A Little Girl in Old San Francisco

There were musical voices, too. A square below them a wagon load were singing to the accompaniment of an accordion. Lights were flashing out, throngs began to gather in the streets, and they were glad to canter away to quiet.

"It is the most splendid thing of my life," Miss Holmes said.

"And you have done exceptionally well. You and Laverne can take many an hour's enjoyment when I am busy."

Pablo took the horses down while Miss Holmes spread the supper, and the two went to look after the gull, who seemed very well content, and allowed his neck to be stroked without demur.

"And we saw a great bird snatch a fish from one of your kind," Laverne told him. "And such lots of your relations!"

Bruno looked on curiously.

"Don't you touch him. And don't you let any wild cat or fox come after him. Mind, now."

Bruno beat his tail on the dry grass.

If there were nations from almost every corner of the globe, they all joined in celebrating Fourth of July. This year there was a fine military parade, and Sutter's Rifles from Sacramento City came up and passed in review before the old true-hearted pioneer, Major-General John H. Sutter, rapturously applauded by the crowd. Then they marched to the Russ Garden, where they were presented with a set of colors. Irish and German were alike patriotic. There were singing and speeches; booths on corners dispensed simple refreshments to the weary and the children. Carriages were ornamented with small flags, and filled with the better class, who cheered as heartily. It was really a gala day. They had been invited to the Personettes, where tea was set out on the lawn, and as there was no moon it was hung with Chinese lanterns. There were some schoolgirls, and they had a table to themselves, and some dancing. Several of the young people gave the fancy dances they had learned at the classes the winter before.

Vacations had generally commenced. There were picnics to San José and mountain climbs; there were excursions up and down the bay and to the towns opposite up to San Pablo and Mare's Island, over to Sausalito. And on Sunday, the road to the old Mission Dolores was always thronged with pleasure-seekers, elegant open carriages filled with finely-dressed ladies, equestrians of all kinds, and the Spanish señors often disported themselves in all their bravery. Miss Holmes was rather startled at first, and to her it was Sabbath-breaking, but Jason Chadsey was so used to the cosmopolitan order of the day, and she met the people who had been to church in the morning.

The hot sun and lack of rain had not dried up everything. There were fogs on the coast that dripped like fine rain, and fairly drenched bush and faded grass. There were fine green hills and fields of flowers, and the new crop of wild oats and barley.

And then autumn came in again, schools opened, business stirred up, there were blessed rains, and it was like a later summer.

The little girl had been much interested in her gull and he had grown very fond of her, eating out of her hand, and hiding his head under her arms as the squirrel did. She had traced Snippy to his home, and sure enough he had a companion. There was an old scrubby dead pine in which there was a hollow, or they had gnawed it, and thither they carried nuts and crusts of bread that Laverne pretended to lose.

"Uncle Jason," she said one day, "did you ever see an albatross?"

"Yes. Not very often. They are in the Northern Pacific."

"They are not like gulls."

"Oh, much larger."

"There is a story about one. Miss Bain has it in a beautiful book. One day she read it."

"Oh, 'The Ancient Mariner.'"

"Do you know about it?" Her face was alight with pleasure. "And is it true? Did he kill the bird:

"It's a queer story. No, I don't suppose it was really true. But it is always considered bad luck to kill one. I must get the book for you."

"Oh, if you would," in her pretty, coaxing way. "Pablo wanted to kill the gull. Then we might have had bad luck. And now we can't find any name for him."

"That's bad, too."

His leg had mended nicely and the splints were off, though it must be confessed he had tugged a great deal at them, and could not be brought to understand their benefit, though it was explained over and over again. But his wing did not seem to be just right, and his efforts to fly were not successful.

"But I wish he could. He would look so lovely sailing about."

"And fly away!"

"Oh, I don't really believe he would."

Uncle Jason brought home a fine illustrated copy of the "Ancient Mariner" from an English press. In the early fifties, even in vaunted New York, Boston, and Philadelphia illustrating had not reached the high point of art it was destined to later on.

She was delighted and in a little while knew it all by heart. She grew very fond of poetry. She used to read to the gull until he seemed hypnotized, and presently would nod, sometimes put his head under his wing.

In September, there was another great celebration on the opening of the first electric telegraph. This was between San Francisco and Point Lobos, and was erected by Messrs. Sweeny and Baugh to give early information of shipping arrivals. They had a station on Telegraph Hill in which they used various signals, but this was of immeasurably greater service.

Early in November, there was the anniversary of the founding of the Mission of Dolores. There were a number of Catholic children in the school, and a holiday was given.

"Oh, come, go," Olive coaxed. "Eulogia Garfias and her mother are going, and we are great friends. You've never been in a Catholic Church?"

