"A little more than kin and a little less than kind."—Shakespeare.
"A little more than kin and a little less than kind."—Shakespeare.
"A little more than kin and a little less than kind."—Shakespeare.
—Shakespeare.
Ourlittle party had scarcely seated themselves in the parlor, where a number of the guests of the house were already gathered, when the invalid gentleman was assisted in by his servant and took possession of an easy chair which Mrs. Perkins hastened to offer him.
He thanked her courteously as he sank back in it with a slight sigh as of one in pain.
Violet, close at his side, regarded him with pitying eyes. "I fear you suffer a great deal, sir," she said, low and feelingly, when Mary, her next neighbor, had introduced them.
"Yes, a good deal, but less than when I came."
"Then the sea air is doing you good, I hope."
"I'm thankful to say I think it is. There's an increase of pain to-night, but that is always to be expected in rainy weather."
"You are very patient, Mr. Moses," Mary remarked.
"And why shouldn't I be patient?" he returned; "didn't Christ suffer far more than I do?"
"And he comforts you in the midst of it all, does he not?" asked Mrs. Perkins.
"He does, indeed, ma'am."
"I have always found him faithful to his promises," she said.
"And I," remarked another lady sitting near; "strength has always been given me according to my day, in the past, and I am glad to leave the future with him."
"Humph! it's plain to be seen that you two don't know what trouble is," put in Mrs. Moses, glancing fretfully at her crippled spouse; whereat the poor man burst into tears.
Vi's tender heart ached for him, and the countenances of all within hearing of the remark expressed sincere pity and sympathy.
A child began drumming on the piano, and Mr. Moses sent a helpless, half despairing glance in that direction that spoke of tortured nerves.
Vi saw it, and, as he turned to her with, "Don't you play and sing, my dear? You look like it, and I should be much gratified to hear you," she rose and went at once to the instrument, thinking of nothing but trying to bring help and comfort to the poor sufferer.
"Will you let me play a little?" she said to the child, with look and tone of winning sweetness, and the piano-stool was promptly vacated.
Seating herself, she touched a few chords, and instantly a hush fell upon the room.
She played a short prelude; then, in a voice full, rich and sweet, sang—
"'O Jesus! Friend unfailing,How dear art thou to me!And cares or fears assailing,I find my rest in thee!Why should my feet grow wearyOf this my pilgrim way;Rough though the path and drearyIt ends in perfect day."'Naught, naught I count as treasure,Compared, O Christ, with thee;Thy sorrow without measureEarned peace and joy for me.I love to own, Lord Jesus,Thy claims o'er me and mine,Bought with thy blood most precious,Whose can I be but thine!"'For every tribulation,For every sore distress.In Christ I've full salvation,Sure help and quiet rest.No fear of foes prevailing,I triumph, Lord, in thee.O Jesus, Friend unfailing!How dear art thou to me!'"*
"'O Jesus! Friend unfailing,How dear art thou to me!And cares or fears assailing,I find my rest in thee!Why should my feet grow wearyOf this my pilgrim way;Rough though the path and drearyIt ends in perfect day."'Naught, naught I count as treasure,Compared, O Christ, with thee;Thy sorrow without measureEarned peace and joy for me.I love to own, Lord Jesus,Thy claims o'er me and mine,Bought with thy blood most precious,Whose can I be but thine!"'For every tribulation,For every sore distress.In Christ I've full salvation,Sure help and quiet rest.No fear of foes prevailing,I triumph, Lord, in thee.O Jesus, Friend unfailing!How dear art thou to me!'"*
"'O Jesus! Friend unfailing,How dear art thou to me!And cares or fears assailing,I find my rest in thee!Why should my feet grow wearyOf this my pilgrim way;Rough though the path and drearyIt ends in perfect day.
"'Naught, naught I count as treasure,Compared, O Christ, with thee;Thy sorrow without measureEarned peace and joy for me.I love to own, Lord Jesus,Thy claims o'er me and mine,Bought with thy blood most precious,Whose can I be but thine!
"'For every tribulation,For every sore distress.In Christ I've full salvation,Sure help and quiet rest.No fear of foes prevailing,I triumph, Lord, in thee.O Jesus, Friend unfailing!How dear art thou to me!'"*
* I know not who is the author of these beautiful lines.
Edward had made his way to her side as soon as he perceived her purpose.
"You have left out half," he whispered, leaning over her, "and the words are all so sweet."
"Yes, I know, but I feared it was too long."
There were murmurs of admiration as he led her back to her seat. "How well she plays! such an exquisite touch!" "What a sweet voice! highly cultivated, and every word distinct." "Yes, and what a beauty she is!"
Some of these remarks reached Violet's ears and deepened the color on her cheek, but she forgot them all in the delight of having given pleasure to the invalid. He thanked her with tears in his eyes.
"The words are very sweet and comforting," he said. "Are they your own?"
"Oh no, sir!" she answered. "I do not know whose they are, but I have found comfort in them, and hoped that you might also."
Edward and Mary were conversing in low, earnest tones.
"I am delighted!" Mary said.
"With what?"
"Words, music, voice, everything."
"The music is her own, composed expressly for the words, which she found in a religious newspaper."
"Indeed! she is a genius then! the tune is lovely."
"Yes, she is thought to have a decided genius for both music and painting; I must show you some of her pictures when you pay us that promised visit."
Mr. Moses presently found himself in too much pain to remain where he was, and summoning his servant, retired to his own room.
