Victorian San Francisco Stories (6 page)

Kathleen, the boarding house maid, leaned between her and Jamie to take their plates and continued, “But your son sure had a good appetite, and I don’t even have to ask if he wants dessert.”

Barbara found her spirits lifting as they often did around Kathleen, a freckle-faced young Irish girl whose sparkling blue eyes radiated good humor. She replied, “Oh, Kathleen, it’s just too hot. I don’t know how you and Mrs. O’Rourke can stand it down in the kitchen; it must feel like you are in an oven. Do tell Mrs. O’Rourke how much I did enjoy the soup. I don’t want her to feel her efforts were wasted on me, and they certainly weren’t wasted on Jamie!”

Kathleen placed the dishes on the stack she had been accumulating on her tray and said, “Well, the kitchen is in the basement, and that is a help. I don’t know how you can sleep nights up there on the third floor! When I went up to sweep this morning, I like to died from the heat!”

This comment prompted Barbara to ask a question that had been niggling at her for several days. “Kathleen, that reminds me, with the windows open in the evening I have been hearing the woman across the alley play the piano. Quite lovely. I wondered if you knew her name or an
ything about her? I do believe they moved in this spring.”

Kathleen’s face lit up, “Oh, Ma’am, that would be Mrs. Francis. Don’t that piano sound gl
orious? She was famous, used to do concerts and everything. That was before she was married. Her husband, though, I dunno. I heard he dotes on her, but I also heard he's a rough sort. They do say opposites attract. He runs a store for second-hand tools in the first floor of the house. Well, I guess Mrs. Francis does most of the work in the store while he just runs around town, finding goods to sell.”

Barbara watched as Kathleen moved away to finish clearing the table, and she wondered about Mrs. Francis, “who used to be famous.” It had been so long since she had someone with whom she could share her love of music. She had hoped that she might find one of the teachers at her school compatible, but so far there had been no one she really felt she could trust. Schools could be such gossipy places, and she couldn’t afford to make any enemies, which somehow meant she hadn’t been able to make any friends.

*****

The next day, Barbara found herself again wondering about Mrs. Francis when her thoughts were interrupted by Dandy, who was barking in great indignation at an emaciated hound who was tied to the hitching post outside the Ellis Street butcher shop. Saturday mornings she walked Dandy while Jamie made spending money by doing errands for Mrs. O'Rourke. This Saturday, despite the continued heat, she had extended her usual route so that she could go past the Francis house.

Barbara had some vague idea that she might stop in the store and, if Mrs. Francis was alone, strike up a conversation. But she had forgotten the butcher's dog, which always sent Dandy into a frenzy. Dandy was still a pup and didn't weigh more than fifteen pounds, so she wasn't worried he would get away from her, but he was creating a good deal of commotion on the crowded sidewalk.

She scooped Dandy up in her arms, immediately subjecting herself to several swift doggy kisses on her nose, and she laughed, saying, "Oh, you rascal. Proud of yourself, aren't you? D
efended me against that ruffian. Now settle down."

Having made it safely past the butcher shop, Barbara put the wiggling dog down at her feet, just in time for him to begin straining at the leash again. Looking up, she saw the object of his excitement was a short, boxy black dog with a shaggy coat that was pulling his mistress towards them with equal fervor.

"Oh, Mrs. Francis. That is your name, isn't it? I have so wanted to meet you," Barbara exclaimed when she noticed that the slender blonde in front of her was her back alley neighbor. Before the woman had a chance to respond, she went on. "My name is Mrs. Barbara Hewitt. I live just over on O'Farrell Street, and I wanted to tell you how much I have enjoyed hearing you play the piano these warm evenings. You are quite accomplished."

Heavens above, I sound like an idiot, accosting a stranger on the street this way,
she thought. Embarrassed, Barbara looked down at the two dogs who were enthusiastically trying to sniff each other's rears, which, because they were about the same length, meant they were going around and around in a tight circle, completely entangling their leashes.

"Oh, dear," she said. "They are getting tied up!" She looked up and saw that the other wo
man was awkwardly trying to control her dog with her right hand while she used her left to hold the half veil of her hat down over the left side of her face.

