children from my school, because their mother has the misfortune to have a few drops of African blood in her veins. I cannot make up my mind to do it. Why, you yourself must admit that they are as white as any children in the room."

"I am willing to acknowledge they are; but they have nigger blood in them, notwithstanding; and they are, therefore, as much niggers as the blackest, and have no more right to associate with white children than if they were black as ink. I have no more liking for white niggers than for black ones."

The teacher was perplexed, and, turning to Mrs. Stevens, said, imploringly: "This matter seems only known to you; let me appeal to your generosity—say nothing more about it. I will try to keep your daughter away from them, if you wish—but pray do not urge me to the performance of an act that I am conscious would be unjust."

Mrs. Stevens's face assumed a severe and disagreeable expression. "I hoped you would look at this matter in a reasonable light, and not compel those who would be your friends to appear in the light of enemies. If this matter was known to me alone, I should remove my daughter and say nothing more about it; but, unfortunately for you, I find that, by some means or other, both Mrs. Kinney and Mrs. Roth have become informed of the circumstance, and are determined to take their children away. I thought I would act a friend's part by you, and try to prevail on you to dismiss these two coloured children at once. I so far relied upon your right judgment as to assure them that you would not hesitate for a moment to comply with their wishes; and I candidly tell you, that it was only by my so doing that they were prevented from keeping their children at home to-day."

Miss Jordan looked aghast at this startling intelligence; if Mrs. Roth and Mrs. Kinney withdrew their patronage and influence, her little school (the sole support of her mother and herself) would be well-nigh broken up.

She buried her face in her hands, and sat in silence for a few seconds; then looking at Mrs. Stevens, with tearful eyes, exclaimed, "God forgive me if it must be so; nothing but the utter ruin that stares me in the face if I refuse induces me to accede to your request."

"I am sorry that you distress yourself so much about it. You know you are your own mistress, and can do as you choose," said Mrs. Stevens; "but if you will be advised by me, you will send them away at once."

"After school I will," hesitatingly replied Miss Jordan.

"I hate to appear so pressing," resumed Mrs. Stevens; "but I feel it my duty to suggest that you had better do it at once, and before the rest of the scholars. I did not wish, to inform you to what extent this thing had gone; but it really has been talked of in many quarters, and it is generally supposed that you are cognisant of the fact that the Garies are coloured; therefore you see the necessity of doing something at once to vindicate yourself from the reproach of abolitionism."

At the pronunciation of this then terrible word in such connection with herself, Miss Jordan turned quite pale, and for a moment struggled to acquire sufficient control of her feelings to enable her to do as Mrs. Stevens suggested; at last, bursting into tears, she said, "Oh, I cannot—will not—do it. I'll dismiss them, but not in that unfeeling manner; that I cannot do."

The children were now entirely neglecting their lessons, and seemed much affected by Miss Jordan's tears, of which they could not understand the cause. She observing this, rang the bell, the usual signal for intermission.

Mrs. Stevens, satisfied with the triumph she had effected, took leave of Miss Jordan, after commending her for the sensible conclusion at which she had arrived, and promising to procure her two more pupils in the room of those she was about to dismiss.

Miss Jordan was a long time writing the note that she intended sending to Mr. Garie; and one of the elder girls returned to the school-room, wondering at the unusually long time that had been given for recreation.

"Tell Clarence and his sister to come here," said she to the girl who had just entered; and whilst they were on their way upstairs, she folded the note, and was directing it when Clarence entered.

"Clarence," said she, in a soft voice, "put on your hat; I have a note of some importance for you to take to your father—your father remember—don't give it to any one else." Taking out her watch, she continued, "It is now so late that you would scarcely get back before the time for dismissal, so you had better take little Emily home with you."

"I hope, ma'am, I haven't done anything wrong?" asked Clarence.

"Oh, no!" quickly replied she; "you're a dear, good boy, and have never given me a moment's pain since you came to the school." And she hurried out into the hall to avoid farther questioning.

She could not restrain the tears as she dressed little Em, whose eyes were large with astonishment at being sent home from school at so early an hour.

"Teacher, is school out?" asked she.

"No, dear, not quite; I wanted to send a note to your pa, and so I have let Clary go home sooner than usual," replied Miss Jordan, kissing her repeatedly, whilst the tears were trickling down her cheek.

"Don't cry, teacher, I love you," said the little blue-eyed angel, whose lip began to quiver in sympathy; "don't cry, I'll come back again to-morrow."

This was too much for the poor teacher, who clasped the child in her arms, and gave way to a burst of uncontrollable sorrow. At last, conquering herself with an effort, she led the children down stairs, kissed them both again, and then opening the door she turned them forth into the street—turned away from her school these two little children, such as God received into his arms and blessed, because they were the children of a "nigger woman."