His wife, paying no regard to a wistful, longing look he gave her as he moved painfully away, remained where she was and entertained the other ladies with an account of the family pedigree.
"We are lineal descendants of Moses, the Hebrew Lawgiver," she announced. "But don't suppose we are Jews, for we are not at all."
"Belong to the lost ten tribes, I suppose," remarked Charles Perrine dryly.
The morning's sun shone brightly in a clear sky, and on leaving the breakfast table our little party went down to the beach and sat in the sand, watching the incoming tide, before which they were now and then obliged to retreat, sometimes in scrambling haste that gave occasion for much mirth and laughter.
Mrs. Moses came down presently and joined them, an uninvited and not over-welcome companion, but of course the beach was as free to her as to them.
"How is your husband this morning?" inquired Mrs. Perkins.
"Oh about as usual."
"I do believe it would do him good to sit here awhile with us, sunning himself."
"Too damp."
"No; the dampness here is from the salt water, and will harm nobody."
"Where is he?" asked Fred, getting on his feet.
"On the porch yonder," the wife answered, in a tone of indifference.
"Come, boys, let's go and bring him!" said Fred, and at the word the other two rose with alacrity, and all three hurried to the house.
They found the poor old gentleman sitting alone, save for the presence of the uncouth servant standing in silence at the back of his chair, and watching with wistful, longing eyes the merry groups moving hither and thither, to and fro, between the houses and the ocean, some going down to bathe, others coming dripping from the water, some sporting among the waves, and others still, like our own party, sunning themselves on the beach.
"We have come to ask you to join us, sir," Fred said in respectful but hearty tones. "Won't you let us help you down to the beach? the ladies are anxious to have you there."
The poor man's face lighted up with pleased surprise, then clouded slightly. "I should like to go indeed," he said, "if I could do so without troubling others; but that is impossible."
"We should not feel it any trouble, sir." the lads returned, "but a pleasure rather, if you will let us help you there."
"I ought not to ask it of you: Jacob here can give me an arm."
"No," said Edward, "let Jacob take this opportunity for a bath, and we will fill his place in waiting upon you."
The invalid yielded, and found himself moved with far more ease and comfort than he had believed possible.
The ladies—his wife, perhaps, excepted, greeted him with smiles and pleasant words of welcome. They had arranged a couch with their waterproofs and shawls, far enough from the water's edge to be secure from the waves, and here the lads laid him down with gentle carefulness.
Mrs. Perkins seated herself at his head and shaded his face from the sun with her umbrella, while the others grouped themselves about, near enough to carry on a somewhat disjointed conversation in spite of the noise of the waters.
"I think a sunbath will really be good for you, Mr. Moses," said Miss Keith.
"It's worth trying anyhow," he answered, with a patient smile. "And it's a real treat to do so in such pleasant company. But don't any of you lose your bath for me. I've seen a number go in, and I suppose this is about the best time."
"Just as the ladies say," was the gallant rejoinder of the young men.
"I do not care to bathe to-day," Violet said with decision. "The rest of you may go, and I will stay and take are of Mr. Moses."
"Well, I'll go then. He'll not be wanting anything." said his wife. "Ain't the rest of you coming, ladies and gentlemen?"
After some discussion, all went but Mrs. Perkins and Violet, and they were left alone with the invalid.
Vi had conceived a great pity for him, great disgust for the selfish, unsympathizing wife.
"How different from mamma!" she said to herself. "She never would have wearied of waiting upon papa if he had been so afflicted; she would have wanted to be beside him, comforting him every moment. And how sweetly it would have been done."
"Little lady," the old man said, with a longing look into the sweet girlish face, "will you sing me that song again? It was the most delightful, consoling thing I've heard for many a day."
"Yes, indeed, sir; I would do anything in my power to help you to forget your pain," she said, coloring with pleasure.
She sang the whole of the one he had asked for, then perceiving how greatly he enjoyed it, several others of like character.
He listened intently, sometimes with tears in his eyes, and thanking her warmly again and again.
Finding that the old gentleman felt brighter and more free from pain during the rest of the day, and thought he had receivedbenefitfrom his visit to the beach, the lads helped him there again the next day.
They set him down, then wandered away, leaving him in the care of the same group of ladies who had gathered round him the day before.
Each one was anxious to do something for his relief or entertainment, and he seemed both pleased with their society and grateful for their attentions.
Mrs. Perkins suggested that the lame hand might be benefited by burying it in the sand while he sat there.
"No harm in trying it, anyhow," he said. "Just turn me round a little, Maria, if you please."
His wife complied promptly with the request, but in a way which the other ladies thought rough and unfeeling, seizing him by the collar of his coat and jerking him round to the desired position.
But he made no complaint.
"I think it does ease the pain," he said after a little. "I'm only sorry I can't try it every day for a while."
"What is there to hinder?" asked Mrs. Perkins.
"Why, we're going to-morrow," replied Mrs. Moses, shortly.
"Oh, why not stay longer? You have been here but a week, and Mr. Moses has improved quite a good deal in that time."
"Well, he can stay as long as he chooses, but I'm going to New York to-morrow to visit my sister."
The ladies urged her to stay for her poor husband's sake, but she was not to be persuaded, and he was unwilling to remain without her.
"Take some sand with you, then, to bury his hand in, won't you?" said Mrs. Perkins.
"I haven't anything to carry it in," was the ungracious reply.
"Those newspapers."
"I want to read them."
