illus122"HILLIARD SHOWING HIS MICROSCOPE AND HIS 'SPECIMENS.'"Very soon Hilliard carried the boys off to show them his microscope and his "specimens,"and what he called his home-gymnasium. I should have loved dearly to go, too, but nobody asked me; so there I had to sit primly on a chair and listen while Mrs. Erveng and Nora talked of books and pictures and music and all sorts of things. And while they talked I looked around the room; Nora said afterward that I stared at everything, until she was ashamed,—but what else was there for me to do? And it was such a pretty room! furnished in light blue, with touches of yellow here and there; some lovely pictures hung on the walls, a graceful bronze Mercury stood on a pedestalbetween the curtains of one of the windows, growing plants were scattered about, and everywhere were books and flowers. It was all very sweet and lovely: it matched well with Mrs. Erveng, who looked daintiness itself lying back on her silken cushions, and I ought to have enjoyed it; but in some way or other it made me feel uncomfortably big and clumsy and overgrown, and I couldn't get over the feeling. Nora, however, didn't seem to be troubled in this way; I couldn't but notice how pretty she looked, and how well she talked.You mustn't think that Mrs. Erveng slighted me, for she didn't,—she was very polite; but I had a feeling all the time that she just looked upon me as a great rough tomboy,—thinking of that horrid Fetich affair! for she certainly didn't treat me as she did Nora, and there are only fourteen months between us, if Noraisso tall, and acts so grown up. At home we make great fun of Nora's airs and graces, and even that night Phil nudged me, when no one was looking, and whispered, "Do see the frills Nonie's putting on!" but all the same I think both Felix and he were very glad that she could carry off things so well.We had tea in the cosiest little room on the same floor, and we couldn't but notice how Hilliard waited on his mother,—just like a girl would have done; indeed, he was very muchmore gentle and helpful than I could have been, I am afraid,—though Fee used to be like that with mamma. After tea Nora played; I was asked, too, but I could no more have got through a piece without breaking down than I could have flown. She didn't feel so, though, and did splendidly; she is really a fine pianist, Miss Marston says. After that we sang college songs, and about nine o'clock, or a little after, we four went home."Unfortunately, I am not able to return any visits," Mrs. Erveng said, when we were leaving, "but if you or your sisters will take pity on my loneliness, and come over to see me whenever you can spare an afternoon or evening, I shall consider it very friendly, and I shall be very glad to see you."She looked at Nora, and Nora answered very sweetly, "Thank you for our pleasant evening, Mrs. Erveng; we shall be glad to come again." Now I never would have thought of saying that! Then we all bade good-night and went home.Hilliard walked to our door with us, and as he shook hands for good-night he said to me, "I'm very glad you came over; mother and I enjoyed it. I hope you'll come again; you see we get very quiet sometimes, just she and father and I."I was surprised that he didn't say this to Nora,for he had talked almost entirely to her,—very little to me during the evening; but I suppose he did it so I shouldn't feel slighted,—as if I cared!Phil admits that he likes Hilliard better than he did, and Felix, who had a long talk with him, says "he's bright, and 'way up in the classics." Well, he may be all that, but all the same I think he's a poke. I don't like him very much. I have a feeling that he went home and told his mother what I said about making faces and sliding down banisters, and that—with the Fetich affair—she thinks I'm a great rough girl. I don't really care, you know, for I have other friends who like me and think I am nice,—Murray and Hope Unsworth and Helen Vassah are always glad to have my company,—but still itisn'tcomfortable, now that I'm growing older, to be treated as if I were a child.I didn't say much while Nora and the boys were giving Nannie an account of our evening,—they had enjoyed it; but later, when we were alone up in our room, it all came out. She said: "What's wrong, Miss Elizabeth?"—that's one of her pet names for me. "You look as sober as a judge; didn't you enjoy yourself this evening?" And then I told her all about it, though really there wasn't much to tell when we came to it, for Mrs. Erveng had been very polite and nice, and the boy had treated me politely, too.I was afraid Nannie would think I was making a mountain out of a molehill, as nurse says. But that's one of the lovely things about Nannie,—she understands just how things are, and so quickly.She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, and taking one of my hands in hers, kept smoothing it while she talked. "It means this, dear," she said, "that you are getting to be quite grown up, and that the time has come for you to put away rough, hoidenish ways, and to begin to be gentle and dignified, like the true lady that we all know you are at heart. You see we are accustomed to your ways, and while we may tease and scold one another here at home, we also make allowances for the different ones as an outsider would never do, because we love one another—see? Mrs. Erveng and Hilliard simply know you as a tall girl who looks quite a young lady, and naturally they are surprised when you act like a tomboy. You know, Betty, you are nearly as tall as Nora; now just imagine her sliding down the banisters, wrestling with the boys, climbing the fence in the yard, hanging to the tops of the doors, and making the horrible faces that you do!"But my imagination couldn't picture such an impossibility as Nora and I acting alike. "I couldn't—Icouldn'tbe like Nora," I declared, sitting up in bed. "I know she's got nice manners and all that,"—I had never really thought so till that evening,—"but, oh! Icouldn'tbe as prim and—and—proper as she is—" Here my voice began to shake, and I got so sorry for myself that the tears came.Then Nannie put her arms round me, and gave me a hug. "You needn't be like anybody but yourself," she said,—"the nicest, gentlest, and best part of yourself. Give up one hoidenish way at a time; that will be easier than trying to do all at once, you know. Suppose you begin by walking down the stairs to-morrow morning to breakfast, instead of sliding down on the banisters, as you usually do.""Oh, but you don'tknowhow awfully hard that'll be to do," I said tearfully; "our banisters are so broad and smooth, and one goes so swiftly down them,—almost like flying—""I don't suppose it will be easy to give up the habit," broke in Nannie, wiping my eyes with her handkerchief; "but all the same, Miss Elizabeth, I am confident that if you really make up your mind to stop sliding, you'll do it. You can't keep up such a tomboyish trick all your life, and now is a good time to begin,Ithink. Dear mamma used to say that everybody had to have some responsibility or other; why not begin to take up yours now? Helen Vassah is only about six months older than you are, and here she has the responsibility of being littlePaul's godmother. And there's Hope Unsworth a little younger than you; you know how she helps her grandmother in her charitable work. They are certainly not 'prim or proper;' they are full of fun, yet they wouldn't either of them ever think of doing the rough things that you do,—now would they?"I had to admit that I knew they wouldn't."Then," said Nannie, "don't you do them either. Take yourself as your responsibility, and show us what you can accomplish in that line. Will you, dearie?" She snuggled her head close up to mine on the pillow as she said this."Oh,dear!" I sighed, "I do wish Jack had been I, and I'd been Jack!""Even then you would have had to stop such childish tricks some time or other before you grew up. With all his larks, Phil doesn't do them; and think of papa's coming down to breakfast on the banisters!" Nannie and I had to laugh at the very thought."Well," I said presently, "perhaps I'll try; but that conceited boy'll think he's made me do it.""Oh, no, he won't!" Nannie said, in a tone of conviction that was very comforting. "If he does think now that you're inclined to be a hoiden, why, he'll soon change his mind, when he finds what a nice, sweet little lady you are fromday to day.Don'tlook so dismal, Miss Elizabeth; there's lots of fun left for you!""I'll try; but IknowI'll forget, time and again," I said, sighing heavily."I don't think there'll be so very many slips," Nannie answered cheerfully; "but if there should be, we'll just do as Rip Van Winkle did,—'we won't count' them.""And will you promise not to tell anybody that I'm trying—not a single creature—not even Felix or Jack?" I asked anxiously."Iwillpromise not to tell anybody—not a single creature—not even Felix or Jack," Nannie replied, laughing. "Does that satisfy you? Now," she added, "I'm going to say my prayers here beside you, and I'm going to ask our Lord to help you keep your word; you'll ask, too, won't you?"I nodded, and as she knelt down slipped my hand into hers; a few minutes after I was asleep.IX.MAX'S WARD.TOLD BY BETTY.NO less than three birthdays in our family fell in the next week: first Fee's and Nannie's,—which I suppose I ought really to count as one, as they are twins,—and then Nora's. As these birthdayswillalways come together, and to avoid hurting people's feelings, as Jack would say, we celebrate them alternately,—Fee's and Nannie's one year, and Nora's the next; and this was Nora's year. We had had several performances lately, so Fee said he'd try to think of something else, if we'd all promise to do just as we were told. Of course we promised; then he and Phil invited the Unsworths and Helen Vassah and that boy across the way,—I didn't wanthim, but all the others did, so he was asked. Hope was at her grandma's, so she couldn't come; but Murray and Helen did, and,of course, Hilliard.The birthday fell on a Friday, and as papa is always at home on that evening, we were afraidhe wouldn't allow us to celebrate