"Well," cried Ned, "how in the world did he get up there? What a famous climber he must be!"
At that the mystified stranger boys hurried down the veranda steps again and some little distance down the path leading across the grounds from the front of the dwelling,turned there and stood looking up at the veranda's roof.
"Why, there's nothing and nobody there!" they exclaimed breathlessly as they hurried back again.
"It certainly is a most mysterious thing," panted one. "How a fellow could be so close by and then disappear so suddenly and completely I can't imagine."
"Well, well, lads, such a slippery ne'er-do-weel isna worth worrying about," said Mr. Lilburn. "And we needna trouble oursel's if he goes hungry."
"But I should be sorry indeed to have any of my guests do that," said Grandma Elsie as just at that moment servants appeared carrying silver salvers laden with fruit and cakes.
That seemed a welcome interruption to even the sorely puzzled stranger boys, and when that feasting was over the captain called for music, and his wife, going to the piano, played "Yankee Doodle" with variations, then "Star-Spangled Banner,"in the singing of which all joined heartily. Just as the last strain died away the strange voice was heard again from the far end of the veranda.
"That's a grand old song. Just the kind for every American to sing, whether he's rich or poor."
"Oh, there he is again!" cried the stranger lads, springing to their feet and looking eagerly in the direction of the sounds.
"But just as invisible as ever," gasped one. "How on earth does he manage to disappear so quickly?"
At that there was a half-suppressed titter among the young folks of the house, while Mr. Lilburn said in his own natural tones, "Tut, tut, young fellows; I'd pay no attention to him. He isn't worth minding."
"No, indeed," said Dr. Harold, "he isn't, and wouldn't attempt to harm any one of us, even if he wanted to, as we are so many and he but one."
"No," said the voice, "I'm not worth minding,not at all dangerous, for I wouldn't hurt anybody if I wanted to, and wouldn't dare do it if I had sic a wicked inclination."
"Well, sir, it's very, very queer how you can be so plainly heard and not seen at all," remarked one of the puzzled young fellows. Then pulling out his watch, "But it's high time for me to go home now."
"For me, too," said his companion, and bidding good-night to their hostess and the company, they went away together.
"Good! They didn't find out anything," chuckled Ned when they were beyond hearing.
Then began plans for the next day's outing, and conjectures as to when they might look for the expected addition to this Viamede party from their more northern homes. That was brought about in a few days, and added pleasure to their picnics, excursions and family gatherings at Torriswood, Magnolia Hall, the Parsonage and Viamede itself.
To Lucilla it seemed hard to part for some months, just after the wedding, from her darling sister Grace, from Elsie and Ned also, to say nothing of Harold and his lovely mother; and for the fortnight or more that elapsed before the other company left she clung very closely to her father and Max, not neglecting Violet either. But when they also were gone she gave herself more unreservedly to Eva and Baby Mary, enjoying them keenly through the day while business claimed Chester's attention, then him in the evenings and early mornings until he must hie away to his office in Uniontown.
During the time that elapsed between the departure of the first and second party of relatives and friends to the South there was an almost daily exchange of visits with the Oaks and Fairview families, those at Ion also,and it was a joy to know that they—the Ion people—were not to flit with the others, and that the Roseland and Beechwood friends had planned to remain at home through the winter also; and particularly that Drs. Arthur Conly and Herbert Travilla were evidently intending to do likewise, except as they travelled about the adjacent country in the practice of their profession. And the Ion family—Edward Travilla, his wife and children—having visited Viamede only the year before, were expecting to spend their winter at their own home; and Zoe, with kind-hearted concern for Evelyn and Lucilla, made frequent little visits to Sunnyside, which she urgently invited them to return; and they did so when there were no other more important calls upon their time and the weather was suitable for little Mary to be taken out; for to both mother and aunt she seemed too dear and precious to be left behind.
Then there was the pleasant task of the daily correspondence with their nearest anddearest of absent relatives and friends—Eva with her husband, father-in-law and Violet, Lucilla with her father, brother and sister. How delightful it was to get their letters. How eagerly they both watched for the coming of the daily mail.
Lucilla sadly missed her morning strolls with her father about the grounds; yet not so much as she might have done at another season of the year, for it was often too cold and stormy for such rambles even had he been there; and she would console herself with writing to him what she might have said with her tongue had he been there to listen to her loving, daughterly confidences and expressions of affection. And she could seek his wise counsels and receive them in his answering epistle. So she strove to be patient and content, rejoicing in the glad hope that the separation was to be for but a few short months.
"And," she would say to herself, "how much better off I am than poor, dear Eva, my husbandcoming home every night, while hers is to be gone for weeks or months."
Eva sorely missed her absent husband, but the darling baby daughter was a great joy and comfort.
So passed January, February and March, and with the coming in of April Eva and Lucilla rejoiced in the thought that in a few weeks the dear ones now at Viamede would be returning to their more northern homes, as were the Ion folks, the kith and kin, or those left in charge, at the Oaks, Fairview, Beechwood, Roselands, the Laurels and Riverside.
Dr. Arthur Conly and his Marian, strongly attached to each other, and almost idolizing their baby boy, were an ideally happy pair, and Roselands had grown even more lovely than it was in earlier days. As they were about to leave the breakfast table one fair April morning a ring from the telephone bell summoned the doctor to make a prompt call at Sunnyside.
He replied that he would be there as soonas possible, which would be in a few minutes, his gig being already at the door. Turning about, he found his wife close at his side.
"I must set off at once for Sunnyside," he said; "Lucilla is ill. Will you go along?"
"Yes, indeed. She has been such a dear, kind friend to me that I love her as if she were my own sister. And we can safely trust our darling Ronald for an hour or two to the care of his nurse."
"With perfect safety. She is his devoted slave," laughed the doctor.
So the two set off at once on their errand of mercy and loving kindness.
They found Chester at home, Dr. Herbert Travilla already there, Lucilla in bed, suffering but patient, Zoe from Ion and Ella from Beechwood already there to do what they could for her, and Eva passing in and out, anxious to do all in her power, yet not willing to neglect Baby Mary.
An hour or two later a baby boy was gently laid down by Lucilla's side.
"Your son, dearest," Chester said in rapturous tones; "the little Levis Raymond we have been hoping for."