"Well, if we find something to put it in, and get it all ready for you, will you take it in your trunk?"
"Yes, I'll do that."
"I have a good sized paper box which will answer the purpose, I think," said Mary Keith. "I'll get it."
She hastened to the house, returned again in a few moments with the box, and they proceeded to fill it, sifting the sand carefully through their fingers to remove every pebble.
"You are taking a great deal of trouble for me, ladies," the old gentleman remarked.
"No trouble at all, sir," said Mary; "it's a real pleasure to do anything we can for you: especially remembering the Master's words, 'Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.'"
"How happy theyWho, from the toil and tumult of their lives,Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives."—Byron.
"How happy theyWho, from the toil and tumult of their lives,Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives."—Byron.
"How happy theyWho, from the toil and tumult of their lives,Steal to look down where nought but ocean strives."—Byron.
—Byron.
Violetwas alone, lying on the bed, resting after her bath, not asleep, but thinking dreamily of home and mother.
"Only one more day and my week here will be up," she was saying to herself. "I've had a delightful time, but oh I want to see mamma and the rest!"
Just then the door opened and Mary came in with a face all smiles. "O Vi, I'm so glad!" she exclaimed, seating herself on the side of the bed.
"What about, cousin?" Violet asked, rousing herself, and with a keen look of interest.
"I have just had the offer of a furnished cottage for two or three weeks—to keep house in, you understand—and I can invite several friends to stay with me, and it won't cost half so much as boarding here, beside being great fun," Mary answered, talking very fast in her excitement and delight. "Charlie will stay with me, I think, and I hope you and Edward will, and I have two girl friends at home whom I shall invite.One is an invalid, and needs the change, oh so badly; but though they are not exactly poor people, not the kind one would dare offer charity to, her father couldn't afford to give her even a week at any of these hotels or boarding-houses: and she did look so wistful and sad when I bade her good-bye. 'I can hardly help envying you, Mary,' she said, 'though I am ever so glad you are going. But I have such a longing to get away from home for a while—to go somewhere, anywhere, for a change. I'm so weak and miserable, and it seems to me that if I could only go away I should get well. I haven't been outside of this town for years.'"
Violet's eyes filled with tears. "Poor thing!" she said. "I have always travelled about so much, and enjoyed it greatly. I wonder why it is I have so many more pleasures and blessings than other people."
"I hope they may never be fewer," Mary said, caressing her. "But isn't it nice that now I can give poor Amy Fletcher—for that is her name—two or three weeks here at the sea-shore?"
"Yes, indeed! But you haven't told me how it happens."
In reply to this Mary went on to say that a married friend who had rented the cottage she had spoken of for the year, now found that hemust take his family away for a short time, mountain air being recommended for his wife, who was in poor health, and as it would cost no more to have the cottage occupied in their absence than to leave it empty, he had offered her the use of it rent free.
"He saw father and mother last week," she added in conclusion, "and talked it over with them, and they have written me to accept his offer by all means, and stay as long at the shore as I can."
"But you are to visit us, you know."
"Yes, afterward, if that will do. I don't intend to miss that pleasure if I can help it," Mary answered gleefully. "Now about my other friend, Ella Neff. She is not an invalid, but she teaches for her support, and I know such a change would do her a world of good. She wanted to come with me, but couldn't afford it; yet I'm sure she can in this way: for beside the difference of board there will not be the same necessity for fine dress."
"I should never have thought of that," said Vi.
"No, of course not, you fortunate little lassie; you have never known anything about the pinchings of poverty—or the pleasures of economy," she added merrily, "for I do assure you there is often real enjoyment in finding hownicely you can contrive to make one dollar do the work of two—or 'auld claes look amaist as weel's the new.' But oh, don't you think it will be fun to keep house, do our own cooking and all?"
"Yes," Violet said; "yes, indeed."
"And you'll stay, won't you? Don't you think you'd enjoy it?"
"Oh, ever so much! but I don't believe I can wait any longer than till to-morrow to see mamma. Besides, I don't know whether she would approve."
"Well, if you should spend a day at home and get her consent to come back; how would that do?"
Vi thought that plan might answer, if Edward were willing to make one of the party at the cottage.
"We must consult the lads at once," said Mary. "Let me help you dress, and we'll go in search of them."
Vi sprang up, and with her cousin's assistance made a rapid toilet.
They found Edward and Charlie in the summer-house, just across the road, waiting for the call to dinner. Fortunately no one was within hearing, and Mary quickly unfolded her plan.
It was heard with delight. "Splendid! Capital! Of course we'll be glad to accept yourinvitation," they said: Edward, however, putting in the provision, "If mamma sees no objection."
"Or grandpa," added Violet.
"All the same," said Edward; "mamma never approves of anything that he does not."
"Where is the cottage? Can we look at it?" asked Charles.
"Yes; the family left this morning, and I have the key," Mary answered. "We could take possession to-night if we chose; but I must lay in some provisions first."
"Let's walk up (or down, whichever it is) after dinner and look at it."
"Yes, Charlie, if Edward and Vi are agreed. It is up, on this street, about two blocks from here."
"Directly in front of the ocean? That's all right."
"Or the ocean directly in front of it," Mary returned laughingly.
"All the same; don't be too critical, Miss Keith," said Charlie.
They did not linger long over dinner or dessert, but made haste to the cottage, eager to see what accommodations it afforded.