it; but to our great joy he told Nannie to tell us that we might have all the fun we wanted, as long as we behaved ourselves and kept the doors closed, so the noise would not escape. So right after school hours Phil and Felix took possession of the schoolroom, and after having got us to give them all our presents for Nora, they locked themselves in. "We're going to have a bang-up entertainment, now, you'll see," Felix said, just before he closed the door,—"something unique, unprecedented, etc.; and no one is to put even a nose into the banqueting hall"—with a wave of his hand over his shoulder—"until the doors are thrown open and the music strikes up. Now remember—""Yes, and no snooping or hanging around either!" put in Phil, standing on tip-toe to rest his chin on Fee's crown and glare at us. Then the door was locked.Such a hammering and dragging about of furniture you never heard; and when every now and then Phil would come out for something or other, Fee would open the door very cautiously, as if afraid somebody'd see something, and shut and lock it with a bang when he re-entered. As you may imagine, our curiosity was excited to the highest pitch to know what we were going to have. Then just before dinner Jack came running in, in a great state of excitement; he hadbeen to rehearsal, and had done so well in the piece he had to sing that Mr. Hawkins had really engaged him, at fifty cents a week, with the promise of more as he improved. Jack was almost wild with delight. "Isn't it fine! Isn't it just jolly! You should have heard me sing; really, it didn't sound bad!" he exclaimed about twenty times; and the knowing looks and nudges and winks that he bestowed on me couldn't be counted. No amount of snubbing could repress him.It seemed to us as if dinner would never be over; but at last it came to an end, and Jack and I and the younger children flew upstairs and stood waiting for the signal to enter the "banqueting hall." In a few minutes more up came Nora, with Helen and Murray and Hilliard. I was sure Murray and Helen would enjoy the "festive occasion," for they like the things that we do; but I didn't know how that boy would take it. He was very smiling, however; and I heard him tell Nora, as he presented her with a lovely bunch of roses, that it was "very kind of her to allow him to be of the party." Just then the schoolroom doors were thrown open, and the strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin floated sweetly out to us from violin and piano. At the same moment Phil appeared with a paper flower in his buttonhole, and arranged us in couples,—Nora and he going first,—and so we marched into the schoolroom.I think perhaps I ought to describe the schoolroom to you, for it is playroom, sitting-room, schoolroom, and everything to us. It's on the top floor,—so that our noise sha'n't disturb papa,—and takes in the whole width of the house and half its length, making an immense room. There are some back rooms on this floor, and the large open space on each side of the stairs is what we call the attic. Though almost everything in it is old and shabby, we do have royal times in the schoolroom, for it is our own, and out of study hours we can do there as we please. Here are Phil's banjo and his boxing-gloves, and a lot of what nurse calls his "rubbish"; Fee's easel is in this corner, and a couple of forlorn, dirty old plaster casts which—unless he has a painting-fit on him—generally serve as hat-rests for Phil and himself. Pictures in various stages of completion stand about. Here, too, are Nannie's and Fee's violins, resting against a pile of old music that Max gave them before he went away. In the next corner, the other side of the low, deep-silled windows, hangs Nora's china-shelf, on which are ranged what the boys call her Lares and Penates,—vases and pretty cups and saucers that have been given to her. Here, too, are her plants, conspicuous among which is a graceful fan-leaved palm, known in the family as Lady Jane.These are the front corners; and between thewindows stand our book-shelves,—they are in a clumsy, unsteady old case, that rocks from side to side if you touch it, and is only held together by the wall against which it leans. The shelves are rather short,—now and then a shelf slips off its notches and spills our library,—and they are so narrow that books constantly fall down behind, and lie there until house-cleaning or a sudden desire for one of those volumes brings them all to light, and they are restored to their places.One of the other—back—corners is mine; and here I have my "gymnasium,"—my Indian clubs and dumb-bells; here, too, are my tennis racket (I love to play!) and two old walking-canes with which (when I can get him to do it) Jack and I fence,—dear me! I wonder if I shall have to givethatup too, now that I have given that promise to Nannie! Then comes our sofa: it's an old-fashioned, chintz-covered affair, with a high back and high arms that stick straight out at each end, and it's dreadfully shabby now; but all the same there isn't one of us—except, perhaps, Nora—that would be willing to exchange it for the handsomest piece of furniture that could be offered us. The times we've played house and shipwreck, and gone journeys on it, and romped and pranced all over it, can't be counted! This is Jack's favourite place to sit and read; and under it, concealed from public view by the deep chintz flounce thatruns around the front and sides of the sofa, are stored his treasures,—his books and stamp album, a queer-looking boat that he has been building for ages, and a toy steam engine with which he is always experimenting, but which, so far, absolutely refuses to "go."I have frequently offered to share my corner with Jack, and I couldn't understand why he always refused, until one day I accidentally over-heard him speaking about it to Nannie."You see, Nannie, Betty means well," he said, "but she does hit out so with those clubs! I'd be sure to get hurt some time or other; and then, besides, she'd just own my things more than I would myself." Of course this last part isn't really so, for he hasn't a thing that I'd care for; but still he sticks to the sofa.illus136"THE 'QUEEN OF THE REVELS.'"Kathie and the twins and Alan have the other corner with their doll's house, a tail-less hobby horse, known both as the "palfrey" and the "charger," and blocks and toys without number. We've a piano in the schoolroom for practising, and in the middle of the floor is a large table, round which we sit in and out of school hours. This table has no cover; it is liberally besprinkled with ink stains, and adorned in many places with our initials, and with circles done in red ink,—goals for feather-top playing,—and pieces have been hacked out of the edges, trying the sharpness of sundry new knives. The old tableis not at all ornamental, but we couldn't get on without it, and we older ones have quite an affection for our old Jumbo. Some pictures—three or four of them by Felix—are hung up on the walls. And now you know how our schoolroom looks.But a grand transformation had taken place: all our stage property had been utilised; the pictures were draped with red, white, and blue paper muslin; the "statuary" and plants were arranged about the room with an eye to a fine effect; great bunches of paper flowers bloomed in every available place,—even on the gas fixtures! The large table was too heavy to be pushed aside, but it was covered with Murray Unsworth's big flag, which gave it quite a festive appearance; while the smaller table over in the corner, though partially concealed by the dining-room screen, gave tempting glimpses of "refreshments." Nannie was at the piano, and beside her was Fee, playing away on his violin with all his might.At the farther end of the room, on a dais, was Miss Marston's chair, covered with red paper muslin, and here, after we had promenaded several times round the room, Phil seated Nora, announcing her the "Queen of the Revels," which so struck Jack's fancy that he gave his hand a little upward jerk, and shouted, "Hurray for we!" And then, though of course we oughtn't to havedone it, being for ourselves, you know, we every one joined in a "three times three" hurrah! Kathie and the little ones got so excited that they fairly yelled, and we had some difficulty in quieting them.When order was restored, Phil and Felix brought from the closet a large clothes-basket, piled full of neatly tied-up parcels of all sizes, which they placed beside Nora. Fee then made a sign to Phil. "Begin!" he whispered. Phil struck an attitude, with his hand on his heart, and began, "Fair Queen!" then stopped, looked astonished, put his hand to his forehead, gazed at the floor and the ceiling, then burst out with:—"When these you see,Fair maid, remember we;As we've remembered you,And given you your due.""Thatisn't what you were to say, you goose!" exclaimed Felix, wrathfully. "That isn't your speech!""Don't talk to me about your old set speeches, when a man can rise to an occasion likethat!" remarked Phil, loftily, straightening up and throwing back the lapels of his coat with a great air. "Poetry!