“Do hurry and come down to dinner,” said Lisa, imperiously, as she passed through the room where Persis was sitting absorbed in a book. It was what Persis called one of her sister’s “Lisa-osyncrasies,”—to make a great virtue of her promptness when she occasionally found herself punctual. It was the rarest thing in the world that Persis was ever behind time, and equally unusual for Lisa to be on the minute; nevertheless the latter always accentuated these occasions by assuming a highly virtuous air.
“What is the immediate rush?” returned Persis, lazily putting down the book. “Grandma hasn’t gone down yet. I’ll wait for her. I do hate to be prompted about meals, Lisa. I am not deaf, and I can hear the summons as well as you; certainly you never have to sit around half an hour waiting for me to come down in the morning, and I often do that for you.”
“Oh, you’re nothing if not a martyr,” responded Lisa, provokingly, as she sailed out of the room.
It was one of the mother’s griefs that these two elder daughters always roused each other’s aggressiveness. They were in reality devotedly attached to each other; but Persis chafed under Lisa’s imperious demands, and Lisa resented Persis’s strict appeals to justice, feeling that she as the oldest of the sisters had greater rights than either of the others. It is not an uncommon state of affairs, and is one that often adjusts itself to an accepted consideration and forbearance as young people mature and learn to respect the good points in one another.
“Lisa always rubs me the wrong way,” pouted Persis to her grandmother.
“Patience, my dear, patience,” was grandma’s reply. “What is wrong now?”
This was when dinner was over, and Persis, after a hot argument with Lisa, had fled to grandma’s quiet room for consolation. It was nearing Christmas, and “The Maids” were planning a holiday entertainment, which just now was the chief topic of conversation in the school.
“Why, grandma,” said Persis, in answer to Mrs. Estabrook’s question, “it’s about the club tea. You know we are all to dress in old-fashioned costumes. It is going to be lovely. Basil has been making sketches for us, and he is so interested in getting up the decorations and all that. You know we have the dear old gowns and buckles and things that you gave us, so we shall not have any trouble in getting up our dresses. We are to wear ancestral costumes if any of us are lucky enough to have them, and we are lucky.Well, you remember that there are four frocks that belonged to our great-great-grandmother, and I want Annis to wear one. But Lisa says she isn’t going to have it so; that she doesn’t want to have us identified so closely with Annis. It’s a shame for her to talk so; for what if Mrs. Brown does keep boarders, she has as good a right to go in the best society as we have.”
“Very true, my dear; what else?”
“Lisa pretends that she hasn’t. She says we can follow out our record on both sides of the house, and that Annis doesn’t know anything about her father’s people; and Lisa says because she is the eldest the extra gown belongs properly to her, and she will not consent to Annis’s wearing it.”
Grandma looked thoughtful. Then she asked, “When is the tea to be?”
“During the Christmas holidays.”
“Then we have plenty of time. Leave it to me, dear. I think we can manage a costume for Annis.”
“Oh, grandma, you are always the fairy godmother!” replied Persis, with a happy face. “You see, very few of the girls have old costumes, or heir-looms of any sort. We are extremely lucky to have so much, and so those girls who haven’t will have to get new ones, and that Annis cannot afford to do. The only heir-loom she has is a little miniature of her Grandmother Brown. It is lovely, too. I must ask her to show it to you some day. Oh, she can wear it to the tea-party!”
“I should like very much to see it,” respondedMrs. Estabrook, cordially; “and you may trust me to do all I can to help you both. Now, dear, try to keep peace between yourself and Lisa. I do so regret these squabbles. They keep us all in a state of irritation, and the habit may grow to be one you will find it hard to overcome.”
Persis looked penitent, for she was quite aware that her own sharp speeches had as much to do with the friction as Lisa’s top-loftiness. So she asked, mutely, “What shall I say to her about Annis, grandma?”
“Simply tell her that Annis will not need to borrow the fourth frock; that a friend will loan her a suitable costume.”
Persis’s eyes danced, and she left her grandmother feeling very much consoled. Her intimacy with Annis had not abated. She had always preferred the quiet, studious little girl to any of her school-mates, although she was fond of Connie. But Annis had the first place, and Persis was always ready to stand up stoutly for her friend.