It was small, the rooms few in number, and mere boxes compared to those Edward and Violet had been accustomed to at Ion and Viamede; and very much more contracted thanthose of the cottage their mother was occupying, yet all four were quite satisfied to take up their residence in it for a season.
"Four bedrooms," remarked Mary reflectively: "two will do for the lads and two for the lasses. Parlor and dining-room are not very spacious, but will hold us all when necessary; I don't suppose we'll spend much of the daytime within doors. By the way, I think we must add Don Keith to our party—if he'll come."
The boys said "By all means," and Vi raised no objection.
"When do you expect Ella and Amy?" asked Charles, who was well acquainted with both.
"I telegraphed to mother at once to invite them, and shall expect to see them about day after to-morrow."
"What sort of provisions do you propose to lay in, Miss Keith?" inquired Charlie. "I am personally interested in that."
"I do not doubt that in the least, Mr. Perrine," she answered demurely. "I intend to buy some of the best flour and groceries that I can find."
"Flour? can't you buy bread here?"
"Yes, but perhaps I may choose to exhibit my skill in its manufacture; also in that of cake and pastry."
"Ah! Well, no objection to that except thatwe don't want you shut up in the kitchen when the rest of us are off pleasuring. What about other supplies?"
"I see you have some idea of what is necessary in housekeeping, Charlie, and I'll give you a good recommendation to—the first nice girl who asks me if you'll make a good husband," Mary returned, looking at her cousin with laughing eyes.
"Am I to have an answer to my question, Miss Keith?" he inquired with dignity.
"Yes, when I see fit to give it. The Marstons were, of course, served with butter, eggs, milk and cream, fish, flesh, and fowl, and Mr. Marston told me he had spoken to the persons thus serving him and his to do likewise by me and mine: does this explanation relieve your mind, Mr. Perrine?"
"Entirely. I am satisfied that we are not invited to share starving rations, which I am morally certain would give me the dyspepsia."
"I think we are very fortunate," Mary remarked, resuming her ordinary tone; "they have left us bedding, table and kitchen furniture, and we have nothing whatever to provide except our food, drink and clothing."
"I shall order a carriage for an early hour to-morrow morning," said Edward, "and drive over to see my mother. Vi will, of course, go along, and I wish, Cousin Mary, that you and Charlie would go too."
"Thank you very much," Mary said. "I should enjoy it extremely, but there are some few arrangements to be made here. The girls may come to-morrow evening, and I must be here and ready to receive them."
Then Charlie decided that he must stay and take care of Mary; so it was finally arranged that Edward and Violet should go alone, and the former attend to the ordering of the groceries, and anything else he could think of that was desirable and did not require to be fresh.
When the carriage containing Edward and Violet drove up to their mother's door, nearly all the family and their guests were out upon the beach.
There was instantly a glad shout from Harold, Herbert and Walter, "There they are!" and they, their sisters and grandfather started at once for the house, while Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs. Travilla, who were within, hastened to the door.
Mrs. Conly and Virginia, slowly sauntering along within sight of the cottage, looked after those who were hurrying towards it, with smiles of contempt.
"Such a hugging and kissing as there will be now!" sneered Virginia; "they will make as much fuss as if they hadn't seen each other for five years."
"Yes," returned her mother, "and I don'twish to be a spectator of the sickening scene. Thank fortune I'm not of the overly affectionate kind."
"Mamma, mamma!" cried Violet, springing into the dear arms so joyfully opened to receive her, "oh, I am so glad, so glad to see you again!"
"Not more glad than mamma is, darling," Elsie said, clasping her close with tender caresses.
"And you've come home a day sooner than you were expected! how good in you!" the younger Elsie exclaimed, taking her turn.
"Yes, but not to stay; that is, I mean if mamma consents to—"
But the sentence remained unfinished for awhile, there were so many claiming a hug and kiss from both herself and Edward; indeed I am afraid Virginia was so far correct in her prediction that there was as much embracing and rejoicing, perhaps even more, than there would have been in the Conly family in receiving a brother and sister who had been absent for years.
But when all that had been attended to, and the pleasant little excitement began to subside, it did not take many minutes for mamma and grandpa and grandma to learn all about the proposed essay in housekeeping on the part of the young folks.
"What! does my Vi want to leave her mother again so soon?" Mrs. Travilla said with halfreproachful tenderness, putting an arm about the slender, girlish waist, and pressing another kiss on the softly rounded, blooming cheek.
"No, mamma dearest," Vi said, blushing and laying her head down on her mother's shoulder, "but the house here is as full as ever, isn't it?"
"Yes, but that makes no difference; there is plenty of room."
"Well, mamma, I don't like to be away from you, or any of the dear ones, but I do think it would be great fun for a little while. Don't you? wouldn't you have liked it when you were my age?"
"Yes, I daresay I should, and I see no great objection, if you and Edward wish to try it. What do you say, papa?"
"That I think their mother is the right person to decide the question, and that I do not suppose they can come to any harm," Mr. Dinsmore answered, with a kindly look and smile directed to Edward and Violet. "I doubt if I should have allowed you to do such a thing at Vi's age, Elsie," he added, "but I believe I grow more indulgent with advancing years—perhaps more foolish."
"No, papa, I cannot think that," she said, lifting her soft eyes to his with a world of filial tenderness and reverence in their brown depths; "I lean very much upon the wisdom of your decisions. Well, dears, since grandpa does notdisapprove, you have my full consent to do as you please in this matter."
They thanked her warmly.
