"Did you ever hear any remarks before—before that snowstorm?"
"No! I never thought there was anything to make remarks about, but I have been looking at things differently lately."
"In what way, Dexie? Do tell me?" and he caught her hands in a firm clasp.
"Don't, Lancy! Please stop! There has been enough said and done already to make people talk if they knew about it."
"Only a few words, and one little kiss, that was all, Dexie. If the thought of what people might say keeps us apart, you are very foolish, for if we were never to speak to each other again we would be accused of having had a 'lover's quarrel,' so don't keep me at a distance any longer on that account. You are making us both miserable for nothing; for I don't believe you are enjoying yourself a bit under the new rule that you have set up. Confess now, are you? honor bright, Dexie?" and he looked eagerly into her eyes.
"Well, no, Lancy," and she looked up with a smile. "It isn't quite so nice as it used to be, and I have stayed home several times when I wanted to go out. I am not shy, naturally, you know, and I would have asked for your escort if there had not been reasons to prevent me. Hugh has been very anxious to show his gallantry, but nothing would tempt me to go three steps with that big Frenchman."
"Well, I wish Hugh could hear you say that, Dexie, for I was beginning to feel jealous. He talks so much about you I was afraid he had entered the lists against me."
"Lancy, what nonsense you talk! Hugh is Gussie's particular property. What made you fancy that I had stepped into her shoes?"
"Nothing that need vex you, Dexie, so don't frown; but he told me in confidence, you know, that you were—but there; it was in confidence, so I won't repeat what he said. I know he cares more for you than for Gussie, and the fact don't please me very well."
Dexie was silent for some minutes. The remembrance of certain looks and speeches that Hugh had lately addressed to her were now explained; he thought she hadquarrelled with Lancy, and he was anxious to take Lancy's place. She lifted her eyes, saying:
"Hugh shall have no chance to think any such a thing. But I know how it has happened. Gussie had no eyes for anyone else while that Plaisted was here, so I had to entertain Hugh occasionally; but dear me! how soft he must be, if my foolish songs have turned his brain."
And then, looking shyly into his eyes, she added, "I won't run away from you any more, Lancy. We will go back to our old ways, but don't talk any more nonsense to me, and we will be chums again. Is it a bargain, Lancy?"
Lancy bent nearer to the curly head that was bent to hide her blushing face, then, seizing her hands, held her close as he whispered, in a tender voice:
"That's my Dexie back again! I won't annoy you with words, but you know what my feelings are for you all the same. Now, seal the bargain, Dexie," and he turned her face to his.
Well, the perversity of girls! is there anything equal to it? Must it really be confessed that the girl who thought that one little stolen kiss was worth crying over should raise her pretty mouth to receive a much longer caress; yes, and enjoy it, too! But there! come to think of it, that first kiss in the parlor was a one-sided affair, reluctantly received; and a one-sided kiss is like—is like—well, whatever is it like? We give it up!
Returning home by way of Eastport, Mr. Sherwood took passage in a vessel bound for Londonderry, a small seaport on the Bay of Fundy, and from there he travelled by stage to Truro, where he took the train for Halifax.
While on the train an incident took place which, while affording amusement for the passengers, led to after-results that were quite surprising to the Sherwoods.
It seems that a countryman, hailing from Prince EdwardIsland, had accompanied the vessel in which he had shipped the surplus oats and potatoes that had grown on his farm, and the vessel had arrived in Halifax a few days previously. This being his first trip "abroad," he had determined to see all the sights which the city of Halifax afforded while he waited for the vessel to discharge her cargo and prepare for the return trip to Charlottetown.
His innocent air soon attracted the attention of some sharpers, or "confidence men," as they would have been termed in a later day, and thinking he had met the "gentry for shure" in the well-dressed scamps that were so friendly to him, the countryman willingly accompanied them to an uptown resort, where he was treated to drugged liquor, and then robbed of the tidy sum that the sale of his produce had brought him. Then, adding insult to injury, they had taken him to the depot, and, placing a ticket for Truro in his hatband, they put him on board the cars and left him to his fate.
He was put off the train at Truro in a dazed condition, and passed the night in some out-of-the-way corner of the freight house, where he slept off the effect of the liquor.
His alarm and astonishment when he came to himself and found he was alone and in a strange place, and with empty pockets, was both painful and ludicrous to witness. His distress seemed all the greater in that he had not the faintest idea where he was or how to get back to his vessel waiting alongside the wharf in Halifax.
It took some time to make his story understood, but when it became known to the men about the depot they gave him a good breakfast, and determined to get him "dead-headed" to the city, as the farmer felt sure he could easily find the thieves and recover his money if he once got back to Halifax. He had never seen a train of cars in his life, being too drunk the night before to know how he was travelling; so when the train steamed into the depot next morning, after announcing its approach by ear-splitting shrieks, he dropped out of sight behind a pile of boxes, thinking that some wild creature was let loose upon the streets. Before he could collect his scattered senses he was seized by strong hands and stowed awayin a corner of a freight car, where, upon bags of potatoes, he was told to "sit down and keep out of sight." For the first few miles he literally obeyed the injunction, for he shook and trembled with fright, and with every shriek of the engine he ducked his head, thinking his very life was in danger; but as time went by and he still found himself whole and uninjured, he took courage, and sat up and looked about him as well as the dim and close car would permit. By and by the motion of the car caused the door to slide open a few inches, for, fortunately or unfortunately, the door had been left unlocked, so he crawled cautiously forward and peered through the opening, wondering greatly at the frightful speed of the "animal" that was drawing them along, but he concluded that it was "michty encouragin'," for at the pace they were going he would soon be within reach of the rascals who had emptied his pockets.
Not content to let well enough alone, he disregarded the injunction given him to "stay there," and when the train stopped for a few minutes at Shubenacadie, a station on the line, he stepped out on the platform to have a look about him; but not being quick or daring enough to step back on the moving train, he came very near losing his ride.
Fortunately, one of the train hands who had befriended him at first, saw him as the train moved along, and pulled him aboard the second-class car as it passed them.
Having previously been stowed away among the freight, he had no idea of the accommodation for travellers behind him, and the sight of so many people, sitting quietly on the seats, filled him with awe.
But the good-natured brakeman now drew him inside the car, intending to place his wandering friend back into his former quarters as soon as the train stopped at the next station.
When the eyes of the countryman had taken in the scene, the thought immediately suggested itself that this must be some sort of a meeting-house or chapel that was travelling along.
He stood for a few minutes regarding the people before him; then turning a solemn face to the brakeman asked, in a properly subdued voice, as became the situation:
"Is there preachin' here the day?"
Not comprehending the meaning of this question, but thinking the countryman meditated a religious attack on those who were present, the brakeman replied:
"Not to-day; these are good Catholics."
"Ye dinna tell me!" and his eyes and mouth expanded in surprise. "An' are they repeatin' their prayers?" he innocently asked.
"Oh, yes, everyone of them," was the reply.