“It is going to be such a beautiful tea,” the girls told their friends, “and we are going to powder our hair, and will look like old pictures.”
“Do tell us about your gowns,” said Audrey Vane to the Holmes girls.
“Well,” replied Lisa, in her element, “I am to wear the yellow brocade, with the petticoat, and Persis is to wear the white and green, so that leaves Mell that cunning short-waisted blue gown, and she does look so dear in it. We have tried them all on, and have dived into every chest and box for buckles andthings. Perse doesn’t care for jewelry, so Mell and I are to have the pick. I shall wear that lovely girdle set with brilliants, and Mell is to have the high comb.”
Persis looked very demure, but she said nothing except to put the question to Audrey, “What are you going to wear?”
“I think pink, if I can make it fit. It is too large as it is, and I hate to have it cut.”
“Can’t you take up the seams?” asked Mellicent.
“We are going to see if that can be done. The slippers are a perfect fit, and I have a lovely old fan. I wonder what Annis Brown will wear,” continued Audrey, curiously. “Has she told you?”
“Ask Perse. She ought to know,” replied Mellicent.
“I don’t!” returned Persis, bluntly. “I know it will be all right, whatever it is.”
“I seriously hope so,” remarked Lisa; and Persis bit her lip with a look of annoyance. But just then the bell rang for the opening of school, and nothing further was said.
“I’ve asked Annis to come over here and dress,” announced Persis, the day of the tea. “Her room is small, and the house is so crowded. Grandma says we may dress in her room.”
Lisa elevated her eyebrows, but refrained from comment, and Persis, in great delight, repaired to Mrs. Estabrook’s room when Annis arrived.
“Oh, Annis!” she exclaimed; “it is lovely.” For Annis was displaying upon her little figure a quaint primrose-colored gown. “I am so glad your motherhad to make so little alteration,” continued Persis. “You see grandma remembered that her other daughter, my Aunt Esther Wickes, had two or three old gowns with all the fixings. Grandma had divided all that came to her between mamma and Aunt Esther, and she knew Aunt Esther would be glad to loan one; and so she was, and she picked out the prettiest. I knew that primrose color would just suit you.” And, truly, sweet little Annis, with her chestnut locks plentifully powdered and her slim, girlish figure clad in the primrose gown, with a slender chain around her white neck, did indeed look very lovely.
Lisa and Mellicent had made a raid upon Grandma’s jewel-box and had carried off the most desirable articles; but here again Mrs. Wickes came to the rescue, for she had sent a string of gold beads for Persis and the delicate chain for Annis, with two beautifully carved fans and an assortment of long lace mitts, while yards of old lace, to be tacked in wherever necessary, accompanied the other articles.
“Oh, grandma, doesn’t she look like a real little piece of porcelain?” cried the delighted Persis. “Oh, Annis, I could eat you with a spoon!”
“Now, I know where you got that expression,” laughed Annis. “It sounds like Connie.”
“So it does. How do I look, Annis?”
“Fine,” responded Annis, heartily. “Just a puff more white on top of your head. Your hair is so dark that we have had to use the greatest quantity of powder on it. Shouldn’t you like to know where these gowns were first worn?”
“I can tell you,” said grandma. “The one you have on was worn by my Grandmother Carter at a ball given in honor of Lafayette, and the one Persis wears was my Grandmother Herrick’s, which she wore to some festivity at the time of Washington’s inauguration.”
“Doesn’t that make them precious?” said Persis, passing her fingers lightly over the rich fabric. “And these gold beads?” she questioned, putting her hand to her throat.
“They were given to me by my only sister, Mary Carter,” replied grandma, with a little sigh; “and as your Aunt Esther always fancied them I finally gave them to her.”
“How good of her to loan them,” said Persis, looking grave. “Come, Annis, we must put on our cloaks.”
But Annis was gazing very thoughtfully at the miniature she held in her hand. “How strange!” she said, lifting her eyes to Grandmother Estabrook. “My grandmother’s name was Mary Carter. See, here she is.”
Mrs. Estabrook’s hand trembled as she eagerly took the little miniature held out to her. Then her lips quivered and the tears came to her eyes. “Mary! Mary!” she said; “it is truly your own dear face.”
