Christmas with Grandma Elsie

Martha Finley

Chapter 1

 

It was about the middle of November. There had been a long rain storm, ending in sleet and snow, and now the sun was shining brightly on a landscape sheeted with ice: walks and roads were slippery with it, every tree and shrub was encased in it, and glittering and sparkling as if loaded with diamonds, as its branches swayed and tossed in the wind. At Ion Mrs. Elsie Travilla stood at the window of her dressing-room gazing with delighted eyes upon the lovely scene.

“How beautiful!” she said softly to herself; “and my Father made it all. ’He gives snow like wool: he scattereth the hoar frost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels.’

“Ah, good morning, my dears,” as the door opened and Rosie and Walter came in together.

“Good morning, dearest mamma,” they returned, hastening to her to give and receive the affectionate kiss with which they were accustomed to meet at the beginning of a new day.

“I’m so glad the long storm is over at last,” said Rosie; “it is really delightful to see the sunshine once more.”

“And the beautiful work of the Frost king reflecting his rays,” added her mother, calling their attention to the new beauties of the ever attractive landscape spread out before them.

Both exclaimed in delight “How beautiful, mamma!” Rosie adding, “It must be that the roads are in fine condition for sleighing. I hope we can go.”

“O mamma, can’t we?” cried Walter. “Won’t you give us a holiday?”

“I shall take the question into consideration,” she answered with an indulgent smile; “we will perhaps discuss it at the breakfast table: but now we will have our reading together.”

At that very time Capt. Raymond and Violet in her boudoir at Woodburn, were also discussing the state of the roads and the advisability of dispensing with school duties for the day that all the family might enjoy the rather rare treat of a sleigh-ride.

“You would enjoy it, my love?” he said inquiringly.

“Very much— in company with my husband and the children,” she returned; “yet I would not wish to influence you to decide against your convictions in regard to what is right and wise.”

“We will go,” he said, smiling fondly upon her, “I can not bear to have you miss the pleasure; nor the children either for that matter, though I am a little afraid I might justly be deemed weakly indulgent in according them a holiday again so soon: it is against my principles to allow lessons to be set aside for other than very weighty reasons; it is a matter of so great importance that they be trained to put duties first, giving pleasure a secondary place.”

“But they are so good and industrious,” said Violet, “and the sleighing is not likely to last long. It seldom does with us.”

“And they have been so closely confined to the house of late, by the inclemency of the weather,” he added. “Yes: they shall go; for it will do them a great deal of good physically, I think, and health is, after all, of more consequence for them than rapid advancement in their studies.”

“I should think so indeed,” said Violet. “Now the next question is where shall we go?”

“That is a question for my wife to settle,” returned the captain gallantly. “I shall be most happy to accompany her wherever she decides that she wishes to be taken.”

“Thank you, sir. I want to see mamma, of course.”

“Then we will call at Ion, and perhaps may be able to persuade mother to join us in a longer ride.”

“Oh couldn’t we hire an omnibus sleigh and ask them all to join us? It would just about hold the two families.”

“It is a trifle odd that the same idea had just occurred to me,” he remarked pleasantly. “I will telephone at once to the town, and if I can engage a suitable sleigh, will call to Ion and give our invitation.”

The reply from the village was satisfactory; also that from Ion, given by Grandpa Dinsmore, who said he would venture to accept the invitation for all the family without waiting to consult them.

The captain reported to Violet, then passed on into the apartments of his little daughters. He found them up and dressed, standing at the window of their sitting-room gazing out into the grounds.

“Good morning, my darlings,” he said.

“Oh good morning, papa,” they cried, turning and running into his outstretched arms to give and receive tenderest caresses.

“What were you looking at?” he asked presently.

“Oh! oh! the loveliest sight!” cried Lulu. “Do, papa, come and look,” taking his hand and drawing him toward the window. “There, isn’t it?”

“Yes; I have seldom seen a finer,” he assented.

“And the sun is shining so brightly; can’t I take a walk with you to-day?” she asked, looking coaxingly up into his face.

“Why, my child, the walks and roads are sheeted with ice; you could not stand, much less walk on them.”

“I think I could, papa, if— if you’d only let me try. But oh don’t look troubled, for indeed, indeed, I’m not going to be naughty about it, though I have been shut up in the house for so long, except just riding in the close carriage to church yesterday.”

“Yes; and I know it has been hard for you,” he said, smoothing her hair with caressing hand.

Then sitting down he drew her to one knee, Gracie to the other.

“How would my little girls like to be excused from lessons to-day and given, instead, a sleigh-ride with papa, mamma, Max and little Elsie?”

“Oh ever so much, papa!” they cried, clapping their hands in delight. “How good in you to think of it!”

“’Specially for me, considering how very, very naughty I was only last week,” added Lulu, in a remorseful tone. “Papa, I really think I oughtn’t to be let go.”

“And I really think I should not be deprived of the pleasure of having my dear eldest daughter with me on this first sleigh-ride of the season,” returned her father, drawing her into a closer embrace.

“And it would spoil all the fun for me to have you left at home, Lu,” said Grace.

“And that must not be; we will all go, and I trust will have a very pleasant time,” the captain said, rising and taking a hand of each to lead them down to the breakfast-room, for the bell was ringing.

At Ion the family were gathering about the table to partake of their morning meal. Walter waited rather impatiently till the blessing had been asked, then, with an entreating look at his mother, said, “Mamma, you know what you promised?”

“Yes, my son; but be patient a little longer. I see your grandpa has something to say.”

“Something that Walter will be glad to hear, I make no doubt,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore, giving the child a kindly look and smile. “Capt. Raymond and I have had a little chat through the telephone this morning. He invites us all to join the Woodburn family in a sleigh-ride, he is coming for us in an omnibus sleigh; and I accepted for each and every one of you.”

Zoe, Rosie and Walter uttered a simultaneous exclamation of delight, while the others looked well pleased with the arrangement.

“At what hour are we to expect the captain?” asked Mrs. Dinsmore.

“About ten.”

“And where does he propose to take us?” inquired Zoe.

“I presume wherever the ladies of the party decide that they would like to go.”

“Surely, papa, the gentlemen also should have a voice in that,” his daughter said, sending him a bright, affectionate look from behind the coffee-urn, “you at least, in case the question is put to vote.”

“Not I more than the rest of you,” he returned pleasantly. “But I have no doubt we would all enjoy the ride in any direction where the sleighing is good.”

“I think it will prove fine on all the roads,” remarked Edward, “and I presume everybody, would enjoy driving over to Fairview, the Laurels and the Oaks to call on our nearest relatives; perhaps to the Pines and Roselands also, to see the cousins there.”

“That would be nice,” said Zoe, “but don’t you suppose they may be improving the sleighing opportunity as well as ourselves? may be driving over here to call on us?”

“Then, when we meet, the question will be who shall turn round and go back, and who keep on,” laughed Rosie.

“But to avoid such an unpleasant state of affairs we have only to ask and, answer a few questions through the telephone,” said Edward.

“Certainly,” said his grandfather, “and we’ll attend to it the first thing on leaving the table.”

Everybody was interested, and presently all were gathered about the telephone, while Edward, acting as spokesman of the party, called to first one and then another of the households nearly related to themselves.

The answers came promptly, and it was soon evident that all were intending to avail themselves of the somewhat rare opportunity offered by the snow and ice covered roads, none planning to stay at home to receive calls. They would all visit Ion if the ladies there were likely to be in.

“Tell them,” said Grandma Elsie, “to take their drives this morning, come to Ion in time for dinner, and spend the rest of the day and evening here. I shall be much pleased to have them all do so.”

The message went the rounds, everybody accepted the invitation, and Elsie’s orders for the day to cook and housekeeper, were given accordingly.

The Woodburn party arrived in high spirits, a sleigh, containing the Fairview family, driving up at the same time. They had room for one more and wanted “mamma” to occupy it; but the captain and Violet would not resign their claim, and Evelyn and Lulu showed a strong desire to be together; so the former was transferred to the Woodburn sleigh, and Zoe and Edward took the vacant seats in that from Fairview.

The two vehicles kept near together, their occupants, the children especially, were very gay and lively. They talked of last year’s holiday sports, and indulged in pleasing anticipations in regard to what might be in store for them in those now drawing near.

“We had a fine time at the Oaks, hadn’t we, girls?” said Max, addressing Evelyn and Rosie.

“Yes,” they replied, “but a still better one at Woodburn.”

“When are you and Lu going to invite us again?” asked Rosie.

“When papa gives permission,” answered Max, sending a smiling, persuasive glance in his father’s direction.

“It is quite possible you may not have very long to wait for that, Max,” was the kindly indulgent rejoinder from the captain.

“It is Rosie’s turn this year,” remarked Grandma Elsie; “Rosie’s and Walter’s and mine. I want all the young people of the connection— and as many of the older ones as we can make room for— to come to Ion for the Christmas holidays, or at least the greater part of them; we will settle particulars as to the time of coming and going, later on. Captain, I want you and Violet and all your children for the whole time.”

“Thank you, mother; you are most kind, and I do not now see anything in the way of our acceptance of your invitation,” he said; but added with a playful look at Violet, “unless my wife should object.”

“If I should, mamma, you will receive my regrets in due season,” laughed Violet.

The faces of the children were beaming with delight, and their young voices united in a chorus of expressions of pleasure and thanks to Grandma Elsie.

“I am glad you are all pleased with the idea,” she said. “We will try to provide as great a variety of amusements as possible, and shall be glad of any hints or suggestions from old or young in regard to anything new in that line.”

“We will all try to help you, mamma,” Violet said, “and not be jealous or envious if your party should far outshine ours of last year.”

“And we have more than a month to get ready in,” remarked Rosie with satisfaction. “Oh I’m so glad mamma has decided on it in such good season!”

“Hello!” cried Max, glancing back toward an intersecting road which they had just crossed, “Here they come!”

“Who?” asked several voices, while all turned their heads to see for themselves.

“The Oaks, and the Roselands folks,” answered Max, and as he spoke two large sleighs came swiftly up in the rear of their own, their occupants calling out merry greetings, and receiving a return in kind.

The wind had fallen, the cold was not intense, and they were so well protected against it by coats and robes of fur, that they scarcely felt it, and found the ride so thoroughly enjoyable that they kept it up through the whole morning, managing their return so that Ion was reached only a few minutes before the dinner hour.

Ion was a sort of headquarters for the entire connection, and everybody seemed to feel perfectly at home. Grandma Elsie was a most hospitable hostess, and it was a very cheerful, jovial party that surrounded her well-spread table that day.

After dinner, while the older people conversed together in the parlors, the younger ones wandered at will through the house.

The girls were together in a small reception-room, chatting about such matters as particularly interested them— their studies, sports, plans for the purchase or making of Christmas gifts, and what they hoped or desired to receive. “I want jewelry,” said Sidney Dinsmore. “I’d rather have that than anything else. But it must be handsome: a diamond pin or ring, or ear-rings.”

“Mamma says diamonds are quite unsuitable for young girls,” said Rosie. “So I prefer pearls: and I’m rather in hopes she may give me some for Christmas.”

“I’d rather have diamonds anyhow,” persisted Sydney. “See Maud’s new ring, just sent her by a rich old aunt of ours. I’m sure it looks lovely on her finger and shows off the beauty of her hand.”

“Yes, I’ve been admiring it,” said Lulu, “and I thought I’d never seen it before.”

Maud held out her hand with, evident pride and satisfaction, while the others gathered round her eager for a close inspection of the ring.

They all admired it greatly and Maud seemed gratified.

“Yes,” she said, “it certainly is a beauty, and Chess says it must be worth a good deal; that centre stone is quite large, you see, and there are six others in a circle around it.”

“I should think you’d feel very rich,” remarked Lulu; “I’d go fairly wild with delight if I had such an one given me.”

“Well then, why not give your father a hint that you’d like such a Christmas gift from him?” asked Sydney.

“I’m afraid it would cost too much,” said Lulu, “and I wouldn’t want papa to spend more on me than he could well afford.”

“Why, he could afford it well enough!” exclaimed Maud. “Your father is very rich— worth his millions, I heard Cousin Horace say not long ago; and he knows of course.”

Lulu looked much surprised. “Papa never talks of how much money he has,” she said, “and I never supposed it was more than about enough to keep us comfortable; but millions means a great deal doesn’t it?”

“I should say so indeed! more than your mind or mine can grasp the idea of.”

Lulu’s eyes sparkled. “I’m ever so glad for papa!” she said; “he’s just the right person to have a great deal of money, for he will be sure to make the very best use of it.”

“And for a part of it, that will be diamonds for you, won’t it?” laughed Maud.

“I hope the captain will think so by the time she’s grown up,” remarked Rosie, with a pleasant look at Lulu; “or sooner if they come to be thought suitable for girls of her age.”

“That’s nice in you Rosie,” Lulu said, flushing with pleasure, “and I hope you will get your pearls this Christmas.”

“I join in both wishes,” said Evelyn Leland, “and hope everyone of you will receive a Christmas gift quite to her mind: but, oh girls, don’t you think it would be nice to give a good time to the poor people about us?”

“What poor people?” asked Sydney.

“I mean both the whites and the blacks,” explained Evelyn. “There are those Jones children that live not far from Woodburn, for instance: their mother’s dead and the father gets drunk and beats and abuses them, and altogether I’m sure they are very, very forlorn.”

“Oh yes,” cried Lulu, “it would be just splendid to give them a good time!— nice things to eat and to wear, and toys too. I’ll talk to papa about it, and he’ll tell us what to give them and how to give it.”

“And there are a number of other families in the neighborhood probably quite as poor and forlorn,” said Lora Howard. “Oh I think it would be delightful to get them all together somewhere and surprise them with a Christmas tree loaded with nice things! Lets do it, girls. We all have some pocket money, and we can get our fathers and mothers to tell us how to use it to the best advantage, and how to manage the giving.”

“I haven’t a bit more pocket money than I need to buy the presents I wish to give my own particular friends,” objected Sydney.

“It’s nice, and right too, I think, to give tokens of love to our dear ones,” Evelyn said, “but we need not make them very expensive in order to give pleasure;— often they would prefer some simple little thing that is the work of our own hands— and so we would have something left for the poor and needy, whom the Bible teaches us we should care for and relieve to the best of our ability.”

“Yes, I daresay you are right,” returned Sydney, “but I sha’n’t make any rash promises in regard to the matter.”

Chapter 2

 

In the parlor the older people were conversing on somewhat similar topics: first discussing plans for the entertainment and gratification of their children and other young relatives, during the approaching holidays, then of the needs of the poor of the neighborhood, and how to supply them; after that they talked of the claims of Home and Foreign Missions; the perils threatening their country from illiteracy, anarchy, heathenism, Mormonism, Popery, Infidelity, etc., not omitting the danger from vast wealth accumulating in the hands of individuals and corporations; also they spoke of the heavy responsibility entailed by its possession.

They were patriots and Christians; anxious first of all for the advancement of Christ’s kingdom upon earth, secondly for the welfare and prosperity of the dear land of their birth— the glorious old Union transmitted to us by our revolutionary fathers.

It was a personal question with each one, “How can I best use for the salvation of my country and the world, the time, talents, influence and money God has entrusted to my keeping.”

They acknowledged themselves stewards of God’s bounty, and as such desired to be found faithful; neglecting neither the work nearest at hand nor that in far distant lands where the people sit in great darkness and the region and shadow of death, that on them the “Sun of righteousness might arise with healing in his wings.”

It had been expected that the guests would stay at Ion till bedtime, but a thaw had set in and ice and snow were fast disappearing from the roads; therefore all departed for their homes directly after an early tea.

Lulu was very quiet during the homeward drive; her thoughts were full of Maud’s surprising assertion in regard to her father’s wealth.

“I wonder if it is really so,” she said to herself. “I’m tempted to ask papa; but he might not like it, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to vex or trouble him,— my dear, dear kind father!”

An excellent opportunity for a private chat with him was afforded her shortly after their arrival at home. The little ones were fretful and Violet went to the nursery with them; Max hastened to his own room to finish a composition he was expected to hand to his father the next morning, Gracie, weary with the excitement of the day, and the long morning drive, went directly to her bed, and having seen her in it, and left her there with a loving good night, the captain and Lulu presently found themselves the only occupants of the library.

Taking possession of a large easy chair, “Come and sit on my knee and tell me how you have enjoyed your day,” he said, giving her a fond fatherly smile.

“Very much indeed, papa,” she answered, accepting his invitation, putting her arm round his neck and laying her cheek to his.

His arm was around her waist. He drew her closer, saying softly, “My dear, dear little daughter! I thought you were unusually quiet coming home: is anything amiss with you?”

“Oh, no, papa! I’ve had a lovely time all day long. How kind you were to give us all a holiday and let me go along with the rest of you.”

“Good to myself as well as to you, my darlings; I could have had very little enjoyment leaving you behind.”

“Papa, it’s so nice to have you love me so!” she said, kissing him with ardent affection. “Oh, I do hope I’ll never, never be very naughty again!”

“I hope not, dear child,” he responded, returning her caresses. “I hope you feel ready to resume your studies to-morrow, with diligence and painstaking?”

“Yes, papa, I think I do. It’s almost a week since you have heard me recite; except the Sunday lesson yesterday.”

“Yes,” he said gravely, “it has been something of a loss to you in one way, but I trust a decided gain in another. Well to change the subject, are you pleased with the prospect of spending the holidays at Ion?”

“Yes, papa; I think it will be lovely; almost as nice as having a party of our own, as we did last year.”

“Possibly we may add that— a party here for a day or two— if Grandma Elsie does not use up all the holidays with hers,” he said in a half jesting tone and with a pleasant laugh.

“O papa, do you really think we may?” she cried in delight. “Oh you are just the kindest father!” giving him a hug.

He laughed at that, returning the hug with interest.

“I suppose you and Eva and the rest were laying out plans for Christmas doings this afternoon?” he said inquiringly.

“Yes, papa, we were talking a good deal about games and tableaux, and about the things we could buy or make for gifts to our friends, and what we would like to have given us.”

She paused, half hoping he would ask what she wanted from him, but he did not. He sat silently caressing her hair and cheek with his hand, and seemingly lost in thought.

At length, “Papa,” she asked half hesitatingly, “are you very rich?”

“Rich?” he repeated, coming suddenly out of his reverie and looking smilingly down into her eyes, “yes; I have a sound constitution, excellent health, a delightful home, a wife and five children, each one of whom I esteem worth at least a million to me; I live in a Christian land,” he went on in a graver tone, “I have the Bible with all its great and precious promises, the hope of a blessed eternity at God’s right hand, and that all my dear ones are traveling heavenward with me; yes, I am a very rich man!”

“Yes, sir; but— I meant have you a great deal of money.”

“Enough to provide all that is necessary for the comfort of my family, and to gratify any reasonable desire on the part of my little girl. What is it you want, my darling?”

“Papa, I’m almost ashamed to tell you,” she said, blushing and hanging her head; “but if I do, and you can’t afford it, won’t you please say so and not feel sorry about it? because I wouldn’t ever want you to spend money on me that you need for yourself or some of the others.”