"Then let me oot o' this!" he cried, reaching for the door. "It's to Halifax I want to go, so open the door an' let me oot o' this."
"There! sit down and be quiet, or you'll get put out fast enough," replied the brakeman, giving the man a shove into the seat. "You sit still where you are, mind, or you'll get into trouble," he added, as he turned to attend to his duties outside.
Here was his chance. Our friend from the country felt that he was in trouble already. He had no intention of joining the worshippers, for he was a member of the good old Scotch Kirk; so he opened the car-door, and stepped out to the platform outside.
The swift, sidelong jerks almost took him off his feet. Grasping the hand-rail, and looking around for some means of escape, he cautiously stepped across into the better furnished first-class car behind.
"Bless me, but I'm in luck!" was his inward comment, as he beheld the comfortable seats. Taking the first empty one, he sank down on the cushions with evident delight shining from his eyes at his blissful surroundings.
But the argus-eyed conductor soon spied him, and not recognizing him as a ticket-holder, swooped down upon him at once.
"Your ticket, sir."
"The same to yersel', ma frien'!" was the courteous reply, thinking this some new form of salutation.
"Here! no nonsense! where's your ticket? let's see where you're going."
"Weel, sir, I'm hopin' to get to Halifax some time 'fore long. We seem to be gaun as the craws flee, so nae doot we'll soon get there. Does this—er—buildin'—stop there for victuals or—or onythin'?"
The conductor, thinking him out of his mind, said more mildly:
"Who came with you? Who is looking after you aboard the cars?"
"Oh! a nice young chiel yonder; but he left me alane there, so I stepped oot withoot his kennin' an' popped in here."
"Ah, yes; just so. I've no doubt there is a spare room in one of the public institutions awaiting you. What sort of a looking man has you in charge?"
"Oh! he's a clever young chiel, wi' a door-plate on his bonnet; the sexton, I tak' it."
Not making much out of this information, the conductor left him to make inquiries ahead, tapping his forehead significantly to some passengers near, who had overheard the conversation, and who, as soon as the conductor was out of sight, began to question the "harmless lunatic."
His answers to their inquiries were not more clear than those the conductor had elicited, and Mr. Sherwood, who sat a few seats behind, becoming indignant at the rude jokes that were being made at the expense of the unfortunate man, stepped forward to interfere.
Surely he had seen the man before. He gazed at the man's distressed face, but could not place him.
"What's the trouble, my friend?" he asked, sitting down in the seat behind and leaning over to speak to him.
"I'm shure I dinna ken, sir, at a', at a'. There's a mistak' afloat somewhere. I never was in sic a fix afore. This is a queer kintry, I tak' it."
"Where are you from?"
That question set him on the right track at once. He could tell his story if once he started at the beginning,though he found it impossible to make these strangers comprehend his present dilemma; so beginning from the time he left his own dooryard with the last cartload of potatoes, he gave them a detailed account of his wanderings up to the time when he met the fine young gentlemen in Halifax. But he had no idea how he got to Truro; that was all a blank to him. When Mr. Sherwood explained that the train on which he was riding was a public conveyance which went back and forth daily to carry passengers and freight, he could scarcely believe it. His own explanation seemed the more plausible, for did it not agree with what the young sexton told him? He had been befooled once too often to listen to the many explanations of those around him.
But the conductor now appeared, having found out all there was to tell about the man, and feeling annoyed at his mistake, now demanded of the countryman either his ticket or his fare, and threatened to put him off the train at the next station if he did not produce either the one or the other.
"But, ma guid man, I haena a copper aboot me, or it's wullin' enough I'd be to gie ye a shullin' or so for this fine drive."
"Well, off you get then the next time we stop."
"But shurely ye wadna be pittin' a puir man oot o' yer waggon, or chapel, or whatever ye ca' it, whan there's sae mony empty pews? I'm no croodin' onyane, an' I'm wullin' enough to sit onywhere."
"We don't take people on the cars for nothing," said the conductor, decidedly. "If you can't pay, you can't ride."
"Weel, it's the rich anes that's aye the stingiest, shure enough," replied the man, more to himself than to the brass-buttoned figure before him. "But ye widna fin' the like o' yersel' owre in ma kintry, let me tell ye! The puirest farmer widna refuse to gie a stranger a lift if he was gaun the same way as himsel', even if it was only a kairt that he had, an' it loaded to the brim."
"Can't help it," replied he of the buttons, with a grin. "Off you get at the next station, or we'll put you off without ceremony."
"But I'll no gang aff, if I may be sae bold as to tell ye!" said the now angry farmer. "Ye took me to Truro against ma wull, for why did I want to gang to a place that I never heard o' afore; so, then, ye'll tak' me back to Halifax again, wullin' or no, an' whan I get my money back I'll sen' ye the price o' the drive. If ye think I'm croodin' the gentlemen, I'll gang oot an' sit on the steps o' yer backdoor, but, guidness only kens! there seems room enough in these empty pews for a dizzen o' ma size."
"Here, conductor, I'll pay the man's fare," said Mr. Sherwood, who had listened to the conversation with ill-concealed amusement.
This being satisfactory to the conductor, the man was allowed to keep his seat in peace, and, engaging him in conversation, Mr. Sherwood discovered that he had been the guest of the man's brother during one of his trips to Prince Edward Island. His home was on the north side of the island, and the farm of Roderick McDonald was well known as one of the best-paying places on the "Garden of the St. Lawrence."
On finding that the man beside him was the Yankee horse-buyer, Mr. McDonald rose and shook his hand with a warmth that showed his pleasure at the meeting.
This unexpected kindness from one whom he had learned to consider as a man of unlimited means and unusual smartness, quite set him up in his own estimation.
He began to feel quite elated at his present position, and felt himself a hero as he related to the attentive strangers the many strange things he had seen since he left home, quite ignoring the fact that some of his listeners might have been "abroad" as well as himself.
But it was impossible to put a damper on this loquacious countryman, even though he loudly set forth his own ignorance.
"Oh! but I'm a great traveller!" said he. "There's nae kennin' hoo mony miles I've travelled since I leftma hame on the north side o' the Islan'! Let's see; it's thirty miles frae there to the toon, an' it tak's a hale day to cover the distance wi' a loaded kairt o' tawties, let me tell ye! Then, whan we were snug aboard the vessel, guidness only kens hoo mony miles we went afore we cam' fornenst the city o' Halifax, for we were three days on the michty ocean, at the mercy o' ony storm that micht come alang unawares. Yes, indeed, an' we travelled alang through the dark nicht as weel, they tell me, though that I'm no prepared to say, seem' that I was fast asleep in the hold," and he looked around to see if any of his hearers doubted his word. "Then, whan we got to the wharf in Halifax, an' I selt ma tawties an' oats, I cam' ashore an' tramped the streets o' Halifax, up hill an' doon dale, till ma new buits are a' worn oot behin', as ye can see for yersel's," and he lifted up his feet, one after the other, that the truth of his words might be verified; then continuing: "It was whan the thiefin' scoon'rels met me an' made ma acquaintance that I gaed wrang; but I never suspected they'd start me on ma travels again, an' withoot ma kennin', tae—ay, an' sen' me aff withoot as muckle as a copper in ma pocket, at a', at a'! no even as muckle as wad buy me a bit o' breakfast, which the guid folk at Truro gied me for naethin', an', if it hadna been for them, I don't think I wad ever hae been able to fin' ma way back to ma hame on the farm. But here I am, richt amang the gentlemen an' ladies, travellin' alang like the Queen hersel' micht be prood to dae. Ay, but it's a long story I'll hae to tell them at hame whan ainst I get back to ma ain kintry again, an' it's themsel's that'll be dum'foon'ert to hear me tell aboot the mony kinds o' folk ain meets whan they gang abroad!"