Persis was looking at her in bewilderment. “Why, grandma,” she said, “what do you mean? Let me see.”
“Dear child,” said grandma, drawing Annis to her side, “tell me all you know of this grandmother.”
“I do not remember very much,” replied Annis. “I know she was named Mary Carter before she was married, and she lived in Virginia when she was a girl. She married my grandfather, Worthington Brown, and he went into the army when the war broke out. He was killed at the battle of Bull Run, and she died shortly after, leaving my father, her only child. Papa was sent to his father’s people in Maryland, and always lived with them. Mamma says,” continued Annis, slowly, “that papa never knew much of his mother’s people, because he was so young when she died, and everything was in such a mixed-up state after the war, and she thinks his father’s parents were afraid he would want to leave them, they were so fond of him, and so they never encouraged him to look up his mother’s people.”
Joy and sorrow were striving for mastery in grandma’s face; but she drew Annis to her very gently and said, “Then, my dear, you are wearing your own great-great-grandmother’s gown.”
“Hurrah!” shouted Persis, gleefully executing a dance around Annis. “Oh, grandma, this is a perfectly wildly thrilling romance. I am crazy to hear about it. You are sure?”
“Then, my dear, you are wearing your own great-great-grandmother’s gown.”
“Then, my dear, you are wearing your own great-great-grandmother’s gown.”
“Then, my dear, you are wearing your own great-great-grandmother’s gown.”
“Absolutely. My sister Mary married when she was very young, and led rather a wandering life, so that we seldom heard of her. My father had discouraged her marrying while still a school-girl, and there was not that frequent correspondence which otherwise would have existed. There was, too, very strong political feeling at that time, and my father feltbitter upon the subject, so a difference of views between him and Mr. Brown added to the coolness. All Annis’s facts are strictly in accordance with what we already knew, so there is not the slightest doubt in the matter.”
“Then—why, Annis, you’re my cousin! Hurrah! Oh, what a joke! I must tell Lisa. Oh, no; shall I? No, I’ll have a disclosure at the tea. Oh, Annis, I am perfectly ecstatic. Just think of it. Cousin!Cousin!do you hear? Isn’t it the finest thing that ever happened? Come, papa has been calling for ever so long. We’ll have to go, and I’m just on tiptoe to hear more. There, put that dear, sweet—what is she?—great-aunt of mine on your chain. Isn’t that a dear little frame, all set with pearls? There is a three volume novel in all this. I’d like to write it up. Good-bye, grandma; kiss your grand-daughter and your niece, and we’ll leave you to recover.” And the two girls sped down the stairs to where Mr. Holmes was waiting for them.
The big school-room certainly presented a most attractive appearance to Persis and Annis as they entered it. Lisa and Mellicent had already arrived and were among the reception committee, looking conspicuously lovely in their handsome costumes. Looking around, one saw a lavish display of Christmas greens and potted plants. Daintily spread tea-tables stood in one of the class-rooms; old family pieces of silver, china, and glass had been pressed into service, while on the walls of the large room hung old portraits of colonial sires and dames. Behind a bower of palms an orchestra was placed; the national airs, which wereconsidered in order, seemed to stir the souls of the young people to an unusual degree, with such an air of dignity did they step about.
“Oh, isn’t it lovely?” whispered Annis to Persis. “Oh, Persis, I am so happy. I wish mamma were here.”
“Isn’t she coming?”
A cloud passed over Annis’s face. “No; she couldn’t,” she said, wistfully. “But, oh, Persis, I wish she knew right away. I feel as if I ought to have gone to tell her the first thing.”
“You couldn’t very well,” replied Persis; “and it will be just as nice when she does know.”
“Is your grandmother coming?”
“She said she would try to be here, and mamma is surely coming. I think it was very nice to invite all the families instead of having it confined only to the young people, as Audrey wanted it, for after our mothers had taken so much pains to help us, I think it would have been mean to leave them out. It certainly does us credit, and the floor will be fine for dancing. You know we receive from four till seven and then dance till ten. May I have the pleasure, Miss Brown?”
Annis laughed assent.
