Beulah - Page 21/348

Beulah stood waiting on the steps of the large mansion to which she

had been directed by Miss Dorothea White. Her heart throbbed

painfully, and her hand trembled as she rang the bell. The door was

opened by a negro waiter, who merely glanced at her, and asked

carelessly: "Well, little miss, what do you want?"

"Is Mrs. Martin at home?"

"Yes, miss; come, walk in. There is but a poor fire in the front

parlor--suppose you sit down in the back room. Mrs. Martin will be

down in a minute."

The first object which arrested Beulah's attention was a center

table covered with books. "Perhaps," thought she, "they will permit

me to read some of them." While she sat looking over the titles the

rustle of silk caused her to glance around, and she saw Mrs. Martin

quite near her.

"Good-morning," said the lady, with a searching look, which made the

little figure tremble.

"Good-morning, madam."

"You are the girl Miss White promised to send from the asylum, are

you not?"

"Yes, madam."

"Do you think you can take good care of my baby?"

"Oh, I will try."

"You don't look strong and healthy--have you been sick?"

"No; I am very well, thank you."

"I may want you to sew some, occasionally, when the baby is asleep.

Can you hem and stitch neatly?"

"I believe I sew very well, madam--our matron says so."

"What is your name? Miss White told me, but I have forgotten it."

"Beulah Benton."

"Well, Beulah, I think you will suit me very well, if you are only

careful and attend to my directions. I am just going out shopping,

but you can come upstairs and take charge of Johnny. Where are your

clothes?"

"Our matron will send them to-day."

Beulah followed Mrs. Martin up the steps, somewhat reassured by her

kind reception. The room was in utter confusion, the toilet-table

covered with powder, hairpins, bows of different colored ribbon, and

various bits of jewelry; the hearth unswept, the workstand groaning

beneath the superincumbent mass of sewing, finished and unfinished

garments, working materials, and, to crown the whole, the lady's

winter hat. A girl, apparently about thirteen years of age, was

seated by the fire, busily embroidering a lamp-mat; another, some

six years younger, was dressing a doll; while an infant, five or six

months old, crawled about the carpet, eagerly picking up pins,

needles, and every other objectionable article his little purple

fingers could grasp.