“I am glad you are thoughtful for others as well as yourself, daughter,” he said kindly; “but don’t hesitate to tell me all that is in your heart. Nothing pleases me better than to have you, and all my dear children do so.”

“Thank you, my dear, dear papa. I don’t mean ever to hide anything from you,” she returned, giving him another hug and kiss, while her eyes sparkled and her cheek flushed with pleasure. “It’s a diamond ring I’d like to have.”

“A diamond ring?” he repeated in surprise. “What would my little girl do with such a thing as that?”

“Wear it, papa. Maud Dinsmore has such beautiful one, that a rich aunt sent her the other day,” she went on eagerly; “there’s a large diamond in the middle and little ones all round it, and it sparkles so, and looks just lovely on her hand! We all admired it ever so much, and I said I’d be wild with delight if I had such an one; then Sydney said, ‘Why not give your father a hint that you’d like one for Christmas?’ and I said I was afraid you couldn’t afford to give me anything that would cost so much; but Maud said I needn’t be, for you were worth millions of money. Can you really afford to give it to me, papa? I’d like it better than anything else if you can, but if you can’t I don’t want it,” she concluded with a sigh, and creeping closer into his embrace.

He did not speak for a moment, but though grave and thoughtful his countenance was quite free from displeasure,— and when, at length, he spoke, his tones were very kind and affectionate.

“If I thought it would really be for my little girl’s welfare and happiness in the end,” he said, “I should not hesitate for a moment to gratify her in this wish of hers, but, daughter, the ornament you covet would be extremely unsuitable for one of your years, and I fear its possession would foster a love of finery that I do not wish to cultivate in you, because it is not right, and would hinder you in the race I trust you are running for the prize of eternal life.

“The Bible tells us we can not serve both God and Mammon; can not love him and the world too.

“‘If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him.’ God has entrusted me with a good deal of money, but I hold it as his steward, and ’it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.’”

“I don’t know what you mean, papa,” she said, with look and tone of keen disappointment.

“That I must use the Lord’s money to do his work, daughter; a great deal of money is needed to help on the advancement of his cause and kingdom in the hearts of individuals, and in the world at large. There are millions of poor creatures in heathen lands who have never so much as heard of Jesus and his dying love; and even in our own favored country there are thousands who are sunk in poverty, ignorance and wretchedness. Money is needed to feed and clothe them, to send them teachers and preachers, and to build churches, schools, and colleges, where they can be educated and fitted for happiness and usefulness.

“Suppose I had a thousand, or five thousand dollars, to spare after supplying my family with all that is necessary for health, comfort and happiness; could my dear eldest daughter be so selfish as to wish me to put it into a diamond ring for her at the expense of leaving some poor creature in want and misery? some poor heathen to die without the knowledge of Christ? some soul to be lost that Jesus died to save?”

“Oh no, no, papa!” she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes, “I couldn’t be so hard hearted. I couldn’t bear to look at my ring if it had cost so much to other people.”

“No, I am sure you could not; and I believe you would find far more enjoyment, a far sweeter pleasure, in selecting objects for me to benefit by the money the ring might cost.”

“O papa, how nice, how delightful that would be if you would let me!” she cried joyously.

“I will,” he said; “I have some thousands to divide among the various religious and benevolent objects, and shall give a certain sum— perhaps as much as a thousand dollars— in the name of each of my three children who are old enough to understand these things, letting each of you select the cause, or causes, to which his or her share is to go.”

“Which are the causes, papa?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“There are Home and Foreign Missions, the work among the freedmen, and for the destitute in our own neighborhood, beside very many others. We will read about these various objects and talk the matter over together, and finally decide how many we can help, and how much shall be given to each. Perhaps you may choose to support a little Indian girl in one of the Mission schools, or some child in heathen lands; or a missionary who will go and teach them the way to heaven.”

“Oh I should love to do that!” she exclaimed, “it will be better than having a ring. Papa, how good you are to me! I am so glad God gave me such a father; one who tries always to teach me how to serve Him and to help me to be the right kind of a Christian.”

“I want to help you in that, my darling,” he said; “I think I could do you no greater kindness.”

Just then Max came into the room, and his father called him to take a seat by his side, saying, “I am glad you have come, my son, for I was about to speak to Lulu on a subject that concerns you quite as nearly.”

“Yes, sir; I’ll be glad to listen,” replied Max, doing as directed.

The captain went on. “The Bible tells us, ’If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.’ If we are like Jesus in spirit, we will love others and be ready to deny ourselves to do them good; especially to save their souls; for to that end he denied himself even to the shameful and painful death of the cross.

“He says, ’If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me… . Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.’

“That is we cannot be his disciples without doing something to bring sinners to him that they may be saved; something that will cost us self-denial; it may be of our own ease, or of something we would like to do or have.

“And it must be done willingly, cheerfully, from love to the dear Master and the souls he died to save, and not as the way to earn heaven for ourselves.

“We can not merit salvation, do what we will; we must take it as God’s free, undeserved gift.”

There was a moment of thoughtful silence; then Max said, “Papa, I think I am willing if I knew just what to do and how to do it. Can you tell me?”

“You have some money of your own every week; you can give what you will of that to held spread abroad the glad tidings of salvation; you can pray for others, and when a favorable opportunity offers, speak a word to lead them to Christ. Ask God to show you opportunities and give you grace and wisdom to use them. Try also, so to live, and act, and speak, that all who see and know you will, take knowledge of you that you have been with Jesus and learned of him.”

“Papa,” said Lulu, “won’t you tell Max about the money you are going to give in our names?”

“No, I will let you have that pleasure,” the captain answered with a kindly look and tone, and she eagerly availed herself of the permission.

Max was greatly pleased, and Violet, who joined them just in time to hear what Lulu was saying, highly approved.

“But you will understand, children,” the captain said, “that this involves your gaining a great deal of information on the subject of missions, and other schemes of benevolence, and in order to help you in that, we will spend a short time each evening, when not prevented by company or some more important engagement, in reading and conversing on this topic.”

“I wish I could earn some money to give,” said Lulu. “I’d like to carve pretty things to sell; but who would buy them?”

“Possibly papa might become an occasional purchaser,” her father said, stroking her hair and smiling kindly upon her.

“Or Mamma Vi,” added her young step-mother.

“And I have another offer to make you both,” said the captain; “for every day that I find you obedient, pleasant-tempered and industrious I will give each of you twenty-five cents for benevolent purposes.”

“Thank you, papa,” they both said, their eyes sparkling with pleasure; Max adding, “That will be a dollar and seventy-five cents a week.”

“Yes; and for every week that either one of you earns the quarter every day, I will add another to bring it up to two dollars.”

“O papa, how nice!” exclaimed Lulu. “I mean to try very hard, so that I may have enough to support a little Indian girl. And is Gracie to have the same?”

“Certainly; and I shall not be greatly surprised if Gracie’s missionary box fills faster than either of the others.”

“I am almost sure it will,” said Lulu, sobering down a good deal; “and Max’s will be next. But I do mean to try ever so hard to be good.”

“I am quite sure you do, dear child,” her father responded in tender tones. “I know my little girl wants to improve, and I shall do all I can to help her.”

“Papa, is that quarter a day for good conduct, to be in addition to our usual pocket money?” asked Max.

“Certainly, my son; your pocket money is your own, to use for your pleasure or profit, except what you feel that you ought, or desire to give of it; but the quarter is expressly, and only for benevolent purposes.”

“When may we begin to earn it, papa?”

“To-morrow.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Lulu with satisfaction, “because I want to earn a good deal before Christmas.”

Then she told of Evelyn’s suggestions in regard to gifts for the poor in their immediate neighborhood.

“A very good idea,” her father said, “and I think it may be carried out in a way to yield enjoyment to both givers and receivers.”

“I hope it will be cold enough at Christmas time to make ice and snow for sleighing and sledding,” Max remarked; “for we boys have planned to have a good deal of fun for ourselves and the girls too, if it is.”

“You mean if there is sleighing and sledding,” his father said with an amused look. “It might be cold enough, yet the needed snow or ice be lacking.”

“Why, yes, sir, to be sure, so it might!” Max returned, laughing good humoredly.

“What kind of fun is it you boys have planned for us girls?” asked Lulu.

“Never you mind,” said Max; “you’ll see when the time comes; the surprise will be half of it you know.”

“My dear, you seem to me a very wise and kind father,” Violet remarked to her husband when they found themselves alone together, after Max and Lulu had gone to their beds. “I very highly approve of the plans you have just proposed for them. Though, of course the approval of a silly young thing, such as I, must be a matter of small consequence,” she added, with a merry, laughing look up into his face.

“Young, but not silly,” he returned, with a very lover-like look and smile. “I consider my wife’s judgment worth a great deal, and am highly gratified with her approval. I am extremely desirous,” he went on more gravely, “to train my darlings to systematic benevolence, a willingness to deny themselves for the cause of Christ, and to take an interest in every branch of the work of the church.”

Chapter 3

 

Lulu’s first thought on awaking the next morning, was of the talk of the previous evening, with her father. He had said she might have the pleasure of telling Gracie the good news in regard to the money to be earned by good conduct, and that which was to be given by him in the name of each of his older children; also the privilege he would accord them of selecting the particular cause, or causes, to which the money should go.

Eager to avail herself of the permission, and see Gracie’s delight, she sprang from her bed, ran to the door of communication between their sleeping rooms, which generally stood open— always at night— and peeped cautiously in.

Gracie’s head was still on her pillow, but at that instant she stirred, opened her eyes, and called out in a pleased tone, “O Lu, so you are up first!” speaking softly though, for fear of disturbing their father and Violet, in the room beyond, the door there being open also.

Lulu hurried to it and closed it gently, then turning toward her sister, “Yes,” she said, “but it’s early, and you needn’t get up just yet. I’m coming to creep in with you for a few minutes while I tell you something that I’m sure will please you.”

She crept into Grace’s bed as she spoke, and they lay for a while clasped in each other’s arms, Lulu talking very fast, Grace listening and now and then putting in a word or two. She was quite as much pleased with what Lulu had to tell, as the latter had anticipated.

“Oh won’t it be just lovely to have so much money to do good with!” she exclaimed when all had been told. “Haven’t we got the very best and dearest father in the world? I don’t believe, Lu, there’s another one half so dear and kind and nice. We ought to be ever such good children!”

“Yes, but I’m not,” sighed Lulu. “O Gracie, I’d give anything to be as good as you are!”

“Now don’t talk so, Lu; you make me feel like a hypocrite; because I’m not good,” said Grace.

“You are; at any rate you’re a great deal better than I am,” asserted Lulu with warmth. “You never disobey papa, or get into a passion; and I don’t think you love finery as I do. Gracie, I want that ring yet; oh I should like to have it ever so much! and I oughtn’t to want it; it’s very selfish, because to buy it would use up money that ought to go to send missionaries to the heathen, or do good to some poor miserable creature; and it’s wrong for me to want it, because papa says it wouldn’t be good for me; and if I were as good as I ought to be I’d never want anything he doesn’t think best for me to have. But, oh dear, how can I help it when I’m so fond of pretty things!”

“Lu,” said Grace, softly, “I do believe that if you ask the Lord Jesus to help you to quit wanting it, he will. But if you didn’t care for it, it wouldn’t be denying yourself to do without it for the sake of the heathen.”

“Maybe so; but I don’t believe papa would let me have it even if I wouldn’t consent to give it up, and begged him ever so hard for it.”

“No, I s’pose not, for he loves us too well to give us anything that he thinks will make it harder for us to love and serve God and go to heaven when we die.”

“Yes, and of course that’s the best way for people to love their children. It’s time for me to get up now, but you’d better lie still a little longer.”

With that Lulu slipped from the bed, ran back to her room, and kneeling down there, gave thanks for the sleep of the past night, for health and strength, a good home, her dear, kind father to take care of, and provide for her, and love her, and all her many, many comforts and blessings; and confessing her sins, she asked to be forgiven for Jesus’ sake, and to have strength given her to do all her duty that day,— to be patient, obedient, industrious, kind and helpful to others and willing to deny herself, especially in the matter of the ring she had been wishing for so ardently.

When the captain came into the apartments of his little daughters for a few minutes chat before breakfast, as was his custom, he found them both neatly dressed and looking bright and happy.

“How are you, my darlings?” he asked, kissing them in turn, then seating himself and drawing them into his arms.

“I think we’re both very well, papa,” answered Lulu.

“Yes, indeed!” said Grace, “and I’m ever so glad of what Lu’s been telling me ’bout the money you are going to give us if we’re good, and the choosing ’bout where the other shall go that you’re going to give to help send missionaries to the heathen. Thank you for both, dear papa; but don’t you think we ought to be good without being paid for it?”

“Yes, I certainly do, my dear little girl; but at the same time I want my children to have the luxury of being able to give something which they have, in some sense, earned for that purpose. I want you to learn in your own experience the truth of the words of the Lord Jesus, ’It is more blessed to give than to receive.’

“Now while you are so young, not capable of earning much in any other way, your proper business the task of gaining knowledge and skill to fit you for future usefulness, I see no more fitting way than this for you to be furnished with money for religious and benevolent purposes.”

“Papa,” asked Lulu, “do you think it is never right for anybody to have diamonds or handsome jewelry of any kind?”

“I do not think it my business to judge in such matters for everybody,” he answered, caressing her and smiling down tenderly into her eyes; “but I must judge for myself— applying the rules the Bible gives me— and to a great extent for my children also while they are so young.”

“Not for Mamma Vi?” Lulu asked, with some little hesitation.

“No; she is my wife, not my child, and old enough to judge for herself.”

“She has a great deal of beautiful jewelry,” remarked Lulu with an involuntary sigh, “and Grandma Elsie has still more. Rosie asked her once to show it to us children, and she did. Oh she has just the loveliest rings and whole sets of jewelry— pins and ear-rings to match— and chains and bracelets! I’m sure they must be worth a great deal of money; Rosie said they were, and I’m sure Grandma Elsie is a real true Christian— a very, very good one and that Mamma Vi is too.”

“And I agree with you in that,” was the emphatic reply. “But my daughter and I have nothing to do with deciding their duty for them in regard to this or other things. God does not require that of us; indeed forbids it; ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged,’ Jesus said.

“But I see plainly that my duty is as I explained it to you last evening, and I thought then you were convinced that it would be selfish and wrong for you and me to spend a large sum for useless ornament that might otherwise be used for the good of our fellow creatures, and the advancement of Christ’s kingdom.”

“Yes, papa, I was, and I’m trying, and asking God to help me, not to want the ring I asked you for; but I’m afraid it’ll take me quite a while to quite stop wishing for it,” she sighed.

“You will conquer at length, if you keep on trying and asking for help,” he said, giving her a tender kiss.

“A good plan will be to fill your thoughts with other things,” he went on; “your lessons while in the school-room, after that you may find it pleasant to begin planning for Christmas gifts to be made or bought for those you love, and others whom you would like to help. I shall give each of you— including Max— as much extra spending money as I did last year.”

“Beside all that for benevolence, papa?” they asked in surprise and delight.

“Yes; what I provide you with for benevolence, is something aside from your spending money, which you are at liberty to do with as you please, within certain bounds,” he said rising and taking a hand of each as the breakfast bell sounded out its summons to the morning meal.

Misconduct and poor recitations were alike very rare in the school-room at Woodburn; neither found a place there to-day, so that the captain had only commendations to bestow, and they were heartily and gladly given.

The ice and snow had entirely disappeared, and the roads were muddy; too muddy, it was thought, to make travel over them particularly agreeable; but the children obtained sufficient exercise in romping over the wide porches and trotting round the grounds on their ponies.

But in spite of the bad condition of the roads, the Ion carriage drove over early in the afternoon, and Grandma Elsie, Mrs. Elsie Leland— her namesake daughter—­Rosie and Evelyn alighted from it. Everybody was delighted to see them, and to hear that they would stay to tea.

“O girls,” said Lulu, “come up to my room and take off your things. I’ve something to tell you,” and she looked so gay and happy that they felt quite sure it was something that pleased her greatly.

“I think I can guess what it is,” laughed Rosie; “your father has promised you the diamond ring you want so badly.”

“No, it isn’t that; you may have another guess; but I don’t believe you could hit the right thing if you should guess fifty or a hundred times.”

“Then I sha’n’t try. I give it up. Don’t you, Eva?”

“Yes, please tell us, Lu,” said Evelyn.

Then Lulu, talking fast and eagerly, repeated to them what she had told to Grace, in bed that morning.

“Oh how nice!” Evelyn exclaimed. “How I should like to be in your place, Lu!”

“I think it’s nice, too,” Rosie said, “and I’d like mamma or grandpa to do the same by me. But I’d want my pearls too,” she added, laughing. “Mamma’s rich enough to give me them, and do all she need do for missions and the poor beside.”

“But so very, very much is needed,” remarked Evelyn.

“I’ve read in some of the religious papers, that if every church member would give but a small sum yearly, there would be enough,” said Rosie; “and mamma gives hundreds and thousands of dollars; and grandpa gives a great deal too. So I don’t see that I ought to do without the set of pearls I’ve set my heart on. It isn’t mamma’s place to do other people’s duty for them— in the way of giving, any more than in other things.”

Grandma Elsie and her older daughters were in Violet’s boudoir.

“I had letters this morning, from your brothers Harold and Herbert, Vi, and have brought them with me to read to you,” the mother said, taking the missives from her pocket.

“Thank you, mamma; I am always glad to hear what they write; their letters are never dull or uninteresting,” Violet replied, her sister Elsie adding, “They are always worth hearing, Lester and I think. What dear boys they are!”

“And quite as highly appreciated by my husband as by yours, Elsie,” Violet said with a bright, happy look.

“They are a great blessing and comfort to their mother,” Grandma Elsie remarked, “as indeed all my children are— their letters always a source of pleasure, but these even more so than most; for they show that my college boys are greatly stirred up on the subject of missions at home and abroad; full of renewed zeal for the advancement of the Master’s cause and kingdom.”

She then read the letters which gave abundant evidence of the correctness of her estimate of the state of her sons’ minds.

They were working as teachers in a mission Sunday school, as Bible readers and tract distributors among the poor and degraded of the city where they were sojourning; doing good to bodies as well as souls— their mother supplying them with means for that purpose in addition to what she allowed them for pocket-money;— also exerting an influence for good among their fellow students.

They told of interesting meetings held for prayer and conference upon the things concerning the kingdom; of renewed and higher consecration on the part of many who were already numbered among the Master’s followers, and the conversion of others who had hitherto cared for none of these things.

The reading of the letters was followed by an earnest talk between the mother and her daughters, in which Violet told of her husband’s plans for giving through his children, in addition to what he would give in other ways.

“What excellent ideas?” Grandma Elsie exclaimed, her eyes shining with pleasure. “I shall adopt both with my younger two children, one with all of you.”

“Which is that last, mamma?” asked Violet sportively.

“The letting each of you select an object for a certain sum which I shall give.”

“Mamma, that is very nice and kind,” remarked her daughter Elsie, “but we should give of our own means. Do you not think so?”