"Have you met any naked savages since you left your distant country?" asked one of the sports, with a wink at his comrade.
"Naked savages, is't, you mean? Ay, that I hae, or nearly naked anes," was the quick reply. "On the streets o' Halifax, sir, near the wharves, sir, that's whaur ye'llcome across them, but, dae ye ken noo, I aye thocht that savages were black, made sae I mean whan they were born into this worl'. But, dae ye min', it's masel' thinks that some o' them could be made white, if only ane had soap an' water enough to dae't. No that I didna see ony black savages roamin' roon' as weel; but maist o' them had some claithes on, like decent Christian folk. Some hadna come to that knowledge yet; but the nakedness o' black skinned savages isna sae noticin' as that o' white savages, I tak' it."
A hearty laugh followed this last remark, and the conversation became general, until the train arrived in Halifax.
Mr. Sherwood took the countryman to the police headquarters at once, where the story of the theft was told at length, and as he could give a good description of the men who had robbed him it was thought that they might be captured.
As Mr. Sherwood had received such kind treatment from the man's relations in Prince Edward Island, he thought it but fair to repay it by looking after the farmer during the rest of his stay in the city.
To satisfy the man that the vessel had not sailed during his absence he took him down to the wharf, and, after explaining to the captain the cause of his detention, Mr. Sherwood insisted on taking him up to visit his own family.
The farmer demurred at this, saying that his clothes were not in a fit state to visit anywhere.
This fact was evident, but Mr. Sherwood intended to visit a ready-made clothing store on his way up town, and make his friend presentable.
This was rather a delicate matter to accomplish without wounding the man's feelings; but the native tact of the Yankee served him well here, and when the farmer stepped before the large mirror in the back shop of Silver's clothing store and saw his own reflection, he hardly knew himself.
"But hoo am I ever gaun to repay ye?" he asked. "If I shouldna get ma money back I'll be in a bad fix."
"Not at all, Mr. McDonald. I'll buy the best horse you have got, if you will sell him to me, and we can settle this little matter then; but I made enough on the big black horse I bought from your brother to give you this suit and still have a good profit besides."
"Weel, ye're an honest man, for ye paid a guid price for the beast, an' paid it in cash tae."
"Thank you for your good opinion; but in case the police should not find those rascals before the vessel sails, it will be rather hard on you to return home with empty pockets, so let me pay you in advance for that horse."
It was quite a different-looking man that came out of the store a few minutes later, for he had been refitted from hat to boots, and he looked the well-to-do farmer to the life, even the well-filled purse was not lacking, for Mr. Sherwood had given him the horse's value instead of the modest sum the farmer stated as the selling price of his animal.
The polite store-keeper promised to send the farmer's cast-off garments to the vessel, and Mr. Sherwood was soon introducing his friend to the members of his household.
Mr. Sherwood's unexpected arrival made a joyful excitement, and the farmer mentally resolved that an account of the happy meeting between the Yankee horse-buyer and his family should be added to the rest of the story he had to tell when once he arrived home.
When Mr. Sherwood had privately explained to the family the present position of his new friend, together with the respectability of the family and the kind treatment he had received from their hands, he was treated as an honored guest, and Dexie had never been so gracious to the fastidious Plaisted or treated him with half the courtesy as she now bestowed on the honest, kind-hearted, though ignorant countryman.
That this kindness was appreciated was quite evident from the satisfaction that beamed from every wrinkle on his honest face; and when he found himself seated in the most comfortable chair in the parlor, listening to the musicthat Dexie was bringing forth from the piano for his pleasure, he doubted in his mind if even the Governor himself was as happy and fortunate as he.
As the vessel was to sail the next day for Charlottetown, he had to leave the pleasant rooms for closer quarters on board the vessel; but before he said farewell he exacted a promise that, should any of them ever go to the Island, they would visit his home on the north shore.
As the vessel was about to leave the wharf Mr. Sherwood appeared, accompanied by a member of the police force, who gave over to the hand of the farmer about half the sum which had been stolen from him, and the man actually felt richer than when the whole amount had lain in his pocket. He pressed Mr. Sherwood to accept payment for the drive on the train and for his new suit, but Mr. Sherwood reminded him of the horse he had purchased, saying:
"Look well after my horse, McDonald, and if you will find out where I can get some more good animals I will be glad to pay you for the time and trouble expended in doing so," and with a hearty hand-clasp Mr. Sherwood stepped ashore.
In a few minutes the vessel's cable was shipped and she slowly passed down the harbor, bearing on her deck one who had a heart full of gratitude for kindness shown a stranger in a strange land.
Mr. Sherwood's presence at home seemed to infuse new life into the household, and the following weeks passed very pleasantly to Dexie, for her father needed her services again, and for that reason she was excused from much of the endless sewing that seemed necessary in making up Louie's outfit.
Sewing machines were not so common at that time as to be considered a necessary household article, and Mrs.Sherwood was slow to take advantage of the new invention, preferring the use of fingers instead of feet for articles that required a needle and thread to fashion them; consequently Louie's wardrobe took some time to set in order.
Dexie was willing enough to change the needle for the more congenial pen and ink, and Mr. Sherwood insisted that Gussie should put her needle to more practical use. Now, while Gussie liked well enough to handle a needle and thread when something showy and fanciful was to be evolved thereby, she almost rebelled against the plain sewing, it was such dull, uninteresting work; it made so much difference if the sharp little instrument held Berlin wool, floss, etc., or the common cotton thread, which, though so useful, was too prosaic to suit Gussie.
Do not let this convey the idea that the time was all spent indoors, at some employment or other, for never were outings so frequently enjoyed. There were excursions down the coast to Cow Bay, and picnics to various points of interest, which, in the vicinity of Halifax, are innumerable and within easy-reaching distance to dwellers in the city.
Mr. Gurney owned a small boat which carried a sail, but there were plenty of willing hands to row it when the wind failed, and before the summer was over, Dexie could handle an oar with the dexterity that only practice can give.
It was very pleasant of a warm summer evening to glide along the waters of Bedford Basin, through which the boat cut her way as if through molten silver, and there was many a time when the little craft held but two persons, one being Lancy Gurney, and the curly head of his companion was very like to that of Dexie Sherwood's!
