"I don't wonder Uncle Paul was attracted. There is something very bright and winsome about Charlie. I had to laugh at her naïve confession of being a black sheep."
"She used to be so boyish and boisterous! not half as gentle as dear Hal."
"But it seems to be toned down to a very becoming piquancy;" and he smiled.
"How very odd that she should have met your uncle!" Florence said musingly. "How surprised he will be!"
Dr. Meade came over again that evening, and insisted upon the boys accepting his hospitality; so Joe and Kit were packed into the sleigh, and treated sumptuously.
Granny continued to improve, and could sit up for quite a while. She enjoyed having them all around her so much! It was like the old time, when the gay voices made the house glad.
And so the days passed, busy, and absolutely merry.
Charlie and Florence helped cook, and Joe insisted upon showing how he could wash dishes. On Sunday they all went to church except Dot,—Granny would have it so.
On Monday Mr. Darol came. Charlie had given him very explicit directions, but she was hardly expecting him so soon. Sitting by the window she saw him coming down the street in a thoughtful manner, as if he were noting the landmarks.
"O Mr. Darol!" and she sprang to the door, nearly overturning Dot.
"Yes: you see I have been as good as my word. How bright you look! So there was nothing amiss at home?"
"Indeed there was! but, in spite of it, we have all been so happy! For everybody came home at Christmas, even Joe, whom they thought drowned. This is my little sister Dot. And oh, this is my brother Hal!"
Mr. Darol clasped the hand of one, and gave the other a friendly pat on the soft golden hair.
"I dare say Charlie has told you all about me: if she has not she is a naughty girl. Why"—
For in the adjoining room sat Florence, close to Granny's chair. No wonder he was amazed.
"That's Florence, and you've seen her before. And Mr. Edmund Darol is here," went on Charlie in a graciously explanatory manner.
"They are my brothers and sisters," said Florence with a scarlet flush.
He looked at her in deep perplexity.
"Mrs. Osgood adopted Florence," Charlie interposed again. "It was all her fault; for she would not allow the relation to be kept up, and"—
"This is your grandmother?" he interrupted almost sharply, feeling unconsciously bitter against Florence.
"This is dear Granny."
He took the wrinkled hand, not much larger than a child's, for all it had labored so long and faithfully.
"Mrs. Kenneth," he said, "I am proud to make your acquaintance. One such child as Charlie would be glory enough."
Charlie fairly danced with delight to see Granny sohonored in her old days. And as for the poor woman, she was prouder than a queen.
"You've been so good toher!" she murmured tremulously, nodding her head at Charlie.
"She is a brave girl, even if she did run away. I have used my best efforts to make her sorry for it."
"But oh! Mr. Darol, the work was all undone as soon as I came home. For when I found them sick, and full of trouble, it seemed so good to be able to take care of myself, that I think running away the most fortunate step of my whole life."
"I am afraid that we shall never bring you to a proper state of penitence;" and he laughed.
"You were so good to her!" said Granny again, as if she had nothing but gratitude in her soul.
"It was a great pleasure to me. But I never dreamed that I had made the acquaintance of one of your family before."
"He will never like me so well again," thought Florence; "but that is part of my punishment. I have been full of pride and cowardice."
Mr. Darol made himself at home in a very few moments, for he was interested beyond measure.
"Itisa poor place," ruminated Charlie, glancing round; "but we cannot help it, I'm sure. All of us have done our best."
Then she dismissed the subject with her usual happy faculty, and became wonderfully entertaining; somuch so, indeed, that, when Mr. Darol glanced at his watch, he said,—
"In about half an hour my train goes down to the city. I have not said half that I wanted to. I have not seen your brother Joe, nor the hot-house; and what am I to do?"
"Stay," replied Charlie; and then she colored vividly. "Our house is so small that it will not hold any more; but Dr. Meade has already taken in Kit and Joe, and he is just splendid!"
Mr. Darol laughed.
"Are there any hotel accommodations?"
"Oh, yes! at the station."
"Then I think I will remain; for my visit isn't half finished, and I am not satisfied to end it here."
Charlie was delighted.
After that they went up to the flower-room. It seemed to improve every day, and was quite a nest of sweets.
"So Miss Charlie hasn't all the family genius," said Mr. Darol. "It is not every one who can make flowers grow under difficulties."
"They were nipped a little about the middle of the month. One night my fire went out."