“You may do that in addition,” her mother said. “I have seven children on earth— eight counting Zoe, and one in heaven. I shall give a thousand dollars in the name of each.”

“Mamma, I for one fully appreciate your kindness, but think you would make a wiser choice of objects than we,” said Violet, looking lovingly into her mother’s eyes.

“I want you to have the pleasure,” her mother answered, “and I am reserving much the larger part of what I have to give, for objects of my own selection; for it has pleased the Lord to trust me with the stewardship of a good deal of the gold and silver which are his.”

At that moment the little girls entered the room, and Rosie, hurrying up to her mother, asked, “Mamma, have you heard, has Vi told you what the captain intends doing? how he is going to reward his children for good behavior?”

“Yes; and I shall do the same by you and Walter.”

“That’s a dear, good mamma!” exclaimed Rosie with satisfaction. “I thought you would.”

“And I intend to follow the captain’s lead in another matter,” Grandma Elsie went on, smiling pleasantly upon her young daughter; “That is in allowing each of my sons and daughters to select some good object for me to give to.”

“That’s nice too,” commented Rosie: “I like to be trusted in such things— as well as others,” she added laughing, “and I hope you’ll trust me with quite a sum of money to give or spend just as I please!”

“Ah, my darling, you must not forget that your mother is only a steward,” was the sweet toned response, given between a smile and a sigh; for Grandma Elsie was not free from anxiety about this youngest daughter, who had some serious faults, and had not yet entered the service of the Lord Jesus Christ.

“Evelyn, dear, you too, as my pupil and a sort of adopted daughter, must share the reward of good behavior,” she said, with a tenderly affectionate look at the fatherless niece of her son-in-law.

Evelyn flushed with pleasure; but more because of the loving look than the promise of reward. “Dear Grandma Elsie, how very kind and good you always are to me!” she exclaimed feelingly, her eyes filling with tears of love and gratitude.

“Dear child, whatever I have done for you has always been both a duty and a pleasure,” Mrs. Travilla returned, taking the hand of the little girl, who was standing by her side, and pressing; it affectionately in her own.

“Well, Eva,” said Rosie, lightly, “you can calculate to a cent what you’ll have for benevolence, for you’re sure to earn the quarter every day of your life.”

“Not quite, Rosie,” Evelyn answered in her gentle, refined tones, “I am liable to fall as well as others, and may astonish both you and myself some day by behaving very ill indeed.”

“I certainly should be astonished, Eva,” laughed her Aunt Elsie. “I am quite sure it would be only under great provocation that you would be guilty of very bad behavior; and equally certain that you will never find that at Ion.”

“No,” Evelyn said, “I have never received anything but the greatest kindness there.”

“And you are so sweet-tempered that you would never fly into a passion if you were treated ever so badly,” remarked Lulu, with an admiring, appreciative look at her friend, accompanied by a regretful sigh over her own infirmity of temper.

“Perhaps my faults lie in another direction; and how much credit do people deserve for refraining from doing what they feel no temptation to do?” said Evelyn, with an arch look and smile directed toward Lulu.

“And those that tease quick tempered people, and make them angry, deserve at least half the blame,” Rosie said softly in Lulu’s ear, putting an arm affectionately about her as she spoke. “I don’t mean to do so ever again, Lu, dear.”

“I’m sure you don’t, Rosie,” returned Lulu, in the same low key, her eyes shining, “and it’s ever so good in you to take part of the blame of my badness.”

The visitors went away shortly after tea, Violet carried her babies off to bed, and the older three of the Woodburn children were left alone with their father.

They clustered about him, Grace on his knee, Lulu on one side, Max on the other, while their tongues ran fast on whatever subject happened to be uppermost in their thoughts, the captain encouraging them to talk freely; for he was most desirous to have their entire confidence in order that he might be the better able to correct wrong ideas and impressions, inculcate right views and motives, and lead them to tread the paths of rectitude, living noble, unselfish lives, serving God and doing good to their fellow creatures.

Sensible questions were sure to be patiently answered, requests carefully considered, and granted if reasonable and within his power; and instruction was given in a way to make it interesting and agreeable; reproof, if called for, administered in a kind, fatherly manner that robbed it of its sting.

They talked of their sports, their pets, the books they were reading, the coming holidays, the enjoyment they were looking forward to at that time, and their plans for helping to make it a happy time to others.

Evidently they were troubled with no doubt of their father’s fond affection, or of the fact that he was their best earthly friend and wisest counsellor.

“There are so many people I want to give to,” said Lulu; “it will take ever so much thinking to know how to manage it.”

“Yes; because of course we want to give things they’d like to have, and that we’ll have money enough to buy, or time to make,” said Grace.

“Perhaps I can help you with your plans,” said their father. “I think it would be well to make out a list of those to whom you wish to give, and then decide what amount to devote to each, and what sort of thing would be likely to prove acceptable, yet not cost more than you have set apart for its purchase.”

“Oh what a nice plan, papa!” exclaimed Lulu. “We’ll each make a list, sha’n’t we?”

“Yes; if you choose. Max, my son, you may get out paper and pencils for us, and we will set to work at once; no time like the present, is a good motto in most cases.”

Max hastened to obey and the lists were made out amid a good deal of pleasant chat, now grave, now gay.

“We don’t have to put down all the names, papa, do we?” Grace asked with an arch look and smile up into his face.

“No; we will except present company,” he replied, stroking her hair caressingly, and returning her smile with one full of tender fatherly affection.

The names were all written down first, then came the task of deciding upon the gifts.

“We will take your lists in turn, beginning with Max’s and ending with Gracie’s,” the captain said.

That part of the work required no little consultation between the three children; papa’s advice was asked in every instance, and almost always decided the question; but, glancing over the lists when completed, “I think, my dears, you have laid out too much work for yourselves,” he said.

“But I thought you always liked us to be industrious, papa,” said Lulu.

“Yes, daughter, but not overworked; I can not have that; nor can I allow you to neglect your studies, omit needed exercise, or go without sufficient sleep to keep you in health.”

“Papa, you always make taking good care of us the first thing,” she said gratefully, nestling closer to him.

“Don’t you know that’s what fathers are for?” he said, smiling down on her. “My children were given me to be taken care of, provided for, loved and trained up aright. A precious charge!” he added, looking from one to another with glistening eyes.

“Yes, sir, I know,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder and slipping a hand into his, “and oh but I’m glad and thankful that God gave me to you instead of to somebody else!”

“And Gracie and I are just as glad to belong to papa as you are,” said Max, Grace adding, “Yes, indeed!” as she held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave very heartily.

“But, papa, what are we to do about the presents if we mustn’t take time to make them?” asked Lulu.

“Make fewer and buy more.”

“But maybe the money won’t hold out.”

“You will have to make it hold out by choosing less expensive articles, or giving fewer gifts.”

“We’ll have to try hard to earn the quarter for good behavior every day, Lu,” said Max.

“Yes, I mean to; but that won’t help with Christmas gifts; it’s only for benevolence, you know.”

“But what you give to the poor, simply because they are poor and needy, may be considered benevolence, I think,” said their father.

“Oh may it?” she exclaimed. “I’m glad of that! Papa, I— haven’t liked Dick very much since he chopped up the cradle I’d carved for Gracie’s dolls, but I believe I want to give him a Christmas present; it will help me to forgive him and like him better. But I don’t know what would please him best.”

“Something to make a noise with,” suggested Max; “a drum or trumpet for instance.”

“He’d make too much racket,” she objected.

“How would a hatchet do?” asked Max, with waggish look and smile.

“Not at all; he isn’t fit to be trusted with one,” returned Lulu, promptly. “Papa, what do you think would be a suitable present for him?”

“A book with bright pictures and short stories told very simply in words of one or two syllables. Dick is going to school and learning to read, and I think such a gift would be both enjoyable and useful to him.”

“Yes; that’ll be just the right thing!” exclaimed Lulu. “Papa, you always do know best about everything.”

“I hope you’ll stick to that idea, Lu,” laughed Max. “You seem to have only just found it out; but Grace and I have known it this long while; haven’t we, Gracie?”

“Yes, indeed!” returned the little sister.

“And so have I,” said Lulu, hanging her head and blushing, “only sometimes I’ve forgotten it for a while. But I hope I won’t any more, dear papa,” she added softly, with a penitent, beseeching look up into his face.

“I hope not, my darling,” he responded in tender tones, caressing her hair and cheek with his hand, “and the past shall not be laid up against you.”

“Papa, will you take us to the city, as you did last year, and let us choose, ourselves, the things we are going to give?” asked Max.

“I intend to do so,” his father said. “Judging from the length of your lists, I think we will have to take several trips to accomplish it all. So we will make a beginning before long, when the weather has become settled; perhaps the first pleasant day of next week, if you have all been good and industrious about your lessons.”

“Have we earned our quarters to-day, papa?” asked Grace.

“I think you are in a fair way to do so,” he answered smiling, “but you still have a chance to lose them between this and your bedtime.”

“It’s just before we get into bed you’ll give them to us, papa?” Lulu said inquiringly.

“I shall tell you at that time whether you have earned them, but I may sometimes only set the amount down to your credit and pay you the money in a lump at the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir; we’ll like that way just as well,” they returned in chorus.

Violet had come in and taken possession of an easy chair on the farther side of the glowing grate.

Looking smilingly at the little group opposite, “I have a thought,” she said lightly; “who can guess it?”

“It’s something nice about papa; how handsome he is, and how good and kind,” ventured Lulu.

“A very close guess, Lu,” laughed Violet; “for my thought was that the Woodburn children have as good and kind a father as could be found in all the length and breadth of the land.”

“We know it, Mamma Vi; we all think so,” cried the children.

But the captain shook his head, saying, “Ah, my dear, flattery is not good for me. If you continue to dose me with it, who knows but I shall become as conceited and vain as a peacock?”

“Not a bit of danger of that!” she returned gaily. “But I do not consider the truth flattery.”

“Suppose we change the subject,” he said with a good-humored smile. “We have been making out lists of Christmas gifts and would like to have your opinion and advice in regard to some of them.”

“You shall have them for what they are worth,” she returned, taking the slips of paper Max handed her, and glancing over them.

Chapter 4

 

The parlor at Ion, full of light and warmth, looked very pleasant and inviting this evening. The whole family— not so large now as it had been before Capt. Raymond took his wife and children to a home of their own— were gathered there;— Mr. Dinsmore and his wife— generally called Grandma Rose by the children— Grandma Elsie, her son Edward and his wife, Zoe, and the two younger children;— Rosie and Walter.

The ladies and Rosie were all knitting or crocheting. Mr. Dinsmore and Edward were playing chess, and Walter was deep in a story book.

“Zoe,” said Rosie, breaking a pause in the conversation, “do you know, has mamma told you, about her new plans for benevolence? how she is going to let us all help her in distributing her funds?”

“Us?” echoed Zoe inquiringly.

“Yes; all her children; and that includes you of course.”

“Most assuredly it does,” said Grandma Elsie, smiling tenderly upon her young daughter-in-law.

Zoe’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you, mamma,” she said with feeling. “I should be very sorry to be left out of the number; I am very proud of belonging there.

“But what about the new plans, Rosie? if mamma is willing you should tell me now what they are.”

“Quite willing,” responded mamma, and Rosie went on.

“You know mamma always gives thousands of dollars every year to home and foreign missions, and other good causes, and she says that this time she will let each of us choose a cause for her to give a thousand to.”

“I like that!” exclaimed Zoe. “Many thanks, mamma, for my share of the privilege. I shall choose to have my thousand go to help the mission schools in Utah. I feel so sorry for those poor Mormon women. The idea of having to share your husband with another woman, or maybe half a dozen or more! It’s simply awful!”

“Yes; and that is only a small part of the wickedness Mormonism is responsible for,” remarked Grandma Rose. “Think of the tyranny of their priesthood; interfering with the liberty of the people in every possible way— claiming the right to dictate as to what they shall read, where they shall send their children to school, with whom they shall trade, where they shall live, or ordering them to break up their homes, make a forced sale of their property, and move into another state or territory at their own cost, or go on a mission.”

“Their wicked doctrine and practice of what they call blood atonement, too,” sighed Grandma Elsie.

“And the bitter hatred they inculcate toward the people and government of these United States,” added Zoe. “Oh I am sure both love of country and desire for the advancement of Christ’s cause and kingdom, should lead us to do all we can to rescue Utah from Mormonism. Do you not think so, mamma?”

“I entirely agree with you, and am well satisfied with your choice,” Grandma Elsie replied.

“Perhaps I shall choose for mine to go there too,” said Rosie. “But I believe I’ll take a little more time to consider the claims of other causes.”

Walter closed his book and came to his mother’s side. “Am I to have a share in it, mamma?” he asked.

“In selecting an object for me to give to? Yes, my son.”

“A thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Oh that’s good! I think I’ll adopt an Indian boy, clothe and educate him.”

“Adopt?” laughed Rosie; “a boy of ten talking about adopting somebody else!”

“Not to be a father to him, Rosie— except in the way of providing for him as fathers do for their children. Mamma knows what I mean.”

“Yes, my boy, I do; and highly approve. As a nation we have robbed the poor Indians, and owe them a debt that I fear will never be paid.”

“I mean to do my share toward paying it if I live to be a man,” Walter said, “and I’d like to begin now.”

“I am very glad to hear it, my son,” responded his mother.

“Would you prefer to have all your thousands go to pay that debt, mamma?” asked Rosie.

“No, child, not all; as I have said, I highly approve of Zoe’s choice; and I would send the gospel tidings into the dark places of the earth, to the millions who have never heard the name of Jesus.”

“And there is another race to whom we owe reparation,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore, leaning back in his chair, and regarding the chess-board with a half rueful look. “There, Ned, my boy, I think you wouldn’t have come off victor if my attention had not been called from the game by the talk of the ladies.”

“Never mind, Grandpa; we’ll take all the blame,” laughed Rosie, jumping up to run and put her arms round his neck and give him a kiss.

He returned it, drew her to his knee, and went on with his remarks.

“You all know, of course, that I refer to the negroes, who were forcibly torn from their own land and enslaved in this. We must educate and evangelize them: as a debt we owe them, and also for the salvation of our country, whose liberties will be greatly imperilled by their presence and possession of the elective franchise, if they are left to ignorance and vice.”

“Grandpa, what do you mean by the elective franchise?” asked Walter going to the side of the old gentleman’s chair.

“The right to vote at elections, my son. You can see, can’t you, what harm might come from it.”

“Yes, sir; they might help to put bad men into office; some of themselves maybe; and bad men would be likely to make bad laws, and favor rogues. Oh yes, sir, I understand it!”

“Then perhaps you may want to help provide for the instruction of the colored race as well as of the Indians?”

“Yes, sir, I would like to. I hope the thousand dollars may be enough to help the work for both.”

“I think it will; that your mother will be satisfied to have you divide it into two or more portions, that several good objects may receive some aid from it.”

“Will you, mamma?” asked Walter, turning to her.

“Yes, I think it would perhaps be the wisest way.”

“And besides,” said Rosie, “mamma is going to give us young ones a chance to earn money for benevolence by paying us for good behavior. I know we ought to be good without other reward than that of a good conscience, but I’m quite delighted with the plan for all that.”

“I too,” said Walter, looking greatly pleased.

“Thank you, mamma dear. How much is it you’re going to give us?”

“Twenty-five cents for every day on which I have no occasion to find fault with either your conduct or recitations.”

“A new idea, daughter, isn’t it?” queried Mr. Dinsmore.

“Yes, sir; and not original. I learned at Woodburn to-day, that the captain was going to try the plan with his children. I trust it meets your approval? I might better have consulted with you before announcing my intention to adopt it.”

“That was not at all necessary,” he returned pleasantly. “But I quite approve, and trust, you will find it work to your entire satisfaction.”

“Talking of helping the blacks, and thinking of the advice so often given, ‘Do the work nearest at hand,’ it strikes me it would be well for us to begin with those in our own house and on the plantation,” remarked Edward.

“I think they have never been neglected, Edward,” said his grandfather; “a school-house was provided for them years ago, your mother pays a teacher to instruct them, visits the school frequently, often gives religious instruction herself to the pupils there, and to their parents in visiting them in their cabins; sees that they are taken care of in sickness too, and that they do not suffer for the necessaries of life at any time.”

“Yes, sir, that is all true,” returned Edward, “but I was only thinking of giving them some extra care, instruction and gifts during the approaching holidays; says a Christmas tree loaded with, not the substantials of life only, but some of the things that will give pleasure merely— finery for the women and girls, toys for the children and so forth.”

“Meaning tobacco for the old folks and sweets for all, I suppose?” added Zoe with sportive look and tone.

“Yes, my dear, that’s about it,” he said, smiling affectionately upon her.

“O mamma, let us do it!” cried Rosie with enthusiasm; “let’s have a fine big tree in their school-room, and have them come there and get their gifts before we have ours here. We should get Vi and the captain to join us in it as the colored children from Woodburn attend school there too.”

“I am well pleased with the idea,” replied her mother, “and have little doubt that the captain and Vi will be also. But let us have your opinion, my dear father,” she added, turning upon him a look of mingled love and reverence.

“It coincides with yours, daughter,” Mr. Dinsmore answered. “And I move that Ned’ and Zoe be appointed a committee to find out the needs of the proposed recipients of our bounty; others being permitted to assist if they like.”

The motion was carried by acclamation, merry jesting and laughter followed, and in the midst of it all the door was thrown open and a visitor announced.

“Mr. Lilburn, ladies and gentlemen.”

Grandma Elsie hastily laid aside her crocheting and hurried forward with both hands extended. “Cousin Ronald! what a joyful surprise! Welcome, welcome to Ion!”

“Thanks, a thousand thanks, my fair kinswoman, my bonny leddy, my sweet Cousin Elsie,” returned the old gentleman, taking the offered hands in his and imprinting a kiss upon the still round and blooming cheek. “I have ventured to come without previous announcement o’ my intention, or query about the inconvenience I might cause in your household arrangements, or— ”

“No fear of that, sir,” Mr. Dinsmore interrupted, offering his hand in return. “I know that you are, and always will be, a most welcome guest in my daughter’s house. You have given us a very pleasant surprise, and the fault will not be ours if we do not keep you all winter.”

The others, from Mrs. Dinsmore down to Walter, followed suit with greetings no less joyous and cordial, for the old gentleman was a great favorite at Ion, and with the whole connection.

He was presently installed in the easiest chair, in the warmest corner, and hospitably urged to take some refreshment.

But he declined, saying he had had his supper in the village, before driving over, and wanted nothing more till morning.

Then he went on to account for his sudden appearance. He had been sojourning some hundreds of miles farther north, had not been well, and his physician advising an immediate change to a more southerly climate, he had set out at once for Ion, without waiting to let them know of his intentions; feeling sure of just such a welcome as he had received.

“And a month’s warning could not have made you more welcome than you are, cousin,” said his hostess.

The conversation broken in upon by Mr. Lilburn’s arrival, was not renewed that evening, but the subject was introduced again the next morning at the breakfast table, and some questions in regard to it were decided. All could not be, however, without consultation with the captain and Violet, and with Lester and Elsie Leland.