The early days of October were marked by the departure of Louie and the kind old nurse Dinah.
Poor Louie! her heart was rent with conflicting feelings. She had been wild with delight to think that she had been the one chosen to spend the winter with her grandma, and, though the journey thither was a pleasure she had longlooked forward to, the final leave-takings were so much harder than she had anticipated that she felt almost tempted, at the last moment, to give it up, and stay with those she had never loved so much as she did now, when prepared to leave them.
We must not stop to tell of all the changes which took place in the old homestead when it was decided that Louie was to spend the winter there. The eyesight of the grandparents became so much better as they thought of her coming, that they noticed with startling clearness how dingy the old farmhouse had grown. Their brightened vision regarded the faded carpets with aversion, and when they had given place to new ones the curtains looked positively shabby, and they were astonished to find how much difference a little paint on the house and out-buildings made in the look of the place.
Without chasing away thehomeytook of the low, comfortable rooms, they were made brighter and more cheerful, as if rejoicing with the grandparents in their joy, and joining in the attempt to make the little grand-daughter feel at home.
Unconsciously, the old folks grew brighter themselves, and Grandma Sherwood even went so far as to lay aside the cap she had worn so long that it seemed to belong to her head quite as much as the beautiful grey hair beneath it; and after putting it away reverently in the bottom drawer of the bureau, she took out instead her "best cap," and wore it daily, in anticipation of her grand-daughter's arrival.
The pretty room that had been fitted up for Louie's use lacked nothing to make it perfect except its occupant, and if Louie needed anything to reconcile her to a winter's stay in the quiet farmhouse, this pretty room contained it.
Neither were its treasures revealed in a day, for, weeks after she arrived, grandma would bid her search for some secret drawer which contained something that she would like; and Louie's curiosity would be stimulated by this admission, so that many a stormy day flew rapidly away while she searched with the ardor of an Arctic explorer for the secret spring or knob which, pressed at last, revealed delights that only a young girl's heart can fully enjoy.
Occasionally mysterious packages from the city arrived at the farmhouse bearing Louie's name in full, and the delightful excitement of untying the string and removing the wrappings, was entered into by the grandparents with as much ardor as by Louie herself.
But grandma's heart seemed to grow young again. She knew what would please her little favorite, and she spared no expense if pleasure and happiness were procured with the purchases, and thus passed away the pleasant winter, bringing only that which seemed good into the storehouse of Louie's life and heart.
Louie was destined to see but little of her own family hereafter, for during the following summer the grandmother's health became feeble, and she would not listen to the suggestions that Louie should return home. A few months later Dinah had the melancholy satisfaction of hearing the last words of her dying mistress, who passed away in her arms.
Louie was willing to listen to the entreaties of her grief-stricken grandfather, to remain his little companion a while longer.
The charge of the farmhouse now fell into the hands of Mr. Sherwood's widowed daughter. She had possessed a fine estate in Georgia, and had lived a life of ease until Sherman's march to the sea, when her plantation was devastated, and her well-kept slaves had joined in the destruction of her property. When her husband's body was brought home for burial, the result of a distressing accident, there seemed nothing else left to do but to return to the home of her childhood, reaching it in time to hear her mother's last request with respect to Louie's future.
Aunt Annie promised to consider the child as her own if she could get the parents' sanction as well as Louie's free consent. The latter was freely gained, as Louie was far happier in her present home.
Mrs. Sherwood saw no obstacle in the way when the matter was laid before her, and she gave up her rights with so little manifestation of regret that even those who knew her best were astonished, and from that time Louie ceased to be a member of her father's family.
The second winter in Halifax was even more pleasant than the first had been, for the Sherwoods had extended their acquaintances, and there seemed always some new pleasure to look forward to.
The Song and Glee Club started up afresh as the winter evenings set in, and with a concert in the perspective the rehearsals were frequent and well attended.
Dexie's fine voice caused her to be given a more prominent part than she thought was her just due. She had no wish to be thrust forward into notice when there were older members of the club who were better entitled to her place, but she had no objection to being accompanist, for in that position she felt at home. But she was destined to come before the public in a more conspicuous manner.
One evening a member of the club brought in some new music, and the few who had heard it were so delighted with its melody, that they eagerly urged its performance at the approaching concert. A copy of the music being handed to Dexie by Lancy, she began to hum it softly to herself, but becoming enraptured with the bewitching strains of the composition, she unconsciously changed the low hum to a soft whistle, which grew louder as she proceeded. Sense of time and place disappeared, and she was unaware of the delight of the little group around her, until the unusual silence caused her to lift her eyes and understand the meaning of the sudden hush that had fallen on those present. A burning blush covered her face as she stammered out:
"I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen; I forgot where I was," and then sank on a seat near and hid her burning cheeks behind her book.
Lancy was at her side in a moment.
"Never mind, Dexie. You can't think how well it sounded. They were delighted."
"Oh, howcouldyou let me go on, Lancy? You might have stopped me, I'm sure," she said, indignantly.
But she was immediately surrounded, and praises and interrogations poured forth from every side, making Gussie, who stood apart, turn pale with jealousy.
"Why did you not tell us that you could imitate the birds?"
"I never heard anything so perfectly sweet," said a lady member, pressing forward to speak to the blushing girl.
Dexie wished the floor would open and let her drop out of sight, but she gradually regained her composure and listened with displeasure to the general conversation, during which this new element of music was discussed at length.
"Miss Sherwood, do come to the piano and try that again with the accompaniment," said the leader, Mr. Ross. "You really must give us the benefit of that flute-like whistle; it is perfectly irresistible."
"Please excuse me, Mr. Ross; I really cannot," replied Dexie.
"But we can take no excuse. After hearing you once, nothing but a repetition will satisfy us. Mr. Gurney will play for you," was the eager reply.
But Lancy kindly came to her aid, and by a few whispered words succeeded in drawing off the attention from Dexie, by suggesting that if they would try the opening piece first and give Miss Sherwood time to reconsider her refusal, she might whistle later on; and Lancy was rewarded for this short respite by a grateful look as he passed her the open book.
Dexie felt angry for bringing this embarrassing position upon herself, and she was wondering if it would be possible for her to slip away unperceived, when Gussie leaned over her shoulder.
"Well, you did make a show of yourself, you great tomboy! It is a pity that you can't keep your bad manners out of sight, before strangers, anyway!"
This taunt acted like the prick of a goad, and made Dexie determine to stay and show Miss Gussie whether her "bad manners" had placed her lower or higher in the estimation of her friends. When the piece was rehearsed in which she sang the solo, she put forth her best efforts, and rendered it with such pathos and feeling that when it was ended, one and all, with the exception of Gussie, were loud in its praise.
As she lingered a moment beside the piano talking witha member, Mr. Ross stepped over to her side and begged her to try the new piece, and she silently bowed in answer; but the hunted look in the dark eyes might have told how hard it was to nerve herself for this ordeal.