"No; but I know some Catholic girls, and one has gone to a convent to be educated. Oh, and the two little ones were to come up to the Sisters' School."

"Why, maybe they will be there."

She had not been to the Estenegas in a long, long time; since the day she and Uncle Jason had ridden down there.

Miss Holmes made no objection. People grew broader in this grand air. There were many points in which all denominations worked together for the city's welfare.

It was constructed of adobe, partly whitewashed. It had been very grand in its day, and had a capacious interior. The walls and roof roughly painted still held saints and angels and sacred subjects much faded by the seventy-five years. The damp earthen floor struck a chill to one. Some of the ornaments of the great altar had been carried away, and those left were of no great value. But on this occasion every year there was a large accession of worshippers, even Spanish and Mexican men as well as women, kneeling reverently on the floor, and that seemed strange to Laverne, who glanced up with great awe to the figure of the Christ on the cross between the two oriel windows. At the side was a female figure with hands clasped, the Virgin. Tall candles were burning on each side of the altar.

The service was mostly in Latin. The congregation went out reverently, some to walk in the small graveyard. Yes, there were Juana and Anesta and several other girls, attended by a sister. They were delighted to meet Laverne, and were full of confidences as they walked out to the street. The house was shut up, their mother had gone to Monterey, and they were staying at school all the time. They liked it so much. And, if they were allowed, they would be so glad to visit Laverne. Eulogia Garfias knew the sister and introduced her schoolmates; that made the sister soften somewhat to them, and listen to their plea.

So Laverne had quite an eventful morning.

"But the little girls look sad, I think," she commented. "And the old church isn't a bit pretty, it looks faded. And no seats to sit on. It didn't seem at all like church."

What with lessons, her pets, and her rides, the days were all too short. Her gull still remained and now could fly a short distance. It really seemed to love the shelter of the house, and this amused Uncle Jason very much. Then it never flapped its wings, but seemed to rise slowly and float about with a serene air. It enjoyed the stream and the new lake Pablo and Laverne had made. For now the frequent rains swelled all the streams, and the bright bracing northwest winds brought the fragrance of spring. Everything grew by bounds. The little girl could hardly believe it was winter. The bluest skies, the golden sunshine that flashed in streams of brilliance, the bay a sea of silver bearing on its bosom treasures of every land.

And so came in a Merry Christmas, with pleasure in every home; a children's festival, with not so much religious significance as now. They went to a grand dinner at Mrs. Personette's, Miss Gaines with them, who looked splendid in her satin gown, and who was coining money rapidly. Lines were not very closely drawn; the aristocrat of to-day riding round in his carriage was the workman of last year. The poor mechanic lucky enough to find a nugget of gold brought his wife in the front rank and dressed her in velvet, loaded her with jewels. The keeper of an ordinary restaurant branched out presently in a very respectable hotel. It was difficult to keep up with all the changes. Then, it must be admitted, that many of these people were from the East and had good educations, had, indeed, been accustomed to the refinements of civilized life, but the thought of making a fortune in a few years had given them courage to breast the vulgarity and rough life until they could advance themselves to the old standard.

The children had a party in the evening. Howard had gone to a preparatory school in the East, as his keen-eyed stepmother found he was in a rather dangerous circle of young men—girls, too, for that matter—who were likely to lead one astray, and this had also influenced Isabel and was bringing her forward much more rapidly than was judicious. So they were principally schoolgirls, with the cousin from Oaklands and the young sons of a few friends and neighbors. At first Isabel was rather stiff and important, but she thawed presently. Mrs. Personette remembered her own youth and how much these pleasures had been to her, and really exerted herself in a delightful manner to keep them well entertained.

Victor Savedra, one of the cousins from Oaklands, took a great fancy to the shy little girl, and asked her to dance.

"I don't know how," she said, flushing and drawing back.

"Why—don't you dance?" in surprise.

"Just a little, with the girls at school. But—I am afraid——"

"Why, I'll take you through. This is just the plainest quadrille. Oh, Aunt Grace, don't you think this—" little girl, he was about to say—"your name is Laverne, isn't it—can't she dance? She looks as if she could—she's as light as a feather."

"Oh, you can never learn younger. All the children dance here. I think it comes natural. But you are too late for that. And, Victor, you might be explaining the figures to her and be ready for the next one."

Victor led her a little to one side. "Aunt Grace is just a trump," he said. "We thought at first we shouldn't like her, some of the Yankees are so queer, and talk so outlandish and all that, through their noses, you know, but she is just a lady all through, and full of fun. Now, look at this—it's an easy figure—balancing to corners, turning your partner and a galop down the middle——"

"Why, it's like the fairy rings you read about—I have a splendid fairy book uncle brought me, and on moonlight nights the little people go out and dance on the green. The Irish stories are just enchanting. They love the little people."