—d'ye mind that, Mr. Wegge? The genuine article, and at a moment's notice! At last I've struck my vocation."Of course we laughed uproariously; we werein the mood for it, and would have laughed if some one had held up a finger at us.Felix then made his speech, expressing our love and wishes for many, many (I believe there were six manys) happy returns of Nora's birthday, and he began to hand her her presents, reading out the inscription on each as he did so, she opening them. The first was "Nora, with love and birthday wishes from Max," and when the wrapper was off, it proved to be a lovely print of Von Bodenhauser's Madonna. Max had given Nannie a picture on her birthday, and Nora was delighted to get one as well. Next came smaller gifts from Helen Vassah, Jack, Felix, and Nannie, and then Felix fished up a large, rather bulky parcel, the inscription on which he read very distinctly: "Dearest Nora, with love from the 'Twinsies,'"—that's the name we give to Felix and Nannie to distinguish them from the younger twins."Why!" exclaimed Nora, in surprise, as she took the parcel on her lap, "you have both already given me something, you dear, generous creatures; I'm afraid you've been extravagant. And so nicely done up, too; thank you, thank you very much!" and she kissed them warmly."Oh, that's all right; don't speak of it," said Felix, modestly, while Nannie began wonderingly, "Why, I didn't—""Ought to be something very fine," hastilyinterrupted Phil, "fourwrappers!" The next minute there was a shout of laughter from us all as, after carefully unfolding the last paper, Nora drew out nurse's work-basket, piled high with innumerable pairs of our stockings and socks which were waiting to be darned!I expected Nora would have been provoked, but she only laughed as heartily as the rest of us. It was a fortunate thing she was in such a good humour, for three more times the boys played that joke on her before the basket was emptied. One was her own choicest cup and saucer, "with love from papa;" the next, the drawing-room feather-duster, "a token of appreciation from the family,"—Norahatesto dust! and the third, an unfinished sketch which she began months ago, and which was for Phil when completed; this was "from her affectionate brother, Philip." And they were so cleverly sandwiched in between the real birthday gifts that Nora got caught each time, to our great enjoyment.After this we had games, and refreshments were served early on account of the little ones. As soon as they had said good-night we played more games, and then the boys began to get noisy; that's the worst with boys,—at least our boys,—just as soon as they begin to enjoy themselves, it seems as if theymustmake a noise and get rough. Ever since Nannie and I had that talk, I've been trying my best to act like ayoung lady, and this evening I was particularly on my good behaviour; but, oh, it was tiresome! and I could see that the boys didn't know what to make of it,—Murray Unsworth asked if I didn't feel well, and Fee looked very quizzically at me, though I pretended I didn't see him. I was so afraid he'd say something right before that boy!Well, as it happened, all my pains went for nothing,—and just through Fee's nonsense. Murray and I were looking at Phil's boxing-gloves,—Phil was out of the room,—and as we talked, I slipped on one of the gloves, when Felix came up behind me and took hold of my arm. "That's Phil opening the door," he said quickly; "let's play a joke on him." And before I had the least idea of what he was going to do, Fee had raised my arm and given the person who was entering such a whack on the shoulder with the boxing-glove as whirled him completely round, so that he got in the way of another person who was behind him, and nearly knocked him over. In a moment more we saw that the two persons were papa and a stranger,—a young man!There was an instant's awful pause, broken by a nervous little giggle from Jack at the sight of Phil—behind papa—with his hands clasped, his knees bent as if in abject terror, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Then, settling hisglasses—which had been nearly knocked off—straight on his nose, papa looked around at us and asked, "Is this the way you welcome your guests, Nora?" adding, to me, "Take off that glove, Betty!"I got awfully red, I know; but before I could say anything Felix stepped forward and explained, and Nora advanced with a smile, saying, "We are very glad to see you, papa."Then papa introduced the young man, and who should he be but Max's ward, "the great Shad," or, to give him his proper name, Chadwick Whitcombe! He had expected to meet Max at our house, and had waited some time downstairs for him; then, as the evening wore on and Max did not appear, papa had thought it best to himself bring him up and introduce him to us.Of course we all looked at him,—and the more so that he isn't at all like what we had any of us expected. In the first place, though Max says he's just nineteen, he acts as if he were years older than that, and altogether he is different to any of the boys we've ever known. He's not quite so tall as Fee, though he wears very high heels on his boots; and his features are so delicate, his complexion so pink and white, that in spite of a tiny moustache, which he's very fond of caressing, he looks a great deal more like a girl than a boy. His hair is as yellow asMädel's; it's wavy like a girl's, and he wears it long and parted in the middle; and his eyes are large and very blue,—Phil says they are "languishing," and he and Felix have given him another nick-name of "Lydia Languish." He wore evening clothes, with a white flower in his buttonhole, and there were diamond studs in the bosom of his shirt, and a diamond ring on one of his fingers. When papa introduced him, he put his heels together and made us three very low and graceful bows, saying, in a voice just like a girl's, and with a smile that showed his white teeth, "I amveryhappy to—aw—meet you!"illus144"'AW!'"After looking at the presents, which, minus the jokes, were ranged on a table, and saying a few words, papa went away. I have an idea that he noticed the difference between this delicate Dresden-china young man and our own fun-loving boys, and rather dreaded leaving the stranger to our devices; for at the door he laid his hand on Phil's shoulderand said, "Remember, no more jokes to-night, Phil." And with a look of injured innocence that almost upset Felix and me, Phil answered, "Why, no, sir,certainlynot."We were rather quiet at first after papa went away; then Phil nudged Nannie, with the whisper: "Go talk to him; I don't know what to say to such a dude;" while Felix chimed in, in the same low voice, "Ask him if he puts his hair up in papers, nights,—or get Betty to ask him."But I edged away quickly, and joined Murray and Helen at the other side of the room. I was determined I would get into no more mischief.But they needn't have troubled themselves,—Chad didn't seem one bit embarrassed: he just drew a chair to Nora's side and began talking to her as easily as if he had known her all his life; and in a little while Nannie got the boys over to the piano and singing songs with rousing choruses, which they always enjoy. I think she did it this time, though, to divert their attention from the new-comer, for they were just ready to bubble over at the way he talked; even Hilliard's sleepy eyes were twinkling with sly merriment.When Chad talks he is, as Murray puts it, "too awfully English, you know, for anything," though he was born and has lived most of his life in America; and he pronounces his words in the most affected way. Altogether, he isawfully affected; you should see the air with which he flirts his handkerchief out of his pocket, his mincing steps, and the bored, you-can't-teach-me-anything expression of his face."I've—aw—really been very busy since my return," he told Nora, in that high-pitched, affected voice of his. "I've—aw—moved into bachelor quarters, and been—aw—having my apartments decorated and furnished. Have my own ideahs, you know, and—aw—'m having 'em carried out—all in blue—effect will be—aw—really very fine. I've—aw—brought back pictures and bric-à-brac and—aw—curios of all descriptions, and now—aw—'ll turn 'em to good account. Awful job, you know—expect to work like a slave—these—aw—so-called decorators over here have such abominable taste! but the effect will be unique—of that—aw—'m sure.""Why, aren't you going to school—I mean college?" Phil turned round in the middle of a chorus to ask bluntly."I—aw—have no intention of it," answered Chad, lounging off in his chair and stroking his baby moustache."Oh, I see: your education's finished," said Phil, with that innocent expression on his face that we know means mischief; but before he could say another word, Helen Vassah cried out, "Oh, Phil, here's our favourite duet; you mustsing it with me," and Nannie struck up an unusually loud accompaniment.Before the evening was over, we made up our minds that Chad was the silliest, most conceited creature; he did nothing but talk of himself and his possessions, and in the most lordly way imaginable. No matter what subject was introduced, he'd go right back to the one thing that seemed to interest him,—himself. He lounged back in his chair and made not the slightest effort to join in the entertainment. In fact, Nora was the only person he honoured with any notice; and while we all think him very unmannerly, she—would you believe it!—likes him.Coming over later in the evening to the corner of the room where Helen, Fee, Jack and I were, she said to Helen, "Isn't he nice? Did you see the way he offered me his arm to the piano? so polite, and different from the generality of boys,—don't you think so?""Yes," Helen said, with a smile, "he is quite unlike any of the boys we know; whodoeshe look like, Nora? We all see a likeness, but can't think to whom.""Oh, I know, I've got it, I know," cried Jack, excitedly; "he looks (except that he hasn't got on knee-breeches and lace ruffles) just like that picture Max gave you, Felix,—don't you remember?