The memory of Gussie's sneering remarks filled her with the needed courage, and when Lancy sat down and passed his fingers over the keys her heart ceased to throb; the very chords had a soothing power, and when Lancy lifted his eyes to her face she replied with a look that she was ready.
The first notes of the piece sounded from the piano, but brought no response from Dexie's lips. Lancy looked up quickly.
"Oh, Dexie, don't disappoint me!" he whispered.
Softly the bird-like notes ascended, fluttered and quivered, then slowly gained strength, then the clear, full notes rang through the room, charming every ear.
Those present listened in breathless silence. It was so faultlessly rendered that it was hard to believe that weeks of practice had not been given to bring such perfection of tone; but Dexie whistled for an object, and that was respect and honor from those present in the face of her "tomboy accomplishment."
It is not everyone who can whistle for a thing and get their wishes gratified; but, to the honor and respect which Dexie desired, was added the praise and approval of the delighted listeners. She felt proud to receive it, for it would forever silence Gussie as to how her "bad manners" were regarded.
Dexie was satisfied with her victory, and would not be persuaded into repeating the piece, though, at the close of the rehearsal, she consented to accompany Lancy in giving an exhibition of a bird-song.
It was the same chorus that had delighted the listeners the morning after the adventure in the snow-drifts, and the rendering of it was greatly enhanced by the better instrument before them.
Lancy played the accompaniment and whistled with her, and their voices seemed transformed into veritable song-birds, as they joined or answered each other's call.
"We must have that at our concert, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross. "We cannot afford to miss it. How is it that I never had the pleasure of listening to this sort of music before, Mr. Gurney? You should have told us of this new accomplishment, Miss Sherwood."
"Indeed! you never would have heard it at all, if I had not forgotten myself so completely," said Dexie, smiling; "but as to whistling at the concert, that is out of the question. It is distressing enough to show my tomboyism before the members here."
"Nonsense! there is nothing of the 'tomboy' about that kind of whistling," said one of the members. "It is an accomplishment few possess."
"Well, it is fortunate for us that you made us aware of this talent of yours, even though it was unintentional on your part, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Ross. "We must persuade you to give others the pleasure of hearing you. It would add much to the attraction of our concert."
"You are most kind, and your remarks most flattering, but I must be excused," said Dexie, turning with a smile to those who had addressed her. "I do not forget that 'whistling girls' are generally frowned down."
"But there is no comparison between the usual tomboy whistle of girls, and those bobolink, canary-bird notes that come from your lips," said an enthusiastic member.
"Miss Sherwood, I am going to place that piece third on the programme, and will call around to-morrow and see you and arrange for these extra pieces. We can leave out some of the songs rather than miss the treat you can give to those who will be eager to hear you," said the leader, persuasively.
"Indeed, Mr. Ross, I could not think of whistling before the audience we hope to have, so I will excuse you from calling upon me, if that is to be your errand," said Dexie, hurriedly. "I am doing my share as it is."
"Well, if you think it will be too much for you, someone else might take your solo; but that seems a pity, when you are so well prepared. Do you find it tiresome to whistle?"
"Oh, it is not that; it would not tire me if I whistled all day. But I cannot face a hall full of people and whistle to them. It would be dreadful!"
"I would not urge the matter if I did not feel positive of your success. I am sure the members of the club have the average intelligence, and, seeing that you have charmed us all by your unique performance, you need have no hesitancy in trying your powers before a Halifax audience," was the reply.
"Don't think of it. Oh, I never could do it, Mr. Ross. I should be hissed off the stage."
"No danger of that, Miss Sherwood," said Mr. Markman, the best tenor of the club. "I'll answer for it that you will so electrify the audience that they will demand an encore. Don't hide your talent from those who would be so sure to appreciate it."
"Give the matter serious consideration," said Mr. Ross. "I will run in to-morrow and see you, even though I may run the risk of a cool reception. What time shall I call?" he added, with a smile.
"Well, if you must call and see me, I hope it will be on some other errand; I will be at leisure any time in the afternoon, say three o'clock." Then, looking up with a smile, added: "Don't imagine I shall reconsider the matter; I simply could not do it."
"I'll hope to find you in a better frame of mind to-morrow, Miss Sherwood," he replied, giving her hand a cordial grasp. "May I ask permission for Mr. Gurney to be present at the interview?"
"Oh, certainly. I think you can safely venture to do so, seeing that he will probably come in of his own accord, if you don't ask him," and Lancy joined in the laugh raised at his expense.
"Well, that settles it, Mr. Gurney, I shall depend on your support in this difficult matter. Now, before we separate, I think I am voicing the sentiments of the members here when I ask for one more song. Now, Miss Sherwood, you have acknowledged that it does not tire you to whistle, so you will send us home in the best of spirits if you will favor us once more."
Dexie placed her hands over her ears at the applause that greeted these words, and amidst the general laughter Lancy drew her to the piano.
"I am going to sing 'The Mocking-Bird,' so you must whistle," he said. "Come, Dexie, there is no backing out," as she tried to escape him.
"Well, get Gussie to sing with you, and I will; perhaps it will help her good-nature a little—it needs help," she whispered, laughing.
On being sufficiently urged, Gussie stepped over to the piano beside them, and joined her alto to the chorus.
Dexie played and whistled, and, as the members listened, all joined Mr. Ross in thinking that their programme should hold this song also.
"Well, Miss Sherwood, I think you have kept the best to the last. I have heard that song several times, but never 'listened to the mocking-bird' after all. The song in itself is beautiful, but, after hearing you whistle, I see that it is imperfect with the mocking-bird left out. This is rather a cold climate for that species of bird, Miss Sherwood, but I shall give a Halifax audience the pleasure of hearing one, if I have to import one from the South on purpose for the occasion. To-morrow at three o'clock, remember, Mr. Gurney, and may the fates be propitious!"
When Mr. Sherwood learned of Dexie's refusal to whistle, he was as eager to change her decision as any member of the club.
For once Gussie sided with Dexie, and said all she could to influence her against it, but her motive was so apparent that her father reproved her sharply.
When Mr. Ross and Lancy made their appearance, Dexie had to listen to the expostulations of three very urgent gentlemen; and though she held to her refusal for some time, she was obliged to capitulate at last, stipulating that she should only be asked to whistle one piece. Mr. Ross was obliged to be content with this, but he found it hard to decide which of the pieces he would put upon the programme.
But a thought occurred to him, and he smiled as he considered it. Yes, he would set down the new piece; and if he knew a Halifax audience, and he thought he did, one piece would not content them. The others would do nicely for the "encore" which he knew would be demanded.
He smiled with pleasure as he rose to depart.
"I will set you down for the new piece you were running over last evening, Miss Sherwood," said he, "and Mr. Gurney will play your accompaniment. If you do as well at the concert as you did last night when you first saw the music, I shall be well satisfied."
"But what if I should fail, papa?" said Dexie, when she found herself alone with her father. "How can I stand before so many strange people and whistle? Oh! I'm sure I cannot. No young lady whistles in public, and I feel sure they will hiss me off the stage!"