Her eyes had been following the dances and she moved her head faintly as if she was keeping time. Then the fiddles gave a sharp staccato and stopped.

"Oh," she exclaimed, in bewilderment.

He laughed at the startled look.

"They'll tune up and begin again." Oh, what eager eyes she had. Why, she was really very pretty, with that soft rose flush and fair hair. Olive had called her "a plain little thing."

Sure enough that was long ago, remember, before we heard of Strauss and Sousa. Many a quadrille has begun with "Life let us cherish." Victor took her hand and fairly impelled her out on the floor. "Now, I'll tell you everything, and you just mind and don't feel afraid."

She never knew whether she minded or not. She was thinking of Nora of the Mill when she stepped in the magic ring, and Laudeen, with the blue coat and a firefly for each button all the way down, just whisked her around until the air was full of fireflies. It was splendid.

"Oh, you've done very well," Victor said, in a delighted tone. "You didn't mind the mistakes at all, but just kept on, and that's the way to do. But you must learn to dance regularly. And I hope we shall dance together often. You are just like a fairy. That Larkin girl trod on my foot about every other step. Oh, that is the Cheat. That's rare fun. Now, see—when it is 'All hands round,' and your partner turns the other girls, come straight back to him, to me, will you? The fellows left out get laughed at. Now, you'll see."

When the Cheat came he told her again. She turned away from the outstretched arms and looked for Victor, whose face was flushed. For he felt he had been really rude to one of the best dancers in the room. And in the next Cheat some one picked up Laverne, almost lifting her off her feet, while Esta Collins paid him back with interest and a triumphant smile.

"I didn't do it right," Laverne said ruefully. "He was so big and strong, and I never saw him——"

"Oh, that's a good deal of the fun when you know all about it. The girls flirt awfully, but now and then one gets left in the lurch. The next is the Spanish Galop, and then the refreshments. Who is going to take you in?"

"Why—I don't know——" hesitatingly.

"Then I will, and we will have this galop."

"Victor," Isabel said, rather sharply, in the pause. "You take Miss Payne in for refreshments."

"Can't, my dear cousin. I wouldn't dare poach on Leon Sturges' manor."

"Victor!" But he had gone.

"Just see how that little thing holds on to Victor! Olive, you put a stop to it as soon as supper is over. I didn't think Victor would make such a fool of himself. He's danced three times with her. And she's just crazy over it. She's making a sight of herself."

Olive nodded. She had had all the attention she wanted, and had never once thought of Laverne, or Victor either.

Victor was asking if Laverne didn't most blow away up on the hill where she lived, and if she didn't get lost in the dreadful fogs. And she told him about her squirrel and the gull.

"Why, I thought they were the shyest, wildest things, and that you couldn't touch them while they were alive. And he really stays with you?" in amaze.

"He can't fly very far. You see, his wing isn't quite right, though he can raise it, but it doesn't seem strong. Still he flies so beautifully a short distance it is a pleasure to see him. Sometimes I make believe he is an albatross. And I tell him about the 'Ancient Mariner.'"

"Oh, do you know that queer old thing! And do you love verses? We're reading the Iliad at school. It isn't verse exactly, but it's poetry all the same. There are some splendid heroes in it."

She didn't know exactly what it was, but she liked reading about heroes and her eyes kindled.

"Do you think I might come to visit you and the gull? Are there any more pets?"

"Oh, yes, a splendid big dog; and I never feel afraid with him. And the loveliest Mexican pony. Then the birds are very tame. There is the sauciest mocking bird, and we whistle to each other. He will come for crumbs, and when the weather is very dry we put out a pan of water and it is fun to see them bathe. And the jays chatter and scold so."

"How much you must love everything!"

"Well—there are no children near by. Though now I go to school."

"And you came from Maine, Aunt Grace said, all the way round the Horn. Do you know they are talking of a railroad across the Continent? Oh, what lots of things we would have to talk about. I'll ask father to let me come over here and then I'll come up and see you—some Saturday."

"Oh, I shall be just delighted." The little face was all rosy eagerness.

"You're not eating anything. Oh, here are the mottoes. Now, we'll have some fun."

They were prizes to children in those days. A candy in a pretty colored fringed paper, with two or four printed rhymes, sometimes very funny, at others sentimental. Victor had numbers sent to him by different girls, who were beginning to think the little Maine damsel was getting more than her share of him.

Olive stood ready to pounce upon him. But Miss Holmes was there at the doorway.

"Uncle Jason has come," she said, in a low tone. "Are you not tired and almost ready to go home?"

Laverne took the outstretched hand.

"Remember," Victor said, "I shall come before long."