"And it blighted the flowers he meant to cut in a few days," explained Charlie, "so that at first there did not seem a prospect of a very merry Christmas."
And Charlie slipped her hand within Mr. Darol's,continuing, in a whisper, "I can never tell you how glad I was to have the money. It was like the good fortune in a fairy story."
He looked at the beaming, blushing face with its dewy eyes. Ah! he little guessed, the day he first inspected Charlie Kenneth's drawings, that all this pleasure was to arise from a deed of almost Quixotic kindness.
Yet he wondered more than ever how she had dared to undertake such a quest. Strangely courageous, earnest, and simple-hearted, with the faith of a child, and the underlying strength of a woman,—it seemed as if there might be a brilliant and successful future before her.
And this delicate brother with a shadow in his eyes like the drifts floating over an April sky,—he, too, needed a friend to give him a helping hand. Who could do it better than he, whose dearest ones were sleeping in quiet, far-off graves?
Charlie insisted upon Mr. Darol remaining to supper; and he was nothing loth.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Dot, "we shall have to echo the crow's suggestive query,—
'The old one said unto his mate,"What shall we do for food toate?"'"
'The old one said unto his mate,"What shall we do for food toate?"'"
'The old one said unto his mate,"What shall we do for food toate?"'"
'The old one said unto his mate,
"What shall we do for food toate?"'"
"Make some biscuit or a Johnny-cake," said Charlie, fertile in expedients. "Dot, I've just discovered the bent of your budding mind."
"What?" asked the child, tying on a large apron.
"Keeping a hotel. Why, it's been elegant for almost a week!—a perfect crowd, and not a silver fork or a goblet, or a bit of china; rag-carpet on the floor, and a bed in the best room. Nothing but happiness inside and out! Even the ravens haven't cried. You see, it isn't money, but a contented mind, a kitchen apron, a saucepan, and a genius for cooking."
"But you must have something to cook," was Dot's sage comment.
"True, my dear. Words of priceless wisdom fallfrom your young lips,—diamonds and pearls actually! Now, if you will tell me what to put in a cake"—
"A pinch of this, and a pinch of that," laughed Dot. "I am afraid to trust your unskilful hands; so you may wait upon me. Open the draught, and stir the fire: then you may bring me the soda and the sour milk, and beat the eggs—oh, there in the basket!"
"Dot, my small darling, spare me! I am in a hopeless confusion. Your brain must be full of shelves and boxes where every article is labelled. One thing at a time."
"The fire first, then."
Dot sifted her flour, and went to work. Charlie sang a droll little song for her, and then set the table. Their supper was a decided success. Edmund came in, and was delighted to see his uncle. There was hero Joe, gay as a sky-full of larks. It didn't seem as if any of them had ever known trouble or sorrow. Even Granny gave her old chirruping laugh.
The next day they had some serious talks. Hal and Mr. Darol slipped into a pleasant confidence.
"I've been thinking over your affairs with a good deal of interest," he said. "It seems to me that you need a larger field for profitable operations. I should not think Madison quite the place for a brilliant success. You need to be in the vicinity of a large city. And, since three of the others will be in New Yorkprincipally, it certainly would be better for you. Would your grandmother object to moving?"
"I don't know," Hal answered thoughtfully.
"Floriculture is becoming an excellent business. Since you have such a decided taste for it, you can hardly fail. I should recommend Brooklyn, Jersey City, or Harlem. Besides the flowers, there is a great demand for bedding-plants. You haven't any other fancy?" and he studied Hal's face intently.
Hal's lip quivered a moment. "It was my first dream, and I guess the best thing that I can do. I could not endure hard study, or any thing like that. Yes, I have decided it."
"I wish you would make me a visit very soon, and we could look around, and consider what step would be best. You must forgive me for taking a fatherly interest in you all. I love young people so much!"
Hal's eyes sparkled with delight. He did not wonder that Charlie had told her story so fearlessly to him.
"You are most kind. I don't know how to thank you."
"You can do that when you are successful;" and he laughed cordially.
They had all taken Flossy's husband into favor, and their regard was fully returned by him. Indeed, they appeared to him a most marvellous little flock. As for Florence, the awe and strangeness with which she hadfirst impressed them was fast wearing off. As her better soul came to light, she seemed to grow nearer to them, as if the years of absence were being bridged over. Fastidious she would always be in some respects, but never weakly foolish again. She had come to understand a few of the nobler truths of life, learned through suffering,—that there was a higher enjoyment than that of the senses, or the mere outward uses of beauty.