I wonder what she is trying to hide?
Barbara’s heart squeezed painfully as she remembered her own fearful attempts to hide the cuts and bruises that bloomed periodically on her face after her husband's rages. Not wanting the woman to catch her staring, Barbara again looked down at the dogs at her feet and said, "Oh, what a splendid dog you have. What kind is he?"

"He is a Scottish terrier," a soft voice replied. "I call him Gordie. He seems to like your dog. What breed is he?"

"Oh, I think he is some sort of mixture. Jamie, that's my son, found him on the street being tormented by some boys. We call him Dandy. There, I think we have them untangled," Barbara added.

The other woman pulled her dog to her side, letting her full skirts separate the dogs. She then nodded politely and began to move past Barbara.

"Oh, Mrs. Francis, before you go. You must think me daft. But I particularly wanted to meet you because I wondered if you ever gave piano lessons. I would like my son, he is eight, to learn. I wouldn't be able to pay much, but...."

"Oh my, no," the woman said. "I don't think that would be possible. My husband wouldn't let…I mean, a small boy in the house…I don't think he...."

Barbara broke into the woman's protestations. "You have misunderstood me. I live at Mrs. Fuller's boarding house on O'Farrell, and she has an upright in the parlor that she lets the boarders use. I thought you might be able to teach him there."

Seeing that the woman was shaking her head and uttering more disjointed phrases, Barbara continued, "Please, just think about it. Now I must let you go on your way. It was a pleasure to meet you."

As she moved past, she thought she heard Mrs. Francis reply faintly, "So kind of you.”
Perhaps she is just shy,
Barbara thought as she moved on.
I could stop by and visit her next week, bring Jamie with me; nobody withstands his charm.

*****

Barbara sat bolt upright in her bed, drenched in sweat. Her heart pounded, the remnants of a dream swiftly evaporating. She had been back in Kansas, lost in the cornfields, and she had shouted. No, someone else had shouted. As her eyes began to focus, she realized Dandy was standing on the bed beside her, staring intently towards the window, whose curtain she had left open in the weak hope that this would permit the ferocious heat of the room to escape.

"Did you hear something, Dandy?" she whispered. When she spoke, he looked back at her briefly and then turned again, leaning forward, his neck stretched out, sharp ears cocked. Without warning, he began to growl while backing up, never turning his head from the window. Barbara snatched the dog to her chest, trying to soothe him. She feared he would wake Jamie or, worse yet, Miss Minnie and Miss Millie across the hall. Then she noticed Dandy was trembling violen
tly, and she could feel his heart beating wildly under her hands.

"What is it, boy? Let's go see. Is there a prowler out there? Do we need to sound the alarm?" Barbara disengaged herself from the bedclothes and got up, all the while stroking the agitated dog. She crossed to the desk in front of the window, which was again piled high with essays to grade. Looking outside, she noticed that, despite the late hour, there was a light on across the way.
I bet I am not the only person who is finding it hard to sleep in this heat,
she thought. Then she saw a man, she assumed it was Mr. Francis, move into view, his back to the window. He was shirtless, his suspenders over bare skin, and he seemed to be staring at his feet. Dandy struggled in her arms and began to bark. The man swung around to peer out the window, and Barbara scuttled backwards, her heart again pounding, Dandy now silent in her arms.

Surely he couldn't see me. I'm standing in the dark. He just heard Dandy
, she thought. Nevertheless, when she crept back to the window, she approached from the side and peeked out again. The light had gone out, and the texture of the square of darkness at the window suggested that the man had pulled the curtains as well. She stared out for a moment, seeing nothing else stirring in the still night air.

"Mother, what's wrong?" Jamie called.

"Nothing, dear. Dandy just heard something, but everything is fine. Probably some cat," she said, hoping this was true. She felt Dandy's hot breath on her cheek, but he was no longer trembling, so she set him down and heard the sharp click, click, click of his toenails as he made his way across to Jamie's bed. As she climbed back into her own bed, she heard the soft murmurs of her son talking to his dog, and she smiled and unexpectedly went to sleep.