"Really," began Olive tauntingly, "you seem very fond of small fry."

"Why—she is your friend. You have told us ever so much about her. And she's a nice little thing."

"Oh, a mere child! A flower of the field sort of thing," rather disdainfully.

He thought her very ungracious when she had been quite eloquent over Laverne at Oaklands.

She leaned against Miss Holmes' shoulder and talked of the dancing, while two or three men discussed the prospect of a road across the continent. The hardships of the overland journey were almost incredible. Congress could hardly be roused on the subject. Daniel Webster, broad statesman as he was, opposed it with energy. The Great American Desert was a formidable thing. And there were the Rocky Mountains. The gold fields might give out—it was not an agricultural region—how could manufactures ever be established so remote from every centre! Spain and Mexico had tried their hands. There was enough to do nearer home.

The little girl listened with a curious interest. It was a wonderful country to her. Maine had nothing to compare with it. And though she began to feel sleepy now that she was quiet, she winked her eyes hard so as not to lose a word.

"We must go," Miss Holmes said at length; so they rose and wished their host good-night.

What a glorious night it was! There was no moon, but the wide blue vault was studded so thick with stars, great golden, twinkling globes, that seemed to keep Christmas as truly as when they sang to the shepherds on the plains of Judea. All the air was spicily fragrant, for there was just enough fog over on the ocean side to make a dew and distil sweetness. Some of the newly whitewashed houses glistened like marble, and the brick ones threw a weird kind of shade. There were clumps of trees, and the little girl half suspected Indians or wolves lurking behind them.

"Did you have a nice time, little one?" asked her uncle, in a fond tone.

The cool, fresh, inspiriting air had wakened her.

"Oh, it was splendid! And I danced. Don't you think I might go to dancing school? All the children do. Olive's cousin was so nice to me, and he wants to come and see the gull. And he has a pony, too. He is going to ride over some day. He's nicer than Dick Folsom; that is—he is polite and gentle, and has such a sweet voice. Oh, I liked him so much. And there were so many pretty and finely dressed girls—maybe it was because I didn't have any brother or cousin that he was so good to me."

Jason Chadsey gave a soft little sigh.

CHAPTER X

ETHICS AND ETIQUETTE

It was midnight, and the bells rang out for 1854. The streets were full of people. Banjos were being strummed, accordions lent their music. Singers really made bedlam, but above all you heard every little while the refrain from a chorus of voices:

Was San Francisco getting old in its scarcely more than childhood? For in August of that year, John W. Geary, who had been the last alcalde of the town, was elected its first mayor, and the city had her charter in due American form. It had stretched up and down the bay, the wharves were crowded with shipping. Had ever any other city such a marvellous story!

Yet in 1854, the world was still a little old-fashioned and friendly. Never was there a more peerless day. Over the hilltops came streams of brilliance with the rising sun that drove the fog before it into the ocean. The lowlands were alive with the slant rays that wavered and wandered about like seas of gold. Flowers seemed to have sprung up in the night. Flags were flying. The streets were full of men and boys; one would have thought it a grand procession. For New Year's calls were then the great fashion. The day was given over to the renewals of friendships. Men put on their Sunday best, and went from house to house with joyous greetings. And within doors were groups of women to welcome them, and rooms presented a gala aspect. Lovers found an opportunity to say sweet things, friends clasped hands, business was laid aside.

No doubt there were orgies here and there, quarrels over cups, and fights, but even among the lower ranks there was a great deal of jollity.

Then everybody went back to business. The great Express Building was opened, having been more than a year under way, and a big banquet given in the evening.

The weather underwent a sudden change. Ice froze in the pools about the streets. Icicles hung from the roofs of the houses and children thrashed them down, and went about eating them like sticks of candy. There was veritable snow on some of the hills, and those at Contra Costa were white and glittering in the sun. The old Californians, who were fond of lazing about in the sun, and smoking a pipe, laid it to those Yankee devils who had turned everything upside down. There would be no more good times in "Californy." Even the miners came in and grumbled. The rains in the fall and winter had been slight, then a sort of freshet had swollen the rivers, which were too full for "wet diggings," as the hill sides had been too dry for "dry diggings."

It seemed as if a series of misfortunes happened. The fine new clipper ship San Francisco missed her bearings and struck on the rocks on the north side of the channel. Some lives were lost, and a storm coming up, scattered much of the cargo. Added to this was a very general depression in business, but in all new cities there are lean years as well as fat ones.

The little girl had said nothing more about dancing school, although there was a very nice class that met twice a week not far from the school. She and Olive had a little "tiff," and now hardly spoke. She would have liked to consult some one, but Miss Holmes and Mrs. Personette were now very cordial friends, and she was not sure that she had been exactly right herself. She could not quite make up her mind to be blamed. She had said to Uncle Jason that she had changed her mind, she did not want to go to dancing school just yet.