They all appreciated the manner in which she made herself at home. They gave her the best they had, to be sure; and she never pained them by any thoughtless allusion to her luxuries. She had not lost her old art with the needle, and Dot's dresses were renovated in such a manner that she hardly knew them.
Granny would never allow her to regret her going with Mrs. Osgood.
"It was all right," she would say cheerfully. "The good Lord knew what was best. I don't mind any of it now,—the losses and crosses, the sorrows and sicknesses, and all the hard work. Your poor father would be glad if he could see you, and I've kept my promise to him. So don't cry, dearie. If you hadn't gone away, I shouldn't 'a' known how sweet it was to have you come back."
Florence and Mr. Darol made their preparations to return. They decided to take Charlie back with them, and install her in her new home; though Charlie didnot exactly like the prospect of having her visit abridged.
"I meant to stay all this week," she said decisively. "I cannot have another vacation until next summer."
"But you will go back with me to my sad house, and help me to forget my baby's dead face," Florence returned beseechingly. "O Charlie! I do mean to be a true and fond sister to you if you will let me."
So Charlie consented; though she would much rather have staid, and had a "good time" with Dot and Hal.
"If Florence was not here, I should like to perch myself on a chair-back, and whistle 'Hail Columbia' to all the world. Dear old shoe! What sights of fun we have had in it! I am rather sorry that I'll soon be a woman. Oh, dear! You alwaysdohave some trouble, don't you?"
"Charlie, Charlie!" and Dot shook her small forefinger.
Joe was going too. "But I shall be back in a few days," he said to Granny.
"O Joe! if you wouldn't go to sea any more,—and when you've been a'most drowned"—
"O Granny! best mother in the world, do not feel troubled about me. We are a family of geniuses, and I am the duckling that can't stay brooded under mother-wings. It's my one love, and I should be a miserable fish if you kept me on dry land. I have been offered a nice position to go to Charleston; andas I am not rich, and have not the gout, I can't afford to retire on a crust. But you'll see me every little while; and you'll be proud enough of me when I get to be a captain."
Granny felt that she could not be any prouder of him if he was a king.
There was a great thinning-out again. Kit bemoaned the lonesomeness of the place; but Dot's housewifely soul was comforted with the hope of a good clearing-up time.
In two days Joe returned.
"Florence is as elegant as a queen," he reported; "not the grandest or richest, but every thing in lovely style. Charlie went wild over the pictures. And there are great mirrors, and marble statues, and carpets as soft as spring-hillsides. You never imagined, Granny, that one of us would attain to such magnificence, did you?"
Granny listened in wide-eyed wonder, and bobbed her little curls.
"And Darol's a splendid fellow! Flossy always did have the luck!"
That night Hal and Joe slept in the old room, which Joe declared seemed good.
"We had a long talk about you, Hal. Mr. Paul Darol is wonderfully interested in you. He is just as good and generous as he can be, and has two beautiful rooms at a hotel. You know, in the old dream, it wasFlossy who was to meet with a benevolent old gentleman: instead, it has been Charlie, the queer little midget. What a youngster she has been!"
"She is as good as gold."
"Mr. Darol thinks her the eighth wonder of the world. But he wants you to have the green-house; and I said I intended to help you to it. When he found that we did not mean to take any thing as a gift, he offered to loan the whole amount, to be paid as you were prospered."
"How very, very generous!" said Hal with a long breath.
"Itwasmost kind; but you cannot do much here. I believe I like the Brooklyn project best."
"I wonder if Granny would consent to leave Madison?"
"I think she will. You see, I can spend a good deal of time with you then."
Joe was to start again the middle of January. Granny fretted at first; but dear, merry Joe finally persuaded her that it was the best thing in the world.
Hal could not help shedding a few quiet tears, but then they had a glowing letter from Charlie. She and Florence had actually been to call on Mrs. Wilcox in their own carriage. They had taken her and Mary Jane a pretty gift; and Mrs. Wilcox was, to use her own expression, "clear beat." And Charlie declared that she was living like a princess. She could come home, and spend almost any Sunday with them.
While Hal was considering how best to inform Granny of the new project, circumstances opened the way. In the march of improvement at Madison, an old lane was to be widened, and straightened into a respectable street; and one end of it would run through the old Kenneth cottage.