—with a lace handkerchief in one hand and a snuff-box in the other. Oh, youknow,—the French Marquis—""You're right, Jack,—so it is; he does look like 'Monsieur le Marquis,'" Nora said, glancing at Chad. "Hehasan aristocratic face,—'Monsieur le Marquis.'"illus148"HERE IS THE SKETCH.""Monsieur le Donkeywould be a more suitable name," exclaimed Fee, while Helen, Jack, and I laughed. "If you'd seen how absurd he looked when he clicked his heels together and offered you his arm, you would know mine is the title that best suits him. I declare I'll make a sketch of you both from memory; it was too rich to be lost." Catching up a blank book, hebegan to sketch rapidly. Nora turned away, laughing; but we three remained, looking over Fee's shoulder, criticising and offering suggestions, until it was finished. Here is the sketch: it's pretty good of Nora, but of course it's a caricature of Chad.About a quarter to ten the "party" broke up. Chad was the first to go; as he rose to say good-night, I heard Nannie whisper to Phil: "Phil, you'll have to see him out. Fee can't go all the way downstairs and then up again,—it's too much for him,—and Jack is too young; anyway, it is your place as the eldest.""Little snob!" said Phil, savagely. "I'd like to take him down by way of the banisters,—just give him one shove, and let him fly.""Heisa snob," admitted Nannie, "but he is also Max's ward, and that entitles him to some consideration from us; and remember, too, what Max said,—that he has knocked about the world ever since he was a little fellow: that would account for much. You know, Phil, we've had our home and one another and dear mamma; and besides, you wouldn't want to spoil Nonie's birthday. Do treat him civilly! will you?""Well, I'll try," Phil answered, making a wry face; "but if he begins any of his 'aw—aw,' on the way down, I'll not answer for the consequences."Bending low over Nora's hand, Chad murmured something of which we only heard "Chawming evening—pleasure of meeting you—Max again," then, bowing twice to the rest of the company, he took his departure."I've enjoyed myself immensely," Hilliard said, as he bade good-night; then he added to me, "I never knew before how interesting a large family could be,—you have such fun among yourselves; and I think it is so kind of you all to let me come over and share your good times." Then Murray and Helen made their adieux, and all went away together.Phil came racing back to the schoolroom after seeing them out. "Well," he said breathlessly, taking a seat on the edge of the big table, "well, everything went off all right; quite a success, wasn't it? barring the great Shad,—he was no addition to our party. I'm awfully sorry he's such a cad; for Max's sake I'd have liked to be nice to him.""You are hard on him, Phil," Nora said. "He may be a little conceited, but I think he's not at all a bad fellow; now see if you don't like him better after you get to know him.""Not at all a bad fellow!" repeated Felix, sharply. "Well, you may think so, but I don't. I agree with Phil,—heisa cad! Did you see the expression of his face as he looked around our shabby old schoolroom, and took in the simple birthday refreshments? he didn't eventake the trouble to hide his contempt for our poverty and childishness. You may think that's like a gentleman, but I do not.""He wouldn't touch the cake, and only took a glass of water," I volunteered at this point."You here?" cried Nora, wheeling round on me, "and Jack? It's high time you two were in bed." Then she went on: "Our appetites are equal to anything; but not everybody dotes on home-made cookies and tough sponge cake.Ifound Max's ward a very polite young gentleman, a pleasant change from the rough, unmannerly boys one usually has to put up with. Betty and Jack,areyou going to bed, or not? Why don't you speak to them, Nannie?""Don't be cross to them," whispered Nannie to her; "it's your birthday, you know. Come, Betty; come, Jack, let's go off together. I'm tired and sleepy, too."Rather unwillingly we bade good-night and went downstairs with Nannie. As the schoolroom door closed behind us, I heard Felix say, with a sharp insistence unusual to him, and bringing his hand down on the table to emphasise his words, "Idon'tlike that fellow! Idon'tlike him, and I wish he hadn't come here!"X.IN THE SCHOOLROOM.TOLD BY FELIX.FELIX," said thepater, "your two elder sisters are to go with me on Thursday afternoon to Mrs. Blackwood's reception, and I should like you to accompany us; Phil went the last time—" He stopped abruptly, with a stifled sigh, and began hastily turning over the leaves of the book which lay open before him on his desk.I knew why he sighed; I remembered well who had been with him the last time he attended a reception at Mrs. Blackwood's; the awful, aching longing that I have so often to fight down has taught me something of what my father must suffer. If I could only have expressed what was in my heart! but all I could manage to get out was, "Very well, sir," and my voice sounded so cold and indifferent that I was ashamed.I'm not afraid of thepater,—I can talk easily enough to him on ordinary subjects; but whenit comes to anything about which I feel very deeply, Nannie is the only person to whom I can bear to speak, now thatsheis gone. And even to Nannie I can't say much; I wish I could,—it would be a relief sometimes. I envy the others that they can talk of—mother; it is a comfort to me to listen, but it cuts me to the heart to even say her name. So this afternoon I sat quietly at Nannie's table, and went on sorting the references I had been making for the Fetich, until my father got up from his desk and began pacing up and down the study floor, with his hands clasped behind his back. His head was bent forward, and he had evidently entirely forgotten that I was in the room; for he sighed heavily several times, and then, with a sudden straightening of his whole body, as if in acute physical pain, he threw back his head, and a low, quivering "A-a-h!" that was like a groan, broke from his lips.An iron hand seemed clutching my throat, and I could hardly see for the blur across my eyes, as I crept out of the room and closed the door softly.I sat on the steps for a few moments, then—for I had forgotten my cane in the study—went slowly upstairs, and that gave me a chance to recover myself before I reached the schoolroom; though perhaps Nannie noticed something unusual,—my twinnie's eyes are so sharp, andher heart is so tender,—for it seemed to me that her voice was very loving as she said, pushing forward our big old rocker as soon as I entered the room: "You naughty Fee! you've come up without your cane; you must be tired. Sit here and get rested."illus154"ALAN, ON HIS FIERY STEED."Iwastired,—unusually so,—and was glad to get into the chair. It was after school hours, and the clan was in full force. Nora was seated at my easel, humming "A Media Noche," and trying to copy her birthday picture; Betty and Jack were fencing,—at least, Betty was making furious lunges at Jack, which he was mainly occupied in dodging, while every now and then a vehement protest was heard, such as, "Now, Betty, look out! that was my head," or, "That came within an inch of my nose—Idowish you'd be careful!" Kathie and the twins were playing house, holding lively conversations in a high key, while Alan paidthem repeated visits, prancing around the room, and to their door, on a broomstick, which was his fiery steed, and to control which required both voice and whip; Nannie was hunting through our pile of violin music for a certain duet to play with Max when he got home; and in the midst of all the noise Phil lay on the sofa, his head nearly level with the seat, and his long legs extended over the arm, reading Virgil aloud.That's his way of studying,—a most annoying one to a nervous person!—and, as the noise around him increases or decreases, so he raises or lowers his voice. As may be easily understood, there are times when he fairly roars.The news of the reception had preceded me, and as I came in Phil reared his head in such a comical way to speak to me that Betty instantly declared that he looked like a turtle. "So you're booked for the Blackwood tea-fight," he said. "Well, old man, my sympathy for you is only equalled by my thankfulness that I am not the victim. Take my advice,—I've been there several times, you know, and you haven't,—fortify the inner man before you go. It's a very mild orgy,—a thimbleful of chocolate and one macaroon are all you'll get,—and coming between luncheon and dinner, I'm afraid you'll feel—as I did—as if you'd like to fall on the table and eat up all that's on it." His head fellback, and he resumed his reading, the book resting upright on his chest."People are not supposed to gorge themselves at an afternoon reception," remarked Nora, before I could get a word in. "It is—""'A feast of reason and a flow of soul,'" finished Nannie, smiling, "though I'm sure dear old Mrs. Blackwood would willingly have given you a pound or two of macaroons and a whole pitcher full of chocolate, had she known you were hungry.""Oh, I'm not saying a word against her in particular; she's a first-rate old party," commenced Phil, but he was instantly interrupted."Phil, you are positively vulgar," cried Nora, in a tone of disgust."Don't speak of our dear old friend in that way, Phil; it isn't nice," said Nannie."Well, now, here's a queer thing," remarked Phil, in an argumentative tone. "If I'd said Mrs. Blackwood was 'a host in herself,' it would have been considered a delicate compliment; and yet when I call her a 'party,' which certainly means a host, you two jump on me. There's no accounting for the eccentricities of the feminine character." Then, as his head sank back, "I do believe somebody's been pulling the feathers out of this sofa pillow; there can't be two dozen left in it. I suppose Betty's been making an Indian head-dress for herself. Just poke thathistory under my head, will you, Jack? or I'll certainly get rush of blood to the brain. There, that's better! Why so silent, most noble Felix?" with a sidelong glance at me after settling himself. "Art filled with fears for Thursday's function?"Usually I enjoy Phil's nonsense, and talk as much of it as he does; but somehow I didn't feel in the mood for it this afternoon. One reason may have been because of the dreadfully tired feeling that had come over me since entering the schoolroom: it was really an effort for me to answer him; I felt as if I wanted only to be let alone, and I realised, without being able to control it, that my voice was very irritable as I said briefly, "One has got to be silent when you begin to gabble."Phil reared his head again, and looked at me. "Whew!" he whistled, "aren't we spicy this afternoon!" Nannie immediately rushed into conversation."Mrs. Blackwood wrote papa that she and Mr. Blackwood had just received some very rare old books from Europe," she said, "among them a Chaucer,—and beside that, a charming Corot; so, Fee, both you and papa will have something to enjoy, while Nora and I are exchanging small-talk.""Oh, that's why papa was so willing to go to the reception," Nora remarked, with her usualbrilliancy. "I might have known there was something like that about it."
illus122"HILLIARD SHOWING HIS MICROSCOPE AND HIS 'SPECIMENS.'"