"There's plenty of time for that," he responded cheerfully. "And I guess dancing comes kind of natural to little girls. You can put on the fancy touches by and by."

Then he gave her such a hug that she knew he was pleased with her decision, though down in the depths of her heart she really would have liked it. Sometimes she danced around out of doors, going through whatever figures she could recall.

This was what had happened: She had spoken cordially to Olive the first morning school had begun again, and Olive had given her head a toss, and mumbled something. Then at recess she had joined some of the larger girls. The Personette girls went home to luncheon; Laverne brought hers. There were several smaller children that she liked very much, and they had a nice play together. Olive generally claimed her, but for several days she took very little notice of her. She had a feeling that Laverne would feel hurt and want to know the reason. But the latter was too much afraid of a rebuff to advert to it.

"I suppose you think it's queer that I'm acting this way," Olive began, when her indifference seemed to pass unnoticed. "But, really, you were so forward at my party——"

"Forward!" Laverne gasped. "Why, I—I was almost frightened at first. I had never been to a real party before."

"Well, you made yourself very conspicuous. Esta Collins thought you bold enough."

Laverne's face was scarlet. "What did I do?" she asked in a tremulous tone, trying to keep down a great throb that wanted to rise in her throat.

"What did you do, Miss Innocence? Well, I declare! You didn't dance three times with my cousin, and then march in to supper with him, and talk and laugh just as if you didn't mean to let him look at another girl. And you had never met him before! It was shameful!"

"But—he asked me!"

The tears did come now. She tried very hard to wink them away.

"Oh, yes! But he never supposed you were going to hang on him that way. And there were girls who had known him long before, just waiting to be asked. You see, as he was my cousin, he was—well, almost like the host, and should have gone around. You're a regular flirt, Laverne Chadsey, and you will never get asked to any party of mine again."

"You didn't ask me this time," said Laverne, with spirit. "It was your mother. And it wasn't altogether your party."

"Well, it was my cousin."

"She is Isabel's cousin also."

"Well, she did not like it, either."

Laverne wanted to say she was sorry. No one had ever quarrelled with her before. But was she really at fault? There came a sudden flash of spirit.

"It was mean in your cousin to ask me to dance so many times when he knew it wasn't quite proper. He was used to parties, I wasn't. I shall never want to go to parties again; I just hate them."

With that Laverne turned away, holding her head very high. She missed in one lesson that afternoon, and asked Miss Bain if she might not stay in and go over it; she knew it then, but she was confused by something else. Her uncle was always so proud of her marks that she did not want to disappoint him.

"Why, yes," returned Miss Bain smilingly. "I wish all little girls were as careful."

She was rather grave at home that afternoon. She told Bruno about it and he gave her a world of sympathy out of large, loving eyes.

Then there were several smaller girls that she found very companionable. One of them discovered a way to walk together for some distance by making the circuit just a little longer. Her mother was French and had been born in New Orleans. There were five children; she, Lucie, was the oldest. Her father was one of the old California residents, and had fought in the war. Last summer they had gone down to Santa Cruz and had a lovely time. She had only one little sister, the baby. So they made quite a friendship.

After the cold snap it seemed as if spring had come in earnest. Everything took to growing. Miss Holmes and Laverne had delightful rides about on Saturdays. And one morning the child watched a lad coming up the somewhat crooked road. He waved his hand—yes, he smiled, too. Why, it couldn't be Victor Savedra!

But it was, though. Laverne hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. But she was glad down in the bottom of her heart, and ran a few steps to meet him, then paused in pure bashfulness.

"Are you glad to see me? Don't you remember that I told you I would come? I was at uncle's a fortnight ago and meant to beg Olive to come up with me, but behold!" and he laughed.

It was such a gay, infectious sort of laugh, and he slid down from his pony and threw the rein over his neck, then took both of her hands, while she colored scarlet, and her eyes had merry lights in them.

"I dragged it all out of Olive. Did you have much of a fuss with her? Girls are so queer! It was because I danced two or three times with you. Why, I thought you were such a dainty little thing. I liked you. Some of the girls are so—well, so sentimental—silly. Olive has a temper, though. And now—are you glad. Father knows your uncle a little. And he said I might come over; father, I mean. I always tell him where I go on Saturdays."

"Yes, I am glad," Laverne replied. "Oh, we were going out to ride."

"We? Who?" and the bright young face fell a little.

"Why, Miss Holmes—who takes care of us."

"Oh, yes, that's all right. Girls always do have some one, you know. And I remember her. She is Aunt Grace's friend."