"Oh, how glad I am!" she cried. "My father's first grandson, and bearing his name. Baby dear, you shall be your mother's Ray of Sunshine. Oh, how I want to show you to my father, your grandfather."
"There, love," Chester said, giving her a kiss of ardent affection, "that will do; don't talk any more now, lest you wear yourself out."
"That is good advice, Cousin Lu, and I hope you will follow it," said Dr. Conly. "You must take care of yourself now for the sake of your husband and son."
"I will," she answered; "but, oh, Chester, send father word as soon as you can."
"Dearest," he said with a happy laugh, "I have already done so. Before leaving us he charged me not to delay a moment to let him know if you were taken ill; to send word promptly, and I have obeyed."
"And he will soon be here to see this, his first grandson! I am so glad I could give him one," she exclaimed in tones of delight.
"As I am," responded Chester. "But, love, don't talk any more just now, but try for a nap such as the tiny newcomer seems to be taking."
"I will, if only to please and satisfy you, my dear husband," she returned with a happy little laugh, and almost instantly passed into the land of dreams, while Chester softly withdrew from the room, leaving her in the charge of a skilful, trustworthy nurse.
He found Eva with her baby and Marian and the doctors on the front veranda.
"You are looking very happy, Chester," laughed Dr. Herbert; "almost as if you had fallen into a fortune since I came here this morning."
"Pretty much as I feel," returned Chester, his countenance telling more of joy and thankfulness than his tongue. "Lu has fallen into a comfortable sleep," he went on. "Thelittle newcomer seems to be as welcome to her as to me."
"And I think my wife and I can fully appreciate her and your joy over him," said Dr. Conly, exchanging an affectionate, smiling glance with his Marian.
"The 'phone has already carried the news to all our relatives in this neighborhood and brought pleased and congratulatory replies," said Herbert; "and you 'phoned her father, did you not, Chester?"
"Yes," replied Chester; "and there, no doubt, comes his response," he added, as the ringing of his telephone bell was heard at that moment, "so now we may learn how he feels about it," and he hastened to the instrument, the others following, all eager to learn what the message from the absent dear ones might be.
The captain's own breathed of thankfulness and ardent parental love for his dear daughter, who, he hoped, would soon be well and strong. He was glad to have a grandson, andappreciated the naming of the child for him.
"A most kind, affectionate message," remarked Chester, with a sigh of satisfaction as he turned from the instrument to Eva and the others. "Lu will be pleased when I tell her what her father says. How she does love and cling to him! I am glad, indeed, that we may hope to see him and all the party here again in a few weeks."
"So am I," said Dr. Conly; "and in the meantime we will do our best to bring Lu safely on to her usual robust health and strength."
"And to have her son in like flourishing condition," added Dr. Herbert with genial look and smile directed to the father of the little lad.
Captain Raymond was sitting alone in the library at Viamede, busily engaged in examining and answering letters received by that morning's mail when the telephone brought him Chester's message in regard to Lucilla—her illness and the birth of their little son. It was news of deepest interest and importance to the loving, anxious father. He answered at once, then went out into the grounds to seek his wife, who, with Elsie and Ned, had remained at home while the rest of their party and neighbor friends had gone off on various excursions by land or water.
Ned was not yet strong enough to be continually on the go, and his parents and sister had elected to stay at home with him on this occasion. Violet was now sitting under the orange-trees with a child on each side, who were listening with keen interest to a storywhich she was reading to them. She paused at the sound of her husband's footsteps, and looking up into his face laughingly exclaimed, "Why, how happy you look, my dear! Have you good news?"
"Yes, love," he replied. "I have a grandson; and mother and child seem to be doing well."
"Oh, papa! a grandson. Why, whose baby is it? Another for Eva?" queried Elsie in great excitement.
"No; it is your sister Lu who is the mother this time, and Chester is its father."
"Oh, a dear little boy! I wish we were there to see him," cried Ned.
"I hope to take you there in a few weeks," returned his father with a pleased smile. "We won't delay much longer, for I should really like a sight of the little fellow myself."
"As I certainly should," said Violet. "Dear Lu! I have no doubt she is very happy over it. And they have named him for you, haven't they, Levis?"
"Yes, my dear; for me, his only living grandsire," returned the captain, tone and accompanying smile both showing the pleasure he felt in being thus affectionately remembered by both parents of the little one.
"Yes, so you are; and I should have been exceedingly surprised had they given the child any other name; for Lu loves you with all her heart, and Chester seems to feel quite as if you were his own father."
"I believe that is so," returned the captain, his tone and countenance expressing satisfaction. "I am fortunate as concerns sons-in-law, except in the mixture of relationship in the gaining of the last, and that seems to work well enough thus far."
"I think it does, and it has ceased to trouble me," said Violet. "But this news makes me feel like hurrying home to Woodburn, and I am sure will have that effect upon Grace when she hears it."
"I dare say," assented the captain; "and Ithink we need not linger here longer than another fortnight."
"I am so glad," cried Grace when she heard the news. "Lu wanted to give you your first grandson, and now she has got her wish."
"I fully appreciate the affection which prompted the wish, and am glad, especially for her sake, that it has been granted," returned the captain with a look that said even more than the words.
"As I am," said Dr. Harold; "especially as I know that it was Chester's wish as much as hers."
The Torriswood folk had come in with the Travillas, and now expressed their gratification at the news.
"A little nephew for us," exclaimed Maud. "And I am glad for Chester as well as Lu, as it seems he wanted it; but I'm glad our baby is a girl that we could name for dear Cousin Elsie," giving a warmly loving look to Grandma Elsie as she spoke.
"As I am," said her husband, adding, "andI only hope that a close resemblance in both looks and character may accompany the name."
"As I do in regard to my little darling," said Sidney and Dr. Johnson, speaking simultaneously; then they laughed, and Sidney added, "I shall write to the happy parents, offering my warm congratulations."
"And I shall do likewise," said Maud, "telling them I am glad I am aunt to the wonderful little chap."
"And I shall write to Lu that she may consider me both his cousin and his grandma," laughed Violet.
"Oh, mamma," exclaimed her daughter Elsie, "you know I don't like to have you called a grandma. It sounds as if you were old, and you are not at all old."