“Oh, there is Lisa making signs to me,” said Persis. “I wonder what she wants. I will have to go and see.” And just then Connie Steuart joining them, Persis left Annis and sought her sister.
“Don’t stay with Annis all the time,” said Lisa, shortly. “You are on the music committee, and musttell the musicians not to play the same things over and over; they must mix up the melodies more. If the national airs don’t last, they must string them along.”
“Wait till they have finished ‘Dixie,’ and I’ll tell them to play a waltz or something.”
“How lovely Annis looks!” remarked Nellie Hall.
“Yes, doesn’t she?” agreed Persis, her eyes sparkling. “She is wearing her great-great-grandmother’s gown.”
“I want mamma to meet her,” continued Nellie. “Here she comes now,” as a sweet-looking woman entered.
“I’ll go and bring Annis,” Persis hastened to say, but Lisa’s hand detained her.
“Where did Annis get that gown?” she asked.
“I said it was her great-great-grandmother’s.”
“It looks exactly like that one of Aunt Esther’s, the one she wore to the ball in New York last year.”
“So it is,” replied Persis. And before Lisa could say a word she darted away, her eyes dancing, while Lisa stood looking after her in astonishment.
“I believe Persis is daft,” she said, turning to Nellie Hall.
Presently Persis returned in company with Annis. She approached the little group where Mrs. Hall was standing. “I am so glad you are here, Mrs. Hall,” she began, in a clear voice. And then, “I want to present my cousin, Annis Brown.”
“Your cousin!” cried a chorus of voices, while Lisa, dumb with amazement, looked at her sister as if she feared for her sanity.
“Yes,” replied Persis. “Her grandmother and mine were sisters. We found it out this afternoon, when Annis showed her grandmother’s miniature to us. Grandma recognized not only the name, but the features of her only sister. We haven’t heard all the details, but we know that much. Isn’t it fine?” And Persis beamed upon the group.
“Well!” exclaimed one and another.
“I certainly am glad,” declared Nellie Hall, warmly. And then, with gentle thoughtfulness, “I do congratulate Persis upon finding such a dear cousin.” Annis’s sweet blue eyes sought Persis with a happy look as Mrs. Hall also offered her congratulations.
Soon after came a pleasant little surprise to Annis in the arrival of her mother with Mrs. Estabrook.
“Oh, there is mamma!” exclaimed the girl to her friend, who, having done her duty by the musicians, was following her own sweet fancy, and with Annis was wandering from room to room.
“Where?” queried Persis, and over the heads of the guests looked to see the fair, slight woman standing by Mrs. Estabrook’s side. “Oh, I see,” continued she. “Let’s go to them as quickly as we can.”
“Oh, mamma, how did you get off? Has Mrs. Estabrook told you? And isn’t it lovely?” questioned Annis, eagerly.
Mrs. Brown smiled. “Yes, I have been told more than you imagine. It is lovely, dearie, and I should never have been able to come but for Mrs. Estabrook, who appeared like a fairy godmother a couple of hours ago and suddenly set aside all my obstacles.”
“You look so nice,” whispered Annis, in delighted surprise. “Where did you get the lovely bonnet and coat and the new gloves? Oh, mamma!”
“From the fairy godmother. You shall hear all about it,” she whispered back. “Oh, my darling, you do not know half.”
“You must stay and see the minuet. We are going to have it at seven o’clock; so those who want to see it will not have to wait long,” Persis informed these latest arrived guests.
And very soon the pretty, stately movement was begun. The boys from the university had been in training for weeks, and in their powdered wigs, lace ruffles, and quaint, elegant costumes made fitting partners for the girls in their old-fashioned array.
“Lisa, the queenly,” as the girls called her, with Ned Carew, led the couples, and no one could have been a truer embodiment of grace than herself. It was the greatest joy of her evening, the pleasure of which had become marred by the incident in which Annis had borne so prominent a part, for it was Annis who was sought after as the heroine of a romance, Annis who was admired and congratulated. “We Holmes girls are nowhere,” Lisa remarked, half defiantly, to Mellicent, and the very fact of her chagrin no doubt gave added stateliness to her treading of the minuet’s slow measure.