"Yes, Pablo is bringing the horses." She led the way with a springing step and smiled without knowing just what made her happy.

"And the gull! Father thinks it really odd, that you should tame him and he should want to stay."

"And he can fly quite well. Just a bit of the wing droops down. Oh, here he is! We had such a time to find a name for him. And once Uncle Jason was up the coast of Norway and learned about the gods, and I liked the story of Balder so much, Balder the beautiful, and then I called him that. But Uncle Jason calls him Jim."

"Did your uncle come for the Golden Fleece?"

"I think they find it here, if anywhere," she returned, smiling. "Here, Balder," and she held out her hand.

He was not exactly graceful in his walk. But he came and put his head in his little mistress's hand.

She stroked his neck, "Pretty Balder," she said. "Did Pablo get you some fish?"

Balder glanced rather suspiciously at the newcomer. And just then Miss Holmes came down. After the first glance she remembered the young fellow, who explained a certain amount of curiosity had drawn him hither, and since they were ready for a ride he begged to accompany them.

"Oh," she said, "why didn't you bring the girls and we should have had quite a party."

"I am afraid if I had gone there first I should have missed you, they would have had so many plans. And this excursion has been in my mind some time. I wanted to see these remarkable pets."

"Snippy seems quite busy in these days providing for his family; I think, too, he is rather jealous of Jim."

"There are some such cunning little squirrels, but Snippy keeps them closely at home, down in the hollow of the tree."

"If you would like to walk about a little—the rains have given us quite a picturesque aspect, and the weather has brought us into spring."

"Will Miss Laverne be my guide?"

"That sounds just like school. When you get in the highest class, where your cousin Isabel is, you are called Miss—whatever your last name happens to be. I don't like it so well."

"But you will when you get to be a young lady."

"I like girls the best," she said simply.

He thought they would be quite charming if they all resembled her.

They took the winding path up to the spring, if it were that; Pablo, under Uncle Jason's direction, had made quite a basin of it. Then it trickled down to the next level, and this was Balder's pool. It was arranged so that it irrigated quite a little garden. There were some orange trees, but they had been nipped by the frosts.

"They are rather bitter and sour and full of seeds," said Laverne, "only they are beautiful with their glossy leaves, and the blossoms are sweet. Everything is wonderful here."

"It truly is." He was glancing about. "Father ought to see this. But you know we think Oaklands the garden spot of all as you go on down the Bay. It's much wilder going up, and here it doesn't seem a bit promising, but you have made it so. I wonder what about it charmed your uncle?"

She remembered the old home in Maine was rather rocky and wild. She rarely thought of it now.

"Here is where Snippy lives. Though there are plenty of squirrels about and rabbits and everything, it seems to me. Snippy," she called, "Snippy."

A sharp nose and two bright eyes appeared above the hollow and dropped down at once. "Snippy! Oh! you needn't be afraid." She threw some bits of hardtack down. Then there was a sudden gray flash, and he was out on the ground, caught on her frock and ran up to her shoulder. He looked saucily over to Victor Savedra as if he questioned what business he had there.

The boy laughed. "We have some fine birds, and beautiful tame deer. I suppose I could tame a squirrel. But the funny thing is that he should have decided to move up here."

"We brought him first, you know. I didn't think about his having any folks then. And there is getting to be quite a colony of them. Uncle Jason will not have them shot. Though Pablo shot a wildcat not long ago. And the birds do not seem afraid any more. I know where there are several quails' nests."

"I expect you understand bird language."

They turned to go down. Pablo had given Victor's pony a drink. Miss Holmes stood patting her horse's neck.

"I've done up a little lunch," she announced. "Are you quite sure you have time to devote to our picnic?"

"Oh, yes! I have a whole day to spend. And I am delighted that you permit me to accompany you. I hope you will come to Oaklands and allow me to be the host."

They went down on the westerly path. Part of the way it was a rather rough road, and they had the ocean at their side. Here was a kind of depression in the rocky barricade, and down by the shore a herd of deer were sniffing the ocean breezes. How pretty and graceful they looked, startled, too, as the wind wafted the sound of voices to them. Then they suddenly vanished as if the ocean had swallowed them up, and the three looked at each other with surprised and laughing eyes.

Miss Holmes found young Savedra a very entertaining companion. He expected presently to go to England for his education. There was a rather delicate girl next in age to him, who had not been strong enough to come over to the Christmas party. Then a rollicking hoyden, and last of all a second son. It was evident he cared a great deal for his mother. His sister had one of the nervous musical temperaments, and was fond of solitude. The Personette girls were very different, more like their father.