Both families were speedily informed, through the telephone, of the arrival of Mr. Lilburn, and that afternoon saw them all gathered at Ion again to do him honor, and to complete their arrangements for the holiday festivities.

During the intervening weeks there was a great deal of traveling back and forth between the three houses, and to and from the city; for their plans involved a good deal of shopping on the part of both the older people and the children.

The latter were so full of pleasureable excitement that at times they found no little difficulty in giving proper attention to their studies. Such was especially the case with Rosie and Lulu, but both Grandma Elsie and Capt. Raymond were quite firm, though in a kind and gentle way, in requiring tasks to be well learned before permission was given to lay them aside for more congenial employment.

Rosie besought her mother very urgently for permission to sit up for an hour beyond her usual bedtime, in order to make greater progress with her fancy work for Christmas, but it was not granted.

“No, my dear little daughter,” Elsie said, “you need your usual amount of sleep to keep you in health, and I can not have you deprived of it.”

“But, mamma,” returned Rosie, a little impatiently, “I’m sure it couldn’t do me any great amount of damage to try it a few times, and I really think you might allow me to do so.”

“My daughter must try to believe that her mother knows best,” was the grave, though gently spoken rejoinder.

“I think it is a little hard, mamma,” pouted Rosie; “I’m almost grown up and it’s so pleasant in the parlor where you are all talking together— especially now that Cousin Ronald is here— that it does seem too bad to have to run away from it all an hour before you older folks separate for the night. I’d feel it hard even if I wasn’t wanting more time for my fancy work for Christmas.”

“A little girl with so foolish and unkind a mother as yours is certainly much to be pitied,” Mrs. Travilla remarked in reply.

“Mamma, I did not mean that; I could never think or speak of you in that way,” returned Rosie, blushing vividly and hanging her head.

“If you had overheard Lulu addressing the remarks to her father that you have just made to me, would you have taken them as evidence of her confidence in his wisdom and love for her?” asked her mother; and Rosie was obliged to acknowledge that she would not.

“Please forgive me, mamma dear,” she said penitently. “I’ll not talk so again. I haven’t earned my quarter for good behavior to-day. I’m quite aware of that.”

“No, my child, I am sorry to have to say you have not,” sighed her mother.

It was one afternoon in the second week after Mr. Lilburn’s arrival that this conversation between Rosie and her mother was held.

At the same hour Max and Lulu were in their work-room at home, busily carving. Since their dismissal from that morning’s tasks, they had spent every moment of time at that work, except what had necessarily been given to the eating of their dinner.

Presently their father came in.

“You are very industrious, my darlings,” he said in a pleasant tone, “but how much exercise have you taken in the open air to-day?”

“Not any yet, papa,” answered Max.

“Then it must be attended to at once by both of you.”

“O papa, let me keep on at this just a little longer,” pleaded Lulu.

“No, daughter, not another minute; these winter days are short; the sun will Boon set, and outdoor exercise will not do you half so much good after sundown as before. Put on your hats and coats and we will have a brisk walk together. The roads are quite dry now and I think we will find it enjoyable.”

The cloud that had begun to gather on Lulu’s brow at the refusal of her request, vanished with the words of invitation to walk with papa, for to do so, was one of her dear delights.

Both she and Max obeyed the order with cheerful alacrity, and presently the three sallied forth together to return in time for tea, in good spirits and with fine appetites for their meal; the children rosy and merry.

Violet was teaching Lulu to crochet, and the little girl had become much interested in her work. When the hour for bedtime came she did not want to give it up, and like Rosie begged for permission to stay up for another hour.

“No, dear child,” her father said, “it is quite important that little ones like you should keep to regular hours, early hours too, for going to rest.”

“Then may I get up sooner in the mornings while I’m so busy?” she asked coaxingly.

“If you find yourself unable to sleep; not otherwise. My little girl’s health is of far more importance than the making of the most beautiful Christmas gifts,” he added with a tender caress.

“And I sha’n’t forget this time that papa knows best,” she said in a cheery tone, giving him a hug.

He returned it. “I think to-morrow is likely to be a pleasant day,” he said, “and if so I hope to take my wife and children to the city for some more of the shopping you all seem to find so necessary and delightful just now. Your Aunt Elsie and Evelyn are going too, so that you can probably have your friend’s help in selecting the articles you wish to buy.”

“Oh how delightful!” she exclaimed. “I ought to be a good girl with such a kind father, always planning something to give me pleasure.”

“You enjoy such expeditions, don’t you, Lu?” queried Violet.

“Yes, indeed, Mamma Vi, and I hope papa will take me several times. I want to select my gift for Rosie to-morrow, with Eva to help me; and I’d like Rosie to go with me another time to help me choose one for Evelyn.”

“I think I shall be able to gratify you in that; and to give you more time for Christmas work, I will release you from the task of taking care of your own rooms, till after the holidays, and have them attended to by one of the servants,” said the captain. “But now bid good night and go to your bed.”

“Oh thank you, dear papa,” she cried joyously, and obeyed at once without a murmur.

The weather next day was favorable, and the shopping a decided success. The ladies and little girls returned somewhat weary with their exertions, but in fine spirits, Lulu feeling particularly happy over a present for Rosie, which every one thought was sure to be acceptable.

A few days later her father took her and Rosie together, Evelyn being left out of the party in order that her present might be selected without her knowledge.

Indeed in the afternoon of every pleasant day, from that to the one before Christmas, the Woodburn carriage might have been seen driving to and from the city; and on almost every occasion Lulu was one of its occupants.

But on the twenty third she preferred to stay behind— so much that she wanted a share in was going on at, or near home; first the trimmings with evergreens of several rooms in the mansion, then of the school-house for the poor whites of the neighborhood, which Capt. Raymond had caused to be built on a corner of his estate— paying a teacher that the children might be instructed without cost to their parents.

A fine large Christmas tree was set up in it, another in the school-house for the blacks at Ion.

The colored people employed on the Fairview estate attended there also, and were to have a share in the entertainment provided for those of Woodburn and Ion; so the children of the three families united in the work of ornamenting first one building, then the other, finding it great sport, and flattering themselves that they were of great assistance, though the older people who were overseeing matters, and the servants acting under their direction, were perhaps of a different opinion. Yet the sight of the enjoyment of the little folks more than atoned for the slight inconvenience of having them about.

Christmas came on Wednesday and the holidays had begun for them all the Friday before. Lessons would not be taken up again till after New Year’s day.

It had been decided at Woodburn that they would not go to Ion till Christmas morning, as they all preferred to celebrate Christmas eve at home. The children were going to hang up their stockings, but had not been told that they would have a tree or any gifts. They thought, and had said to each other, that perhaps papa might think the money he had given them to spend and to give, and the privilege of selecting objects for his benevolence, was enough from him, but the friends at Ion and Fairview always had remembered them, and most likely would do so again.

“Still they may not,” Lulu added with a slight sigh when she talked the matter over with Max and Grace that morning, for the last time; “for they are all giving more than usual to missions and disabled ministers, and poor folks, and I don’t know what else; but it’s real fun to give to the poor round here; I mean it will be to help put things on the trees and then see how pleased they’ll all be when they get ’em: at least I do suppose they will. Don’t you, May?”

“I shall be very much surprised if they’re not,” he assented, “though I begin to find out that ‘it is more blessed to give than to receive.’ And yet for all that if I get some nice presents to-night or to-morrow I— sha’n’t be at all sorry,” he added with a laugh.

“Max,” said Lulu reflectively, “you knew about the Christmas tree beforehand last year; hasn’t papa told you whether we’re to have one this time or not?”

“No, not a word; and as he tells me almost always what he intends to have done about the place,” the boy went on with a look of pride in the confidence reposed in him, “I’m afraid it’s pretty good evidence that we’re not to have one.”

For a moment Grace looked sorely disappointed; then brightening, “But I’m most sure,” she said, “that papa and mamma won’t let us go without any presents at all. They love us a great deal, and will be sure to remember us with a little bit of something.”

“Anyway it’s nice that we have something for them,” remarked Lulu cheerily. “Papa helped us choose Mamma Vi’s, and she advised us what to make for papa; so I’m pretty sure they’ll both be pleased.”

It was while waiting for their father to take them to the school-house that they had this talk, and it was brought to a conclusion by his voice summoning them to get into the carriage.

“There is no time to lose, my darlings,” he said, “for it is likely to take about all the morning to trim the two rooms and two trees.”

Chapter 5

 

Grandma Elsie’s college boys, Harold and Herbert Travilla, had come home for the holidays, arriving the latter part of the previous week. This morning they had come over to Woodburn, very soon after breakfast, “to have a chat with Vi while they could catch her alone,” they said, “for with all the company that was to be entertained at Ion they might not have so good a chance again.”

They stood with her at the window watching the carriage as it drove away with the captain and his children. It had hardly reached the gate leading into the high road when Harold turned to his sister with the remark,

“Well, Vi, we’ve had quite a satisfactory talk; and now for action. As I overheard the captain say to the children, ‘there’s no time to lose.’”

“No; we will begin at once,” returned Violet, leading the way to the large room where the Christmas tree had been set up last year.

A couple of negro men were carrying in its counterpart at one door, as Violet and her brother entered at the other.

“Ah that’s a fine tree, Jack!” she said addressing one of them; “the captain selected it, I suppose?”

“Yes, Miss Wi’let, de cap’n done say dis hyar one was for de Woodburn chillen; an’ we’s to watch an’ fotch ’em in soon’s dey’s clar gone out ob sight.”

“Yes,” she said, “we want to give them a pleasant surprise. I think they are doubtful as to whether their father intends that they shall have a tree this year,” she added, aside to her brothers.

“Then the surprise will be the greater,” Harold returned; “and it is half the fun. I supposed they were pretty certain of the tree, and would be surprised only by the nature of the gifts.”

“They will have a goodly supply of those,” Violet said, with a pleased look, glancing in the direction of a table heaped with packages of various sizes and shapes. “Do you know, boys, when Christmas times come round I always feel glad I married a man with children; it’s such a dear delight to lay plans for their enjoyment and to carry them out.”

“Just like you, Vi,” said Herbert, “and I like to hear you talk in that way; but you have your own two.”

“Yes; but even Elsie is hardly old enough yet to care very much for such things.”

The tree was now in place and the work of trimming it began.

“It’s very good in you boys to come here and help me instead of joining in the fun they are doubtless having at the school-house,” remarked Violet, as she handed a glittering fairy to Harold who was mounted upon a step-ladder alongside of the tree. “There, I think that will look well perched on that topmost bough.”

“Our tastes agree,” he said, fastening the fairy in the designated spot.

“Yes, I think Herbie and I are entitled to any amount of gratitude on your part, for the great self-denial we are practicing, and the wonderful exertions we shall put forth in carrying out your wishes and directions in regard to this difficult and irksome business.”

“And the fine phrases and well turned periods contained in the remarks bestowed upon your unsophisticated country sister,” laughed Violet.

“Of course they must not be forgotten in the reckoning up of your causes for gratitude. Ah, Vi, how my heart goes out in pity and sympathy for you when I reflect that you not only never have shared in the inestimable privileges and delights of college boy life, but are, in the very nature of things, forever debarred from participation in them!”

“I entirely appreciate your feelings on the subject,” she said, with mock gravity, “but would advise that for the present you forget them, and give your undivided attention to the business in hand. That second fairy does not maintain a very graceful attitude.”

“True enough,” he said, promptly altering its position. “There, how’s that for high?”

“Is it possible I hear such slang from the educated tongue of a college boy?” she exclaimed with a gesture of astonishment and dismay.

“She’s high enough,” said Herbert, gazing scrutinizingly at the fairy, “but there’d better be more work and less talk if we are to get through before the captain and his party come home.”

“Herbert, when Mrs. Raymond and I have reached your venerable age you may expect to find us as sedate and industrious as you are now,” remarked Harold, proceeding to hang upon the tree various ornaments, as Herbert handed them to him.

“And in Harold’s case due allowance must be made for the exuberance of spirits of a boy just let out of school,” added Violet.

“And in your case, my dear madam, for what? a youthful flow of spirits consequent upon a temporary release from the heavy responsibilities of wifehood and motherhood?”

“Very temporary,” laughed Violet; “my husband will be here again in a few hours, and the call to attend to my babies may come at any moment.”

“I daresay if the captain had consulted only his own inclination he would be here now, overseeing this job,” remarked Harold, half interrogatively.

“Yes,” replied Violet; “but he thought his duty called him to the other places; and I think my good husband never fails to go where duty calls. We talked it over and concluded that the best plan we could hit upon was for me to stay at home and see to this work, while he should take his children and assist at the decoration of the school-houses.”

“To secure you an opportunity to prepare a pleasant surprise for them,” supplemented Harold.

Their work was finished, its results surveyed with satisfaction, and the door of the room closed and locked upon it, before the return of the carriage bringing Capt. Raymond and his merry, happy little flock.

Dinner filled up the greater part of the interval between their home-coming and return to the school-house on the corner of the estate, to witness the distribution of gifts to the poor whites of the neighborhood; and by a little management on the part of their father, Violet and her brothers, they were kept from the vicinity of the room where the Christmas tree stood, and got no hint of its existence.

Their thoughts were full of the doings of the morning and the coming events of the afternoon, and their tongues ran fast on the two subjects. Their father had to remind them once or twice that older people must be allowed a chance to talk as well as themselves; but his tone was not stern, and the slight reproof, though sufficient to produce the desired effect, threw no damper upon their youthful spirits.

They were in the carriage again soon after leaving the table, Violet with them this time, Harold and Herbert riding on horseback alongside of the vehicle, for they desired a share in witnessing the bestowal of the gifts.

They found teacher and pupils there before them; every face bright with pleasurable anticipation.

The Jones children, whose mother had died the year before, and who had continued to find a good friend in Capt. Raymond, were among the number.

Grandma Elsie, Zoe, Rosie, Walter and Evelyn Leland arrived in a body soon after the Woodburn family, and then the exercises began.

The captain offered a short prayer, and made a little address appropriate to the occasion; teacher and scholars sang a hymn, a Christmas carol; then the tree was unveiled amid murmurs of admiration and delight, and the distribution of the gifts began.

Every child received a suit of warm, comfortable clothes, a book, a bag of candy, a sandwich or two, some cakes and fruit.

The tree was hung with rosy-cheeked apples, oranges, bananas, bunches of grapes and strings of popcorn. There were bright tinsel ornaments too, and a goodly array of gaily dressed paper dolls, mostly Gracie’s contribution.

She had given up all her store for the gratification of the poor children.

“I’ve had such good times myself, playing with them and dressing them, that I do believe the poor children, that don’t have half the pleasures I do, will enjoy them too, and I can do very well without,” she said to Lulu on deciding to make the sacrifice.

So she told her father they were not to be used merely as a temporary ornament for the tree, but to be given away to some of the younger girls attending the school.

They, along with other pretty things, were taken from the tree and presented last of all, and the delight manifested by the recipients more than made amends to Gracie for her self-denial.

From the Woodburn school-house our friends all repaired to the one at Ion, and a similar scene was enacted there. The exercises and the gifts to the children were very nearly the same, but there were older people— house servants and laborers on the estates— to whom were given more substantial gifts in money and provisions for the support of their families.

The afternoon was waning when the Raymonds again entered their family carriage and the captain gave the order, “Home to Woodburn.”

And now the children began to think of the home celebration of Christmas eve, and to renew their wonderings as to what arrangements might have been made for their own enjoyment of its return. Still they asked no question on the subject, but they sobered down and were very quiet during the short drive.

“Tired, children?” queried their father, putting an arm round Grace as she leaned confidingly up against him, and smiling affectionately upon them all.

“Oh, no, sir, not at all!” replied Max, quickly, straightening himself with the air of one who had no thought of fatigue.

“Not at all, papa,” echoed Lulu.

“Only just a little bit, papa,” Grace said with cheerful look and tone. “We have had such a nice day.”

“Giving pleasure to others,” he remarked, patting the rosy cheek resting against his shoulder; “there is nothing more enjoyable. The little girls were very glad to get your dollies.”

“Yes, sir; I’m so glad I gave them.”

The carriage stopped. They were at their own door. In another minute they had all alighted and the children were following their father and Violet into the house.

A Newfoundland dog, a magnificent specimen of his race, met them almost at the threshold.

“Oh!” cried the children, in excited chorus, “where, did he come from? Whose dog is he?”

“Max’s; a Christmas gift from papa,” answered the captain.

“Oh!” exclaimed Max, his face sparkling all over with delight, “what a splendid fellow! Papa, thank you ever so much! You couldn’t have given me a more acceptable present.”

“Ah? I’m glad you like him. But come into the library, all of you, for a moment. It is not quite tea time yet.”

The captain led the way as he spoke, everybody else following.

“Howdy do? Where you been?” called out a rather harsh voice, and sending a surprised, inquiring glance about in search of the speaker, the children presently spied a cage with a parrot in it; an African parrot; grey, with a scarlet tail.

“Polly wants a cracker!” screamed the bird. “Time for breakfast, Lu! Where you been?”

“How will Polly suit you for a Christmas gift, Lulu?” asked the captain, smiling down into the flushed, delighted face of his eldest daughter.

“O papa, is it for me?” she cried half breathlessly.

“Yes, if you want it, though I fear she may prove a rather troublesome pet. Here is Gracie’s gift from papa,” he added, pointing to a beautiful Maltese kitten curled upon the rug before the fire. “We mustn’t let Max’s big gift swallow your little one. I trust that in time we can teach them to be friends.”

Grace loved kittens and was no less delighted with her present than her brother and sister with theirs.

“O the pretty pet!” she exclaimed, dropping down on the rug beside it and gently stroking its soft fur. “I’d like to take you on my lap, pretty pussy, but you’re fast asleep, and I won’t wake you.”

“That is right, my darling; I am glad to see my little girl thoughtful of the comfort of even a cat,” her father said, bending down to stroke Gracie’s hair with tenderly caressing hand.

“I s’pose they have feelings as well as other folks, papa,” she said, smiling up affectionately into his face. “I mean to be very kind to this pretty pussy; and oh I’m ever so much obliged to you for her!”

His reply was prevented by a sudden, loud bark from the dog, as he spied pussy on the rug.

“Turn him out into the hall, May,” the captain said, hastily stepping in between dog and cat. “Don’t be alarmed for your pet, Gracie; he shall not be permitted to harm her.”

“Nor my Polly either, shall he, papa?” asked Lulu, who was trying to make acquaintance with her new possession.

“No; certainly not. But take care of your fingers, daughter; she may snap at them and give you a bite that you will remember for a long while. Now go and get yourselves ready for tea. It is almost time for the bell to ring.”

The children made haste to obey. The captain and Violet lingered behind for a moment.

“How pleased they are!” she said with a joyous look up into her husband’s face. “It’s a perfect treat to witness their delight on such occasions. I can hardly wait to show them the tree with all its treasures.”

“Dear wife, your affection for my darlings is a well-spring of joy to me,” he said with tender look and smile; “and theirs for you no less so. I am sure you have completely won their hearts.”