"Cousin Mary would be delighted if Elsie would come too," said Violet, looking wishfully at her sister, "and so would I. I don't suppose, mamma, you could spare us both at once, but if Elsie would like to go, I will stay, and not feel it the least bit of a hardship either," she added, turning to her mother with a bright, affectionate smile.
"I should be lonely with both my older daughters away," the mother said, "but I will not be selfish in my love. Elsie may go, too, if she wishes."
"Dear, kind mamma, selfishness is no part of your nature," her namesake daughter responded promptly, "but Elsie has not the slightest desire to go. Yet I thank my sweet sister all the same for her very kind and unselfish offer," she added, giving Violet a look of strong affection.
"But what is grandpa to do without his merry little cricket?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, drawing Vi down upon his knee. "For how long is it? one, two, or three weeks?"
"I don't know, grandpa; perhaps I shall grow tired and homesick, and want to come back directly."
"Well, no one will be sorry to see you, come when you may."
"You will always be joyfully welcomed," added mamma; "nor Edward less so. Now let us consider what you will need, and how best to provide it. I claim the privilege of furnishing all the groceries and everything else for the larder that need not be procured upon the spot."
"Oh, thank you, mamma!" said Edward; "but I knew you would."
Violet asked and obtained permission to sleep with her mother that night, and all day long was scarcely absent from her side. Evidently the child had a divided heart, and was at times more than half inclined to stay at home.
But Edward urged that he would not half enjoy himself without her, that she had promised to go if mamma did not withhold consent, and that Mary would be sadly disappointed if she failed to return with him. Donald Keith, too, who was still there, and had accepted Mary's invitation, added his persuasions. "He was sure they would have a very pleasant time, and if she grew homesick she could drive home any day in a couple of hours; he would be glad to bring her over himself if she would let him, or she could come in less time by the cars."
Then her mother came to her help. "I think it will be best for you to go, dear, even if you should stay but a day or two," she said. "And if your grandpa likes, he and I will drive over with you, and see your snug little cottage,and whether there is anything we can do to add to the comfort or enjoyment of those who are to occupy it for a season."
"A very good idea, daughter," Mr. Dinsmore said, and Vi's rather troubled face grew bright.
"Oh how nice, mamma!" she exclaimed. "I will go without any more foolish hesitation, although I do not think Edward is quite correct in saying I promised."
"Foolish enough!" sneered Virginia, who prided herself on her audacity in making disagreeable remarks. "I should be very much ashamed of myself if I were half the mother baby you are."
"And I," remarked Mr. Dinsmore severely, irritated out of all patience by the pained look in Vi's face, "should be more ashamed of my sweet little granddaughter if she were as heartless and ready to wound the feelings of others as a certain niece of mine seems to be."
"Will you come to my house-warming, Mrs. Perkins, you and Fred and Susie?" asked Mary Keith as they left the breakfast-table of the Colorado House the next morning. "I expect my cousins the Travillas about dinner-time, and the morning train may bring the other guests. I mean to be all ready for them at any rate. The dinner is to be prepared with my own hands, and though it will be on a smallscale compared with those served here, you shall at least have a hearty welcome."
"Thank you, we would be delighted, but are already engaged for the picnic," Mrs. Perkins said.
So they parted with mutual good wishes, each hoping the other would have an enjoyable day.
Charles and Mary made themselves busy in seeing to the removal to the cottage of their own and cousin's luggage, making some purchases at the provision stores, and some rearrangements of furniture; then about the dinner, Mary pressing Charlie into her service as sheller of peas, husker of corn, and beater of eggs.
They had a very merry time over their work, though Charlie protested vigorously against being set at such menial tasks, and declared that "Ed" should be made to do a fair share of them in future.
Mary sent him to the train to meet the girls, while she stayed behind to watch over the dinner.
He had scarcely gone when a carriage drew up at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Mrs. Travilla, Edward and Violet, and Donald Keith alighted therefrom and came trooping in, most of them laden with parcels, while the driver brought up the rear, carrying a large hamper that seemed to be well filled and heavy.
Mary's first emotion on seeing the arrival was delight, the second a sudden fear that her dinner would not suffice for so many.
But that fear was relieved at sight of the hamper and a whisper from Vi, who headed the procession, that it contained such store of provision as would obviate the necessity of much cooking for several days to come.
"Oh how good and kind in your mother!" Mary exclaimed in a like low tone, then hastened to welcome her guests with unmixed pleasure.
"O Cousin Elsie, how nice in you to come and to bring Edward and Violet! You are going to let them stay, I am sure, and I am so glad. So glad to see you, too, Cousin Rose and Cousin Horace: it seems as if I ought to call you aunt and uncle, though."
"Then suppose you do," Mr. Dinsmore said, shaking hands with her, and kissing her rosy cheek. "You have my permission."
"I shall, then, and thank you," she returned in her bright merry tones. "O Don," turning to Mr. Keith with outstretched hands, "so here you are! that's a good boy."
"Yes, and so good a boy must not be put off with less than others get," he said, following Mr. Dinsmore's example.
"Well, as you are only a cousin it doesn't matter," she remarked indifferently. "Pleaseall make yourselves at home. Oh there's the stage stopping at the gate! the girls have come!" and she flew out to welcome them.
The little parlor was quite inconveniently crowded, but that afforded subject for mirth, as Mary introduced her friends and bustled about trying to find seats for them all.