Poor old Shoe! Its days were numbered. But there were no more rollicking children to tumble in and out of windows, or transform the dusty garret into a bedlamic palace. And yet Granny could not be consoled, or even persuaded.
"I never could take root anywhere else, Hal, dear," she said, shaking her head sadly.
"But the old house has been patched and patched; it leaks everywhere; and a good, strong gust of wind might blow it over. We should not want to be in the ruins, I'm sure. Then, Granny, think of being so near all the children!"
Granny was very grave for several days; but one evening she said with a tremor in her voice,—
"Hal dear, I am a poor old body, and I shall never be worth any thing again. I don't know as it makes much difference, after all, if you will only promise to bring me back, and lay me alongside of my dear Joe."
Hal promised with a tender kiss.
Dr. Meade used to bundle Granny up in shawls, and take her out in his old-fashioned gig; and, by the time Joe came back, he declared she was a good deal betterthan new, and the dearest grandmother in the world. I think she was, myself, even if she was little and old and wrinkled, and had a cracked voice.
They formed a great conspiracy against her, and took her to New York. She never could see how they did it; and Joe insisted that it was "sleight-of-hand," he having learned magic in China. It was very odd and laughable to see her going round Florence's pretty home, leaning on Dot's shoulder, and listening, like a child, to the descriptions of the pictures and bronzes, and confusing the names of different things. But Dot declared that it was right next door to heaven; and, for sweet content, it might have been. Charlie almost went wild.
It seemed, indeed, as if Florence could never do enough to make amends for her past neglect. Edmund Darol treated Granny with the utmost respect and tenderness. He never tired of hearing of their youthful frolics and fun; but Charlie's running away seemed the drollest of all.
Mr. Paul Darol, or Uncle Paul as he had insisted upon being to all the children, took Hal under his especial protection. They visited green-houses, talked with florists, read books, and began to consider themselves quite wise. Then they looked around for some suitable places. At Jersey City they found the nucleus of a hot-house, and a very fair prospect; but, on the outskirts of Brooklyn, they found a pretty cottageand some vacant lots, that appeared quite as desirable.
"Indeed, the neighborhood is much better," said Mr. Darol. "Green-houses could soon be put up, and by fall you might be started in business. I think the sooner the better."
Hal's brown eyes opened wide in astonishment.
"Yes," continued Mr. Darol, with an amused expression, "Joe and I have quite settled matters. He allows mecarte blanchefor every thing; and, being arbitrary, I like to have my own way. When you decide upon a location, I will take care that it shall be placed within your power."
"You are so good! but I couldn't, I wouldn't dare"—And somehow Hal could not keep the tears out of his eyes.
"I think this Brooklyn place the most desirable. It is on a horse-car route, and near enough to Greenwood to attract purchasers thither. I'll buy the place, and turn it over to you with a twenty-years' mortgage, if you like. You see, I am not giving you any thing but a chance to do for yourself."
Hal and Joe talked it over that evening.
"How good everybody is to us!" said Hal. "There was Mrs. Howard, when I was so ill, and the Kinseys, while they were in Madison, and Dr. Meade, and"—
"Mrs. Van Wyck, who snubbed Flossy, and prophesied that I should come to the gallows. Hal, dear oldchap, we have had ups and downs, and been poor as church-mice; but it is all coming around just right. And I'd take the place: I know you will succeed."
"But eight thousand dollars; and the green-houses, and the plants afterward"—
"Why, I'd be responsible for the place myself. The property would be worth a fortune in twenty years or so. And, with Mr. Darol to hold it, there wouldn't be the slightest risk."
"But if I should not live"—
"Nonsense! I'll come in and administer. I'll be thinking about your epitaph. Mine is already stored away for use:—
'From which it is believed,The unfortunate bereavedWent to sea, and was promiscuously drownded.'"
'From which it is believed,The unfortunate bereavedWent to sea, and was promiscuously drownded.'"
'From which it is believed,The unfortunate bereavedWent to sea, and was promiscuously drownded.'"
'From which it is believed,
The unfortunate bereaved
Went to sea, and was promiscuously drownded.'"
"Now, isn't that pathetic?"
"O Joe! you are too bad!"
"It's a sign of long life, my dear. I have had to be worse than usual, to balance your account."
Everybody said Hal must have the place. Mr. Darol actually purchased it, and took Dot over to see the cottage. It was not very large, but sufficiently roomy for them, and had only been tenanted for a year; a pretty parlor and sitting-room, with a nice large kitchen, and abundance of closets. The chambers up stairs were very pleasant, and commanded a beautiful view.