"Well, dear child, you needn't mind. It won't make me a day older," laughed Violet.
"Nor me, although it would seem to make me a great-grandmother," added Grandma Elsie pleasantly.
"While no one would suspect you from your looks of being even a grandmother," remarked the captain gallantly.
"No," said Dr. Percival; "I have seen many much younger women who looked a great deal older."
"Oh, Dick, Dick, Cousin Dick, don't turn flatterer," she laughed, though looking not at all displeased. "Though I am not very sorry to hear such flattering remarks, as they are evidently pleasing to my children."
"Indeed they are," said Violet; "all the more so because we see that they are perfectly truthful."
"Well, it is high time that we busy doctors and proposed letter writers were going home," said Dr. Percival, rising to take leave.
"Yes," said Maud, following his example, "especially as Elsie P. and Elsie J. must be wanting their mothers by this time."
"So we are off for Torriswood," said Sidney. "Good-by, dear friends and relatives, till next time. We hope to have this call returnedthis evening or to-morrow morning," and with that the four took their departure.
"And I must write at once to dear Lu a letter of warm congratulation," said Grace, following her father into the library, and being herself followed by Dr. Harold, announcing his intention to do likewise.
They were all letters which, when received by Lucilla, seemed to her very sweet and refreshing, her father's even more so than either of the other two. But before they reached her she and Chester had had several messages from him by telegram or telephone. And all these were shared with Evelyn, Lucilla's constant, loved companion and dear sister. Most of them also by the nearby friends and relatives, whose love and sympathy were shown by almost daily calls and hours of pleasant intercourse.
No one came oftener or showed more sympathy and kindness than Zoe, Mrs. Edward Travilla.
"I am glad for you, Lu, that your baby is aboy, since that was what you wanted," she remarked to Lucilla one day; "but for my part, if I have another child I hope it may be a girl, so that I can name it for mamma. She is and has always been such a dear, kind mother to me."
"Yes, she is certainly one of the dearest and sweetest of women," responded Lucilla heartily; "but there are so many Elsies that it really seems a little confusing. I believe I should rather like to have one myself if that were not the case," she added laughingly, "for I do dearly love Grandma Elsie, as I have been used to calling her. My, what a mixed-up set we are becoming! For, as you know, she is mother now to my sister Grace."
"Who, to my delight, is my sister now, since she is the wife of my husband's brother," returned Zoe exultingly.
"And mine, since I am the wife of her brother," laughed Evelyn. "Oh, we are a mixed-up set, but perhaps none the less happy and well off for that."
"No, I think not," said Zoe.
"And I am quite sure of it," said Lucilla; "and as my husband is a distant relative of yours, Zoe, you and I can claim kin, can't we?"
"Yes, and we will. We will call ourselves cousins from this time forward."
"And as my Aunt Elsie, Grandma Elsie's oldest daughter, is sister to your husband, can't you and I claim kin, Zoe?" asked Evelyn.
"Certainly," promptly replied Zoe; "we will consider ourselves cousins now."
"So we will; it is a very comfortable way to settle matters," laughed Evelyn. "We have been calling you Aunt Zoe, but you are too young for that, and we have been growing up to you in age."
"So you have. Well, how soon do you expect our kith and kin to come from Viamede to their more northern homes?"
"Father says in two or three weeks," replied Lucilla, "and I hope I shall be allowed to situp by that time. Oh, you don't know how I long to show him my little Ray of Sunshine!" she added, gently patting the sleeping babe by her side. "Oh, both Chester and I want very much to have him resemble his grandfather, my dear father, in looks, character and everything."
"As I hope and believe he will," said Zoe in tones of sympathy and encouragement.
At Viamede, Chester's daily message by 'phone or telegraph was eagerly awaited and greatly rejoiced over, as it reported steady improvement in Lucilla's health, constant gaining in strength, and the new baby also in most flourishing condition. All wanted to see him; no one more than Grace, who felt that the child of her beloved only own sister must and would be very near and dear to her, while to the others he was fully as near and dear as darling Baby Mary.
They would have returned home immediately but for the fact that Dr. Harold and his brother physicians considered it safer for both Grace and Ned to remain in the warmer climate until some day late in May.
The older Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and the Oaks and Fairview families went home somewhat earlier, travelling by rail, but Mr. andMrs. Lilburn accepted an invitation to return in theDolphin, as did Grandma Elsie; and, of course, Grace and Harold were to be passengers in her, making with Violet, her two children, and the captain himself quite a party—much the same party that had come in her.
During these weeks of waiting they continued their pleasant little excursions by land and water and their sociable evening parties on the veranda, or out under the trees, generally enlivened by exhibitions of Cousin Ronald's ventriloquial skill, or made interesting by a bit of history or some sort of story told by Captain Raymond.
On Sunday mornings they all attended church and heard a sermon by their pastor, the Rev. Cyril Keith, and in the afternoon the colored people were invited to assemble on the lawn, when the captain would give them a brief and plain discourse about the dear Lord Jesus and His dying love, making the way of salvation very clear and plain. Theywould have prayer, too, and the singing of gospel hymns, the colored people joining in with fervor and in many cases rich melody, having beautiful voices.
In the evening the captain would catechise his own children, and there would be religious conversation and the singing of hymns. They were sweet, peaceful, improving Sabbaths, enjoyable at the time and pleasant to look back upon. It was on a lovely morning in the latter part of May that they left beautiful Viamede and sailed away for their more northern homes, going with mingled feelings of joy and sorrow, for who could leave Viamede or part with the dear relatives in that region without regret? Or who could fail to rejoice in the prospect of soon seeing the sweet homes for which they were now bound and the tenderly loved ones there?
Harold was very happy in the consciousness of being able to take both Grace and Ned back to their home in almost perfect health, and very careful was he to watch against anyexposure for them to wind or weather that might result in the renewal of any of their ailments. When the weather was bright, clear and not too cold he encouraged them to be on the deck in the bracing air, but in cloudy or damp weather insisted on their remaining below in saloon or stateroom.
At such times Grandma Elsie, Cousin Ronald or the captain would be called upon to provide entertainment, and one or another was sure to comply.
"Papa," said Elsie Raymond on one of these occasions, "I should like it very much if you would give us a little history of Texas."