The time slipped by bringing the eventful evening. In many homes nimble fingers had been busy for days fashioning certain garments that were to make the wearers quite fascinating to beholders. But Dexie declared that as her best gown was very becoming, she had no intention of getting a new one on purpose for the occasion, a few extra touches would make it quite presentable. On the morning of the concert, she found there were still some minor things needed to complete her toilet, so she went down-town to do a little shopping.
As she stood in a store waiting for her parcel, her eyes rested on a handbill lying near, and as she read it her face flushed angrily, then turned pale to the lips, for those great, staring letters announced the evening's performance, and she was referred to as one of the chief attractions, but in terms that aroused her temper to its highest pitch.
Who could have worded that awful handbill? She longed to stamp her foot, or scream, or give vent to her angry feelings in some way. How dared they single her out by such a nickname? She snatched the parcel from the hands of the astonished clerk and left the store with more speed than grace.
While she is flying homeward, her angry eyes shining like stars from her pale, set face, let us read the cause of her displeasure.
"Temperance Hall. Temperance Hall.To-night.The Halifax Song and Glee Club will give theirAnnual ConcertIn Temperance Hall To-night.Full Opening Chorus by the Members.First Appearance ofThe American Warbler,The only songster ever known to whistle popular airs topiano accompaniment.Don't Miss It.Programme to consist of Solos, Duets, QuartettesandFull Choruses.God Save the Queen."
When Dexie reached home she flung open the door and rushed up the stairs to her own room in a perfect fury.
Gussie had watched her swift approach from the window, and fearing that some awful calamity must have happened, followed her sister upstairs, and found her walking the floor like a caged tiger, her eyes positively fierce as they looked straight before her, though seeing nothing.
"What is the matter, Dexie?" she asked in alarm.
Dexie turned and motioned imperiously for her to leave the room, then shut the door with a slam that shook the house. Gussie hurried to her father, saying:
"Oh, papa! do go and see Dexie. I believe she is going to have a fit, for she looks awful."
"What's that?" and Mr. Sherwood looked up from his paper. "Did you say something the matter with Dexie?"
"Yes, do go and see what it is, for she turned me out of the room."
"Have you been teasing her again about whistling?" heasked, looking at her sharply. "I told you to let your sister alone."
"Oh! it isn't that, papa. I have not offended her. She has only just returned from the store, but there's something the matter with her, for her very looks frightened me."
Being thus admonished Mr. Sherwood was soon in Dexie's room, and he was startled at the intense expression of his daughter's face.
"My dear girl! what has happened to you?" he tenderly asked, as he took her hands and drew her to his side. "Try and tell me." He stroked her ruffled hair, and spoke in soothing tones, but it was several minutes before she could utter a word.
"Dexie, my dear, calm yourself, and tell me what is the matter; you will make yourself ill. What is it all about, my dear?"
Dexie pointed to the crumpled handbill that she had tossed under the table as she threw off her wraps, and her father stooped and picked it up, then smoothing it across his knee read the cause of offence.
"Why, you foolish girl! surely it is not this that has put you into such a passion?"
"I won't have it! How dared they! The 'American Warbler,' indeed! Do they think I will overlook such insolence and go to their old concert after that public insult! No, I won't put up with it, so there!" and a flood of tears brought relief to the overcharged heart.
"Dexie, they never intended to hurt your feelings; it is only a mistake on your part to think so for a moment. Why, it is quite a joke, one that the audience will not be slow in appreciating, I'll warrant. Come, dry your eyes, and never mind this announcement."
But Dexie flung herself on the bed, sobbing through her tears: "Oh, papa, what made you make me say I would whistle when I did not want to from the first. I did not think they would treat me so meanly, or I never would have consented. But I won't go near the old hall to-night; no, not a step!"
Her father sat down on the bed beside her, and pushedaway the hair from her hot face, saying: "You are quite mistaken, dear, in thinking they meant anything but praise in announcing your part of the programme. If you will just think a moment, you will see it yourself."
"Praise, indeed! They have insulted me in a most public manner. How dared they take such liberties with my name, when it was only as a special favor I consented to whistle at all! Oh, it was such a mean, shabby trick!" and the tears fell in showers.
"Come, Dexie, I can't let you cry like this," and he lifted her gently and placed her beside him. "You will surely be sick if you do not control yourself, my dear. It was too bad to vex you when there is so much depending on you; but it was done unintentionally, I know, and they will soon apologize when they know that the announcement has annoyed you."
"But what will be the good of that? An apology will not recall those handbills, which, I daresay, are all over the city. But I'll make them repent it; they'll find that even a worm will turn if trampled on."
"Tut, tut, what nonsense! You are not a worm nor the kind of bird that eats the worm either—but here's Aunt Jennie. Auntie, can't you help me put a grain of sense into this silly girl's pate? She imagines she has been insulted by this bit of flattery, hence these tears," and he held out the handbill for inspection.
"Why, Dexie, this will never do. You will spoil your eyes for to-night, dear. Nothing so very dreadful has happened, after all. I was quite alarmed at Gussie's account, and feared something serious had occurred. Don't be so foolish as to mind this bit of paper."
But Dexie buried her face in her father's shoulder and cried the more.
"Oh, it is too bad of you, auntie. I thought you would care if I was abused, but nobody does, not even papa; but I'll make somebody sorry, for I won't go near their old concert," and she jerked away from her father's arms, and threw herself back on the bed.
Aunt Jennie motioned for Mr. Sherwood and Gussie to leave the room, thinking she might manage Dexie betteralone, for this hysterical crying needed to be checked at once. She sat down beside her and stroked the hot face until Dexie's sobs had somewhat ceased. Her gentle voice did much to soothe the tempest in Dexie's breast, but she seemed to have lost her persuasive power for the time.
Mr. Sherwood went at once to his wife's room to explain the cause of the disturbance.
"How inconsiderate of Dexie to cause so much annoyance!" was her fretful comment. "I am quite sure I shall have the headache, for the way she slammed that door was enough to upset the strongest nerves. I thought of going to the concert myself if I finished my book in time, but it seems my fate to be robbed of all pleasure. Why don't you use your authority, Clarence, and make her behave herself?"
"You must make some allowance for her, wife, for she feels much hurt over that announcement. But the trouble is, what's to be done if she persists in her determination not to appear? I might insist on her going to the hall, but I doubt if I could make her whistle after she got there."
"Well, if you do not use your authority you need not ask me to interfere. She has quite upset me as it is."
"It is not very often that she gets worked up like this. I believe she controls her temper about as well as any of us. She seldom lets her tongue loose as she used to do when things went wrong, but flies to her room and fights it out alone. I expect those Gurneys have a good influence over our wilful Dexie."
"Well, I suppose she does not see those mild, quiet girls fly into a passion very often, and this tiresome concert is to blame for this disturbance. I fear if she has made up her mind not to go, you may as well leave her alone; so let the matter rest, it disturbs me," and Mrs. Sherwood closed her eyes as if the subject had passed completely from her mind.