"Will it do for you, O morsel of womankind?" asked Mr. Darol. "I propose to buy you a dog, and call you Mother Hubbard."
Dot laughed, and blushed, and expressed her satisfaction.
Then Hal declared they must return to Madison, and he would consider what could be done.
"You can count on me for three hundred a year," said Joe with his good-by.
They wanted Granny to remain with Florence, but she would not: so they returned together.
Oh, poor little cottage! The chimney over the "best room" had blown down in a March gale, and the roof leaked worse than ever. The street was surveyed, and staked out; and, oddest of all, Mr. Howard had received a call to Brooklyn.
"I suppose we must go," said Granny. "Dot needs a pretty home, and this isn't"—
"The palaces have spoiled us," said Dot. "Think of having hot and cold water in your kitchen without a bit of fuss; and a bath-room, and the work so easy that it is just like playing at housekeeping. Why, Granny, you and I would have the nicest time in the world!"
Mrs. Meade had cared for the flowers while Hal was away, though they missed his loving hand. But he decided that it would be best to sell them all out, and dispose of the place as soon as he could. The township offered him three hundred dollars for the ground they needed; and presently Hal found a purchaser for the remainder, at twelve hundred dollars. By the time of Joe's next return Hal was ready to take a fresh start.
One thousand was paid down; and Joe promised three hundred of the interest every year, and as much more as he could do. Mr. Darol was to superintend the erection of the green-house,—two long rows, joined by a little square at the end, a kind of work-room, which could be opened or closed at pleasure. They were built on the back part of the two lots, and the space in front was to remain a summer-garden. The street had a lovely southern exposure, while a great elm-tree shaded the house.
They all came back to the Old Shoe for a farewell visit. It was June, and they had supper out of doors; for, somehow, half the neighborhood had invited itself. Everybody was sorry to lose Hal and Granny; and everybody thought it wonderful that the Kenneths had prospered, and had such luck.
Then Florence took Granny and Dot to a pretty seaside resort, where Charlie was to join them. Kit and Hal were to pack up whatever household treasures were worth saving, and afterward domesticate themselves with their brother-in-law.
Good-by, Old Shoe! Tumble down at your will. There is no more laughing or crying or scolding orplanning for you to hear,—no tender children's voices singing Sunday-evening hymns in the dusk, no little folded hands saying reverent prayers. O old house, brown and rusty and dilapidated! there has been much joy under your roof; many prayers answered, many sorrows, and some bitter tears, that God's hand wiped away. Every crumbling board has some tender memories. And, as Hal and Kit sit on the old stone step for the last time, their hands are clasped tightly, their eyes are full of tears, and neither can trust his voice to speak.
Good-by! The birds said it, the wandering winds said it, the waving grasses, and the rustling trees. You have had your day, old house, and the night has come for you.
Hal watched the hot-houses with strange delight. They seemed to him on a most magnificent scale. The boiler was put in, the pipes laid, the force-pump and coal-bins arranged; then the stands of steps, rising higher, the wide ledge by the window for small plants and slips, lattices for vines, hooks for hanging-baskets, and every thing in complete order.
When Charlie rejoined Granny, Florence came back for a brief stay. She and Edmund went over to the cottage, and measured and consulted; and the result was, that one morning it looked wonderfully as if some one was moving in. Hal ran to inform them of their mistake.
The carpet-men said they had their orders, and wouldn't budge an inch. Down went carpets and oil-cloths. Such a hammering, and knocking-about, and unrolling! Kit stood it as long as he could: then he went out of doors, perched himself on a pile of stone, and played on his beloved fiddle.
The next day there was another raid. This time itwas furniture. Florence and Edmund soon made their appearance.
"Oh!" exclaimed Hal.
"It is to be our gift," began Edmund. "Florence wished it so much! She feels that she took her pleasure when you were all toiling and suffering, and is better satisfied to make some amends. Besides, we have an interest in Dot and grandmother."
"And I am only going to put in the principal things," explained Florence. "There are so many that you will prefer to select yourselves."