*****

"
Mother, I told you, he isn't a mongrel. Georgie's Uncle Sean said he saw a dog just like Dandy back east, and he was a special new kind of dog. Part English bulldog, part English terrier, and part French bull dog." Jamie trotted in front of her, holding Dandy's leash.

Barbara replied, "Well, Jamie, if that isn't a mongrel, I don't know what is. Be careful, don't let him! Oh dear, too late." Dandy, who had been weaving back and forth, his minute black nose snuffling up smells from the wooden planks of the sidewalk, had suddenly swerved right and lifted his leg on a barrel of shoes outside a cobbler’s. At least the dark stain on the barrel attested to Dandy not being the first dog to anoint it.
But really, did he have to lift his leg every few feet?

"
Mother, I'm telling you, they gave this mixture a name! That makes it a pure breed. Least that's what Georgie's Uncle Sean says, and he's an expert on dogs, Georgie says. His Uncle Sean says that they call dogs like Dandy Boston terriers cause they were made in Boston. But seems to me if Dandy was born in San Francisco, he should be called a San Francisco terrier, don't you think?"

"Well, if you ask me, since he is of English and French heritage but made in America, I think that they should call them American terriers. But it doesn't matter what he is. Dandy's a f
ine dog." Barbara smiled at her son. Whatever kind of dog Dandy was, he was a blessing. They had had to move so often in the first four years after they left Kansas that Jamie had become quiet and withdrawn. Moving last year to San Francisco was even harder on him. San Francisco was such a big city. The papers said when the 1880 census was taken next year, the city might turn out to have as many as 400,000 people! So much noise and bustle, Jamie had seemed afraid to go outside. Moving to Mrs. Fuller's boarding house last January had helped; everyone was so nice to him. But in the last month since he had rescued Dandy, he had become a new boy. He was making friends, and he had begun to roam the neighborhood on his walks with his dog. She was so relieved, and she felt as long as he had Dandy with him, he would be all right.

"Jamie, wait, let that wagon get past before we cross Jones." Barbara moved to the end of the wooden sidewalk to stand by her son, watching to make sure he had a tight grip on Dandy's leash. It was early Saturday morning, a week since she had run into Mrs. Francis, and they were on their way to visit the resale shop, hoping to find her alone.

"Now I know you aren't very excited about having piano lessons, but I want you to give it a try," Barbara said a few moments later as they approached the resale shop. The windows fronting the sidewalk were jammed with hammers, boxes of nails, iron files, several shovels tied together like some gigantic bouquet, and a saw that looked large enough to fell a redwood. Then she noticed that the shade on the front door was pulled down, and a “closed” sign hung against the shade.

Before she had fully digested this obstacle to her plan, her son, who tugged at her sleeve, distracted her.

"Look at Dandy, Mother. What's the matter with him?"

Barbara looked down and saw that Dandy was standing stock still in front of the iron gate across the entryway to the side of the store, stretched out as long as possible from his pathetically small nose to his equally diminutive crooked tail, and his right front paw was drawn up under his belly. He looked for all the world like some miniature hunter, at point.

"Well, dear, he seems to have found some particularly intriguing scent," she said, trying not to laugh. Then Dandy, growling, began to move stiff-legged towards the gate, and as Barbara came up behind him, she was startled to see the fur at the back of his neck standing up. Her son had knelt beside the dog, looking through the gate and down the side of the house, and he said, "There, there, boy. What do you see? Is there another dog down there?"

Barbara, fully expecting to see Mrs. Francis' Scottie, peered down the narrow passageway, but she saw nothing but an empty brick walkway. Dandy then sat down abruptly and began to howl.

*****

"Positively howled! I don't know how to describe it, a kind of eerie yodel. It was the most bone-chilling sound," Barbara said to the three women sitting with her in the kitchen later that evening. Mrs. O'Rourke, the cook, Kathleen, the servant, and Mrs. Fuller, the boarding house owner, all looked at the dog in question, who was lying down, his small muzzle between his front paws, his brown eyes looking up at them.