But Mr. Sherwood could not let the matter rest so easily, and his wife's indifference annoyed him exceedingly.
"Confound their stupidity!" he exclaimed at last, beginning to see it with Dexie's eyes. "They might have known that she would object to such an announcement, but it will be an awkward thing if she does not appear after all. I hope Aunt Jennie will bring her to reason."
"I hope so too, I'm sure," answered the wife with a sigh; "but Lancy Gurney is as much interested in the matter as herself, and I believe he would make her change her mind if anyone could."
"Well, I think I will run in and see if he is at home, but I'm afraid it will make a bad matter worse."
A few minutes later Mr. Sherwood was standing in the parlor next door, shaking hands with Mrs. Gurney.
"We don't seem to meet very often, do we, though we are such near neighbors," she said, with a smile, when the usual greetings had been exchanged, "but you look worried. Are all well at home this morning?"
"We are all well disturbed, certainly," he answered, with a short laugh. "I have just come in to see if I could get someone to help me about Dexie."
"Why? what has happened her? She is not hurt, I hope!"
"Well, her feelings are, tremendously, I can tell you;" and pulling out the objectionable handbill from his pocket, added, "she came upon this down in some store, and has come home as mad as a hatter, declaring she has been insulted, and she vows she won't whistle or go near the concert at all to-night."
"Well, thatwouldbe rather serious, wouldn't it?" was the mild reply. "Poor girlie, so she don't like to be called the 'American warbler.' It is the publicity of it, I expect, that has hurt her. Where is she now?"
"Up in her room, crying her eyes out. The more we try to reason with her, the worse she is; even Aunt Jennie has failed to quiet her."
"Now if you will let me advise—you know I have more experience with rebellious children than most women," and she smiled up into the anxious face above her, "let her have her cry out, and say no more to her about it just now, and, if you care to turn her over to us, I think I can promise you she will be all right by and by."
"Do you mean that you are willing to take her off our hands for the day?" and he looked eagerly into her face.
"Yes, if we may. I will send one of the children in to ask her to dinner, and we will not let her suspect that weknow anything about it until she speaks of the matter herself. We will find something pleasant to take up her attention until Lancy comes home, and by that time she will have had time to think of the matter in a different light."
"But do you think she will consent to whistle after all, Mrs. Gurney? That is the main thing."
"Certainly; I have no fear. If the matter is put before her in a serious light, she will be sure to do what is honorable. Of course, I quite understand that until her temper cools off she will be immovable; those determined natures always are. I have brought up one hot-headed person, and I think I know the weak spot; and Hugh McNeil was neverquiteunmanageable. Do not fret about Dexie, I feel sure she will fulfil her part to-night, and do us all credit."
"Thanks, Mrs. Gurney. You cannot think what a relief it is to hear you speak so confidently about it. I should feel very much aggrieved if she persisted in her refusal, for I urged her to whistle, much against her will, and I feel responsible for her appearance. I think, myself, that it was not just the fair thing to send those handbills broadcast without making her acquainted with the contents beforehand."
"Yes, they might have consulted her; but, of course, it never occurred to them that she would feel offended, and really I wonder that she is myself. Still, I can quite understand it when I consider how uncertain she must feel about her reception as a whistler."
"Yes, that is the trouble, but she went out on purpose to buy some little things to wear to-night, and I would like to know if she has everything ready. But I daresay it will not be wise to refer to the matter while she is of the same mind. Yet I want her to look as well as the rest of them," said Mr. Sherwood, in an anxious tone.
"To be sure. Well, her dress must be prepared for her. It would be a great disappointment to Lancy if anything should happen to prevent her going; so we must unite our efforts and carry the day, in spite of this little freak of Dexie's. Now, I expect my girls know what Dexie's planswere for to-night; and as my dressmaker is here finishing Cora's dress, I will have her attend to Dexie's also; so let Gussie bring in what materials she purchased while out this morning, and we will hold a consultation on the matter. Now, do not be alarmed, Mr. Sherwood," she added, seeing his look of concern. "I will promise to send her to the concert in good trim, and in good temper too," and she smiled pleasantly as she bade him "Good morning," as if it were an everyday affair to bring refractory girls to terms.
Mr. Sherwood returned home feeling much relieved, and meeting Aunt Jennie on the stairs, asked after Dexie's present condition.
"She is crying still, though not so violently. I fear she has fully determined not to take part in the concert to-night. I have done my best, but I cannot shake her determination, so I have left her to herself to think it over."
"That's right. I have just been in to Mrs. Gurney's, and she has offered to settle the difficulty and be responsible for her appearance to-night."
"That is good news, indeed. I have perfect trust in Mrs. Gurney's ability to succeed where the rest of us all fail; but the next trouble is, I haven't the least idea what Dexie intended to do with the yards of lace she brought home this morning, unless she intends to drape it over her dress in some way."
"Mrs. Gurney has promised to relieve us of that trouble also. She is quite as anxious as we are that Dexie shall make a good appearance, and if you will collect the fixings and take them in, Mrs. Gurney says her dressmaker will do what is necessary."
"Then the trouble may be considered over," said she, with a relieved sigh.
"I will run into Mrs. Gurney's myself, and see what I can do for the general good. How nice it is to haverealfriends so near!" she added, as she followed Mr. Sherwood into the sitting-room.
In about half an hour, Elsie Gurney came running into the house, and as she came through the hall called, "Dexie, Dexie, where are you?"
Aunt Jennie opened the door, saying: "She is up in her room, Elsie; run right up."
Dexie heard the call, and, hastily rising, poured some cold water into the basin, and began to bathe her face. Her head was bent over the basin when Elsie entered the room.
"Oh, here you are! What on earth are you poking up here for at this time of day?" was the matter-of-fact greeting. "You are to hurry up and come into our house and stay to dinner. Mother said you are allowed, so you needn't stop to ask permission; and, just think, the box that grandma sent from England has arrived, and it is full of all kinds of finery. You know we always have a box sent us at Christmas time, but this one was delayed somehow," and she looked curiously at the flushed face that was buried in the brimming hands. "There is always something for everyone of us in the box; but do hurry, Dexie, your face isn't so dirty that it needs soaking, I hope."
"Well, hardly," was the reply, thankful enough to be given so much time to recover her composure; "but I may as well tell you before you find it out yourself that I have had a bad attack of the pouts, and the effect is not so easy to get rid of. Now, you needn't ask what's up, for I don't intend to tell you."
"Pshaw! who cares about your pouts? Not I, anyway," was the reply, in a high and mighty tone. "Come along, if you're coming, and if you're not, then stay home. I can't wait, for I want to see what is in the box for me."
This unceremonious manner of treatment made Dexie come down somewhat from the pedestal of injured greatness, and she forced herself to talk to Elsie to keep her waiting, while she made a fresh toilet.
"Now, do I look a fright?" Dexie asked, as she prepared to follow Elsie downstairs.