"If I should attempt to give you all its history it would be a very long story," he said with a smile; "but I shall give a brief outline and try to make it interesting, for I want you to have some knowledge of the early history of each of our States.
"A colony of Frenchmen were the first whites who settled in Texas. They were led by La Salle. He meant to found a colonynear the mouth of the Mississippi, but by mistake entered Matagorda Bay, went five or six miles up the Lavaca, and there built Fort St. Louis. That was about the year 1686. In the spring of the next year he was murdered by his men. They had been quarrelling and killing each other, and when the Indians heard of the death of La Salle they attacked the fort and killed all the men left but four, whom they carried into captivity. Some two years later a Spanish expedition sailed into Matagorda Bay, intending to drive away the French, but found they were gone and their fort destroyed. A few years afterward several settlements were made in that State—what is now that State—by the Spaniards, but soon abandoned because of Indian hostilities.
"It seems that both the Spaniards and French considered the province their own, though it did not really belong to either of them, for the Indians were the rightful owners. In 1712, Louis XIV. of Francegranted it to Crozat, the man to whom he had granted Louisiana. That so alarmed the Spaniards in Mexico that they promptly made numerous settlements in Texas, thinking in that way to secure the province for themselves. The French tried to expel them, but did not succeed.
"Some years later four hundred families were sent by the Spanish Government from the Canary Isles to Texas, and joined there by others from Mexico. These founded the city of San Antonio.
"For some time the Indians of Texas and Louisiana were very troublesome, but in 1732 the Spaniards defeated them in a great battle, and so quieted them for some years.
"You know our Revolutionary War began in 1775. Spain declared war against England in 1779 and carried on active hostilities against the British on the Mississippi. Then a prosperous trade was carried on between the Spanish settlement of Natchez, in Mississippi, and the interior of Texas, and becamethe means of making that province known to the Americans.
"After the United States came into possession of Louisiana, a treaty between them and Spain fixed the Sabine River as the eastern boundary of Texas upon the gulf. West of that river was a tract called the Neutral Ground, occupied by bands of outlaws and desperate men, who lived by robbery and plunder. The Spanish authorities had tried to expel them, but could not. Our government sent a force against them and drove them away, but they came back and went on with their robberies.
"About that time a civil war was raging in Mexico, and that favored the plans of a man who wanted to conquer Texas to the Rio Grande and establish a republican government. There was a good deal of fighting and much slaughter of both Americans and Spaniards, the latter being victors in the end; but I shall not go into particulars at this time, but leave you young people to read the wholesad story when you are older. For years it was fighting, wounding, killing, the Mexicans murdering many Americans in cold blood after they had surrendered as prisoners of war. But at last the independence of Texas was secured. And after a little she asked to be annexed to the United States, which request was finally granted. By a joint resolution of Congress she was annexed to the Union on February 28, 1845."
"She seceded in the time of the Civil War, did she not, papa?" asked Grace.
"Yes," he replied; "but was readmitted into the Union in March, 1870."
"Texas is a very big State, isn't it, papa?" asked Elsie.
"Yes, the largest of all our States," he replied; "and it has every variety of surface—plain, mountain, hill and desert. Its coast is lined with a chain of low islands, forming a series of bays, lagoons and sounds. There are a number of rivers, several of them very long; 1800 miles is the length of the RioGrande, which is the largest of them. It forms the southwestern boundary. There is a salt lake near it, from which large quantities of salt are taken every year."
"The climate is warm, is it not, papa?" asked Grace.
"Yes," he said; "it claims to be called the Italy of America. It has a delightful, unwavering summer sea breeze and the nights are always cool enough to make a blanket acceptable, even when the day has been oppressively hot. But now that surely is enough of that one State for to-day."
"Yes, papa, and many thanks to you for giving us so interesting an account," said Grace. Elsie and Ned added their thanks, then Elsie took up a book, and Ned went to his berth for a nap.
Grandma Elsie, Violet and Grace were all sewing on some delicate pink silk material, trimming it with bows of ribbon of the same color and duchess lace. Young Elsie presently drew near and asked what they were making.
"Guess," laughed her mother. "What does it look like?"
"As if it might be going to be a baby afghan," ventured the little girl. "Oh, is it one for Sister Lu's new baby?"
"It is," returned her mother; "you must indeed be a bit of a Yankee to guess so well."
"I believe I am, as papa says he is one," replied Elsie. "I hope it will be as pretty as the one you made for Baby Mary's carriage. Oh, are you going to give little Ray a carriage, too?"
"Yes, indeed; we must do all for him that we did for his little cousin."
"But you use different colors, so that they will always know which is which, don't you, mamma?"
"Yes, for that reason and because of the different complexions of the two children. Mary is fair, golden haired and has blue eyes, while Ray has his mother's dark eyes and hair."
"Oh, yes, and I think it's nice that they differ in that way, and really suppose one is just about as pretty as the other. Anyhow, I expect to think so, because I'm aunt to both of them."
"That's right," laughed her mother; "be as impartial as you can."
"Mary we know to be a dear little thing, whom no one with any heart could help loving," said Grandma Elsie, "and I am pretty certain we will find Ray equally lovable."
"And isn't he some relation to you, grandma?" asked Elsie.
"Yes, through his father, who is a Dinsmore—a cousin of mine. Lucilla's married name is the same as was my maiden name."
"And Lu is my sister, and that makes me aunt to the dear little fellow, just as I am to Brother Max's little daughter. I think it's nice to be aunt to such dear babies."
From that time on Elsie watched with great interest the work of getting the little coach quite ready for its intended baby owner, which was entirely completed before theDolphinreached the dock at Uniontown. Meantime, great preparations for the coming of her passengers had been going on at Woodburn, Ion, the Laurels, Riverside, Fairview, Roselands, Sunnyside and Beechwood. Nearly all the relatives from those places met them on the landing, ready to convey them to their homes, or wherever they might want to go. But that was to Woodburn for all, the captain told them, great preparations having been made there, by his orders sent on some days previously, for a grand welcoming feast.
The Woodburn and Sunnyside carriages were in waiting, were entered as soon as the glad greetings had been exchanged, and all went on their way rejoicing.