“You make me very happy,” she responded, her eyes shining with joy and love. “But there! do you hear little Elsie calling for papa and mamma?”

The faces that surrounded the tea table that evening were very bright, though the children had no expectation of the treat in store for them; each had had a present from papa, and that was almost more than they had ventured to hope for.

But they were in gay spirits, looking forward to a time of rare enjoyment in spending the Christmas holidays with Grandma Elsie, at Ion.

“We’ll be glad to go,” remarked Lulu, “and then glad to come back to our own dear home.”

“So you will be twice glad,” said her father.

“Yes, that is just the way I feel about it,” Violet said. “Mamma’s house will always be a home to me— a dear home; and yet my husband’s doubly so.”

“It should, seeing that it is quite as much yours as his,” he said, with a gratified smile. “Well, my dear, I see we have all finished eating. Shall we go now?”

“Yes, sir; if you please. Our little girls will want to take another peep at their new pets,” she said, rising and slipping her hand into his arm.

They passed out of the room together, the children following.

But on reaching the hall, instead of going into the library they turned toward the parlor on the other side of it, in which, as the children well remembered, last year’s Christmas tree had been set up.

The captain threw open the door, and then stood a larger and finer tree blazing with lights from many tapers and colored lamps, and loaded with beautiful things.

“Oh! oh! what a beauty! what a splendid tree!” cried the children, dancing about and clapping their hands in delight. “And we didn’t know we were to have any at all. Mamma Vi you must have had it set up, and trimmed it while we were gone this morning. Didn’t you? Oh thank you ever so much!”

“Your father provided it, and your thanks are due to him far more than to me,” Violet replied, with a smiling-glance in his direction.

At that they crowded about him, Max putting a hand affectionately into his and thanking him with hearty words of appreciation, while the little girls hugged and kissed him to his heart’s content.

The servants had gathered about the door, little Elsie’s mammy among them, with her nursling in her arms.

“Oh pretty, pretty!” shouted the little one, clapping her hands in an ecstacy of delight. “Let Elsie down, mammy.”

“Come to papa,” the captain said, and taking her in his arms carried her to the tree and all around it, pointing out the pretty things.

“What would you like to have?” he asked. “What shall papa give you off this beautiful tree?”

“Dolly,” she said, reaching out for a lovely bisque doll seated in a tiny chair attached to one of the lower branches.

“You shall have it; it was put there on purpose for papa’s baby girl,” he said, taking it up carefully and putting it into her arms. “Now let us see what we can find for mamma and your brother and sisters.”

His gift to Violet was some beautiful lace selected with the help of her mother. He had contrived to add it to the adornments of the tree without her knowledge. She was greatly pleased when he detached and handed it to her.

Max was delighted to receive a Magic lantern and a Sleight of Hand outfit, Lulu a game of Lawn and Parlor Ring Toss, and a handsome Toilet Case. Grace had the same and beside a brass bedstead for her dolls, with mattress and pillows, and a large and complete assortment of everything needed for making and dressing paper dolls. That last was from Lulu.

There were books, periodicals, a type writer and games to be shared by all three, beside other less important gifts from one to the other, and from outside friends.

The servants too, were remembered with gifts suited to their needs and tastes, and there were fruits and confections for all.

Examining their own and each other’s gifts, peeping into the new books, trying the new games, with papa and mamma helping, the children found the evening pass very quickly and delightfully.

“We were going to hang up our stockings,” Grace remarked as the good nights were being said, “but we’ve had so many nice things already that it does seem as if we oughtn’t to do it.”

“Oh yes, hang them up,” said her father laughingly. “Santa Claus won’t feel obliged to put anything into them.”

“And perhaps if he doesn’t find them hanging up he may feel hurt at your low opinion of his generosity,” laughed Violet.

“Oh I wouldn’t like to hurt his feelings, ’cause I’m sure he must be a very nice old fellow,” returned the little girl with an arch look and smile. “So I’ll hang mine up.”

“And I mine,” said Lulu, twining her arms about her father’s neck and looking up lovingly into his face, “for I know he’s nice, and generous, and good as gold, though he isn’t old or the sort of person to be called a fellow.”

“Indeed! one might infer that you were quite well acquainted with him,” laughed the captain, giving her a hug and kiss. “Yes, hang it up. And, Max, if you don’t feel it beneath the dignity of a lad of your size, there will be no harm in your trying the same experiment.”

“I’m ashamed to think of it, sir, only because I’ve already had so much,” said Max.

“But you are always safe in following your father’s advice,” remarked Violet.

“Oh yes, I know that, and I’ll do it, Mamma Vi,” returned the boy, with ill-concealed satisfaction.

“Now all three of you get to bed and to sleep as soon as you can, in order to give the old fellow a chance to pay his visit,” said the captain; “for I have always understood that he never does so till all the children in the house are asleep. I’ll go in to kiss my little girls good-night after they are snug in bed, but we will reserve our talk till morning.”

“Yes, papa, we will,” they said and hastened away to do his bidding.

At Ion too, there was a beautiful Christmas tree, bearing fruit not very dissimilar to that of the one at Woodburn. It had been the occasion of much mirth and rejoicing on the part of the children, and pleasure to the older people: the gifts had been apportioned, those of the servants bestowed and carried away, but most of those belonging to the family, and all the ornaments, were left upon it that the guests of to-morrow might be treated to the spectacle of its beauty.

Chapter 6

 

Capt. Raymond, going into Gracie’s room to fulfil his promise to give her a good night kiss, found Lulu there also; the two lying clasped in each other’s arms.

“We thought we’d sleep together to-night, papa,” said Lulu, “if you’re willing.”

“I have no objection,” he answered. “Gracie was a little afraid to receive Santa Claus alone, was she?” looking down at them with a humorous smile as he stood by the bedside.

“Oh no, papa! I’m pretty sure I know who he is, and I’m not one bit afraid of him,” answered the little girl, with a merry laugh, catching his hand and carrying it to her lips.

“Ah! then it was Lulu who was afraid, was it?”

“Oh no, sir! Lu’s never afraid of anything.”

“Indeed; you seem to have a high opinion of her courage! You need never, either of you, be afraid or ashamed of anything but sin, my darlings,” he added, more gravely. “If you are God’s children, nothing can harm you. He will watch over us through the dark and silent night while we are wrapped in slumber. ’Behold he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber or sleep.’”

“I’m so glad the Bible tells us that, papa,” she said; “but I’m glad, too, that you sleep in the next room, and have the door open always at night, so that if I should want you, you could easily hear me call, and come to me.”

“Yes,” he said, “and neither of my little girls need ever hesitate for a moment to call for their father if they are ill or troubled in any way.

“Ah I see the stockings hanging one on each side of the fire place. But how is Santa Claus to tell which is Lulu’s and which Gracie’s?”

“Why we never thought of that!” exclaimed Lulu, laughing. “But mine’s a little the largest, and it’s red and Gracie’s is blue. Don’t you suppose, papa, that he’ll be smart enough to guess which is which?”

“I think it is likely, but you will have to take the risk,” replied her father. Then with a good night kiss he left them to their slumbers.

Day was faintly dawning when Lulu awoke. “Merry Christmas, Gracie!” she whispered in her sister’s ear. “I’m going to get our stockings and see if there is anything in ’em,” and with a bound she was out on the floor and stealing across it to the fireplace, with care to make no noise.

She could not refrain, however, from a delighted “Oh!” as she laid hold of the stockings and felt that they were stuffed full of something.

“Did he come? is there something in ’em?” whispered Grace, as Lulu came back to the bedside.

“Yes, yes, indeed! they’re just as full as they can be! I’ve brought ’em; here’s yours,” putting it into Gracie’s hands and getting into bed again. “Let’s pull the things out and feel what they are, though we can’t see much till it gets lighter.”

“Yes, let’s,” said Grace; “I couldn’t bear to wait.”

They thought they were keeping very quiet, but Lu’s “Oh!” had wakened her father and Violet and they were lying quietly listening and laughing softly to themselves.

There was a rustle of paper, then Gracie’s voice in a loud whisper, “Oh another dolly for me! and I just know it’s lovely! I can feel its hair, and its dress; it’s all dressed!”

Then Lulu’s, “A potato! just a horrid, raw Irish potato! What do I want with that?”

“And I’ve got one too!” from Grace. “Oh well, I s’pose that was to fill up, and maybe there’s something nice lower down.”

“A sweet potato or a parsnip or something of that kind in mine,” said Lulu, some slight vexation in her tone. “Oh well, I’ve had so many nice things, and this is only for fun.”

“And here are some candies in mine,” said Grace. “Haven’t you got some?”

“Yes, oh yes! and nuts and raisins. I’d like to taste them; but I think we’d better leave them till after breakfast. I’m pretty sure papa would say so.”

“Yes, ’course he would; so we’ll wait.”

“Good obedient children; aren’t they?” the captain said in a gratified whisper to Violet.

“Very; I’m proud of them,” she responded.

It was growing light and Lulu, taking up the despised potato, examined it more critically. Presently she uttered an exclamation,

“O Gracie, see! It opens and there’s something inside!”

The captain and Violet listened intently for what might come next.

“More candies and— something wrapped up in soft paper. O Gracie! it’s a lovely little breastpin!”

“Oh, oh, how pretty!” cried Grace. “I wonder if I have one too!” In their excitement they were forgetting the danger of disturbing others and talking quite loud.

“Yes, mine opens,” Grace went on, “and— oh yes, I’ve got candies and something with paper round it and— oh yes, yes, it is a pin! Not quite like yours, but just every bit as pretty!”

“I think they are having a merry Christmas,” said the captain, a happy light in his eyes, “and, my love, I wish you the same.”

Violet returned the wish; but the children were talking again and they kept quiet to hearken.

“Oh this sweet potato opens too,” Lulu was saying, “and there’s something that feels like a stick. O Gracie, Gracie, look! it’s a gold pencil, a lovely little gold pencil! Have you one?”

“No; but you haven’t a doll.”

“Well, I think Santa Claus has been very generous and kind to us.”

“Just as good and kind as if he was our own papa,” Gracie said, with a sweet silvery laugh.

“The dear, grateful darlings!” exclaimed the captain, his tone half tremulous with feeling. “I sometimes fear I am almost too indulgent; but it is such a dear delight to give them pleasure.”

“And I don’t believe it does them the least harm, so long as you do not indulge them in any wrong doing,” said Violet. “Love never hurts anybody.”

“Merry Christmas, my darlings,” he called to them. “Did Santa Claus fill your stockings?”

“Oh merry, merry Christmas, papa!” they answered. “Yes, sir, Santa Claus or somebody did, and gave us lovely things. We’re very much obliged to him.”

As they spoke the door into their little sitting-room opened and Max put in his head, crying in his turn, “Merry Christmas to you all— papa and Mamma Vi, Lulu and Gracie.”

A chorus of merry Christmases answered him; then Lulu asked, “What did Santa Claus put in your stocking, Maxie?”

“A good deal: about as much as could be crammed into it; some handsome neckties, candies and nuts and a gold pencil.”

“Very nice,” commented Lulu, and she and Grace, both talking at once, gave a gleeful account of their discoveries in searching their stockings.

They had hardly finished their narrative when a glad shout from the nursery interrupted them.

“There! little Elsie has found her stocking, I do believe,” said Lulu, starting up to a sitting posture that she might look through the open door into the next room. As she did so a tiny toddling figure clothed in a white night dress, and with a well filled stocking in its arms emerged from the nursery door and ran across the room to the bedside, crying gleefully, “See mamma, papa, Elsie got.”

“What have you got pet?” asked her father, picking her up and setting her in the bed. “There, pull out the things and let papa and mamma see what they are.”

“Mayn’t we come and see too?” asked the other children.

“Yes,” he said, “you can come and peep in at the door, but first put on your warm slippers and dressing gowns, that you may not take cold.”

Baby Elsie was a merry, demonstrative little thing, and it was great fun for them all to watch her and hear her shouts of delight as she came upon one treasure after another;— tiny, gaily dressed dolls of both sexes, and other toys suited to her years.

It did not take her very long to empty the stocking, and then the captain said to the older ones, “Now you may close the door, my dears, and get yourselves dressed and ready for the duties and pleasures of the day. I shall be in presently for our usual chat before breakfast.”

They made haste with their dressing, and were quite ready for their father when he came in some half hour later. They were very light-hearted and gay and full of gratitude for all they had received.

“Dear papa, you are so good to us,” they said, twining their arms about his neck, as they sat one upon each knee.

“I want to be,” he said, caressing them in turn, “I have no greater pleasure than I find in making my children happy. And your grateful appreciation of my efforts makes me very happy.”

“But, papa, I— ” began Lulu, then paused hesitatingly.

“Well, daughter, don’t be afraid to let me know the thought in your mind,” he said kindly.

“I was just wondering why it’s right for me to have so many other things, and would be wrong for me to have that ring I wanted so badly. But please, papa,” she added quickly and with a vivid blush, “don’t think I mean to be naughty about it, or want you to spend any more money on me.”

“No, dear child, I could not think so ill of you. I did not think it right or wise to buy you the ring, because it would have been spending a great deal for something quite useless, and very unsuitable for my little girl. The things I have given you I considered it right to buy because they will all be useful to you in one way or another.”

“The games and storybooks, papa?” asked Grace with a look of surprise.

“Yes, daughter; people— and especially little folks like Max and Lulu and you— need amusement as a change and rest from work; we can do all the more work in the end if we take time for needed rest and recreation.”

“So it won’t be time wasted to have our Christmas holidays?” remarked Lulu, half inquiringly.

“No, I think not,” her father answered.

“Shall we take our new games to Ion with us, papa?” she asked.

“If you wish. I presume Grandma Elsie will not object to your taking any of your possessions with you that you think will be useful or enjoyable to yourselves or others.”

“I’m just sure she won’t; ’cause she’s so kind,” said Grace. “But I s’pose it won’t do to take our live new pets?”

“No; but you may safely leave them in Christine’s care.”

Breakfast and family worship were over, such of their effects as they would be likely to need during the few days of their expected stay at Ion, had been packed and sent, the family carriage was at the door, and every body nearly ready to get into it, when there was an arrival.

Harold and Herbert had come over on horseback, Rosie and Evelyn in the Ion carriage.

They came running in with their “Merry Christmases and Happy New Years,” to receive a return in kind.

“Don’t think for a moment that we have come to prevent you from accepting your invitation to Ion as promptly as possible,” said Herbert gaily; “we’ve come after you, and are glad to perceive, in your attire, signs of readiness to depart.”

“But we want to peep at your tree first,” put in Rosie, “that’s one thing that brought us.”

“And we’ve a proposal to make,” said Harold; “namely that you all accompany us to the Oaks for a short call on Uncle Horace and the rest— and their Christmas tree of course— before going over to Ion. The air is delightfully bracing, the roads are good, and if we find there is time, perhaps we might as well extend our ride to the Laurels, and give Aunt Rose a call, in case we reach there before the family have left home for Ion. What do you say captain? and you Vi?”

Both approved, and the children were much pleased with the idea. But they wanted first to have time to show their presents to Rosie and Evelyn.

That was granted, the callers were all taken in to see the tree, dog, bird and pussy were exhibited, the pretty things found in the stockings also, and when all had been duly admired they set out upon their jaunt.

The four little girls, Rosie, Evelyn, Lulu and Grace, had the Ion carriage to themselves, and full of life and spirits, enjoyed their drive extremely.

Both calls were made, only a short time spent at each place— hardly more than enough for an exchange of greetings and a hasty examination, of the Christmas trees and gifts— then they drove on to Ion, and the holiday festivities so long looked forward to by the young people with such eager expectation and delight, began.

The first thing of course was to take a view of the Christmas tree and the presents.

Rosie and Evelyn had declined to tell what they were until they could show them, even refusing to answer Lulu’s eager query, put while they were driving to the Oaks, “O Rosie, did your mamma give you the set of pearls you wanted so badly?”

“Wait till we get to Ion and I’ll show you all my presents; I received a good many and ought not to fret if I did not get everything I wanted,” was what Rosie said in reply, and Lulu, understanding it to mean that there was some disappointment, concluded that the pearls had not been given.

She was the more convinced of it when the presents on and about the tree had been displayed and no pearls among them.

Rosie seemed in excellent spirits, however, and Lulu thought she had good reason to be, for the gifts she showed as hers were many and desirable.

The guests, all relatives or connections, arrived within a few minutes of each other and for a little while were all gathered together in the tree room— as the children called it for the time— and a very merry, lively set they were.

But presently they scattered to their respective rooms to dress for dinner, or at least to remove their outside garments.

The Raymonds were given the same apartments that had been appropriated to them when living at Ion; Gracie sharing Lulu’s room, which communicated directly with the one where the captain and Violet would sleep.

Rosie went with the little girls to their room, to see that they had everything to make them comfortable, because, as she said, they were her guests this time.

“You don’t need to change your dresses, I am sure,” she remarked as they threw off their coats.

“No,” replied Lulu, “these are what papa told us to wear for the rest of the day, and they are as suitable and pretty as any we have.”

“Yes, they’re lovely,” said Rosie; “your papa does dress you beautifully. I, too, am dressed for the day, and I’d like you both to come to my room for a while. Eva is there taking off her things; she’s to share my room while the house is so full. I thought you would want Eva for your bedfellow, but mamma said your father would want his two little girls close beside him.”

“Yes, and that’s where we like to be,” Lulu answered quickly and in a very pleasant tone. “It seems like home here in this room, too. Now we’re ready to go with you, Rosie; we’ve got our things off and seen that our hair is all right.”

Rosie led the way to her room where they found, not Eva only, but all the little girl cousins, having a chat while waiting for the summons to dinner.

Rosie hastily threw off her coat and hat, then opening a bureau drawer, took from it a jewel case saying with a look of exultation, “I have something to show you, girls, mamma’s Christmas gift to me;” and raising the lid she displayed a beautiful pearl necklace and bracelets.

“So she did give them to you!” they exclaimed in surprised chorus, for they had supposed all the presents had been already shown them. “O Rosie, how lovely!”

“I’m ever so glad for you Rosie,” said Lulu; “but I’d about made up my mind that Grandma Elsie thought about buying the pearls for you as papa did about the ring I wanted.”

“Mamma didn’t buy them,” explained Rosie; “they are a set grandpa gave her when she was a little girl; and I think they are as handsome as any she could have found any where. She said she valued them very highly as his gift, but would never wear them again, and as I am her own little girl, she was willing to give them to me.”

“I think you’re pretty big, Rosie,” remarked Grace.

“Yes; in my fifteenth year; almost a woman, as grandpa tells me sometimes— when he wants to make me ashamed of not being wiser and better I suppose,” returned Rosie with a laugh, closing the casket and returning it to the drawer, just as Betty, the little maid, showed her black face and woolly head at the half open door with the announcement, “Dinnah’s ready, Miss Rosie; an’ all de folks gwine into de dinnin’ room.”

“Very well; we’re not sorry to hear it, are we girls? Let us pair off and go down at once to secure our fair share,” said Rosie gaily. “There’s just an even number of us— Maud and Lora, Lulu and Eva, Grace and Rosie Lacey, Sydney and I. We’re to have a table to ourselves; I asked mamma if we might, and she gave consent.”