"We shall have to take dinner in relays or else set a table in here, besides the one in the dining-room," she said, laughing.
"Let Amy and me go to our room and dress while your first set eat, and give us our dinner afterwards," suggested Ella Neff.
"Yes, I should much prefer it," Miss Fletcher said, "for we are really too dusty and dirty to sit down to your table now."
"And I shall act as waiter to the first table and eat with these ladies at the second," said Charlie.
"Very well, I can manage to seat the rest," Mary said; and so it was arranged.
The dinner proved very nice and very abundant with the help of the contents of the hamper. Mary's cooking received many praises, in which Charlie claimed a share, because, as he said, he had assisted largely.
"O spirits gay, and kindly heart!Precious the blessings ye impart!"—Joanna Baillie.
"O spirits gay, and kindly heart!Precious the blessings ye impart!"—Joanna Baillie.
"O spirits gay, and kindly heart!Precious the blessings ye impart!"—Joanna Baillie.
—Joanna Baillie.
"Well, cricket, are we to carry you back with us?" Mr. Dinsmore asked, with a smiling look at Violet. "If so, 'tis time to be tying on your hat, for the carriage is at the door."
"No, grandpa, I am going to stay," she answered, holding up her face for a parting kiss.
"I am well satisfied with your decision, dear child," her mother said when bidding her good-bye, as they and Edward stood alone together for a moment on the little porch. "I think these young people are all safe associates for you and your brother," turning to him and taking a hand of each, "and that you will enjoy yourselves very much with them. But, my darlings, never forget in the midst of your mirth and gayety—or in trouble, if that should come—that God's eye is upon you, and that you have a Christian character to maintain before men. Let me give you a parting text, 'Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.' And yet another for your joy and comfort, 'The Lord God is a sun and shieldsthe Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.'"
"Was there ever such another dear, good mother as ours?" Violet said to her brother,astogether they watched the carriage out of sight.
"I wish there were thousands like her," he answered. "Ever since I can remember it has been plain to me that what she most desired for all her children was that they might be real, true, earnest Christians. Vi, if we are not all that, we can never lay the blame at our mother's door."
"Nor papa's either," Violet said with a sigh and a tear to his memory, "for he was just as careful as she is to train us up for God and heaven."
"Yes," Edward assented with emotion. "O Vi, if I could but be the man he was!"
They went into the house. In the little parlor Amy Fletcher reclined on a sofa gazing out through the open door upon the sea.
"I have had my first sight of old ocean to-day," she said, glancing up at them as they came in, "and oh how beautiful it is! how delicious this breeze coming from it! it surely must bring health and strength to any one who is not very ill indeed!"
"I hope it will to you," Violet said, sitting down by her side.
"I hope so," she returned with a cheerful look and smile, "for the doctors tell me I have no organic disease, and that nothing is more likely to build me up than sea air and sea-bathing."
Amy was small and fragile in appearance, but not painfully thin; she had large dark grey eyes, brown hair, a sweet patient expression, a clear complexion, and though usually rather too pale and quiet, when excited or greatly interested the color would come and go on her cheek, her eyes shine, and her whole face light up in a way that made her decidedly pretty.
She was weary now with her journey and a visit to the beach, though she had only walked to a summer house near by and sat there while the rest strolled about.
Merry sounds of jest and laughter were coming from the kitchen.
"The girls are washing the dishes," Amy said with a smile, "and the lads helping or hindering, I don't know which."
"The dinner dishes?" asked Violet.
"Yes, Mary set them aside for the time, that she might enjoy the company of your friends while they stayed."
"Do you think I could be of any assistance out there?" queried Edward, with gravity.
"I have an idea that the place is quite full now," Amy said, with a merry glance up into his face. "I wish there was room for us all, forthey seem to be having a great deal of sport. Just hark how they are laughing! Well, our turn will come. Don't you think we are going to have a jolly time here?"
The door opened and the two young men came in.
"You don't know what you've missed, Ed," said Charlie helping himself to a chair near Amy's couch; "housework's jolly good fun."
"When you don't have too much of it," remarked Amy.
"And do it in pleasant company," added Donald.
"And under a capable and kind instructress," supplemented Mary, speaking from the kitchen.
"What are your terms for tuition, Miss Keith?" inquired Edward, as she and Ella Neff joined the circle in the parlor.
"Beginners get their board, which is sometimes more than they earn."
"Is that all?" said Donald. "Then I think I shall retire from the service."
"I advise you to do no such thing," said Ella, "the knowledge you gain may prove invaluable in some future emergency: some time when you find yourself out on the plains or buried in the forests of the Far West, with no gentle, loving woman at hand to prepare your meals."
"In that case there would doubtless be an ungentle and obedient orderly to do so," rejoined Donald with gravity.
"Well, women are often lectured by newspaper writers and others on the paramount duty of making themselves acquainted with the culinary art, as well as everything else pertaining to housewifery, in order that they may be fully capable of directing the labors of their servants, and I see no reason why the rule shouldn't hold good for men," remarked Ella.
"There, sir, you're cornered, Donald!" laughed Charlie.
"Now that we are all here together, suppose we make such arrangements as are necessary to constitute ourselves a tolerably orderly household," said Mary.
"I understood that you were commanding officer, and the rest of us had nothing to do but obey orders," said Donald.
"Quite a mistake. This is not an army, but a democracy, in which the majority rules. All important questions, therefore—"
"Such as the bill of fare for dinner," suggested Charlie. "Excuse the hint, ma'am."