Lucilla, now quite able to be up and about, was there in the library, with her babe sleeping in a crib by her side. She would stay there, she told Eva, who, with her baby, sat there with her; that she would want her father to come to her there and see her and Ray alone before she should meet the others. "I want a private interview first, if only for five minutes," she said. "Then I shall be ready and glad to see the others."
"I shall see that it is as you wish, dear sister," said Evelyn, and she kept her word. The captain met her and Baby Mary as he stepped upon the veranda, gave a warm embrace to each, then sent a hurried glance around, evidently in search of Lucilla.
"Sister Lu wants to see you alone first, father, and show you her baby boy—your first grandson—with no one else to look on,"Evelyn said with a smile. "She is in the library waiting for you."
"Ah, yes, that is well," he said, and hastened there while the others were still engaged in the exchange of greetings.
As he entered Lucilla started to her feet with a glad cry, "Oh, father, father, my own dear father!"
He caught her in his arms and held her fast, caressing her with exceeding tenderness.
"My darling, my own dear, dear child. God be thanked that I come home to find you here, restored to usual health and strength."
"And you, father? You are well?" she asked, looking lovingly into his eyes.
"Quite well, daughter mine," he answered with another tender caress, "and if I were not, the sight of this dear child of mine would be almost enough to make me so."
"And the sight of your new grandchild, your first grandson, might help the cure, might it not?" she answered with a proud, joyful glance directed at the tiny sleeper in the crib.
"Ah, what a darling!" her father said, releasing her and leaning over the crib. "His grandfather's heart has wide room in it for him. He is a beautiful babe in his grandsire's eyes, a dear one to his grandfather's heart. I feel very rich with two lovely grandchildren."
"May I come in?" asked Violet's voice at the door.
"Oh, yes, indeed, Mamma Vi," answered Lucilla in joyous tones. "How glad I am to have you at home again," she added as they exchanged a hearty embrace. "Now come and look at my baby boy, my little Ray of Sunshine, from Sunnyside," she added with a gleeful laugh.
Violet's expressed admiration was quite equal to the mother's wishes. "Oh, he is a lovely little fellow!" she exclaimed, leaning over the crib as his grandfather had done; "and it's so fortunate that it is a boy, so that now we have both granddaughter and grandson."
Just then Grace's voice at the door asked, "May I come in?"
"Indeed you may!" cried Lucilla, running to meet her with delighted look and outstretched arms. "Oh, Gracie dear, how I have been longing for you, to see your dear face and show you my new treasure, my son and your nephew. Come and look at him."
The words were accompanied by an ardent embrace each to the other, then Lucilla drew Grace to the side of the crib, the captain and Violet making room for her there, and bending over it she exclaimed, "Oh, Lu, what a darling, beautiful little fellow! As pretty, as lovely and sweet looking as Max and Eva's little Mary, whom we all love so dearly."
Just then other voices were heard at the door, asking permission to enter, familiar voices—those of Dr. Harold, Elsie and Ned—and it being granted, the children rushed in, the doctor following with the baby carriage that had been trimmed on board theDolphin.
"A gift for that young gentleman from his loving grandsire, Mrs. Dinsmore," he announced with a graceful bow to Lucilla.
"Oh," she cried, clapping her hands in delight, "what a beauty! Thank you, father dear, and you, too, Mamma Vi, and Sister Grace, for the beautiful work is yours, I know. Oh, how good and kind you all are to me and my baby boy!" She was gloating over the pretty little vehicle and its adornment as she spoke. "What lovely lace and ribbons, the colors exactly such as will show off to the best advantage my baby boy's complexion, hair and eyes. It is a delightful surprise, for I was not expecting anything of the kind."
"I am very glad it pleases you, my dear daughter," her father said, with his own kind smile, and laying a hand affectionately upon her shoulder.
"As I am," said Violet; "and I want you to know that mamma helped largely with thework of trimming the little coach. Your baby boy is related to her, she says."
"Yes, and I am glad to know it," smiled Lucilla; "and glad that my marriage gives me some small claim to relationship to her. No one could have a right to claim it to a better, lovelier, dearer person."
"That is true, daughter," the captain said with emotion.
At that moment Chester came in with a pleased and cordial welcome to the returned travellers, and presently all went out together to join the others—returned travellers, dear relatives and welcome guests.
To Grandma Elsie Lucilla gave the warmest of greetings and thanks for her share in trimming the lovely little coach for her baby boy.
"You are very welcome, my dear; it was a labor of love," was the gentle-spoken, smiling response.
There were hearty greetings, loving caresses, merry jests and happy laughter. No one wasweary, for voyaging in Captain Raymond's well-conditioned, well-furnished yacht was no strain upon the physical nature; his late passengers were, therefore, in prime condition, as were the other guests, coming from luxurious homes and not weary and worn with toil beyond their strength.
But soon came the call to the hospitable board, laden with all the luxuries of the land and season, to which they brought good, healthful appetites and where were enjoyed also to the full the pleasures of social intercourse between those nearly related and of similar views and temperament. And that last went on after they had left the table for parlors and porches.
But at length the guests began to bid adieu until all had departed except the Sunnyside folk, who still sat on the veranda with the immediate Woodburn family. The babies were both awake now, each resting on its mother's lap or in her arms.
"I feel very rich with two such grandchildren," observed the captain, glancing with a happy smile from one to the other.
"As we do, though they are not our grandchildren," laughed Chester. "Don't we, Lu and Eva?"
Both ladies replied in the affirmative, each looking down with intense, joyful affection upon her little one.
"I should think you might, because they are both so pretty, sweet and good," remarked their young aunt Elsie.
"Of course they are, and I'm glad to be their uncle," said Ned.
"As I am to be yours," said Dr. Harold, drawing him to a seat upon his knee. "Are you glad to be at home again?"
"Yes, sir; and glad that you are to live here in our house now, instead of taking Gracie away from us to some other place."
"I should be sorry, indeed, to take her away from you and the rest of the family here, and I don't think I shall ever carry her off very far from you and the others who loveher so dearly," replied Harold; "but you wouldn't mind my going, if I left her behind with you, would you?"
"Why of course I should, uncle doctor. I might get sick again and perhaps die if I hadn't you to cure me."
"Oh, that needn't follow while you have your other uncles—my brother Herbert and Dr. Arthur Conly. Either of them would be as likely to succeed in curing you as I."