“I like that,” remarked Sydney with satisfaction; “we can have our own fun and eat what we please without anybody to trouble us with suggestions that perhaps such and such articles of food may not agree with us.”

“But we’ll be in the same room with the older folks and they can overlook us if they see fit,” said Rosie.

“And I’d rather have papa to tell me what to eat,” said Grace.

They were hurrying down the stairs as they talked and reached the dining room just in time to take their places before the blessing was asked— by Mr. Dinsmore at the larger table.

It was a grand dinner of many courses, and a good deal of time, enlivened by cheerful chat, was spent at the table.

Quiet games— mirth provoking, yet requiring little exertion of mind or body— filled up the remainder of the afternoon.

After tea they had romping games, but at nine o’clock were called together for family worship; then the younger ones, including Lulu and Grace, went to their beds; very willingly too, for the day— begun so early because of their eagerness to examine their stockings— had been an unusually long and exciting one; so that they felt ready for rest.

Grace indeed was so weary that her father carried her up to her room, and did not leave her till she was snug in bed.

She dropped asleep the instant her head touched the pillow and he stood for a moment gazing a little anxiously at her pale face.

“You don’t think Gracie’s sick, papa, do you?” asked Lulu softly.

“No, I trust she will be all right in the morning— the darling! but she seems quite worn out now,” he sighed.

Then sitting down he drew Lulu into his arms. “Has it been a happy day with you, dear child?” he asked.

“Yes, papa, very; just full of pleasure; and now that night has come, I’m so glad that I have my own dear papa to hug me up close, and that he’s going to sleep in the next room to Gracie and me.”

“I’m glad too,” he said. “Yes, we have a great deal to be thankful for— you and I. Most of all for God’s unspeakable gift— the dear Saviour whose birth and life and death have bought all our other blessings for us.

“My child, try to keep in mind always, even when engaged in your sports, that you are his and must so act and speak as to bring no disgrace upon his cause; make it your constant endeavor to honor him in all your words and ways.”

“I do mean to, papa; but oh it is so easy to forget!”

“I know it, my darling; I find it so too; but we must watch and pray, asking God earnestly night and morning, on our knees, to keep us from temptation and from sin, and often sending up a swift, silent petition from our hearts at other times when we feel that we need help to overcome.

“I want you, my little daughter, to be particularly on the watch against your besetting sin— an inclination to sudden outbursts of passion. It is not to be expected that everything will move on as smoothly, with so many children and young people together, every day, as they have to-day, and I fear you will be strongly tempted at times to give way to your naturally quick temper.”

“Oh I am afraid so too papa; and it would be perfectly dreadful if I should!” she said with a half shudder, twining her arm round his neck and hiding her face on his shoulder. “Oh won’t you ask God to help me to keep from it?”

“Yes, I shall, I do every night and morning, and we will ask him together now.”

Chapter 7

 

It had been growing colder all the afternoon, and continued to do so very rapidly through the night. The next morning at the breakfast table some of the lads announced, with great glee that the lakelet was frozen over; the ice so thick and solid that it was perfectly safe for skating in every part.

The news caused quite a flurry of pleasurable excitement among the younger ones of the company.

“I move that we spend the morning there,” said Zoe.

“How many of us have skates, I wonder?”

“You have I think, have you not?” said Edward.

“Yes; yours and mine are both in good order; I examined them only the other day.”

The captain asked how many knew how to use skates, and from the replies it seemed that all the lads had been more or less accustomed to their use, some of the girls also. Zoe had had quite a good deal of practice before her marriage, a little since.

The winters were usually too mild in this part of the country to give much opportunity for that kind of exercise. She was therefore the more eager to avail herself of this one; for she was very fond of the sport.

Edward, Harold, and Herbert were all in the mood to join her in it and were prepared to do so; and Rosie and Max too were equally fortunate; but most of the others had come without skates.

But that difficulty could be easily remedied; their homes were not far off, nor was the village, with its stores where such things could be bought. It was decided to despatch messengers for the needed supplies.

“Papa,” said Lulu, “may they get a pair for me? I’d like to learn to skate.”

He turned to her with an indulgent smile. “Would you? then you shall; I will send for the skates and give you a lesson in the art myself. I used to be reckoned a good skater in my boyhood. Would my little Grace like to learn too?”

“No, thank you, papa, I’d rather walk on the ground, or ride.”

“You shall ride on the ice if you will, little girlie,” said Harold. “I think I can find a conveyance that will suit your taste.”

“You’re kind to think of it, Uncle Harold,” she said, with a dubious look, “but I’m afraid the horses would slip and fall on the ice.”

“I think not,” he said; “but if they should they will only have to pick themselves up again, and go on.”

“But I’m afraid they might get hurt and maybe tip me over too.”

Harold only smiled at that, as he rose and left the room to attend to the despatching of the messengers.

Grace wondered what he meant, but as the older people all about her were busily talking among themselves, she went on quietly with her breakfast and said no more.

“Are you a skater, my dear?” asked the captain, addressing his wife.

“I used to be a tolerably expert one and moderately fond of the exercise,” she replied.

“I should like the pleasure of taking you out this morning, for a trial of your skill,” he said. “Shall I send for skates for you?”

“Thank you, no; I think I have a pair somewhere about the house, and perhaps can find another for you.”

“There are several pairs of gentlemen’s skates,” said her mother. “I will have them brought out for the captain to try.”

He thanked her, adding that in case a pair should be found to fit, he could have the pleasure of taking his wife out without waiting for the return of the servant despatched to the village.

Upon leaving the breakfast table they all repaired to the parlor for family worship, as was their custom morning and evening. Then those who had skates, and some who wanted the walk and a near view of the skating, Lulu among them, got themselves ready and went to the lakelet, while the others waited for the return of the messengers; most of them meanwhile gathered about the windows overlooking the lakelet, to watch the movements of the skaters— Edward, Zoe, Harold, Herbert, Rosie, Evelyn and Max; presently joined by Capt. Raymond and Violet, a pair of skates having been found to fit each of them.

When all were fairly started the scene became very animated and pretty. The two married couples skated well, but Harold, and especially Herbert, far exceeded them, the swift, easy movement with which they glided over the glassy surface of the lake, the exact balancing of their bodies, and the graceful curves they executed called forth many an admiring and delighted exclamation from the onlookers, both near at hand and farther away at the windows of the mansion.

Among the latter were Grandma Elsie, her father and his wife— Grandma Rose— and Cousin Ronald.

“Bravo!” cried the two old gentlemen simultaneously, as Herbert performed a feat in which he seemed to fairly outdo himself. Mr. Lilburn adding, “I feel the old ardor for the sport stir within me at sight o’ the lad’s adroit movements. At his age I might have ventured to compete with as expert a skater as he. What say you, Cousin Horace, to a match atween the two auld chaps o’ us down there the noo?”

“Agreed,” Mr. Dinsmore said with a laugh. “There are skates that will answer our purpose I think, and we will set off at once if you like.”

At that moment Lulu came running in. “The skates have come, Grandma Elsie,” she said, “just as I have got back to the house. Papa sent me in because it was too cold, he said, for me to be standing still out there. He’ll come for me when Mamma Vi is tired and wants to come in.”

“Does she seem to be enjoying it?” asked the person addressed.

“Oh yes, ma’am, very much indeed! Aren’t you going to try it too?”

“Yes, do, Elsie,” said her father. “And you too, Rose,” to his wife. “Let us all try the sport while we have an opportunity.”

The ladies were nothing loath, everybody seemed to catch the spirit of the hour, the skates were quickly distributed, and all hurried away to the lake, but Lulu and Grace who were to stay within doors, by their father’s orders, till he came, or sent for them.

Lulu having taken off her hood and coat, now sat before the fire warming her feet. Grace was watching the skaters from an easy chair by the window.

“It does look like good fun,” she said. “Is it very cold out there, Lu?”

“Not so very; the wind doesn’t blow; but when you’ve been standing still a while your feet feel right cold. I hardly thought about it though, I was so taken up with watching the skating, till papa called to me that it was too cold for me to stand there, and I must come in.”

“Papa’s always taking care of his children,” remarked Grace.

“Yes,” assented Lulu, “he never seems to forget us at all; I most wish he would sometimes,” she added laughing, “just once in a while when I feel like having my own way, you know.

“Wasn’t he good to send for these for me?” she went on, holding up her new skates and regarding them with much satisfaction. “They’re nice ones, and it’ll be nice to have him teach me how to use them. I’ve heard of people getting hard falls learning how to skate, but I think I’ll be pretty safe not to fall with papa to attend to me.”

“I should think so,” said Grace. “Oh papa and mamma have stopped and I do believe they’re taking off their skates! at least papa’s taking her’s off for her, I think.”

“Oh then they’re coming in and we’ll get our turn!”

“I don’t want to try it.”

“No, but you can walk down there, and then you’re to have a ride on the ice; you know Uncle Harold said so.”

“I don’t know what he meant; and I don’t know whether I want to try it either. Yes, papa and mamma are both coming back.”

Violet had soon tired of the sport, and beside feared her baby was wanting her. She went on up to the nursery while the captain entered the parlor where his little girls were waiting for his coming.

“Waiting patiently, my darlings?” he said, with an affectionate smile. “I know it is rather hard sometimes for little folks to wait. But you may bundle up now, and I will take you out to enjoy the sport with the rest. It will be a nice walk for you, Gracie, and when you get there you will have a pleasant time I think.”

“How papa?”

“My little girl will see when she gets there,” he said. “Ah, here is Agnes with your hood and coat. Now, while she puts them on you, I will see if Lulu’s skates are quite right.”

They proved to be a good fit and in few minutes the captain was on his way to the lakelet with a little girl clinging to each hand.

A pretty boat house stood at the water’s edge— on the hither side, under the trees, and now close beside it, on the ice, the children spied a small, light sleigh well supplied with robes of wolf and bear skins.

“There, Gracie, how would you like to ride in that?” asked her father.

“It looks nice, but— how can it go?” she asked dubiously. “I don’t see any horses papa.”

“No, but you will find that it can move without.”

Harold had seen them approaching, and now came gliding very rapidly towards them, on his skates.

“Ah Gracie, are you ready for your ride?” he asked, “Rosie Lacey and one or two of the other little ones are going to share it with you. Captain will you lift her in while I summon them?”

“Here we are, Cousin Harold,” called a childish voice, and Rose Lacey came running up almost out of breath with haste and excitement, two other little girl cousins following at her heels; “here we are. Can you take us now?”

“Yes,” he said, “I was just about to call you.”

In another minute the four were in the sleigh with the robes well tucked around them. Then, Harold, taking hold of the back of the vehicle, gave it a vigorous shove away from the shore, and keeping a tight grip on it, propelled it quite rapidly around the lake.

It required a good deal of exertion, but Herbert and others came to his assistance and the sleigh made the circuit many times, its young occupants laughing, chatting and singing right merrily: the gayest of the gay.

Meanwhile the others enjoyed the skating, perhaps quite as much. The older ladies and the two old gentlemen seemed to have renewed their youth, and kept up the sport a good deal longer than they had intended in the beginning; while the younger ones, and especially the children, were full of mirth and jollity, challenging each other to trials of speed and skill, laughing good-naturedly at little mishaps, and exchanging jests and good humored banter.

And Cousin Ronald added to the fun by causing them to hear again and again sounds as of jingling sleighbells and prancing horses in their rear. So distinct and natural were these sounds that they could not help springing aside out of the track of the supposed steeds, and turning their heads to see how near they were.

Then shouts of laughter would follow from old and young of both sexes, mingled with little shrieks, half of affright and half of amusement from the girls.

While all this was going on, Capt. Raymond was giving Lulu her first lesson in the use of skates, holding her hand in his, guarding her carefully from the danger of falling.

But for that she would have fallen several times, for it seemed almost impossible to keep her balance; however she gained skill and confidence; and at length asked to be allowed to try it for a little unaided.

He permitted her to do so, but kept very near to catch her in case she should slip or stagger.

She succeeded very well and after a time he ceased to watch her constantly, remaining near her, but taking his eyes off her now and then to see what others were doing; noting with fatherly pride in his son, how Max was emulating the older skaters, and returning a joyous look and smile given him by Gracie, as she swept past in the sleigh.

It presently stopped a few paces away, and he made a movement as if to go and lift her out, but at the sound of a thud on the ice behind him, turned quickly again to find Lulu down.

She had thrown out her hands in falling, and he felt a thrill of horror as he perceived that one of them lay directly in the path of a skater, Chester Dinsmore, who was moving with such velocity that he would not be able to check his speed in time to avoid running over her.

But even while he perceived her peril the captain had, with an almost lightning like movement, stooped over his child and dragged her backward. Barely in time; Chester’s skate just grazed her fingers, cutting off the tip of her mitten. There were drops of blood on the ice, and for a moment her father thought her fingers were off.

“Oh my child, my darling!” he groaned, holding her close in his arms and taking the bleeding hand tenderly in his.

“I’m not hurt, papa; at least only a very little,” she hastened to say, while the others crowded about them with agitated, anxious questioning. “Is Lulu hurt?” “Did Chess run over her!” “Did the fall hurt her?”

“My fingers are bleeding a little, but they don’t hurt very much,” she answered. “I think his skate went over my mitten, and I suppose my fingers would have been cut off if papa hadn’t jerked me back out of the way.”

Chester had just joined the group. “I can never be sufficiently thankful for the escape,” he said with a slight tremble in his tones, “I could never have forgiven myself if I had maimed that pretty hand; though it was utterly impossible for me to stop myself in time, at the headlong rate of speed with which I was moving.”

“Your thankfulness can hardly equal her father’s,” the captain said with emotion almost too big for utterance, as he gently drew off the mitten, and bound up the wounded fingers with his handkerchief. “That will do till I get you to the house. Shall I carry you, daughter?”

“Oh no, papa, I’m quite able to walk,” she answered in a very cheerful tone. “Please don’t be so troubled; I’m sure I’m not much hurt.”

“Allow me to take off your skates for you,” Chester said, kneeling down on the ice at their feet, and beginning to undo the straps as he spoke. “And I will gladly carry you up to the house, too, if you and your father are willing.”

“Oh thank you, sir; but I’d really rather walk with papa to help me along.”

The accident had sobered the party a good deal, and most of them— including the older people and Lulu’s mates— went back to the house with her and her father.

Violet was quite startled and alarmed to see the child brought in with her hand bound up; but when the blood had been washed away the wounds were found to be little more than skin deep; the bleeding soon ceased, and some court-plaster was all that was needed to cover up the cuts.

There were plenty of offers of assistance, but the captain chose to do for her himself all that was required.

“There, my dear child, you have had a very narrow escape,” he said when he had finished, drawing her into his arms and caressing her with great tenderness; “what a heartbreaking thing it would have been for us both had this little hand,” taking it tenderly in his, “been robbed of its fingers; far worse to me than to have lost my own.”

“And you have saved them for me, you dear father,” she said, clinging about his neck and laying her cheek to his, her eyes full of tears, a slight tremble in her voice. “But they are yours, because I am,” she added, laughing a little hysterically. “Oh I’m every bit yours; from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.”

“Yes, so you are; one of my choice treasures, my darling,” he said with emotion; “and my heart is full of thankfulness to God our heavenly Father for enabling me to save you from being so sadly maimed.”

“And I do think your Mamma Vi is almost as thankful as either of you,” Violet said, coming to his side and softly smoothing Lulu’s hair.

They were in the dressing-room, no one else present but Grace and Max.

“I’m pretty thankful myself,” observed the latter jocosely, but with a telltale moisture about the eyes; “I shouldn’t like to have a sister with a fingerless hand.”

“Oh don’t, Max! don’t talk so!” sobbed Grace, “I just can’t bear to think of such dreadful things!”

Her father turned toward her and held out his hand. She sprang to his side and he put his arm about her.

“The danger is happily past, my pet,” he said, touching his lips to her cheek; “so dry your eyes and think of something else, something pleasanter.”

“You’ve got enough of skating, I suppose, Lu? you won’t want to try it again, will you?” asked Max.

“Yes; if papa will let me. I’d like to go back this afternoon. But I’d want to keep fast hold of him so that I’d be in no danger of falling,” she added, looking lovingly into his eyes.

“I’ll not let you try it in any other way for some time to come,” he said, stroking her hair; “you must become a good deal more proficient in the use of skates before I can again trust you to go alone; especially where there are so many other and more skilful skaters.”

“I don’t care for that, papa, but will you take me there again this afternoon?”

“We’ll see about it when the time comes,” he said smiling at her eager tone, and not ill-pleased at this proof of a persevering disposition.

“Oh!” cried Max, glancing toward the window, “it’s snowing fast! Dear, dear, it will spoil the skating for all of us!”

“But a good fall of snow will provide other pleasures, my son,” remarked the captain in a cheery tone.

“Yes, sir, so it will,” returned Max, echoing the tone.

“And beside plenty of indoor amusements have been provided,” said Violet. “I think we can all enjoy ourselves vastly, let the weather outside be what it will.”

“I am sure of it,” said her husband. “Gracie, how did you enjoy your ride?”

“Oh it was just lovely, papa!” answered the little girl, “the sleigh skimmed along so nicely without a bit of jolting; and then too, it was such fun to watch the skaters.”

A tap at the door, and Rosie’s voice asking, “How is Lulu? Mamma sent me to inquire.”

“Come in, Rosie,” said the captain. “Mother is very kind, and I am glad to be able to report to her that Lulu is only very slightly hurt; so slightly that doubtless she will be ready to join her mates in any sport that may be going on this afternoon.”

Rosie drew near with a look of commiseration on her face, but exclaimed in surprise, “Why, your hand isn’t even bound up!”

“No; I have just a patch of court plaster on each of three finger tips,” returned Lulu, laughingly displaying them.

“But oh what a narrow escape!” cried Rosie half breathlessly. “It fairly frightens me to think of it!”

“They’d all have been cut off if it hadn’t been for papa,” Lulu said with a shudder, hiding her face on his shoulder.

“O Lu, I’m so glad they weren’t!” said Rosie. “Eva has been crying fit to break her heart because she was sure that at least the tips of your fingers had been taken off; and in fact I couldn’t help crying myself,” she added, turning away to wipe her eyes.

“How good in you both!” exclaimed Lulu, lifting her head and showing flushed cheeks and shining eyes. “Papa, shan’t I go and find Eva and comfort her by letting her see how little I am hurt, after all?”

“Yes, do, my child,” he said, releasing her.

The two little girls went from the room together, each with her arm about the other’s waist.

“Eva’s in my room taking her cry out by herself,” said Rosie. “I’d like to go there with you, but I must carry your father’s answer to mamma first. Then I’ll join you.”

The door of Rosie’s room stood open; Evelyn sat with her back toward it, and Lulu, entering softly, had an arm round her friend’s neck before she was aware of her presence.

“O Lu!” cried Evelyn, with a start, “are you much hurt?”