"Are to be put to vote," Mary went on, not deigning to notice the interruption. "Mr. Keith, I propose that you, as the eldest of the party, take the chair."
"Which?" he asked with serious air.
"That large, easy one, which each of us is politely leaving for somebody else."
Donald promptly took possession. "Is the meeting ready for business?" he asked.
"Ready!" responded Charles and Edward.
"Somebody make a motion, then."
"I move that Miss Mary Keith be elected housekeeper extraordinary and cook plenipotentiary," said Ella.
"I second the motion," said Edward.
"You have all heard the motion, and to save useless repetition I put it to vote. All in favor—"
A simultaneous "Aye!" from all present, Mary excepted.
"Who are to be my assistants?" she asked.
"All of us, I suppose," said Charles. "No, not Amy: she's the invalid, and must be taken care of by the heartiest and strongest, which is probably your humble servant, ladies and gentlemen."
"Doubtful that!" said Edward, with a downward glance at his own stout limbs.
"I think we should all help in that and with the housework," remarked Vi modestly. "Cousin Mary, I can make beds, sweep and dust very nicely, mamma says. It was her wish that I should learn, and I did."
"So can I," said Ella, "and we'll undertake that part of the work together, if you like, Miss—"
"Call me Violet or Vi."
"Yes," said Charlie. "I move that everybody be called by the Christian name—or someabbreviation thereof—as a saving of trouble, and showing a friendly disposition toward each other."
"Agreed," said Donald, "but let it be understood that there's no objection to the prefix of cousin."
"At what hours shall we take our meals?" asked Mary.
"Make a motion," said Donald.
"Breakfast at eight, dinner at one, tea at six; will these hours suit all? If not, let us have objections."
"Speak now, or forever hold your peace," said Charlie. "They suit me well enough if the rule be not too rigidly enforced, so as to interfere with pleasuring."
"I didn't mean they should do that," said Mary; "they are only to be a general guide."
"And if anybody happens to indulge in an extra morning nap, what's to be the penalty?"
"A cold and lonely breakfast, I suppose. Perhaps to wash his own dishes besides."
"All in favor of the hours named for meals please signify it by saying aye," said Donald.
"Aye!" from every tongue.
"Anything else, Miss Keith?" he asked.
"Just one thing more," she answered, speaking with a sudden seriousness, and in a low, almost tremulous tone that sobered them all instantly.
She went on with an effort. "We all profess to be Christians: shall we live together, even for the short space of two or three weeks, like heathen or mere worldings?"
A moment's silence, then Donald said with quiet gravity, "Surely not, Mary."
"We will not partake of the food God provides for our nourishment and enjoyment without asking his blessing upon it, or begin or end the day without prayer and praise, will we?" she asked.
"Oh no!" came softly from the lips of Amy and Violet, and was echoed by the other voices.
"Then which of you, my three cousins, Don, Edward, and Charlie, will take the lead in these acts of worship?"
A longer silence than before; then Vi turned a wistful, pleading look upon her brother.
There was no mistaking its meaning; and his mother's parting words were ringing in his ears.
"If no one else is willing," he said, "I will do it."
"Thank you, Edward," said Charlie, rising and grasping his hand; "but it would be too selfish to leave you to do it alone; so I will take my turn."
"I too," said Donald. "It should never be said of a soldier that he refused to stand by his colors."
"Or of a follower of Christ that he was shamed of his Master's service," added Edward.
So it was arranged that they should take turns, day about, according to their age.
"Five o'clock—just an hour to tea-time," Charlie said, consulting his watch: "what shall we do with it? Amy, do you feel equal to a stroll on the beach, with the support of my arm?"
"Thank you, it would be very nice, but I am tired enough to think it still nicer just to lie here and look at the sea," she said. "I shall not mind being left alone, though; so, please, all the rest of you go. And to-morrow I shall be able to join you, I hope."
"Ah no, we won't leave you here all alone," said several voices.
"No," said Mary, "for I am going to stay with her. I am weary enough just now to prefer resting in this easy chair to a ramble on the beach or anywhere else; and beside, I want a chat with Amy."
"Secrets to tell, eh?" said Charlie, picking up his hat. "Good-bye, then. Don't forget to speak well of the absent."
"Oh I am so glad to be alone with you for a little while, Mary," Amy said, when the others had all gone. "I want to thank you for your kindness in asking me to come here; such ablessed relief as it was! for it seemed to me the very monotony of my life was killing me."
"The thanks hardly belong to me," Mary said, between a smile and a tear, as she leaned over Amy, gently smoothing back the hair from her forehead. "I think they should be given first to our heavenly Father, and second to Mr. Marston."
"Yes, and third to you, Mary. I used to wonder over that text in Isaiah—'He that believeth shall not make haste.' I didn't know what it meant, but I believe I do now."
"Well, dear, what is your explanation?"
"I think it means he that is strong in faith will patiently and calmly wait God's time for the fulfilment of his promises, and for relief from trouble and trial. Oh if I could but do it always!"
"And I," sighed Mary; "but oh how often I am guilty of making haste for myself or for others—my dear ones especially. There is poor mother so often sick, and it is so hard to see her suffer, when she is so good, too, so patient and cheerful and resigned."
"Yes, I know that must be far harder than suffering yourself."
"Amy," Mary said after a pause, "you must not forget that it is a very great pleasure to me to have you here, and that if you and the others had refused to come and stay with me I could not have accepted Mr. Marston's offer."