He was really entertaining for so young a person. He knew many of the older stories of the country, the Missions, the Indians, and the lower-class Mexicans. They turned into quite a new road for them, that seemed hidden away by an edge of woods, and presently came to a charming spot where he tethered the horses, and they ate their lunch. Little did they dream that one day even this solitude would be invaded by the resistless hand of improvement. Shy, wild things were running about, birds sang in every sort of key. Gulls swooped down for fish, a great cormorant went sailing slowly along, and seals frolicked almost like children.

"I suppose we could go across here and come up to the eastward," Miss Holmes said. "This has been delightful. We keep to the beaten paths when we are alone, but on Sunday, with Mr. Chadsey, we make farther ventures. We must bring him here, Laverne, if we can remember the way."

"I'll make a diagram for you," he laughed. "I might have 'blazed a trail,'—isn't that what you Yankees call it? But there are so many beautiful roads. And farther down everything is lovelier still. I suppose the eastern world is quite different, with its long, cold winters."

"But to the southward we have pleasant lands, where there is not much winter, and where vegetation is almost as wonderful as here, where roses bloom and tropical fruit ripens. Oh, the Atlantic has many fine points and great cities."

"I should like to see them. I hope some day to travel round the whole world. Miss Laverne, don't you want to go to India?"

"I don't know," and she made a little gesture of aversion. "Uncle Jason has been to many of the seaport towns. And he did not like the natives over well. He thinks them indolent and cruel and all that. And there are tigers and poisonous snakes—no, I do not think I want to go."

"I should like to talk with your uncle. You know we larger boys are studying up curious vestiges of the old civilizations and races. There were people here before the Indians, and it is supposed they came across Behring Strait from Asia."

She opened her eyes wide.

"Why, I thought the Indians were the first race."

"They must have driven out some other people, or driven them down to Mexico, perhaps. But I suppose girls don't need to know all this;" and he laughed. "Oh, look at this picture before we go."

The curve of the path down toward the rocky shore made a striking perspective. There was no wind, but the far-off waves had a golden crest that came nearer and nearer, as if bearing the treasures of the Orient; the air was full of spice and sweetness; wild grape, fern, cedar, and pine, fluttering butterflies, almost like small birds, made swift dazzles, or seemed to hang poised in the still air as if considering which way to take. The sea was marvellously blue, so was the sky overhead, but round the edges where it touched the sea there was a soft gray mistiness, here whitening, there taking on an azure tint.

He was mysteriously touched by beauty, though he was a whole-hearted boy, and occasionally dipped into fun of the unorthodox sort. Who could help it in such a wild country?

Miss Holmes nodded, she, too, was deeply moved. They turned about, the road was narrow and carpeted, one might say, with countless wild roses, flaming lilies, others as yellow as the palest sulphur color; little juniper trees, with their pale green shoots that had never yet seen sunshine; blackberry vines, that were in bloom at least six months of the year, with their starry crowns, and berries of all ripening colors. The horses kicked them aside, they were meet food for the birds.

They came farther inland through tall woods, great stretches of wild oats and barley, meadows that would presently be brown with burnt roots of vanished things. Here and there an adobe house, small children playing about in cotton shirts, and shouting with the same riotous glee that informed the bird's song.

Pelajo gave a whinny as they came in sight of the house that looked as if set among the rocks. Bruno rushed out. Balder gave a cry of welcome. They had all missed the little girl, who talked to them in a language they understood and loved.

"I hardly know how to thank you for such a delightful day," Victor Savedra said, in his refined manner that was hearty as well. "I had not thought of so much pleasure when I came. And I do hope to return it. You see, I haven't felt quite like a stranger, Aunt Grace has talked of you so often. We all like her so much. And at first we felt quite startled at the thought of uncle marrying a Yankee woman," and he smiled, with a sort of gay retrospection. "Yet, she had been so good to the aunt that died. But it is largely in the cultivation, don't you think? Many of those first Eastern people were of good birth, and they were fine pioneers, we can't deny that. And we shall plan for you to come over on some Saturday with her and the girls, for I want you to see mother."

Miss Holmes thanked him cordially, and the little girl said the same thing with her eyes and her smile.

Yet, after she had made the round of her pets, had a splendid drink of water, and seen Pelajo munching his wisps of alfalfa—Pablo would not give him too much at a time—she came in and sat down in her favorite low chair, while Miss Holmes was making some supper preparations, beating-up an old-fashioned cake of which Uncle Jason was very fond, and that suggested to him the weekly bakings in the old ovens back in Maine.

The little girl was quiet so long that Miss Holmes said presently: "Are you very tired?"

"Oh, no; I was thinking," and for an instant the rosy lips were compressed. "Is it—do you think it wrong to have secrets?"

Miss Holmes was alarmed and studied her anxiously.

"It depends on what they are, and with whom," she answered gravely.