The parlor and library, or sitting-room, were carpeted alike. The furniture was in green, with here and there a bright article to relieve it; a pretty book-case and writing-table, aconsolefor Dot's small traps, easy-chairs in abundance, and every thing as pretty as it could be. The dining-room and kitchen were plain, but home-like, with an old-fashioned Boston rocker for Granny. But the three sleeping-rooms up stairs were perfect little gems,—Hal's in black-walnut, Granny's in quaint chestnut, and Dot's in pale green with a pretty green and white carpet to match.
"Why, I shall want them to come home right away!" exclaimed Hal. "O Flossy!"
"Dear, brave Hal! God has been good to us all. Only love me a little in return."
The last of August, Hal's household returned. He and Kit had provided for them a gorgeous supper, withthe best china, and a bouquet at each plate. Granny could hardly believe her eyes or her senses. Dot and Charlie ran wild, and made themselves exclamation points in every doorway.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"And the surprise!"
"And so beautiful!"
"That I should ever live to see it!" said Granny.
They explored every nook and corner and closet.
"I like it so much," said old-fashioned little Dot, "because it isn't too grand. For, after all, we are not rich. And it was so thoughtful of Florence to choose what was simply pretty instead of magnificent!"
"Look at the goblets," said Charlie with a solemn shake of the head. "Dot, if any nice old gentleman comes along, be sure to give him a drink out of them, and put this K round where he can see it."
"The whole eighteen, I suppose, one after another," returned Dot drolly.
"I shall paint you some pictures," Charlie began presently; "and, Dot, when I get to earning money in good earnest, I'll buy a piano. I used to think I did not care much about it, and I nevercouldlearn; but sometimes, when Florence sits and plays like an angel, I can't help crying softly to myself, though you wouldn't believe I was such a goose. And, if you learn to play, it will be a great comfort to Hal."
"Yes," said Dot, crying out of pure sympathy.
They commenced housekeeping at once. Charlie was to remain with them until the term commenced.
"Isn't it a delight to have such splendid things to work with?" exclaimed Dot. "Why, Granny, don't you believe we have been spirited away to some enchanted castle?"
Granny laughed, and surely thought they had.
Hal, meanwhile, was stocking his green-houses. Loads of sand and loam had to be brought; piles of compost and rubble standing convenient; and the two boys worked like Trojans. And then the journeys to florists, that seemed to Hal like traversing realms of poesy and fragrance. Great geraniums that one could cut into slips, roses, heliotrope, heaths, violets, carnations, fuchsias; indeed, an endless mass of them. Hal's heart was in his throat half the time with a suffocating sense of beauty.
It was such a pleasure to arrange them! He used to handle them as if they were the tenderest of babies. Watering and ventilation on so large a scale was quite new to him; and he went at his business with a little fear and trembling, and devoted every spare moment to study.
Mr. Darol had paid the bills as they had been presented. One day Hal asked to see them. The request was evaded for a while; but one evening, when he was dining with Mr. Darol, he insisted upon it.
"Very well," returned Mr. Darol smilingly. "Herethey are: look them over and be satisfied. Very moderate, I think."
The hot-house had cost thirteen hundred dollars; soil, and various incidentals, one hundred more; flowers, three hundred.
"Seventeen hundred dollars," said Hal in a grave and rather tremulous tone. "And seven thousand on the house."
"The mortgage is to remain any number of years, you know. Joe has arranged to pay part of the interest. And the conditions of these"—gathering them up, and turning toward Hal, who was leaning against the mantle, rather stupefied at such overwhelming indebtedness.
"Well?" he said with a gasp that made his voice quiver.
"This," and Mr. Darol laughed genially. Hal saw a blaze in the grate, and stood speechless.
"It is my gift to you. Not a very large business capital, to be sure; but you can add to it from time to time."
"O Mr. Darol!"
"My dear Hal, if you knew the pleasure it has been to me! I don't know why I have taken such a fancy to you all, unless it is for the sake of the children I might have had; but that is an old dream, and the woman who might have been their mother is in her grave. You deserve all this, and more."
The tears stood in Hal's eyes, and he could not trust his voice. How dark every thing had looked only a little year ago!Couldhe ever be thankful enough? And that it should all come through such a ridiculous thing as Charlie's running away!
"I am confident that you will prosper. And I expect you all to like me hugely, in return. When I take Dot and Charlie to operas, I shall look to you to provide the flowers."
"A very small return," said Hal.
But he went home as if he had been a tuft of thistle-down on a summer-breeze. Ferry-boat and horse-car were absolutely glorified. And when he reached the little cottage with lights in every window, and the dear ones awaiting him, he could only clasp his arms around them, and kiss them. But they knew the next morning what had flushed his face, and made his eyes so lustrous.