"It is very generous in you to set it in that light," Amy answered, with a grateful look and smile.
They found so much to talk about that time flew very fast, and they were greatly surprised on seeing Ella and Violet coming up the path from the gate to the house.
"Surely it is not six yet!" Mary exclaimed.
"No, only half-past five," Vi said, taking out her watch; "but you are tired, and Ella and I want you to let us get the tea."
"Good girls!" returned Mary gayly. "I feel quite rested now, but you may help if you like. I'm not going to cook much, though—only to make tea and stew a few oysters."
Tea and the clearing up after it well over, they all gathered on the porch, where they had the full benefit of the breeze and could get a glimpse of the sea by the light of the stars, and listen to its ceaseless murmur, while amusing themselves with cheerful chat and in making arrangements for various pleasure excursions about the vicinity.
It was unanimously decided to reserve the long walks until Amy should grow stronger, in order that she might share the enjoyment.
In the meanwhile they would fill up the time with bathing, lounging, short strolls, driving, and boating.
They finished the evening with the singing ofhymns, a chapter of the Bible read aloud by Donald, and a short, earnest prayer, well suited to their needs, offered by him.
The next day their plans were interfered with by a constant, steady rainfall, but no one fretted or looked dull. Most of them took their bath in spite of it, and there were books and games with which to while away the time within doors.
The second day was bright and clear. Amy felt herself already so greatly improved that she was eager for a proposed boating excursion on Shark River. Breakfast was prepared, eaten, and cleared away in good season. Mary was an excellent manager, working rapidly and well herself and skilfully directing the labors of others.
They took the stage down to the river, hired a boat large enough to carry the whole party, spent a couple of hours in rowing back and forth, up and down, then returned home as they had come, reaching there in season for their bath and the preparation of a good though not very elaborate dinner, Mary pressing Ella and the lads into her service, while Amy and Violet were ordered to lie down and rest after their bath.
"What's the programme for this afternoon?" asked Charlie, finishing his dessert and pushing his plate aside.
"Dish-washing, a long lounge on beds andcouches, then tea and a second chapter of cleansing of utensils, followed by an evening stroll on the beach," answered Mary.
"And what for to-morrow?" queried Donald.
"Ah, that reminds me," said Edward, "that Mrs. Perkins told me she expects her husband by the evening train, and wants us to join them to-morrow in getting up a fishing party. The plan is to drive over to Manasquan, hire a boat there and go out on the ocean. What do you all say about it?"
The young men were highly in favor of the trip; Amy would see how she felt in the morning; Violet demurred, lest there might be danger in going upon the ocean, and "because she could not see any pleasure in catching fish; it seemed so cruel."
"But you eat them," reasoned her brother.
"Yes, I know, and I suppose it is very inconsistent to object to catching them, but I do. I could not enjoy seeing them suffer."
"You can go with us without feeling obliged to share in that, can you not?" asked Donald.
"Needn't even go out in the boat unless you choose," put in Charlie. "We'll find a shady spot under the trees near the shore where you can sit and watch us."
Violet thought that plan would do very well; she could take a book along, and the time would not seem tedious.
"But Mary has not spoken," said Donald, turning to her.
"I see no objection to your going, any or all of you," she answered brightly, "but I must be excused."
"But why?" they all asked in various tones of disappointment and inquiry.
"Because to-morrow is Saturday, and the cook and housekeeper must make ready for the Sabbath rest by doing two days' work in one."
"Can't we manage that somehow?" asked Donald.
Mary shook her head. "No; but I shan't mind it at all. Go and enjoy yourselves, my children, and leave me to attend to my duties at home."
"The rest can go if they choose, but if you stay at home, cousin, I shall stay with you," announced Violet with decision.
They rose from the table.
"Mary," said Charlie, "let the dishes stand a bit. I'm going to the post-office," and seizing his hat he disappeared, followed by the laughter of the others.
"Quick, now, lads and lasses, let's have them all out of the way before he gets back," said Ella, beginning to clear the table in hot haste.
The heat of the sun was too great to allow of very fast walking, and Charlie was gone a fullhalf hour; when he returned he found them all sitting at their ease in the parlor.
"I think we'll leave those dishes till the cool of the evening, Mary," he said, wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"No, I can't consent to that—not on ordinary occasions," she answered demurely.
"Then back to the post-office goes this letter!" he cried threateningly, holding aloft one with her address upon it.
"Silly boy, the dishes are done without your help; give it to me!" she cried, springing up and catching it out of his hand.
"A fortunate day; nobody neglected by Uncle Sam's messengers," he said, pulling several more from his pocket and distributing them.
The tongues were silent for a moment; then Vi uttered a joyous exclamation. "O Mary, you needn't stay at home to-morrow! mamma says she will send a hamper by the evening train to-morrow, with provision to last us over Sunday, so that you need not be troubled with Saturday cooking."
Everybody was glad, everybody thankful.
"But to-morrow's dinner," said Mary, presently; "shall we get back in time for me to cook it?"
"I don't know," said Edward; "but there are hotels where we can dine, and I invite you all to be my guests at whichever one the partymay select. Now, Cousin Mary," as he read hesitation in her face, "I shall be hurt if anybody refuses my invitation."
So no one ventured an objection.
The day proved auspicious. Amy was unusually well, everybody else in good health and spirits, no excuse for staying at home: so all went and spent the entire day, taking an early start and not returning till late in the afternoon.