The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1875-12-31
Taking a Situation.


bas, land now what do you propose to
do about it ?"
We eat around the fire in adisconsolate
semi-circle that dreary, drizzling May
night, when the rain pattered against
the windoW-panes, and the poor little
daffodils in the border shook and shiv-
cred as II they would fain hide their
golden heads once more in the mother
sOil-my mother, Eleanor and 1; the
first, pale, and pretty, and silver-haired,
with the widows cap, and the dress of
black bombaZine and crape-the sweet
est looking old lady, think, that ever
saw; Eleanor sat beside her, looking as
she always did, like a princess, with
large, dark eyes, Diana-like features,
and hair twisted in a sort of a coronal
around her Queenly head; while L,
plain, homespun monty
called, "for short" Susy-crouched
upon footstool in the corner, with my
elbows on my knees, and my chin in my
hands.
Uncle Barnabas Berkelin sat in the
middle of the circle, erect, stiff, and
rather grim. He was stout and short,
with grizzled mustache, little, round,
bald spot on the crown of his head, and
two glittering black eyes that were al
ways sending their dusky lightnings in
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Barnabas was wise in the ways of the
world, and we were inexperienced.
Uncle Barnabas was prosperous in all
that he did; while, if there was . bad
bargain to be made, we were pretty sure
to be the ones to make it. Conse-
quently, and as a matter of course, we
looked up TO Uncle Barnabas, and rev.
erenced his opinions.
"What do we propose to do about it 2"
Eleanor repeated, lifting her beautiful,
jetty brows.
'Yes, that's exactly it," said my
mother, nervously; because, Brother
Barnabas, we don't pretend to be busi-
ness women, and it's certain that we
income. Something has got to be
DONE"
And then my mother leaned back in
her chair, with a troubled face.
"Yes," said Uncle Barnabas, 'tsome-
thing has got to be done! But who's to
do it ?"
And another dead silence succeeded
"I suppose your girls are educated ?"
said Uncle Barnabas. al know found
enough old school-bills when / was
looking over my brothers. papers"
"Of> course" said my mother, with
evident pride. "Their education has
been most expensive. Music, drawing,
use of the globes"
''Yes, yes, of course" interrupted
Uncle Barnabas. "But is it practical ?
Can they teach ?"
Eleanor looked dubious. I was quite
certain that / could not Madame Le-
nOir, among her list of accomplish
ments, had not included the art of prac-
tical tuition.
"Humph ~ growled Uncle Barnabas.
"a queer thing, this modern idea of ed
ucation. Well, if you can't teach, you
can surely do something! What do you
say, Eleanor, to situation ?"
"a situation ?'
The color futtered in Eleanor's cheeks
like pink and white apple blossoms.
81 spoke plain enough, didn't I?'' said
Uncle Barna6as, dryly. eyes, a situa-
tion."
''What sort of situation, Uncle Bar
nabas ?n
"Well, I can hardly say. Part SER
want, part companion to an elderly
lady gn explained the old gentleman.
80, Uncle Barnabas, 1 couldn't do
that !'
mot do it? And why not ?"
"It's too much-too much," whis-
pered Eleanor, losing her royal dignity
in the pressure of the emergency, 'like
going OUT 10 SeTVlce.
"And that is precisely what it Is !"
retorted Uncle Barnabas, nodding his
head. "Service! Why, we're all out
at service, in one way or another in this
world ~
"Oh, yes, I know" faltered poor
Eleanor, who, between her distaste for
the proposed plan and her anxiety not
to offend Uncle Barnabas Berkelin,
didn't quite know what to say. "But
-pve been always educated to be a
lady"
$50 you won't take the situation, eh?'
said Uncle Barnabas, staring up at a
wishy-wAshy little water-color drawing
of Cupid and Psyche, an exhibition
piece' Of poor Eleanor's, which hung
above the chimney-piece.
az couldn't, indeed, sir"
"Wages twenty-five dollars month, +"
mechanically repeated Uncle Barnabas,
as if hewere saying off lesson. "Drive
out in the carriage every day with the
missus, cat and canary to take care of,
modern house, with all the improve
ments, Sunday afternoon to yourself,
and two weeks, spring and fall, to visit
your mother"
'No, Uncle Barnabas, no." said
Eleanor. with little shudder. "I am
a true Berkelin, and l cannot stoop to
menlal duties"
Uncle Barnabas gave such prolonged
sniff as to suggest the idea of very bad
cold in his head, indeed.
''Sorry," said he. "Heaven helps
those who help themselves, and you
can't expect me to be any more liberal
minded than Heaven. Sister Rachel, -
to my mother, "what do yOu say ?''
My mother drew her pretty little fig
ure up trihe more erect than usual.
81 think my daughter Eleanor is quite
right" said she. ''The Berkelins have
always been ladies'"
had sat quite silent, still with my
chin in my hands, during all this fam
lily discussion; but now 1 rose up and
came creeping to Uncle Barnabas's side.
"Well, little Susy," said the old gen.
tleman, laying his hand kindly on my
wrist, "what is it ?''
''If you please, Uncle Barnabas," ;" said
I, with a rapidly throbbing heart, 81
would like to take the situation"
"Bravo p' cried Uncle Barnabas.
''My dear child p' exclaimed my
mother.
''SusaaaGh!r' uttered Eleanor, in ac.
cents by no means laudatOry.
"Yes,n said I. TWENTY-FIVE dollars a
month is a great deal of money, and ]
never was afraid of work. / think ]
will go to the old lady, Uncle Barnabas.
I'm sure i could send home at least