"By the blessing of God upon their efforts," said the captain. "But without that no one could succeed."
"Most true, sir, and I did not mean to ignore that undeniable and important fact," said Dr. Harold. "I never use a remedy without craving His blessing upon it, and I desire to give to Him all the glory and the praise."
"Yes, we know you do, brother dear," said Violet, "and that is why we are so ready to trust our dear ones to your care when they are ill."
"And please understand that I was notdoubting that or your knowledge or skill," added Captain Raymond with most cordial look and tone.
Just then a colored man was seen coming up the driveway with two little monkeys in his arms.
"Oh," cried the children in delighted chorus, "there are our tee-tees. Ajax has brought them from Ion." And they ran to meet him, holding out their arms to their pets.
"Yaas, little massa and missus, I'se brung um, an' I reckon dey's glad to come," returned Ajax, loosening his hold, when the little fellows sprang from his arms to those of their young master and mistress, who at once carried them up into the veranda and exhibited them with great pride and pleasure, while the captain stepped down to the side of Ajax and rewarded him liberally for the service done; thanking him, too, and bidding him carry warm thanks to those who had cared for the little animals and returned them in prime condition.
"We are so glad to get them back, the dear, funny little fellows," remarked Elsie to Lucilla and Evelyn; "and they will make fun for our little nephew and niece when they are old enough to understand and enjoy it."
"Thank you, Elsie dear," returned Eva with her own sweet smile.
"You are very kind, Sister Elsie, to begin so soon to think of amusement for our babies," laughed Lucilla, "and I hope you and Ned may be able to keep your monkeys alive and well till they are old enough to enjoy them."
"Yes, indeed, I hope so," responded Elsie. "I want both Mary and Ray to have lots of fun when they are old enough for it."
"Yes," said Dr. Harold, "I am always in favor of timely, innocent fun as a great promoter of health."
"Yes," said Lucilla, "'laugh and grow fat' is an old adage, and we'll try to have our babies do it, won't we, Eva?"
"I certainly intend to do all I can to make my darling bit lassie both healthy and happy,"returned Evelyn, looking down with a tender, loving smile at the little one on her knee. "But fun and frolic need not fill up all the time. There is a quiet kind of happiness that would be better as a steady diet, I think, than constant frolic and fun. I hope she will be a contented little body, for there is much truth and wisdom in that other old adage, 'Contentment is better than wealth.'"
Both Violet and the captain expressed warm approval of her sentiments, as did Lucilla, Chester and Dr. Harold also.
"But I'd like to have some fun now with our tee-tees," said Ned, stroking and patting his as he held it in his arms. "I wish we had Max or Cousin Ronald here to make them talk."
"I'd wish so, too, if it would do any good," said Elsie.
"No," laughed Lucilla, "it wouldn't, and I am reminded of the old saying, 'If wishes were horses, then beggars might ride.'"
"As you two are so glad to get your tee-teesback again, don't you feel sorry for Lily and Laurie, that they had to part with them?" asked Violet.
"Yes, mamma," replied Ned, "I do; but they have had them a good while."
"I'm sorry for them," Elsie said in a regretful tone, "and I wish we could buy them tee-tees or something else that they'd like just as well."
"Perhaps we can," said their father. "We will think about it."
"Oh, papa, I'm glad to hear you say that," she said in joyous tones, "for I do feel sorry for them."
"And so do I," said Ned; "sorry enough to give all the pocket money I have now to buy them something nice."
At Ion was now gathered as pleasant a family party as that now in session at Woodburn. Grandma Elsie was there with her father and his wife, her son Edward with Zoe, his wife, and their two children, the twins Laurie and Lily, Ion being their home. Herbert and Walter were also present, and all the Fairview folk; for Mrs. Elsie Leland wanted a chat on family affairs and relatives with her mother, whom, until to-day, she had not seen for several weeks; such a chat as they could not well take in the larger company of relatives and friends whose society they had just been enjoying at Woodburn. And Mr. Leland and his little daughters had naturally accompanied the wife and mother, knowing that they were always welcome guests at Ion.
They seemed to be enjoying themselves, theolder ones in a quiet, cheerful way, the younger ones, gathered in a separate group at the farther end of the veranda, with a good deal of fun and frolic until Ajax was seen coming round the corner of the house with the two little tee-tees in his arms and passing down the driveway in the direction of the front entrance to the grounds.
"Ajax, what are you doing with those little monkeys? Where are you taking them?" cried Lily, hurrying down the steps and running after him.
"Ober to Woodburn, where dey b'long, Miss Lily," he answered, pausing in his walk and turning toward her.
"Oh, I wish you wouldn't. I was most in hopes they'd let us keep them. They are such funny little fellows, I don't like to give them up."
"But I'se tole to take 'em dar, an' I'se got to do it," replied Ajax in a regretful tone. "I'll fetch 'em back hyar ef de Woodburn folks 'low me to."
"But they won't. They'll be sure to keep them if they're there," sobbed the little girl, tears rolling down her cheeks.
But even as she spoke a hand was laid gently on her shoulder, and her father's voice said in kindest tones, "Don't cry, daughter dear. We must let the tee-tees go home to their owners, but you and Laurie shall have other pets in place of them. I have a pretty Maltese kitten bought for you and a fine dog for your brother. Come back to the veranda and these new pets shall be brought out."
"Oh, papa, how nice! Thank you ever so much!" cried Lily, brushing away her tears and putting her hand in his to be led back to the veranda, where the new pets were speedily produced, to the evident delight of the young owners and the admiration of their guests.
And when Ajax returned with Captain Raymond's kindly expressed thanks, Lily's grief seemed fully assuaged.
The older people, who had paused in their more important conversation to observe what was going on among the children, now resumed it, Grandma Elsie asking Walter of his engagements during the past winter. He replied that he had been busy with his studies, but had found some time for missionary work, especially on the Sabbath, among the poor and degraded, particularly foreigners of the lower class.
"And, mother," he added, "I have quite decided that I want to go into the ministry. I want to be a missionary to the poor and needy, the ignorant and helpless."
"My dear son," she replied with emotion, "how glad I am to hear it! I want you to be a winner of souls, a helper of the helpless, in this, your own land, or in some other; preferably this, because you will be nearer to me and I can see you oftener."