Very soon Hilliard carried the boys off to show them his microscope and his "specimens,"and what he called his home-gymnasium. I should have loved dearly to go, too, but nobody asked me; so there I had to sit primly on a chair and listen while Mrs. Erveng and Nora talked of books and pictures and music and all sorts of things. And while they talked I looked around the room; Nora said afterward that I stared at everything, until she was ashamed,—but what else was there for me to do? And it was such a pretty room! furnished in light blue, with touches of yellow here and there; some lovely pictures hung on the walls, a graceful bronze Mercury stood on a pedestalbetween the curtains of one of the windows, growing plants were scattered about, and everywhere were books and flowers. It was all very sweet and lovely: it matched well with Mrs. Erveng, who looked daintiness itself lying back on her silken cushions, and I ought to have enjoyed it; but in some way or other it made me feel uncomfortably big and clumsy and overgrown, and I couldn't get over the feeling. Nora, however, didn't seem to be troubled in this way; I couldn't but notice how pretty she looked, and how well she talked.
You mustn't think that Mrs. Erveng slighted me, for she didn't,—she was very polite; but I had a feeling all the time that she just looked upon me as a great rough tomboy,—thinking of that horrid Fetich affair! for she certainly didn't treat me as she did Nora, and there are only fourteen months between us, if Noraisso tall, and acts so grown up. At home we make great fun of Nora's airs and graces, and even that night Phil nudged me, when no one was looking, and whispered, "Do see the frills Nonie's putting on!" but all the same I think both Felix and he were very glad that she could carry off things so well.
We had tea in the cosiest little room on the same floor, and we couldn't but notice how Hilliard waited on his mother,—just like a girl would have done; indeed, he was very muchmore gentle and helpful than I could have been, I am afraid,—though Fee used to be like that with mamma. After tea Nora played; I was asked, too, but I could no more have got through a piece without breaking down than I could have flown. She didn't feel so, though, and did splendidly; she is really a fine pianist, Miss Marston says. After that we sang college songs, and about nine o'clock, or a little after, we four went home.
"Unfortunately, I am not able to return any visits," Mrs. Erveng said, when we were leaving, "but if you or your sisters will take pity on my loneliness, and come over to see me whenever you can spare an afternoon or evening, I shall consider it very friendly, and I shall be very glad to see you."
She looked at Nora, and Nora answered very sweetly, "Thank you for our pleasant evening, Mrs. Erveng; we shall be glad to come again." Now I never would have thought of saying that! Then we all bade good-night and went home.
Hilliard walked to our door with us, and as he shook hands for good-night he said to me, "I'm very glad you came over; mother and I enjoyed it. I hope you'll come again; you see we get very quiet sometimes, just she and father and I."
I was surprised that he didn't say this to Nora,for he had talked almost entirely to her,—very little to me during the evening; but I suppose he did it so I shouldn't feel slighted,—as if I cared!
Phil admits that he likes Hilliard better than he did, and Felix, who had a long talk with him, says "he's bright, and 'way up in the classics." Well, he may be all that, but all the same I think he's a poke. I don't like him very much. I have a feeling that he went home and told his mother what I said about making faces and sliding down banisters, and that—with the Fetich affair—she thinks I'm a great rough girl. I don't really care, you know, for I have other friends who like me and think I am nice,—Murray and Hope Unsworth and Helen Vassah are always glad to have my company,—but still itisn'tcomfortable, now that I'm growing older, to be treated as if I were a child.
I didn't say much while Nora and the boys were giving Nannie an account of our evening,—they had enjoyed it; but later, when we were alone up in our room, it all came out. She said: "What's wrong, Miss Elizabeth?"—that's one of her pet names for me. "You look as sober as a judge; didn't you enjoy yourself this evening?" And then I told her all about it, though really there wasn't much to tell when we came to it, for Mrs. Erveng had been very polite and nice, and the boy had treated me politely, too.I was afraid Nannie would think I was making a mountain out of a molehill, as nurse says. But that's one of the lovely things about Nannie,—she understands just how things are, and so quickly.
She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, and taking one of my hands in hers, kept smoothing it while she talked. "It means this, dear," she said, "that you are getting to be quite grown up, and that the time has come for you to put away rough, hoidenish ways, and to begin to be gentle and dignified, like the true lady that we all know you are at heart. You see we are accustomed to your ways, and while we may tease and scold one another here at home, we also make allowances for the different ones as an outsider would never do, because we love one another—see? Mrs. Erveng and Hilliard simply know you as a tall girl who looks quite a young lady, and naturally they are surprised when you act like a tomboy. You know, Betty, you are nearly as tall as Nora; now just imagine her sliding down the banisters, wrestling with the boys, climbing the fence in the yard, hanging to the tops of the doors, and making the horrible faces that you do!"
But my imagination couldn't picture such an impossibility as Nora and I acting alike. "I couldn't—Icouldn'tbe like Nora," I declared, sitting up in bed. "I know she's got nice manners and all that,"—I had never really thought so till that evening,—"but, oh! Icouldn'tbe as prim and—and—proper as she is—" Here my voice began to shake, and I got so sorry for myself that the tears came.
Then Nannie put her arms round me, and gave me a hug. "You needn't be like anybody but yourself," she said,—"the nicest, gentlest, and best part of yourself. Give up one hoidenish way at a time; that will be easier than trying to do all at once, you know. Suppose you begin by walking down the stairs to-morrow morning to breakfast, instead of sliding down on the banisters, as you usually do."
"Oh, but you don'tknowhow awfully hard that'll be to do," I said tearfully; "our banisters are so broad and smooth, and one goes so swiftly down them,—almost like flying—"
"I don't suppose it will be easy to give up the habit," broke in Nannie, wiping my eyes with her handkerchief; "but all the same, Miss Elizabeth, I am confident that if you really make up your mind to stop sliding, you'll do it. You can't keep up such a tomboyish trick all your life, and now is a good time to begin,Ithink. Dear mamma used to say that everybody had to have some responsibility or other; why not begin to take up yours now? Helen Vassah is only about six months older than you are, and here she has the responsibility of being littlePaul's godmother. And there's Hope Unsworth a little younger than you; you know how she helps her grandmother in her charitable work. They are certainly not 'prim or proper;' they are full of fun, yet they wouldn't either of them ever think of doing the rough things that you do,—now would they?"
I had to admit that I knew they wouldn't.
"Then," said Nannie, "don't you do them either. Take yourself as your responsibility, and show us what you can accomplish in that line. Will you, dearie?" She snuggled her head close up to mine on the pillow as she said this.
"Oh,dear!" I sighed, "I do wish Jack had been I, and I'd been Jack!"
"Even then you would have had to stop such childish tricks some time or other before you grew up. With all his larks, Phil doesn't do them; and think of papa's coming down to breakfast on the banisters!" Nannie and I had to laugh at the very thought.
"Well," I said presently, "perhaps I'll try; but that conceited boy'll think he's made me do it."
"Oh, no, he won't!" Nannie said, in a tone of conviction that was very comforting. "If he does think now that you're inclined to be a hoiden, why, he'll soon change his mind, when he finds what a nice, sweet little lady you are fromday to day.Don'tlook so dismal, Miss Elizabeth; there's lots of fun left for you!"
"I'll try; but IknowI'll forget, time and again," I said, sighing heavily.
"I don't think there'll be so very many slips," Nannie answered cheerfully; "but if there should be, we'll just do as Rip Van Winkle did,—'we won't count' them."
"And will you promise not to tell anybody that I'm trying—not a single creature—not even Felix or Jack?" I asked anxiously.
"Iwillpromise not to tell anybody—not a single creature—not even Felix or Jack," Nannie replied, laughing. "Does that satisfy you? Now," she added, "I'm going to say my prayers here beside you, and I'm going to ask our Lord to help you keep your word; you'll ask, too, won't you?"
I nodded, and as she knelt down slipped my hand into hers; a few minutes after I was asleep.
NO less than three birthdays in our family fell in the next week: first Fee's and Nannie's,—which I suppose I ought really to count as one, as they are twins,—and then Nora's. As these birthdayswillalways come together, and to avoid hurting people's feelings, as Jack would say, we celebrate them alternately,—Fee's and Nannie's one year, and Nora's the next; and this was Nora's year. We had had several performances lately, so Fee said he'd try to think of something else, if we'd all promise to do just as we were told. Of course we promised; then he and Phil invited the Unsworths and Helen Vassah and that boy across the way,—I didn't wanthim, but all the others did, so he was asked. Hope was at her grandma's, so she couldn't come; but Murray and Helen did, and,of course, Hilliard.