"Well, I can't say that you look much worse than usual, but you certainly don't look any better. Your nose looks swelled. Shouldn't wonder if you had it tweaked; but, then, what odds how it looks? Hurry up, and come along. We have apple dumplings for dinner to-day. Do you like milk or sauce on them best?"
Dexie did not answer; something of more consequence than dumplings was troubling her just then, and as she followed Elsie into the front hall, she was tenderly feeling her nose and mentally comparing it with its usual proportions, inwardly calling herself all sorts of hard names for being so silly.
"But I won't whistle to-night, so there!" she kept saying to herself, as if she needed to keep her determination constantly before herself in order to back it up.
Elsie rushed up the stairs at once, eager to enjoy the delights that an English box always contained; but for once Dexie's interest was centred in herself. Her nose could not be forgotten; in fact, she was trying to reduce its proportions by pressing it between her thumb and finger. She wondered if the rest of the family would notice it and make remarks thereon. Lancy would be sure to know at once that something was wrong; but she would keep out of sight, for she wouldnotwhistle; no, indeed.
"Oh, Dexie, how you do poke along!" Elsie remarked from the top of the stairs. "I declare, you are enough to try the patience of a Job. Come along, or I'll rush into the room first, manners or no manners; then mother will be displeased."
Dexie was up the few remaining steps before Elsie had finished speaking. She was just as anxious to see the English presents as if half of them were meant for herself. Her swelled nose was instantly forgotten, and she passed through the door that Elsie held open for her, and was soon bending over the treasures with the rest. The room was soon in confusion, as dress patterns, laces, ribbons, gloves and fans, and trinkets in endless variety were strewn over bed, table and chairs. The swelled nose could not hide the beautiful things laid out for her admiring eyes, and she watched with smiling face as Elsie adorned herself with finery without regard to number or suitability.
"Oh, what a fine Indian brave am I!" sang Elsie as she danced before the mirror, her arms adorned with three sets of bracelets, and her neck encircled with ribbons and lace, while several lockets and charms attached to velvet bands added to her glory. "Now, with a few of those ostrich tips in my hair, I shall be ready to start for the Governor's ball," she added, dancing around the room, sending the ribbons and laces gaily fluttering behind her.
"You'll bawl at home, my lady, if you spoil anything with your capers," said Cora. "Take off those things at once, Elsie; some of them are mine, I know. Oh! here is a note, mother. The coral set belongs to Elsie, and is presented by her godmother, and this bangled set is mine. Do you think they would be too showy to wear to-night, mother?"
"Oh! what is this beautiful thing?" Dexie exclaimed, as she lifted a handsome lace bertha. "My! isn't it lovely? How do I look in borrowed feathers—or laces, to be more exact?"
"Oh, fine!" Elsie replied. "I wonder who it was sent to—not me, I hope; it would make me look like a fright, while it makes you look like a fairy," and Elsie turned to examine another parcel.
But Cora had decided in her own mind who it was that should be the first to wear the pretty lace affair, for as she looked at Dexie with the fluffy thing around her neck and throat, she seemed to suggest the very character she was to fill in the evening, and, as she removed it and laid it gently aside, Cora whispered to her mother:
"It will suit her nicely, don't you think? What else would do to go with it?"
"Those ribbons and gloves match it perfectly; they were meant to go together, I expect, for an evening costume. Just see what she takes a fancy to, and lay it aside; then use your own judgment."
A little scream of delight from Elsie betokened another pleasant discovery.
"Gloves! boxes of gloves, and handkerchiefs by the set, and all hemmed, too! Oh! and marked; see, these are my initials. Blessings on the thoughtful person who sent methose, for my handkerchiefs disappear as mysteriously as ghosts. Now, if I only unearth a box of shoe-laces, I'll think my cup of joy quite full."
"Shoe-laces! and they so cheap!" Dexie exclaimed in surprise.
"But I have to buy mine with my pocket-money. I break so many of the tiresome things, that mother thinks it will make me more careful if I have to replace them myself. But they are always in knots, and when I have to keep them neat and tidy at my own expense it leaves me little enough for chocolate creams. Dear me! I think they might have sent me a few dozen, so that I might get a chance to have one good 'tuck in' for once, as the street arabs say."
"Why, Elsie, I am surprised at you," was the mother's mild rebuke. "Surely you can feel grateful, without requiring shoe-laces to 'fill up your cup with joy,'" and there was a faint smile around the mouth that reproved in such quiet tones.
"Ah! I know what ails me, mother dear. 'From all selfishness, envy, uncharitableness,—and all the rest of it, good Lord, deliver me.' I'll say it next Sunday with a different meaning to it, particularly if I get the shoe-laces."
"Why, Elsie Gurney! how dare you speak those words so flippantly!" said Cora severely, looking at her sister in surprise and displeasure.
"I wasn'tthinkingflippantly, if I did speak so. I wasn't, truly, mamma," said Elsie, in a contrite tone. "I never thought I was selfish and—and all the other things when I said it over in church, but I do believe I am—some—anyway. After this I will say 'deliver me' instead of 'us.'"
"Hasty speeches often lead to thoughtful acts. I will be very glad if the missing shoe-laces make my daughter a little more thoughtful about things of greater moment. Do not look so shocked, Cora; it did notsoundwell, I know, but she did not mean it irreverently, I'm sure. I remember when I was a child at home we all had to learn the fifty-first Psalm as a Lenten lesson, and once mylittle brother came through the rooms, singing it to the most rollicking tune that was ever danced by; but the very contrast between words and tune made the words sink into my heart as nothing else could have done, for I did not learn very readily. Of course, dear, I do not approve of it; but children are children, and the longer they remain so the better, I think," and with a little sigh Mrs. Gurney left the room, laying her hand lovingly on Elsie's head as she passed her.
More than an hour passed before the contents of the box had been examined, then with Dexie's assistance the wrappings which covered the floor were picked up, tables were tidied, and the room put in order.
Mrs. Gurney drew Lancy aside as soon as he entered the house, to explain the difficulty about Dexie.
"What! Not whistle or go near us!" he cried. "Why, she'll have to! Everybody is talking about the concert, and inquiring about our 'warbler.' Those handbills were the greatest success. Not whistle, indeed, when the crowd will be there on purpose to hear her. Why, mother, she is the chief attraction! Where is she? I'll show her very soon that shecan'tback out. They would mob us if she failed to appear. Why, I couldn't go either if she did not."
"Softly, softly, my son," laying her hand on his arm. "Wait a moment till I explain further. Dexie is not one to be forced into doing a thing she does not like, and if you talk to her in that strain you will only strengthen her determination to stay at home. She must be treated differently if we would gain her full consent, and nothing short of that will do. I have watched her face, and I know that unless quiet measures are used she will resist to the last. My boy, I am quite as anxious as you are about it, so do not look so wild. Listen to my plan."
Lancy's excitement cooled down as he listened to his mother's advice, and he promised to do his part if sufficient self-control were granted him.