"Yes, mother," he returned, "and I think I could hardly find a better field than among the mountains of Kentucky or Tennessee."
"No, I don't believe you could," said his grandfather approvingly. "Those mountaineers are our own people, destitute as regards both temporal and spiritual things, and have a prior claim to that of those in heathen lands; and love for our land and nation should draw us strongly to their aid, even if we did not care for their eternal salvation."
Others in the little company gave expression to similar views and feelings, then they discussed ways and means of helping the work already going on among those mountaineers, and there was a general expression of intention to do more for that corner of the Lord's vineyard than they had ever yet done.
"And by way of carrying out our intentions, suppose we take up a collection now," suggested Edward Travilla.
"I doubt if that would be our wisest course if we want to give liberally," remarked his sister Elsie, "for I presume no one has much in hand at this moment."
"So I dare say our motto just now would better be a lazy one, 'Not to-day, we'll do it to-morrow," laughed Zoe.
"Yes; let us appoint a collector for to-morrow," said her husband. "I propose Walter for the job. All in favor say 'aye.'" An invitation which all immediately accepted.
"I am quite willing," he said, "and shall include Woodburn folks and maybe some of the other nearby relatives in my list of hoped-for and tried-for subscribers. I expect to beg in good season to-morrow morning. So please all be ready for prompt compliance with my solicitation."
Then Mr. Dinsmore suggested that it might be well now to have the evening family devotions ere the young folks grew too weary and sleepy to enjoy a share in them, and in response all were called within doors and the service held.
About the same time similar services weregoing on at Woodburn, after which the Sunnyside folk bade good-night and sought their own homes, Chester drawing Ray in his new coach and a servant doing a like service for Baby Mary, her devoted mother walking close by the side of the dainty little vehicle.
The next morning Chester set off for his place of business at his usual hour, and just as he disappeared down the road, Lucilla, still standing upon the veranda, saw, to her delight, her father approaching from Woodburn.
"Oh, father," she cried, "I am so glad to see you."
"Are you?" he said, coming up the steps and taking her in his arms for a tender caress; "well, daughter dear, the joy is mutual. How is my little grandson this morning?"
"Well, I believe, father, but still asleep. Won't you come in and have a cup of coffee?"
He accepted the invitation, and they chatted together while she finished her breakfast,Chester's hurried departure having called her away from the table a trifle too soon.
The nurse girl brought Ray in, ready washed and dressed for the day, just as they finished their meal.
"Give him to me," said the captain, and taking him in his arms, carried him out to the veranda, Lucilla following.
It was a warm morning, and they sat down there side by side.
"To his grandfather he seems a lovely little darling," the captain said, caressing the child as he spoke. "Lucilla, my daughter, I hope you will prove a good, kind, patient, faithful mother, bringing him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."
"Oh, father," she replied in tones tremulous with emotion, "I want to do so, but—oh, you know what a bad natural temper I have, and I very much fear that I shall not always be patient with him, dearly as I love him."
"Watch and pray, daughter dear; ask the Lord daily, hourly for strength, grace,wisdom according to your need. God is the hearer and answerer of prayer. He says, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me.' Trust in Him, and He will deliver you from the power of the tempter and your own evil nature."
"I will, father; I do," she said; "and it helps and comforts me to know that you pray for me; especially remembering that gracious, precious promise of our Lord, 'If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.'"
"Yes, it is indeed a gracious, precious promise, and can never fail," he said. "But now I must go, daughter. Do you and Eva come over to Woodburn again to-day as early as may suit your convenience," he added, putting the child into her arms and giving to each a good-by caress.
Shortly after breakfast at Ion that morning Walter walked over to Fairview and calledupon the Lelands for their contributions for the benefit of the Kentucky and Tennessee mountaineers. All, father and mother to youngest child, gave liberally in proportion to their ability.
"Oh, I am delighted!" exclaimed Walter. "I think I shall go on and present the cause to all the kith and kin in this neighborhood."
"Do," said his sister; "there won't be one who will not give according to his or her ability. And when through with this, brother dear, come here and pay us as long a visit as you can."
"Thank you, I think I shall, especially if you get mother to be here at the same time; but I don't want to miss a minute of her society."
"Which you cannot love better than I do," returned his sister, with a look that said more than her words, "and as she is decidedly fond of us both, I think she will not refuse to accompany you here at my earnest request, or to stay as long as you do."
"No, indeed; I am very sure she won't. I am going back now to Ion, and mother will go with me in the gig to drive round to the home of each of our relatives and near connections in this neighborhood, and ask them to give what they can or like to give to this good object. We will take Woodburn last, and get either Harold or the captain to put the money in the right shape—a check, I suppose—and mail it so that it will reach the spot as soon as possible."
With that Walter bade good-by and hastened to carry out his programme, which he, with his mother's help, did successfully, every one solicited by them giving liberally to the good cause, and the captain attending promptly to the dispatch of the funds.
That May day ended in a lovely evening, warm enough to make outside air the most agreeable, so directly after an early tea the Woodburn family gathered upon the veranda, where they were presently joined by the Sunnyside folk, babies and all, who received the warmest of welcomes, though they had been absent from the older home but a few hours.
Naturally the first topic of conversation related to that day's visit from Grandma Elsie and Walter and its main object—the appeal for help to the good work going on among the mountaineers of Kentucky and Tennessee.
"I am glad we were given the opportunity to help it," remarked the captain. "It has set me to thinking of the pioneers and earlysettlers of that section of our land. Among them Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton."
"Oh, papa, please tell us about them!" exclaimed Elsie.
"Some time, daughter," he answered pleasantly; "but the rest of this little company may not care to hear the old stories repeated just now."
At that there was a unanimous expression of desire to do so, and he presently began.
"Simon Kenton's lifetime took in both our wars with England, as he was born in 1755 and lived until April, 1836. Virginia was his native State, but his father was Irish and his mother Scotch. They were poor, and Simon received but little education. At the age of sixteen he had a fight with another young fellow named William Veach about a love affair. He thought he had killed Veach, so fled over the Alleghanies. There he called himself Simon Butler. He formed friendships with traders and hunters, among them Simon Girty."
"Girty, that cruel, cruel wretch!" cried Elsie. "How could anybody want to have him for a friend?"