The birthday fell on a Friday, and as papa is always at home on that evening, we were afraidhe wouldn't allow us to celebrate it; but to our great joy he told Nannie to tell us that we might have all the fun we wanted, as long as we behaved ourselves and kept the doors closed, so the noise would not escape. So right after school hours Phil and Felix took possession of the schoolroom, and after having got us to give them all our presents for Nora, they locked themselves in. "We're going to have a bang-up entertainment, now, you'll see," Felix said, just before he closed the door,—"something unique, unprecedented, etc.; and no one is to put even a nose into the banqueting hall"—with a wave of his hand over his shoulder—"until the doors are thrown open and the music strikes up. Now remember—"
"Yes, and no snooping or hanging around either!" put in Phil, standing on tip-toe to rest his chin on Fee's crown and glare at us. Then the door was locked.
Such a hammering and dragging about of furniture you never heard; and when every now and then Phil would come out for something or other, Fee would open the door very cautiously, as if afraid somebody'd see something, and shut and lock it with a bang when he re-entered. As you may imagine, our curiosity was excited to the highest pitch to know what we were going to have. Then just before dinner Jack came running in, in a great state of excitement; he hadbeen to rehearsal, and had done so well in the piece he had to sing that Mr. Hawkins had really engaged him, at fifty cents a week, with the promise of more as he improved. Jack was almost wild with delight. "Isn't it fine! Isn't it just jolly! You should have heard me sing; really, it didn't sound bad!" he exclaimed about twenty times; and the knowing looks and nudges and winks that he bestowed on me couldn't be counted. No amount of snubbing could repress him.
It seemed to us as if dinner would never be over; but at last it came to an end, and Jack and I and the younger children flew upstairs and stood waiting for the signal to enter the "banqueting hall." In a few minutes more up came Nora, with Helen and Murray and Hilliard. I was sure Murray and Helen would enjoy the "festive occasion," for they like the things that we do; but I didn't know how that boy would take it. He was very smiling, however; and I heard him tell Nora, as he presented her with a lovely bunch of roses, that it was "very kind of her to allow him to be of the party." Just then the schoolroom doors were thrown open, and the strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin floated sweetly out to us from violin and piano. At the same moment Phil appeared with a paper flower in his buttonhole, and arranged us in couples,—Nora and he going first,—and so we marched into the schoolroom.
I think perhaps I ought to describe the schoolroom to you, for it is playroom, sitting-room, schoolroom, and everything to us. It's on the top floor,—so that our noise sha'n't disturb papa,—and takes in the whole width of the house and half its length, making an immense room. There are some back rooms on this floor, and the large open space on each side of the stairs is what we call the attic. Though almost everything in it is old and shabby, we do have royal times in the schoolroom, for it is our own, and out of study hours we can do there as we please. Here are Phil's banjo and his boxing-gloves, and a lot of what nurse calls his "rubbish"; Fee's easel is in this corner, and a couple of forlorn, dirty old plaster casts which—unless he has a painting-fit on him—generally serve as hat-rests for Phil and himself. Pictures in various stages of completion stand about. Here, too, are Nannie's and Fee's violins, resting against a pile of old music that Max gave them before he went away. In the next corner, the other side of the low, deep-silled windows, hangs Nora's china-shelf, on which are ranged what the boys call her Lares and Penates,—vases and pretty cups and saucers that have been given to her. Here, too, are her plants, conspicuous among which is a graceful fan-leaved palm, known in the family as Lady Jane.
These are the front corners; and between thewindows stand our book-shelves,—they are in a clumsy, unsteady old case, that rocks from side to side if you touch it, and is only held together by the wall against which it leans. The shelves are rather short,—now and then a shelf slips off its notches and spills our library,—and they are so narrow that books constantly fall down behind, and lie there until house-cleaning or a sudden desire for one of those volumes brings them all to light, and they are restored to their places.
One of the other—back—corners is mine; and here I have my "gymnasium,"—my Indian clubs and dumb-bells; here, too, are my tennis racket (I love to play!) and two old walking-canes with which (when I can get him to do it) Jack and I fence,—dear me! I wonder if I shall have to givethatup too, now that I have given that promise to Nannie! Then comes our sofa: it's an old-fashioned, chintz-covered affair, with a high back and high arms that stick straight out at each end, and it's dreadfully shabby now; but all the same there isn't one of us—except, perhaps, Nora—that would be willing to exchange it for the handsomest piece of furniture that could be offered us. The times we've played house and shipwreck, and gone journeys on it, and romped and pranced all over it, can't be counted! This is Jack's favourite place to sit and read; and under it, concealed from public view by the deep chintz flounce thatruns around the front and sides of the sofa, are stored his treasures,—his books and stamp album, a queer-looking boat that he has been building for ages, and a toy steam engine with which he is always experimenting, but which, so far, absolutely refuses to "go."
I have frequently offered to share my corner with Jack, and I couldn't understand why he always refused, until one day I accidentally over-heard him speaking about it to Nannie.
"You see, Nannie, Betty means well," he said, "but she does hit out so with those clubs! I'd be sure to get hurt some time or other; and then, besides, she'd just own my things more than I would myself." Of course this last part isn't really so, for he hasn't a thing that I'd care for; but still he sticks to the sofa.
illus136"THE 'QUEEN OF THE REVELS.'"
Kathie and the twins and Alan have the other corner with their doll's house, a tail-less hobby horse, known both as the "palfrey" and the "charger," and blocks and toys without number. We've a piano in the schoolroom for practising, and in the middle of the floor is a large table, round which we sit in and out of school hours. This table has no cover; it is liberally besprinkled with ink stains, and adorned in many places with our initials, and with circles done in red ink,—goals for feather-top playing,—and pieces have been hacked out of the edges, trying the sharpness of sundry new knives. The old tableis not at all ornamental, but we couldn't get on without it, and we older ones have quite an affection for our old Jumbo. Some pictures—three or four of them by Felix—are hung up on the walls. And now you know how our schoolroom looks.
But a grand transformation had taken place: all our stage property had been utilised; the pictures were draped with red, white, and blue paper muslin; the "statuary" and plants were arranged about the room with an eye to a fine effect; great bunches of paper flowers bloomed in every available place,—even on the gas fixtures! The large table was too heavy to be pushed aside, but it was covered with Murray Unsworth's big flag, which gave it quite a festive appearance; while the smaller table over in the corner, though partially concealed by the dining-room screen, gave tempting glimpses of "refreshments." Nannie was at the piano, and beside her was Fee, playing away on his violin with all his might.
At the farther end of the room, on a dais, was Miss Marston's chair, covered with red paper muslin, and here, after we had promenaded several times round the room, Phil seated Nora, announcing her the "Queen of the Revels," which so struck Jack's fancy that he gave his hand a little upward jerk, and shouted, "Hurray for we!" And then, though of course we oughtn't to havedone it, being for ourselves, you know, we every one joined in a "three times three" hurrah! Kathie and the little ones got so excited that they fairly yelled, and we had some difficulty in quieting them.
When order was restored, Phil and Felix brought from the closet a large clothes-basket, piled full of neatly tied-up parcels of all sizes, which they placed beside Nora. Fee then made a sign to Phil. "Begin!" he whispered. Phil struck an attitude, with his hand on his heart, and began, "Fair Queen!" then stopped, looked astonished, put his hand to his forehead, gazed at the floor and the ceiling, then burst out with:—
"When these you see,Fair maid, remember we;As we've remembered you,And given you your due."
"When these you see,Fair maid, remember we;As we've remembered you,And given you your due."
"Thatisn't what you were to say, you goose!" exclaimed Felix, wrathfully. "That isn't your speech!"
"Don't talk to me about your old set speeches, when a man can rise to an occasion likethat!" remarked Phil, loftily, straightening up and throwing back the lapels of his coat with a great air. "Poetry!—d'ye mind that, Mr. Wegge? The genuine article, and at a moment's notice! At last I've struck my vocation."
Of course we laughed uproariously; we werein the mood for it, and would have laughed if some one had held up a finger at us.
Felix then made his speech, expressing our love and wishes for many, many (I believe there were six manys) happy returns of Nora's birthday, and he began to hand her her presents, reading out the inscription on each as he did so, she opening them. The first was "Nora, with love and birthday wishes from Max," and when the wrapper was off, it proved to be a lovely print of Von Bodenhauser's Madonna. Max had given Nannie a picture on her birthday, and Nora was delighted to get one as well. Next came smaller gifts from Helen Vassah, Jack, Felix, and Nannie, and then Felix fished up a large, rather bulky parcel, the inscription on which he read very distinctly: "Dearest Nora, with love from the 'Twinsies,'"—that's the name we give to Felix and Nannie to distinguish them from the younger twins.
"Why!" exclaimed Nora, in surprise, as she took the parcel on her lap, "you have both already given me something, you dear, generous creatures; I'm afraid you've been extravagant. And so nicely done up, too; thank you, thank you very much!" and she kissed them warmly.