“No, you poor dear; you’ve been breaking your heart about almost nothing. I hurt my knees a little in falling, and Chester’s skate took a tiny slice out of my middle finger, and scratched the one each side of it, but that’s all. See, they don’t even need to be wrapped up.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Eva with a sigh of relief, and smiling through tears; then with a shudder and hugging Lulu close, “It would have been too horrible if they’d been cut off! I think skating is dangerous, and I’m not sorry the snow has come to spoil it; for us girls, I mean; the older folks and the boys can take care of themselves, I suppose.”

“Oh I like it!” said Lulu. “I wanted papa to let me go back this afternoon and try it again, and I think he would if the snow hadn’t come.”

“You surprise me!” exclaimed Evelyn. “If I had come so near losing my fingers, I’d never care to skate any more.”

“I always did like boys’ sports,” remarked Lulu, laughing. “Aunt Beulah used to call me a tom-boy, and even Max would sometimes say he believed I was half boy; I was always so glad of a chance to slip off to the woods with him where I could run and jump and climb without any body by to scold me and tell me I’d tear my clothes. I don’t have to do those things without leave now, for papa lets me; he say it’s good for my health, and that that’s of far more importance than my clothes. Oh, we all do have such good times now, at home in our father’s house, with him to take care of us!”

“Yes, I’m sure you do, and I’m so glad for you. How happy you all seem! and how brave you are about bearing pain, dear Lu! You are so bright and cheerful, though I’m sure your fingers must ache. Don’t they?”

“Yes, some; but I don’t mind it very much and they’ll soon be well.”

Just then they were joined by several of the other little girls, all anxious to see Lulu and learn whether she were really badly hurt.

They crowded round her with eager questions and many expressions of sympathy first, then of delight in finding her so cheerful and suffering so little.

The next thing was to plan indoor amusements for the afternoon and evening, as evidently the storm had put outdoor pleasures out of the question for that day.

The call to dinner interrupted them in the midst of their talk; a not unwelcome summons, for exercise in the bracing winter air had given them keen appetites.

Some of the younger ones, who had particularly enjoyed the skating, felt a good deal disappointed that the storm had come to put a stop to it, and were in consequence quite sober and subdued in their demeanor as they took their seats at the table.

A moment of complete silence followed the asking of the blessing, then, as Edward took up a carving-knife, and stuck the fork into a roast duck in front of him, there was a loud “Quack, quack,” that startled everybody for an instant, followed by merry peals of laughter from old and young.

A loud squeal came next from a young pig in a dish placed before Mr. Dinsmore, and the song of the blackbird from a pie Grandma Elsie was beginning to help.

“‘Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie,’” remarked Mr. Lilburn gravely.

“’When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before a king?’

“Ah ha! um h’m! ah ha! history repeats itself. But, Cousin Elsie, I didna expect to be treated to a meal o’ livin’ creatures in your house.”

“Did you not?” she returned with a smile. “Life is full of surprises.”

“And grandpa and Ned go on carving without any apparent thought of the cruelty of cutting into living creatures,” laughed Zoe.

“And what a singular circumstance that chickens baked in a pie should sing like blackbirds,” remarked Grandma Elsie.

“Very indeed!” said Capt. Raymond. “I move that some one prepare an article on the subject for one of the leading magazines.”

“No one better qualified for the task than yourself, sir,” said his brother-in-law, Mr. Lester Leland.

“You will surely except our Cousin Ronald,” said the captain; “doubtless he knows more about the phenomenon than any other person present.”

“O Cousin Ronald,” broke in Walter, “as we can’t go skating this afternoon, won’t you please tell us young ones some of your famous stories?”

“Perhaps, laddie; but there may be some other amusement provided, and in that case the tales will keep. It strikes me I heard some o’ the leddies laying plans for the afternoon and evening?” he added, turning inquiringly in Zoe’s direction.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “we are getting up some tableaux, but are ready to defer them if any one wishes to do something else.”

“I think we will not tax Cousin Ronald with story telling to-day,” said Grandma Elsie: “he has been making a good deal of exertion in skating, and I know must feel weary.”

“Are you, Cousin Ronald?” asked Walter.

“Well, laddie, I can no deny that there have been times when I’ve felt a bit brighter and more in the mood for spinning out a yarn, as the sailors say.”

“And perhaps you’d like to see the tableaux too, sir?”

“Yes, I own that I should.”

That settled the question. “We will have the tableaux,” Grandma Elsie said, and every body seemed well satisfied with the decision.

Preparations were begun almost immediately on leaving the table, and pretty much all the short winter afternoon occupied with them.

They had their exhibition after tea; a very satisfactory one to those who took part, and to the spectators.

Every child and young person who was desirous to have it so, was brought in to one or more of the pictures. Lulu, to her great delight, appeared in several and did herself credit.

“How are the fingers, dear child? have they been giving you much pain?” the captain asked when he came to her room for the usual good-night talk, sitting down as he spoke, drawing her to a seat upon his knee, and taking the wounded hand tenderly in his.

“Only a twinge once in a while, papa,” she said, putting the other arm round his neck and smiling into his eyes. “It’s been a very nice day for me in spite of my accident; everybody has been so good and kind. I think they tried to give me a pleasant part in as many of the tableaux as they could to comfort me, and really after all it was only a little bit of a hurt.”

“But narrowly escaped being a very serious one. Ah my heart is full of thankfulness to God for you, my darling, and for myself, that the injury was no greater. You might have lost your fingers or your hand; you might even have been killed by falling in such a way as to strike your head very hard upon the ice.”

“Did anybody ever get killed in that way, papa?” she asked.

“Yes, I have read or heard of one or two such cases, and had it happened to you I could hardly forgive myself for letting go your hand.”

“I’m sure you might feel that it was all my own fault, papa,” she said tightening her clasp of his neck and kissing him with ardent affection; “every bit my own fault because I begged you to let me try it alone.”

“No, that could not have excused me; because it is a father’s duty to take every care of his child, whether she wishes it or not; and it is my settled purpose to do so henceforward,” he said, returning her caress with great tenderness.

Chapter 8

 

The storm continued through the night but had ceased before the guests at Ion were astir; the ground was thickly carpeted with snow and clouds still obscured the sun, but there was no wind and the cold was not severe.

“Just the day for a snow fight,” remarked Frank Dinsmore, as he and the other lads of the company stood grouped together on the veranda shortly after breakfast; “plenty of snow and in prime condition for making into balls.”

“So it is,” said Herbert Travilla, “and I believe I’m boy enough yet to enjoy a scrimmage in it.”

“I too,” said Harold. “Let’s build a fort, divide ourselves into two armies, one besiege and the other defend it.”

The proposition was received with enthusiasm and the work of erecting the snow fort begun at once.

Some of the girls wanted to help, but were told their part was to look on.

“I can do more than that,” said Rosie, and darting into the house, she presently returned with a small flag. “Here, plant this on your ramparts, Harold,” she said, “if you are to defend the fort.”

“I don’t know yet to which party I shall belong— besiegers or besieged— but I’m obliged for the flag and shall plant it as you advise,” he said.

The girls amused themselves snowballing each other, occasionally pausing to watch the progress the lads were making, the older people doing the same from the veranda or the windows of the mansion.

The boys were active and soon had their fort— not a large one— constructed, and the flag planted and waving in a slight wind that had sprung up.

Lulu standing on the veranda steps, clapped her hands in delight as it was flung to the breeze and started “That Star Spangled Banner,” all the others joining in and singing with a will.

Then the lads divided themselves into two companies, Harold taking command of the defenders of the fort, Chester of the attacking party.

“There are not enough of you fellows,” called Sydney; “you’d better let us girls help prepare the ammunition. Women have done such things when men were scarce.”

“So they have,” replied Chester. “I’ll accept such assistance from you while you stand back out of danger.”

“Then we girls will have to divide into two companies,” said Rosie; “for the boys in the fort must have the same kind of help the others do. I’ll go to them.”

“No, no,” said Harold, “this is going to be too much of a rough and tumble play for girls. I decline with thanks.”

“Ungrateful fellow!” she retorted. “I don’t mean to be a bit sorry for you if you are defeated.”

“I do not intend that you shall have the opportunity,” he returned with a good humored laugh.

“O Rosie, I know what we can do!” cried Lulu; “give them some music.”

“Good!” said Sydney, “wait a minute, boys till we hunt up a drum and fife. The band will play on the veranda.”

She, Rosie, and Lulu hurried into the house as she spoke.

“Yes, I’ll lend you mine,” shouted Walter, after them. “They’re up in the play-room;— two drums, two mouth organs and a fife, and a trumpet.”

The boys waited, employing the time in preparing piles of snowballs, and presently the girls came rushing back bringing the musical instruments mentioned by Walter, and a jews-harp and accordéon beside.

These were quickly distributed and the band struck up— not one tune but several; “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “Star Spangled Banner;”— having forgotten in their haste to agree upon a tune.

The music, if music it could be called— was greeted with roars of laughter, and ceased at once.

“Oh this will never do!” cried Maud; “we must settle upon some one of the national airs. Shall it be ’Yankee Doodle’?”

“Yes,” they all said, and began again, with less discord but not keeping very good time.

Harold and his party were in the fort, a huge heap of balls beside them.

“Now man your guns, my lads, and be ready to give a vigorous repulse to the approaching foe,” he said.

Chester had drawn up his men in line of battle. Max was among them.

“Wait!” he cried, “I’m going into the fort.”

“What! going to desert in the face of the enemy?” queried Chester.

“Yes; I can’t fight against that flag,” pointing to it with uplifted hand. “Fire on the stars and stripes? Never! ’The flag of our Union forever!’”

“Oh is that all? Well, we’re not going to fight against it, my boy; it’s ours, and we’re going to take it from them and carry it in triumph at the head of our column.”

“No, sir; its ours,” retorted Harold, “and we stand ready to defend it to the last gasp. Come on; take it if you can! We dare you to do it?”

“Up then and at ’em, boys!” shouted Chester. “Go double quick and charge right over the breast works!”

The command was instantly obeyed, the works were vigorously assaulted, and as vigorously defended, snowballs flying thick and fast in both directions.

Max leaped over the breast works and seized the flag. Harold tore it from his hands, threw him over into the snow on the outside, and replanted the flag on the top of the breast work.

Max picked himself up, ran round to the other side of the fort, and finding Harold and the other large boys among the defenders, each engaged in a hand to hand scuffle with a besieger, so that only little Walter was left to oppose him, again leaped over the barrier, seized the flag, leaped back and sped away toward the house waving it in triumph and shouting, “Hurrah! victory is ours!”

“Not so fast young man!” shouted back Herbert, bounding over the breast works and giving chase, all the rest following, some to aid him in recovering the lost standard, the others to help Max to keep out of his reach.

Herbert was agile and fleet of foot, but so was Max. Back and forth, up and down he ran, now dodging his pursuers behind trees and shrubs, now taking a flying leap over some low obstacle, and speeding on, waving the flag above his head and shouting back derisively at those who were trying to catch him.

It was a long and exciting race, but at last he was caught; Herbert overtook him, seized him with one hand, the flag with the other.

Max wrenched himself free, but Herbert’s superior strength compelled him to yield the flag after a desperate struggle to retain his hold upon it.

Then with a wild hue and cry Chester’s party chased Herbert till after doubling and turning several times, he at length regained the fort and restored the flag to its place.

The next instant Harold and the rest of his command regained and reoccupied the fort, the attacking party following close at their heels, and the battle with the snowballs recommenced with redoubled fury.

All this was witnessed with intense interest by the spectators at the windows and on the veranda; at the beginning of the chase the band forgot to play and dropping their instruments employed themselves in encouraging pursuers or pursued with clapping of hands and shouts of exultation over their exploits.

The contest was kept up for a long time, the flag taken and retaken again and again till the fort was quite demolished by the repeated assaults, and the snow well trodden down all about the spot where it had stood.

The lads, too, found themselves ready to enjoy rest within doors after their continued violent exertion.

Some quiet games filled up the remainder of the morning and the afternoon. In the evening they were ready for another romp in which the girls might have a share; so Stage Coach, Blind-man’s Buff, and similar games were in vogue.

They had been very merry and entirely harmonious, but at length a slight dispute arose, and Capt. Raymond, sitting in an adjoining room conversing with the older guests and members of the family, yet not inattentive to what was going on among the young folks— heard Lulu’s voice raised to a higher than its ordinary key.

He rose, stepped to the communicating door, and called in a low tone, grave but kindly, “Lulu!”

“Sir,” she answered, turning her face in his direction.

“Come here, daughter,” he said; “I want you.”

She obeyed promptly, though evidently a trifle unwillingly.

He took her hand and led her out into the hall, and on into a small reception room, bright and cheery with light and fire, but quite deserted.

“What do you want me for, papa?” she asked. “Please don’t keep me long; because we were just going to begin a new game.”

He took possession of an easy chair, and drawing her into his arms, and touching his lips to her cheek, “Can you not spare a few minutes to your father when your mates have had you all day?” he asked.

“Why, yes, indeed, you dear papa!” she exclaimed with a sudden change of tone, putting her arms about his neck and looking up into his face with eyes full of ardent filial affection. “How nice in you to love me well enough to want to leave the company in the parlors to give a little time to petting me!”

“I love you full well enough for that, my darling,” he said, repeating his caresses, “but my call to you was because a tone in my little girl’s voice told me she needed her father just at that moment.”

She looked up inquiringly, then with sudden comprehension, “Oh! you thought I was in danger of getting into a passion, and I’m afraid I was. Papa, you are my good guardian angel, always on the watch to help me in my hard fight with my dreadful temper. Thank you very, very much!”

“You are entirely welcome, daughter,” he said, softly smoothing her hair; “it could hardly be a sadder thing to you than to me, should that enemy of yours succeed in overcoming you again. Try, dear child, to be constantly on the watch against it.

“‘Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation,’ Jesus said. The moment that you feel the rising of anger in your breast lift up your heart to him for strength to resist.”

“I do intend to always, papa,” she sighed, tightening her clasp of his neck and laying her cheek to his, “but oh it is so, so easy to forget!”

“I know it, dear child, but I can only encourage you to continue the fight with your evil nature, looking ever unto Jesus for help. Press forward in the heavenly way, and if you fall, get up again and go on with redoubled energy and determination; and you will win the victory at last; for ’in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.’

“Now, if you feel that you are safe in doing so, you may go back to your mates.”

There was a very sweet expression on Lulu’s face as she rejoined her mates, and her manner was gentle and subdued.

“So you’ve come back,” remarked Sydney. “What did your papa want with you?”

“O Syd,” exclaimed Rosie, “that’s private, you know!”

“Oh to be sure! I beg pardon, Lu,” said Sydney.

“You are quite excusable,” returned Lulu pleasantly. “Papa had something to say to me, that was all,” and she glanced up at him with such a loving look, as at that instant he entered the room, that no one could suspect the talk between them had been other than most pleasant.

“Well, you have come back just in time; we are going to play the game of Authors,” said Herbert, beginning to distribute the cards.

The words had hardly left his lips when a sharp tap at the window made them all jump. Then a woman’s voice spoke in piteous accents.

“Oh let me in, good people! my baby and I are starving to death, and freezing in this bitter winter wind.”

“Oh who is it? who is it?” cried several of the girls, sending frightened glances in the direction from which the voice had come.

“I’ll soon see,” said Harold, hurrying toward the window.

But a gruff voice spoke from the hall. “Don’t mind her, sir; she’s a gypsy liar and thief; she stole the baby from its mother.”

Harold paused, stood uncertainly in the middle of the floor for an instant, then turning quickly, retraced his steps, went to the hall door and glanced this way and that.

“There is no one here,” he said, then burst into a laugh as, turning round once more, he perceived Mr. Lilburn quietly seated near the open door into the adjoining parlor where the older people were. “Cousin Ronald, may I ask what you know of that gypsy and the stolen child?”

“What do I ken about her, laddie?” queried the old gentleman in his turn. “Wad ye insinuate that I associate wi’ sic trash as that?”

“Oh she’s quite a harmless creature, I’ve no doubt,” laughed Harold.

“O Uncle Harold, please let her in,” pleaded Grace, with tears in her sweet blue eyes.

“Why, my dear little Gracie, there’s nobody there,” he answered.

“But how can we be sure if we don’t look, Uncle Harold? Her voice did sound so very real.”

“What is the matter, Gracie dear?” asked a sweet voice, as a beautiful lady came swiftly from the adjoining parlor and laid her soft white hand on the little girl’s head.

“O Grandma Elsie, we heard a woman begging to come in out of the cold, and— oh there don’t you hear her?”

“Oh let me in, dear good ladies and gentlemen! I’m freezing, freezing and starving to death!” wailed the voice again.

By this time all the occupants of the other parlor were crowding into this.

“Captain,” said Grandma Elsie, “will you please step to the window and open it?”

“Mother, Cousin Ronald is responsible for it all,” laughed Harold.

“We may as well let Gracie see for herself,” Mrs. Travilla replied in a kindly indulgent tone.

Harold at once stepped to the window, drew back the curtains, raised the sash and threw open the shutters, giving a full view of all the grounds on that side of the house;— for the clouds had cleared away and the moon was shining down on snowladen trees and shrubs and paths and parterres carpeted with the same; but no living creature was to be seen.

Grace holding fast to her father’s hand, ventured close to the window and sent searching glances from side to side, then with a sigh of relief, said, “Yes, I do believe it was only Cousin Ronald; and I’m ever so glad the woman and her baby are not freezing.”

At that everybody laughed, and timid, sensitive little Grace hid her blushing face on her father’s shoulder, as he sat down and drew her to his side.

“Never mind, darling,” he said soothingly, passing an arm affectionately about her and softly smoothing her curls with his other hand, “it is good natured amusement; we all know what you meant and love you all the better for your tenderness of heart toward the poor and suffering.”

“Yes, dear child, your papa is quite right, and I fear we were not very polite or kind to laugh at your innocent speech,” said Grandma Elsie.

At that instant the tap on the window was repeated, then the voice spoke again, but in cheerful tones. “Dinna fret ye, bit bonny lassie, I was but crackin’ me jokes. I’m neither cauld nor hungry, and my bairns grew to be men and women lang syne.”

“There now! I know it’s Cousin Ronald,” laughed Rosie, “and indeed I should hope he was neither cold nor hungry here in our house.”

“If he is,” said Grandma Elsie, giving the old gentleman a pleasant smile, “we will set him in the warmest corner of the ingleside and order refreshments.”

“I vote that those suggestions be carried out immediately,” said Edward. “Harold, if you will conduct our kinsman to the aforesaid seat, I will, with mamma’s permission, ring for the refreshments.”

Both Harold and Herbert stepped promptly forward, each offering an arm to the old gentleman.

“Thanks, laddies,” he said, “but I’m no’ so infirm that I canna cross the room wi’out the help o’ your strong young arms, and being particularly comfortable in the chair I now occupy, I shall bide here, by your leave.”

“Then, if you feel so strong would it tire you to tell us a story, Cousin Ronald?” asked Walter, insinuatingly. “We’d like one ever so much while we’re waiting for the refreshments.”