"He was a bad, cruel man," replied her father, "but perhaps never had any good teaching. His father had died and his mother married again, and they were all taken prisoners by the Indians and his step-father burned at the stake when Simon Girty was but five years old. It was three years before he was released, and I do not know that he ever had any education. Many cruel deeds are told of him, but he was really a good friend to Simon Kenton, and once saved him from being burned at the stake by the Indians.
"But to go back, Kenton was soon persuaded by a young man named Yager, who had been taken by the Western Indians when a child, and spent a good many years among them, to go with him to a land called by the Indians Kan-tuc-kee, which he described as a most delightful place.
"They two, with a third young man named Strader, set off in high spirits, expecting to find a paradise. But they wandered through the wilderness for weeks hoping to find the promised land, but without success. Then they tried hunting and trapping for nearly two years. But being discovered by the Indians, they had to abandon those hunting grounds and try elsewhere; but to tell of it all would make too long a story.
"In 1778 Kenton joined Daniel Boone in his expedition against the Indian town on Paint Creek. On his return from that he was sent by Colonel Bowman, with two companions, to make observations upon the Indian towns on Little Miami, the colonel considering the idea of an expedition against them. Kenton reached the spot in safety, and if he had attended only to what he was sent to do he might have succeeded well and been very useful to the settlers in Kentucky, but before leaving the towns he stole a number of the Indians' horses.
"The Indians missed their horses early the next morning, found the trail of those who had taken them, and at once pursued after them. Kenton and his companions soon heard the cries of the Indians in their rear and knew they were being pursued, so saw the necessity of riding for their lives, which they did, dashing through the woods at a furious rate, with the hue and cry of the Indians after them ringing in their ears; but suddenly they came to an impenetrable swamp.
"There they paused a few moments, listening for the sounds of pursuit; but hearing none, they started on again, skirted the swamp for some distance, hoping to be able to cross it, but finding they could not, they dashed on in a straight line for the Ohio. For forty-eight hours they continued their furious speed, halting only once or twice for a few minutes to eat a little, and reached the Ohio in safety. But there they had to pause and consider what to do, for the river washigh and rough and the jaded horses could not be induced to try to swim it. The men might yet have escaped if they had only abandoned the horses; but that Kenton could not make up his mind to do. He and his companions consulted over the matter, and feeling sure that they were as much as twelve hours in advance of their Indian pursuers, they decided to conceal the horses in the nearby ravine and themselves in an adjoining wood, hoping that by sunset the high wind would abate and the river become quiet enough for them to cross safely with the animals.
"But when the waited-for time came the wind was higher and the water rougher than ever. Still they stayed where they were through the night. The next morning was mild, and they heard no sound of pursuing Indians, so they again tried to urge the horses over the river. But the animals seemed to remember its condition on the previous day, and could not be induced to go into it at all.
"It was quite a drove of horses they had stolen, but now they found they must abandon all but the three they could mount; so that they did, and started down the river, with the intention to keep the Ohio and Indiana side till they should arrive opposite Louisville.
"But they had waited too long, and even now were slow in carrying out their intention. They had not gone more than a hundred yards on their horses when they heard a loud halloo, coming apparently from the spot they had just left. They could not escape; were quickly surrounded by their pursuers, one of Kenton's companions killed, the other, effecting his escape while Kenton was taken prisoner, falling a victim to his love of horses."
"I suppose he deserved it, as he had stolen the horses," remarked Elsie.
"Yes," replied her father, "he had no more right to steal from the Indians than from white people, and his sin found him out."
"Did they kill him, papa?" asked Ned.
"No; they kicked and cuffed him as much as they cared to, then made him lie down upon his back and stretch his arms to their full length, passed a stout stick across his breast and fastened his wrists to each extremity of it by thongs of buffalo-hide. Then they drove stakes into the ground near his feet and fastened them in the same way. After that they tied a halter round his neck and fastened it to a sapling growing near. Lastly they passed a strong rope under his body, wound it several times round his arms at the elbows, so lashing them to the stick which lay across his breast, and to which his wrists were fastened; all this in a manner that was peculiarly painful. He could not move at all, either feet, arms or head, and was kept in that position till the next morning. Then, as they wanted to go back to the spot from which they had come, they unfastened him, put him on the back of a wild, unbroken colt, one of those he had stolen,lashed him by the feet to it and tied his hands behind him. And so he was driven into the cruel captivity, a captivity which has been spoken of as being as singular and remarkable in other respects as any in the whole history of Indian warfare upon this continent.
"Kenton refused with strange infatuation to adopt proper measures for his safety while he might have done so. With strange obstinacy he remained on the Ohio shore until flight became useless. He was often at one hour tantalized with a prospect of safety and the next plunged into the deepest despair. Eight times he had to run the gauntlet, three times he was tied to a stake and thought himself about to suffer a terrible death. Any sentence passed upon him by one council, whether to give him mercy or death, would presently be reversed by another. Whenever Providence raised up a friend in his favor, some enemy immediately followed, unexpectedly interposed and turned his glimpseof sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was in that manner see-sawing between life and death."
"And did they kill him at last, papa?" asked Ned.
"No," replied the captain. "An Indian agent of the name of Drewyer, who was anxious to gain intelligence for the British commander at Detroit in regard to the strength and condition of the settlements in Kentucky, got Kenton free from the Indians just as for the fourth time they were about to bind him to a stake and burn him. He (Drewyer) did not get anything of importance out of Kenton, who was three weeks later sent a prisoner to Detroit, from which place he made his escape in about eight months; then he went back to Kentucky. He was very brave, a valuable scout, a hardy woodsman, a good Indian fighter. He performed many daring feats as the friend and companion of Daniel Boone, once saving his life in a conflict with the Indians."
"Had not Logan something to do with Kenton's rescue by that Canadian trader Drewyer?" asked Harold, who had been listening with interest to the captain's story.
"Yes," was the reply; "Logan, the Mingo chief. At Detroit Kenton was held as a prisoner of war, and there he worked for the garrison at half pay, till he was aided by a trader's wife to escape. That was in July, 1779. He commanded a battalion of Kentucky volunteers as major under General Anthony Wayne in 1793-94, became brigadier-general of Ohio militia in 1805, and fought at the battle of the Thames in 1813."