"Oh, that's all right; don't speak of it," said Felix, modestly, while Nannie began wonderingly, "Why, I didn't—"
"Ought to be something very fine," hastilyinterrupted Phil, "fourwrappers!" The next minute there was a shout of laughter from us all as, after carefully unfolding the last paper, Nora drew out nurse's work-basket, piled high with innumerable pairs of our stockings and socks which were waiting to be darned!
I expected Nora would have been provoked, but she only laughed as heartily as the rest of us. It was a fortunate thing she was in such a good humour, for three more times the boys played that joke on her before the basket was emptied. One was her own choicest cup and saucer, "with love from papa;" the next, the drawing-room feather-duster, "a token of appreciation from the family,"—Norahatesto dust! and the third, an unfinished sketch which she began months ago, and which was for Phil when completed; this was "from her affectionate brother, Philip." And they were so cleverly sandwiched in between the real birthday gifts that Nora got caught each time, to our great enjoyment.
After this we had games, and refreshments were served early on account of the little ones. As soon as they had said good-night we played more games, and then the boys began to get noisy; that's the worst with boys,—at least our boys,—just as soon as they begin to enjoy themselves, it seems as if theymustmake a noise and get rough. Ever since Nannie and I had that talk, I've been trying my best to act like ayoung lady, and this evening I was particularly on my good behaviour; but, oh, it was tiresome! and I could see that the boys didn't know what to make of it,—Murray Unsworth asked if I didn't feel well, and Fee looked very quizzically at me, though I pretended I didn't see him. I was so afraid he'd say something right before that boy!
Well, as it happened, all my pains went for nothing,—and just through Fee's nonsense. Murray and I were looking at Phil's boxing-gloves,—Phil was out of the room,—and as we talked, I slipped on one of the gloves, when Felix came up behind me and took hold of my arm. "That's Phil opening the door," he said quickly; "let's play a joke on him." And before I had the least idea of what he was going to do, Fee had raised my arm and given the person who was entering such a whack on the shoulder with the boxing-glove as whirled him completely round, so that he got in the way of another person who was behind him, and nearly knocked him over. In a moment more we saw that the two persons were papa and a stranger,—a young man!
There was an instant's awful pause, broken by a nervous little giggle from Jack at the sight of Phil—behind papa—with his hands clasped, his knees bent as if in abject terror, and his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. Then, settling hisglasses—which had been nearly knocked off—straight on his nose, papa looked around at us and asked, "Is this the way you welcome your guests, Nora?" adding, to me, "Take off that glove, Betty!"
I got awfully red, I know; but before I could say anything Felix stepped forward and explained, and Nora advanced with a smile, saying, "We are very glad to see you, papa."
Then papa introduced the young man, and who should he be but Max's ward, "the great Shad," or, to give him his proper name, Chadwick Whitcombe! He had expected to meet Max at our house, and had waited some time downstairs for him; then, as the evening wore on and Max did not appear, papa had thought it best to himself bring him up and introduce him to us.
Of course we all looked at him,—and the more so that he isn't at all like what we had any of us expected. In the first place, though Max says he's just nineteen, he acts as if he were years older than that, and altogether he is different to any of the boys we've ever known. He's not quite so tall as Fee, though he wears very high heels on his boots; and his features are so delicate, his complexion so pink and white, that in spite of a tiny moustache, which he's very fond of caressing, he looks a great deal more like a girl than a boy. His hair is as yellow asMädel's; it's wavy like a girl's, and he wears it long and parted in the middle; and his eyes are large and very blue,—Phil says they are "languishing," and he and Felix have given him another nick-name of "Lydia Languish." He wore evening clothes, with a white flower in his buttonhole, and there were diamond studs in the bosom of his shirt, and a diamond ring on one of his fingers. When papa introduced him, he put his heels together and made us three very low and graceful bows, saying, in a voice just like a girl's, and with a smile that showed his white teeth, "I amveryhappy to—aw—meet you!"
illus144"'AW!'"
After looking at the presents, which, minus the jokes, were ranged on a table, and saying a few words, papa went away. I have an idea that he noticed the difference between this delicate Dresden-china young man and our own fun-loving boys, and rather dreaded leaving the stranger to our devices; for at the door he laid his hand on Phil's shoulderand said, "Remember, no more jokes to-night, Phil." And with a look of injured innocence that almost upset Felix and me, Phil answered, "Why, no, sir,certainlynot."
We were rather quiet at first after papa went away; then Phil nudged Nannie, with the whisper: "Go talk to him; I don't know what to say to such a dude;" while Felix chimed in, in the same low voice, "Ask him if he puts his hair up in papers, nights,—or get Betty to ask him."
But I edged away quickly, and joined Murray and Helen at the other side of the room. I was determined I would get into no more mischief.
But they needn't have troubled themselves,—Chad didn't seem one bit embarrassed: he just drew a chair to Nora's side and began talking to her as easily as if he had known her all his life; and in a little while Nannie got the boys over to the piano and singing songs with rousing choruses, which they always enjoy. I think she did it this time, though, to divert their attention from the new-comer, for they were just ready to bubble over at the way he talked; even Hilliard's sleepy eyes were twinkling with sly merriment.
When Chad talks he is, as Murray puts it, "too awfully English, you know, for anything," though he was born and has lived most of his life in America; and he pronounces his words in the most affected way. Altogether, he isawfully affected; you should see the air with which he flirts his handkerchief out of his pocket, his mincing steps, and the bored, you-can't-teach-me-anything expression of his face.
"I've—aw—really been very busy since my return," he told Nora, in that high-pitched, affected voice of his. "I've—aw—moved into bachelor quarters, and been—aw—having my apartments decorated and furnished. Have my own ideahs, you know, and—aw—'m having 'em carried out—all in blue—effect will be—aw—really very fine. I've—aw—brought back pictures and bric-à-brac and—aw—curios of all descriptions, and now—aw—'ll turn 'em to good account. Awful job, you know—expect to work like a slave—these—aw—so-called decorators over here have such abominable taste! but the effect will be unique—of that—aw—'m sure."
"Why, aren't you going to school—I mean college?" Phil turned round in the middle of a chorus to ask bluntly.
"I—aw—have no intention of it," answered Chad, lounging off in his chair and stroking his baby moustache.
"Oh, I see: your education's finished," said Phil, with that innocent expression on his face that we know means mischief; but before he could say another word, Helen Vassah cried out, "Oh, Phil, here's our favourite duet; you mustsing it with me," and Nannie struck up an unusually loud accompaniment.
Before the evening was over, we made up our minds that Chad was the silliest, most conceited creature; he did nothing but talk of himself and his possessions, and in the most lordly way imaginable. No matter what subject was introduced, he'd go right back to the one thing that seemed to interest him,—himself. He lounged back in his chair and made not the slightest effort to join in the entertainment. In fact, Nora was the only person he honoured with any notice; and while we all think him very unmannerly, she—would you believe it!—likes him.
Coming over later in the evening to the corner of the room where Helen, Fee, Jack and I were, she said to Helen, "Isn't he nice? Did you see the way he offered me his arm to the piano? so polite, and different from the generality of boys,—don't you think so?"
"Yes," Helen said, with a smile, "he is quite unlike any of the boys we know; whodoeshe look like, Nora? We all see a likeness, but can't think to whom."
"Oh, I know, I've got it, I know," cried Jack, excitedly; "he looks (except that he hasn't got on knee-breeches and lace ruffles) just like that picture Max gave you, Felix,—don't you remember?—with a lace handkerchief in one hand and a snuff-box in the other. Oh, youknow,—the French Marquis—"
"You're right, Jack,—so it is; he does look like 'Monsieur le Marquis,'" Nora said, glancing at Chad. "Hehasan aristocratic face,—'Monsieur le Marquis.'"
illus148"HERE IS THE SKETCH."
"Monsieur le Donkeywould be a more suitable name," exclaimed Fee, while Helen, Jack, and I laughed. "If you'd seen how absurd he looked when he clicked his heels together and offered you his arm, you would know mine is the title that best suits him. I declare I'll make a sketch of you both from memory; it was too rich to be lost." Catching up a blank book, hebegan to sketch rapidly. Nora turned away, laughing; but we three remained, looking over Fee's shoulder, criticising and offering suggestions, until it was finished. Here is the sketch: it's pretty good of Nora, but of course it's a caricature of Chad.
About a quarter to ten the "party" broke up. Chad was the first to go; as he rose to say good-night, I heard Nannie whisper to Phil: "Phil, you'll have to see him out. Fee can't go all the way downstairs and then up again,—it's too much for him,—and Jack is too young; anyway, it is your place as the eldest."