"Ah, I told you he was a prince!" declared Charlie in triumph.
And then Hal's work commenced in earnest. Every morning he spent in his green-house, and began experiments of propagating, that were so interesting to him. Kit assisted, and Dot ran in every hour or two, to see how they prospered.
Kit had come across a German musician, hardly a square off, who was giving him lessons, and who used to wax very enthusiastic over him. There had beenquite a discussion as to what should be done with him.
"Why, he must go to school," declared brother Edmund. "He's a mere child yet; but he has a wonderful talent for music, it must be admitted."
"He might become an organist," said Florence. "That gives a man a position." Somehow she did not take cordially to the violin.
Kit consented to go to school.
"But to give up my dear, darling old fiddle! It's mean, when the rest of you have had just what you wanted,—been adopted, and gone to sea, and had green-houses, and all that!" said Kit, half-crying, and jumbling his sentences all together.
"You shall keep the fiddle," said Granny. "I like it."
Florence also proposed that Granny should have a servant. At this Granny was dismayed.
"A servant! Why, do you suppose I am going to set up for a queen, because Hal has his beautiful hot-house,—an old woman like me?"
"But Dot ought to go to school, and then it would be too much for you."
"I am going to study at home," returned Dot with much spirit. "I haven't any genius: so I shall keep house, and help Hal with his flowers. And the work isn't any thing. A woman comes in to do the washing and ironing."
"And Hal is handy as a girl. No: I'd rather stay as we are," Granny said, with more determination than she had shown in her whole life.
Florence had to leave them "as they were." The simple, homely duties of every-day life were not distasteful to them. If Granny could not have been useful, the charm would have gone out of life for her.
Joe was delighted with every thing, and told Granny that if he wasn't so tall he should surely stand on his head, out of pure joy. He was to make his head-quarters with them when he was at home.
Miss Charteris had been added to their circle of friends, and enjoyed the quaint household exceedingly. Hal was an especial favorite with her, and she took a warm interest in his flowers.
In October, Hal began to have a little business. Baskets and stands were sent in to be arranged for winter; and now and then some one strayed in, and bought a pot of something in bloom. He began to feel quite like a business-man. His five hundred dollars had served to defray incidental expenses, and put in coal and provisions for the winter, leaving a little margin. If he could get his sales up to regular expenses, he thought he should be content for the present.
He took a trip to Madison one day. The cottage was nothing but a heap of crumbling boards. Had they ever lived there, and been so happy?
"It'll never be the same place again," said Granny, listening to the summer's improvements. "I am glad we came away. I couldn't have seen the old house torn down. Maybe it's the flowers here, and the children, that makes it seem like home to me; but most of all I think it must be you, dear Hal. And so I'm satisfied, as the good Lord knows."
Her caps were a trifle more pretentious, and her gowns more in modern style; but she was Granny still, and not one of them would have had her changed. When she sat in her rocking-chair, with her hands crossed in her lap, Hal thought her the prettiest thing in the house.
"Hooray!" exclaimed Kit, rushing home one evening out of breath, and covered with snow. "Whatdoyou think? Granny, you could never guess!"
"I never was good at guessing," returned Granny meekly.
"Something wonderful! Oh, a new fiddle!" said Dot.
"No: and Hal won't try. Well"—with a long breath—"I'm going—to play—at a concert!"
"Oh!" the three exclaimed in a breath.
"And it's the oddest thing," began Kit, full of excitement. "You see, there's to be a concert given in New York, to help raise funds to give the newsboys, and other homeless children, a great Christmas dinner. Mr. Kriessman has it in hand; and, because it's for boys, he wants me to play—all alone."
"O Kit! you can't," said Hal. "When you faced the audience, it would seem so strange, and you would lose your courage."
"No I wouldn't, either! I'd say to myself, 'Here's a dinner for a hungry boy,' and then I wouldn't mind the people. Mr. Kriessman is sure I can do it; and I've been practising all the evening. A real concert! Think of it. Oh, if Joe can only be here!"
Dot put her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Hal winked his eyes hard, remembering the old dreams in the garret.
He went to see Mr. Kriessman the next day.
"The boy is a genius, I tell you, Mr. Kenneth," said the enthusiastic professor. "He will be a great man,—you see, you see! He has the soul, the eyes, the touch. He fail!" and an expression of lofty scorn crossed the fair, full face.