“The refreshments are ready and waiting in the dining room, and you are all invited to walk out there and partake of them,” said Grandma Elsie, as the servants drew back the sliding doors, showing a table glittering with china, cut-glass and silver, loaded with fruits, nuts, cakes, confectionery and ices, and adorned with a profusion of flowers from the conservatories and hothouses.

“Don’t you wish you were grown up enough to call for whatever you might fancy from that table?” whispered Rosie to Lulu as they followed their elders to its vicinity.

“Yes— no; I’m very willing to take whatever papa chooses to give me,” returned Lulu. “You see,” she added laughing at Rosie’s look of mingled surprise and incredulity, “there have been several times he has let me have my own way and I didn’t find it at all nice; so now I’ve really grown willing to be directed and controlled by him.”

“That’s a very good thing.”

“Yes; especially as I’d have to do it anyhow. Papa, may I have something?” she asked as at that moment he drew near.

“Are you hungry?” he queried in turn.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you may have some ice-cream, a little fruit, and a small piece of sponge cake.”

“Not any nuts or candies?”

“Not to-night, daughter; sometime to-morrow you may.”

“Thank you, sir; that will do nicely,” she responded in a cheerful, pleasant tone and with a loving look and smile up into his face.

She felt amply rewarded by the approving, affectionate look he gave her in return.

“I shall help you presently when I have waited upon Evelyn and Rosie,” he said. “What will you have, my dears?”

When the refreshments had been disposed of, it was time for the usual short evening service, then for the younger ones to go to their beds.

Capt. Raymond stepped out upon the veranda and paced it to and fro. Presently Max joined him. “I came to say good night, papa,” he said.

“Ah good night, my son,” returned the captain, pausing in his walk, taking the hand Max held out to him and clasping it affectionately in his. “You had a fine, exciting game this morning out there on the lawn. I was glad to hear my boy avow his attachment to the glorious old flag his father has sailed under for so many years. I trust he will always be ready to do so when such an avowal is called for, as long as he lives.”

“Yes, indeed, sir! It’s the most beautiful flag that waves, isn’t it?”

“None to compare to it in my esteem,” his father answered with a pleased laugh.

Chapter 9

 

Before morning the weather had moderated very much, a thaw had set in, and the snow was going rapidly.

“Well, what sports shall we contrive for to-day?” asked Herbert, at the breakfast table. “Certainly both skating and snow fights are entirely out of the question.”

“Entirely!” echoed Harold; “all other outdoor sports also; for a drizzling rain is beginning to fall, and the melting snow has covered roads and paths with several inches of water.”

“We have some games for the house which you have not tried yet,” said their mother; “‘Table croquet,’ ‘Parlor Quoits,’ ‘Parlor Ring Toss,’ Jack-straws and others.”

“And I have a new game that papa gave me this Christmas— ’The Flags of all Nations,’” remarked Lulu. “I brought it with me.”

“We will be glad to see it,” said Harold.

“It is probably improving as well as entertaining,” remarked Zoe. “I should judge so from the name.”

“I think you will find it both,” said the captain.

“So you would ‘Corn and Beans,’ too, Aunt Zoe,” said Max. “Papa gave it to me, and we tried it Christmas eve at home, and found it very funny.”

The morning and most of the afternoon were occupied with these games, which seemed to afford much enjoyment to the children and young people.

It was the winding up of their Christmas festivities at Ion, and all were in the mood for making it as gay and mirthful as possible. Some— the Raymonds among others— would leave shortly after tea, the rest by or before bedtime.

They finished the sports of the afternoon with two charades. The older people were the spectators, the younger ones the actors.

Mendicant was the word chosen for the first.

A number of the boys and girls came trooping into the parlor, each carrying an old garment, thimble on finger, and needle and thread in hand. Seating themselves they fell to work.

Zoe was patching an old coat, Lulu an apron, Gracie a doll’s dress; Eva and Rosie each had a worn stocking drawn over her hand, and was busily engaged in darning it; the other girls were mending gloves, the boys old shoes; and as they worked they talked among themselves.

“Zoe,” said Maud, “I should mend that coat differently.”

“How would you mend it?” asked Zoe.

“With a patch much larger than that you are sewing on it.”

“I shouldn’t mend it that way,” remarked Sydney. “I’d darn it.”

“Thank you both for your very kind and disinterested advice,” sniffed Zoe. “But I learned how to mend before I ever saw you. And I should mend those gloves in a better way than you are taking.”

“If you know so well how to mend, Madam Zoe, will you please give me some instruction about mending this shoe?” said Herbert. “Cobbling is not in my line.”

“Neither is it in mine, Sir Herbert,” she returned, drawing herself up with a lofty air.

“Such silly pride! They should mend their ways if not their garments,” remarked Maud, in a scornful aside.

“One should think it beneath her to mend even a worn stocking,” said Rosie.

“No,” responded Eva, “and she should mend it well.”

“Your first syllable is not hard to guess, children,” said Mrs. Dinsmore; “evidently it is mend.”

With that the actors withdrew, and presently Chester Dinsmore returned alone, marching in and around the room with head erect and pompous air. His clothes were of fine material and fashionable cut, he wore handsome jewelry, sported a gold headed cane, and strutted to and fro, gazing about him with an air of lofty disdain as of one who felt himself superior to all upon whom his glances fell.

Harold presently followed him into the room. He was dressed as a country swain, came in with modest, diffident air, and for a while stood watching Chester curiously from the opposite side of the apartment, then crossing over, he stood before him, hat in hand, and bowing low.

“Sir,” he said respectfully, “will you be so kind as to tell me if you are anybody in particular? I’m from the country, and shouldn’t like to meet any great man and not know it.”

“I, sir?” cried Chester, drawing himself up to his full height, and swelling with importance. “I? I am the greatest man in America; the greatest man of the age; I am Mr. Smith, sir, the inventor of the most delicious ices and confectionery ever eaten.”

“Thank you, sir,” returned Harold, with another low bow. “I shall always be proud and happy to have met so great a man.”

Laughter, clapping of hands, and cries of “I! I!” among the spectators, as the two withdrew by way of the hall.

Soon the young actors flocked in again. A book lay on a table, quite near the edge. With a sudden jerk Herbert threw it on the floor.

Rosie picked it up and replaced it, saying: “Can’t you let things alone?”

“Rosie, why can’t you let the poor boy alone?” whined her cousin, Lora Howard. “No one has ever known me to be guilty of such an exhibition of temper; it’s positively wicked.”

“Oh, you’re very good, Lora,” sniffed Zoe. “I can’t pretend to be half so perfect.”

“Certainly I can’t,” said Eva.

“I can’t.”

“I can’t,” echoed Lulu, Max, and several others.

“Come now, children, can’t you be quiet a bit?” asked Harold. “I can’t auction off these goods unless you are attending and ready with your bids.”

Setting down a basket he had brought in with him, he took an article from it and held it high in air.

“We have here an elegant lace veil worth perhaps a hundred dollars; it is to be sold now to the highest bidder. Somebody give us a bid for this beautiful piece of costly lace, likely to go for a tithe of its real value.”

“One dollar,” said Rosie.

“One dollar, indeed! We could never afford to let it go at so low a figure; we can’t sell this elegant and desirable article of ladies’ attire so ridiculously low.”

“Ten dollars,” said Maud.

“Ten dollars, ten dollars! This elegant and costly piece of lace going at ten dollars!” cried the auctioneer, holding it higher still and waving it to and fro. “Who bids higher? It is worth ten times that paltry sum; would be dirt cheap at twenty. Somebody bid twenty; don’t let such a chance escape you; you can’t expect to have another such. Who bids? Who bids?”

“Fifteen,” bid Zoe.

“Fifteen, fifteen! this lace veil, worth every cent of a hundred dollars, going at fifteen? Who bids higher? Now’s your chance; you can’t have it much longer. Going, going at fifteen dollars— this elegant veil, worth a cool hundred. Who bids higher? Going, going at fifteen dollars, not a quarter of its value. Will nobody bid higher? Going, going, gone!”

“Can’t,” exclaimed several of the audience, as the veil was handed to Zoe, and the whole company of players retired.

They shortly returned, all dressed in shabby clothing, some with wallets on their backs, some with old baskets on their arms, an unmistakable troop of beggars, passing round among the spectators with whining petitions for cold victuals and pennies.

A low growl instantly followed by a loud, fierce bark, startled players and spectators alike, and called forth a slight scream from some of the little ones.

“That auld dog o’ mine always barks at sic a troop o’ mendicants,” remarked Cousin Ronald quietly. “I ken mendicant’s the word, lads and lasses, and ye hae acted it out wi’ commendable ingenuity and success.”

“You couldn’t have made a better guess if you had belonged to the universal Yankee nation, cousin,” laughed Herbert.

They retired again and in a few minutes Eva and Lulu came in dressed in travelling attire, each with a satchel in her hand.

“This must be the place, I think,” said Eva, glancing from side to side, “but there seems to be no one in.”

“They may be in directly,” said Lulu, “let us sit down and rest in these comfortable looking chairs, while we wait.”

They seated themselves, and as they did so, Zoe and Maud walked in.

They too were dressed as travelers, and carried satchels. The four shook hands, Zoe remarking, “So you got in here before us! How did you come?”

“In the stage,” answered Lulu.

“Ah! one travels so slowly in that! We came in the cars,” said Maud.

“Yes,” said Zoe; “in the train that just passed.”

“Let us go back in the cars, Lu,” said Eva.

“Yes; in the same train they take. Oh! who is this coming? He acts like a crazy man!” as Frank Dinsmore entered, gesticulating wildly, rolling his eyes and acting altogether very much like a madman.

Chester was following close at his heels.

“Don’t be alarmed, ladies,” he said, “he shall not harm you. I’ll take care of that; I have my eye on him all the time; never let him out of my sight. I am his keeper.”

“But he’s dangerous, isn’t he?” they asked, shrinking from Frank’s approach, as if in great fear.

“Not while I am close at hand,” said Chester. “I’ll see that he disturbs no one.”

“I think it would be well for us to go now, girls,” said Zoe. “Let us ask the driver of that stage to take us in; then we’ll be safe from this lunatic.”

They hurried out and in another minute Chester and Frank followed.

Then Edward came in, walked up to the fire and stood leaning against the mantelpiece in seemingly thoughtful mood; but as the lady travelers again appeared at the door, he started and went forward to receive them.

“Walk in, ladies,” he said; “walk into the parlor. Pray be seated,” handing them chairs. “Now what can I do for you?”

“You are the innkeeper?” asked Zoe.

“At your service, madam. Do you wish a room? or rooms?”

“Yes; we will have two; and let them be adjoining, if possible.”

“Certainly, madam; we can accommodate you in that and will be happy to do so.”

Then turning to the spectators, “Can you tell us our word, ladies and gentlemen?” he asked.

“Innkeeper,” was the prompt response from several voices.

“Quite correct,” he said. Then with a sweeping bow, “This closes our entertainment for the evening, and with many thanks for their kind attention we bid our audience a grateful adieu.”

Half an hour later tea was served, and upon the conclusion of the meal the guests began to take their departure.

The family separated for the night earlier than usual, but Harold and Herbert followed their mother to her dressing-room, asking if she felt too weary for a little chat with them.

“Not at all,” she said with her own sweet smile. “I know of nothing that would afford me greater satisfaction than one of the oldtime motherly talks with my dear college boys; so come in, my dears, and let us have it.”

Harold drew forward an easy chair for her, but she declined it. “No, I will sit on the sofa, so that I can have you close to me, one on each side,” she said.

“That will suit your boys, exactly, mamma, if you will be quite as comfortable,” said Herbert, placing a hassock for her feet, as she seated herself.

“Quite,” she returned, giving a hand to each as they placed themselves beside her. “Now remember that your mother will be glad of your confidence in everything that concerns you, great or small; nothing that interests you or affects your happiness in the very least, can fail to have an interest for her.”

“We know it, dearest mamma,” said Harold, “and are most happy in the assurance that such is the fact.”

“Yes,” assented Herbert, lifting her hand to his lips, “and it is that which makes a private chat with our mother so great a delight; that and our mutual love. Mamma, dear, I can not believe I shall ever meet another woman who will seem to me at all comparable to my dearly loved and honored mother.”

“Such words from the lips of my son are very sweet to my ear,” she responded, a tender light shining in her eyes, “and yet for your own sake I hope you are mistaken; I would have all my children know the happiness to be found in married life where mutual admiration, esteem and love are so great that the two are as one.”

“Such a marriage as yours, mamma?”

“Yes; there could not be a happier. But I am looking far ahead for my college boys,” she added with a smile; “at least I trust so; for you are over young yet to be looking for life partners.”

“I don’t think either of us has begun on that thus far, mamma,” said Harold. “At present we are more solicitous to decide the important question, what shall our principal life work be? and in that we desire the help of our mother’s counsel, and to follow her wishes.”

“It is a question of very great importance,” she said, “for your success and usefulness in life will depend very largely upon your finding the work your heavenly Father intends you to do, and for which you are best fitted by the talents He has given you.

“But I thought you had both decided upon the medical profession; and I was well content with your choice, for it is a most noble and useful calling.”

“So we thought mamma, but recently our hearts have been so moved at thought of the millions perishing for lack of a saving knowledge of Christ, that it has become a momentous question with each of us whether he is called to preach the gospel, especially in the mission-field, at home or abroad.”

Her eyes shone through glad tears. “My dear boy,” she said with emotion, “to have sons in the ministry I should esteem the greatest honor that could be put upon me; for there can be no higher calling than that of an ambassador for Christ, no grander work than that of winning souls.”

“So we both think,” said Herbert, “and, mamma, you are willing we should go and labor wherever we may be called in the providence of God?”

“Yes, oh yes! you are more His than mine; I dedicated you to his service even before you were born, and many times afterward. I would not dare stand in your way, nor would I wish to; for dearly as I love you both, sweet as your presence is to me, I am more than willing to deny myself the joy of having you near me for the sake of the Master’s cause, and that you may win the reward of those to whom He will say at the last, ’Well done, good and faithful servant; enter thou into the joy of the Lord.’ Are you particularly drawn to the foreign field?”

“No, mamma,” answered Harold, “the cause is one— ’the field is the world’— but while we are deeply interested in foreign missions and desirous to do all we can to help there, we feel that their prosperity depends upon the success of the work at home, and that the cause of home missions is the cause of our country also; for that cause we would labor and give as both patriots and Christians.

“Look at the dangers threatening our dear native land— and the cause of Christ also— from vice and illiteracy, Popery and Mormonism, all ever on the increase from the rapid influx of undesirable immigrants— paupers, insane, anarchists, criminals. Ah how surely and speedily they will sweep away our liberties, both civil and religious, unless we rouse ourselves and put forth every energy to prevent it! Never a truer saying than that ‘eternal vigilance is the price of liberty!’ and nothing can secure it to us but the instruction and evangelization of these dangerous classes. Is it not so, mamma?”

“Yes,” she assented; “I am satisfied that the gospel of Christ is the only remedy for those threatening evils, the only safeguard of our liberties, as well as the only salvation for a lost and ruined world.

“And, my dear boys, if you devote yourselves to that work it shall be your mother’s part, your mother’s joy, to provide the means for your support. I can not go into the work myself, so the sending of my sons and supporting them while they labor, must be my contribution to the cause.

“But I see no reason why you should give up the idea of studying medicine, since so many medical missionaries are needed. My plan would be to prepare you for both preaching and practising, if you have talent for both.”

“We have thought of that,” said Harold, “and as you approve, dearest mamma, we will hope to carry it out.”

“I am so glad, mamma, that you have large means and the heart to use them in the work of spreading abroad the glad tidings of salvation through Christ,” Herbert remarked.

“Yes,” she said “it is both a responsibility and a privilege to be entrusted with so much of my Lord’s money; pray for your mother, my dear boys, that she may have grace and wisdom to dispense it aright.”

“We will, mamma, we do; and oh how often we rejoice in having a mother to whom we can confidently apply in behalf of a good object! You have many times given us the joy of relieving misery and providing instruction for the ignorant and depraved.”

“It has been a joy to me to be able to do so,” she said thoughtfully, “yet I fear I have not denied myself as I ought for the sake of giving largely.”

“Mamma, you have always given largely since I have been old enough to understand anything about such matters,” interrupted Harold warmly; “yes, very largely.”

“If every one had given, and would give as largely in proportion to means,” remarked Herbert, “the Lord’s treasury would be full to overflowing. Is it not so, Harold?”

“Surely; and mamma has never been one to spend unnecessarily on herself,” replied Harold, fondly caressing the hand he held.

“It has been my endeavor to be a faithful steward,” she sighed, “and yet I might have given more than I have. I have been giving only of my income; I could give some of the principal; and I have a good many valuable jewels that might be turned into money for the Lord’s treasury.

“I have thought a good deal about that of late and have talked with my daughters in regard to the matter; I thought it but right to consult with them, because the jewels would be a part of their inheritance, and I wish you two to have some say about it also, as fellow heirs with them.”

She paused and both lads answered quickly that they thought the jewels should all go to their sisters.

“No; you and your future wives should have a share also,” she replied smilingly; “that is if I retained them all. And that being understood, are you willing to have most of them disposed of and the proceeds used in aid of home and foreign missions?”

Both gave a hearty assent.

“Thank you, my dears,” she said. “And now having already consulted with your grandfather and older brother, winning their consent and approval, I consider the matter settled.

“A few of my jewels, dear to me as mementoes of the past, I shall retain; also a few others which would not sell for nearly what they are really worth to us; but the rest I intend to have sold and the money used for the spread of the gospel in our own and heathen lands.”

“I am convinced you could not make a better investment, mamma,” Harold said, his eyes shining with pleasure.

“Yes, you are right,” she returned, “it is an investment; one that can not possibly fail to give a grand return: for does He not say, ’He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to the Lord; and that which he hath given will he pay him again?’

“Who was it (Dean Swift if I remember aright) who preached a charity sermon from that text— ’If you like the security, down with the dust’?”

“And you do like the security, mamma; you prefer it to any other, I am quite sure,” said Herbert. “But what a fine specimen of a charity sermon that was! both powerful and brief. Doubtless many of the hearers were greatly relieved that they had not to listen to a long, dull harangue on the subject, and all the more disposed to give liberally on that account.”

“Yes; do not forget to act upon that idea, when your turn comes to preach a sermon on that subject,” Harold said, giving his younger brother a mischievous smile.

“And let us not forget the lesson of the text when the appeal comes to us,” added their mother. “Oh my dear boys, what a privilege it is to be permitted to make such investments! and to be sowers of the good seed whether by personal effort or in providing the means for sending out others as laborers. Let us endeavor to be of the number of those who sow largely in both ways; for ’He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he that soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully.’

“And the harvest is sure; at the end of the world; if not sooner. And whether we give in one way or the other, let us not do it ’grudgingly or of necessity,’ but joyfully and with all our hearts, for God loveth a cheerful giver.”

“Mamma,” said Harold earnestly, “we do both feel it a great and blessed privilege to be permitted to be co-workers with God for the advancement of his cause and kingdom.”

With that the conversation turned upon other themes, but presently the boys kissed the dear mother good night and withdrew lest they should rob her of needed rest.