"Little snob!" said Phil, savagely. "I'd like to take him down by way of the banisters,—just give him one shove, and let him fly."
"Heisa snob," admitted Nannie, "but he is also Max's ward, and that entitles him to some consideration from us; and remember, too, what Max said,—that he has knocked about the world ever since he was a little fellow: that would account for much. You know, Phil, we've had our home and one another and dear mamma; and besides, you wouldn't want to spoil Nonie's birthday. Do treat him civilly! will you?"
"Well, I'll try," Phil answered, making a wry face; "but if he begins any of his 'aw—aw,' on the way down, I'll not answer for the consequences."
Bending low over Nora's hand, Chad murmured something of which we only heard "Chawming evening—pleasure of meeting you—Max again," then, bowing twice to the rest of the company, he took his departure.
"I've enjoyed myself immensely," Hilliard said, as he bade good-night; then he added to me, "I never knew before how interesting a large family could be,—you have such fun among yourselves; and I think it is so kind of you all to let me come over and share your good times." Then Murray and Helen made their adieux, and all went away together.
Phil came racing back to the schoolroom after seeing them out. "Well," he said breathlessly, taking a seat on the edge of the big table, "well, everything went off all right; quite a success, wasn't it? barring the great Shad,—he was no addition to our party. I'm awfully sorry he's such a cad; for Max's sake I'd have liked to be nice to him."
"You are hard on him, Phil," Nora said. "He may be a little conceited, but I think he's not at all a bad fellow; now see if you don't like him better after you get to know him."
"Not at all a bad fellow!" repeated Felix, sharply. "Well, you may think so, but I don't. I agree with Phil,—heisa cad! Did you see the expression of his face as he looked around our shabby old schoolroom, and took in the simple birthday refreshments? he didn't eventake the trouble to hide his contempt for our poverty and childishness. You may think that's like a gentleman, but I do not."
"He wouldn't touch the cake, and only took a glass of water," I volunteered at this point.
"You here?" cried Nora, wheeling round on me, "and Jack? It's high time you two were in bed." Then she went on: "Our appetites are equal to anything; but not everybody dotes on home-made cookies and tough sponge cake.Ifound Max's ward a very polite young gentleman, a pleasant change from the rough, unmannerly boys one usually has to put up with. Betty and Jack,areyou going to bed, or not? Why don't you speak to them, Nannie?"
"Don't be cross to them," whispered Nannie to her; "it's your birthday, you know. Come, Betty; come, Jack, let's go off together. I'm tired and sleepy, too."
Rather unwillingly we bade good-night and went downstairs with Nannie. As the schoolroom door closed behind us, I heard Felix say, with a sharp insistence unusual to him, and bringing his hand down on the table to emphasise his words, "Idon'tlike that fellow! Idon'tlike him, and I wish he hadn't come here!"
FELIX," said thepater, "your two elder sisters are to go with me on Thursday afternoon to Mrs. Blackwood's reception, and I should like you to accompany us; Phil went the last time—" He stopped abruptly, with a stifled sigh, and began hastily turning over the leaves of the book which lay open before him on his desk.
I knew why he sighed; I remembered well who had been with him the last time he attended a reception at Mrs. Blackwood's; the awful, aching longing that I have so often to fight down has taught me something of what my father must suffer. If I could only have expressed what was in my heart! but all I could manage to get out was, "Very well, sir," and my voice sounded so cold and indifferent that I was ashamed.
I'm not afraid of thepater,—I can talk easily enough to him on ordinary subjects; but whenit comes to anything about which I feel very deeply, Nannie is the only person to whom I can bear to speak, now thatsheis gone. And even to Nannie I can't say much; I wish I could,—it would be a relief sometimes. I envy the others that they can talk of—mother; it is a comfort to me to listen, but it cuts me to the heart to even say her name. So this afternoon I sat quietly at Nannie's table, and went on sorting the references I had been making for the Fetich, until my father got up from his desk and began pacing up and down the study floor, with his hands clasped behind his back. His head was bent forward, and he had evidently entirely forgotten that I was in the room; for he sighed heavily several times, and then, with a sudden straightening of his whole body, as if in acute physical pain, he threw back his head, and a low, quivering "A-a-h!" that was like a groan, broke from his lips.
An iron hand seemed clutching my throat, and I could hardly see for the blur across my eyes, as I crept out of the room and closed the door softly.
I sat on the steps for a few moments, then—for I had forgotten my cane in the study—went slowly upstairs, and that gave me a chance to recover myself before I reached the schoolroom; though perhaps Nannie noticed something unusual,—my twinnie's eyes are so sharp, andher heart is so tender,—for it seemed to me that her voice was very loving as she said, pushing forward our big old rocker as soon as I entered the room: "You naughty Fee! you've come up without your cane; you must be tired. Sit here and get rested."
illus154"ALAN, ON HIS FIERY STEED."
Iwastired,—unusually so,—and was glad to get into the chair. It was after school hours, and the clan was in full force. Nora was seated at my easel, humming "A Media Noche," and trying to copy her birthday picture; Betty and Jack were fencing,—at least, Betty was making furious lunges at Jack, which he was mainly occupied in dodging, while every now and then a vehement protest was heard, such as, "Now, Betty, look out! that was my head," or, "That came within an inch of my nose—Idowish you'd be careful!" Kathie and the twins were playing house, holding lively conversations in a high key, while Alan paidthem repeated visits, prancing around the room, and to their door, on a broomstick, which was his fiery steed, and to control which required both voice and whip; Nannie was hunting through our pile of violin music for a certain duet to play with Max when he got home; and in the midst of all the noise Phil lay on the sofa, his head nearly level with the seat, and his long legs extended over the arm, reading Virgil aloud.
That's his way of studying,—a most annoying one to a nervous person!—and, as the noise around him increases or decreases, so he raises or lowers his voice. As may be easily understood, there are times when he fairly roars.
The news of the reception had preceded me, and as I came in Phil reared his head in such a comical way to speak to me that Betty instantly declared that he looked like a turtle. "So you're booked for the Blackwood tea-fight," he said. "Well, old man, my sympathy for you is only equalled by my thankfulness that I am not the victim. Take my advice,—I've been there several times, you know, and you haven't,—fortify the inner man before you go. It's a very mild orgy,—a thimbleful of chocolate and one macaroon are all you'll get,—and coming between luncheon and dinner, I'm afraid you'll feel—as I did—as if you'd like to fall on the table and eat up all that's on it." His head fellback, and he resumed his reading, the book resting upright on his chest.
"People are not supposed to gorge themselves at an afternoon reception," remarked Nora, before I could get a word in. "It is—"
"'A feast of reason and a flow of soul,'" finished Nannie, smiling, "though I'm sure dear old Mrs. Blackwood would willingly have given you a pound or two of macaroons and a whole pitcher full of chocolate, had she known you were hungry."
"Oh, I'm not saying a word against her in particular; she's a first-rate old party," commenced Phil, but he was instantly interrupted.
"Phil, you are positively vulgar," cried Nora, in a tone of disgust.
"Don't speak of our dear old friend in that way, Phil; it isn't nice," said Nannie.
"Well, now, here's a queer thing," remarked Phil, in an argumentative tone. "If I'd said Mrs. Blackwood was 'a host in herself,' it would have been considered a delicate compliment; and yet when I call her a 'party,' which certainly means a host, you two jump on me. There's no accounting for the eccentricities of the feminine character." Then, as his head sank back, "I do believe somebody's been pulling the feathers out of this sofa pillow; there can't be two dozen left in it. I suppose Betty's been making an Indian head-dress for herself. Just poke thathistory under my head, will you, Jack? or I'll certainly get rush of blood to the brain. There, that's better! Why so silent, most noble Felix?" with a sidelong glance at me after settling himself. "Art filled with fears for Thursday's function?"
Usually I enjoy Phil's nonsense, and talk as much of it as he does; but somehow I didn't feel in the mood for it this afternoon. One reason may have been because of the dreadfully tired feeling that had come over me since entering the schoolroom: it was really an effort for me to answer him; I felt as if I wanted only to be let alone, and I realised, without being able to control it, that my voice was very irritable as I said briefly, "One has got to be silent when you begin to gabble."
Phil reared his head again, and looked at me. "Whew!" he whistled, "aren't we spicy this afternoon!" Nannie immediately rushed into conversation.
"Mrs. Blackwood wrote papa that she and Mr. Blackwood had just received some very rare old books from Europe," she said, "among them a Chaucer,—and beside that, a charming Corot; so, Fee, both you and papa will have something to enjoy, while Nora and I are exchanging small-talk."
"Oh, that's why papa was so willing to go to the reception," Nora remarked, with her usualbrilliancy. "I might have known there was something like that about it."