"But he has had so little practice"—
"It will all be right. You see, you see! Just leave him to me. And he is so little!"
Hal smiled. Kit did not bid fair to become the family giant, it was true.
Not a moment did the child lose. Dot declared that he could hardly eat. Charlie was in high delight when she heard of it; for Mr. Darol was going to take her and Miss Charteris. Hal hardly knew whether he dared venture, or not.
But Joe did come just in the nick of time, and insisted that everybody should go, ordering a carriage, and bundling Dot and Granny into it; poor Granny being so confused that she could hardly make beginning or end of it. And, when they were seated in the great hall that was as light as day, she glanced helplessly around to Joe.
"Never you mind, Granny! I'm not a bit afraid," he whispered. "He will fiddle with the best of them."
'The wonderful boy violinist,' it said on the programme. "If he should not be so wonderful," thought Hal quietly, with a great fear in his soul. He could not tell what should make him so nervous.
Mr. Darol came and spoke to them. "Isn't it odd?" he said with a laugh. "Why, I never dreamed of it until Charlie told me! I wouldn't have missed it for any thing."
The concert began. There was an orchestral overture, then a fine quartet, a cornet solo, and so they went on. Hal followed the programme down. Then he drew a long breath, and looked neither to the right nor the left. That little chap perched up on the stage, Kit? making his bow, and adjusting his violin, and—hark!
It was not the story of the child lost in the storm, but something equally pathetic. Mr. Kriessman had made a fortunate selection. Curiosity died out in the faces of the audience, and eagerness took its place. Ah, what soft, delicious strains! Was it the violin,or the soul of the player? Not a faltering note, not a sign of fear; and Hal laughed softly to himself. On and on, now like the voice of a bird, then the rustle of leaves, the tinkle of waters, fainter, fainter, a mere echo,—a bow, and he was gone.
There was a rapturous round of applause. It nearly subsided once, then began so vehemently that it brought Kit out again. But this time he was the gayest little fiddler that ever played at an Irish fair. People nodded and smiled to each other, and felt as if they must dance a jig in another moment.
Joe bent over to Granny.
"Isn't that gay?" he asked. "Kit has beaten the lot of us. Granny, if you are not proud of him, I'll take you straight home, and keep you on bread and water for a month."
Proud of him! Why, Granny sat there crying her old eyes out from pure joy. Her darling little Kit!
"Dot," exclaimed Mr. Darol as they were going out, "we shall hear of you as an actress next. I never knew of such wonderful people in my life."
"Oh, it was magnificent!" said Charlie. "And the applause!"
"That I should have lived to see the day!"
"Why, Granny, it would have been very unkind of you if you had not," declared Joe solemnly.
How they all reached home, they never exactly knew.They laughed and cried, and it was almost morning before they thought of going to bed.
But the notices next day were as good as a feast. There could be no doubt now. Hal understood that from henceforth Kit and his fiddle would be inseparable. It was "born in him," as Joe said. As for Kit, he hardly knew whether he were in the body, or out of the body.
Hal and Dot set about making up accounts the day before Christmas. The three-months' proceeds had been two hundred and sixty dollars; pretty fair for a beginning, and a whole green-house full of flowers coming into bloom. He was on the high road to prosperity. So he fastened his glasses, put on his coal, and arranged his heat cut-offs for the night, and came into the house. There were Dot and Kit and Charlie, and the supper waiting.
"And there is the six-months' interest," said Hal. "Next year we can let up a little on dear, generous Joe. And to-night is Christmas Eve."
Joe rushed in.
"What do you think, Granny? I've just come from Flossy's. They have a beautiful little boy named Hal Kenneth,—a real Christmas gift, and no mistake. Here's to your namesake, Hal; though, try his best, he can never be half as good as you."
I do believe poor, foolish Hal had his eyes full of tears, thinking of Flossy's great joy. But Charlie and Kit cheered in a tremendous fashion.
After the supper was cleared away, they sat in a little circle, and talked. There always was so much to say, and Joe liked nothing half so well as to hear of every event that had transpired in his absence. They all kept such a warm interest in each other!
Somehow they strayed back to the last Christmas, and the "songs in the night."
"Sing again," besought Granny.
Dot's birdlike voice was first to raise its clear notes. One hymn was dearer than all the rest. The music quivered a little when they came to this verse, as if tears and heart-throbs were not far off:—