"Long ago, when we first knew her, Olive Personette said girls always had secrets. They were mostly about other girls. And I only knew the Estenegas, and there wasn't anything about them except the queer old house and Carmen going to a convent. She didn't care about that. Then there was the party."

"Yes," encouragingly.

"Olive was very angry because—because her cousin was so nice to me."

Then the whole story came out, how Olive had scarcely taken any notice of her, and had her seat changed and played with the larger girls. But, after awhile, it had blown over, and now they were good friends again.

Miss Holmes had remarked an estrangement, but she was not in love with Olive herself, and had made no comment.

"I didn't want to tell Uncle Jason——"

"Oh, no, no," interrupted Miss Holmes quickly.

"And—I should have liked to know whether it was quite right to dance so much with Victor, but you see it was all done, and—and——"

"On the whole, you were a very discreet little girl. You did not know, of course. Olive should have been more attentive to her guests. That wasn't a very harmful secret, but I think your uncle would have been quite vexed with Olive."

"I was afraid he would," she returned gravely.

"It is better to keep a secret than to stir up strife," Miss Holmes remarked.

"But now there's another secret," and a look of distress clouded the fair face. "It's been such a lovely day. I didn't ever suppose he would come without the girls, but he has, and they do not know. Olive will be angry, I am afraid."

Miss Holmes smiled inwardly, so as not to pain Laverne. Even these little girls began to have troubles and jealousies about the boys. She had been in it herself during childhood, she had seen a great deal of it later on. And childhood should be such a sweet and simple thing—a season of pure enjoyment.

"I think you had better say nothing about to-day. I'll explain the matter sometime to Mrs. Personette."

"Oh, that will be splendid! It was just a glorious time, wasn't it? And I should be sorry to have it spoiled."

Her face was joyous again with relief.

"But I can tell Uncle Jason?"

"Oh, yes."

She would have felt much relieved if she had known that the young fellow went straight to the Personettes and found his aunt home alone. The girls were out driving with some friends.

"Aunt Grace," he said frankly, after the first courtesies had passed, "I've been up there on the hill where the Chadseys live, getting acquainted with the pets; and what an odd, pretty place it is. I like Miss Holmes very much. I wish Isola had just such a friend instead of that half-French governess. And Miss Laverne is a very charming little child, isn't she? Can't you bring them over some Saturday and I'll do my best to entertain you. I've told mother a good deal about them—well, so have you;" and he laughed with boyish gayety.

"Yes, I've been thinking of it. And now everything is at its best. I'll be over in a day or two and we will settle upon the time. I should like your mother to know Miss Holmes. And, oh, what a treat it will be for that little Laverne. She might almost as well be in a convent, but she is happy and bright as a lark. She's a really charming child, but it would be a pity to make an early 1800 girl out of her when we are passed the middle of the century."

They both laughed at the idea.

CHAPTER XI

IN THE SUNSHINE OF YOUTH

There was a great talk about hard times. Some discouraged people returned east, convinced there was just as good a chance for prosperity there. But the city went on laying out streets, paving some, erecting large business buildings, discarding old oil lamps, for now gas was introduced. And in April, a branch Mint was opened by the Government on Commercial Street, which had been a great necessity, though there had been allowed a private coining establishment. The payment of many transactions had been in gold dust or nuggets. There was also an earnest endeavor to awake interest in a through railroad service. The overland route was hazardous, painful, and expensive, that round the Horn tedious, and across the isthmus difficult.

There were also several filibustering expeditions that came to grief, and some quite noted citizens were tried and punished. Riots, too, were of frequent occurrence, but, on the whole, a spirit of improvement was visible everywhere. The long-neglected Plaza was regraded, a fence placed around it, a flagstaff raised, and it became quite a favorite resort, the drive around it being thronged by carriages on pleasant afternoons.

The Vigilance Committee had done good work and rendered the city much safer. Manufactures were started. True, coal had to be brought from some distance, and there was a great need of really skilled labor.

The little party that had taken the "Hazard of new fortunes" were prospering. Now and then Dick Folsom had been seized with a mining fever that had required all the ingenious arguments of his mother to combat. Then, seeing an opportunity, and having good backers in the Dawsons, she had opened a sort of Home Hotel that at once became a great favorite on account of its excellent bread and rolls, and now Dick had business enough on his hands, though it did not quench his longing for a more adventurous life.

Miss Gaines, too, had extended her borders. She had taken a place on an attractive street and opened a real business of dressmaking and millinery, and was largely patronized, Boston being considered really higher style than New York. Jacintha Vanegas had married, and Miss Gaines had persuaded the mother to sell her old house as the lot was needed for an important improvement. So Señora Vanegas came to keep house for her, and Felicia to be her right-hand woman.

"It's worlds better than teaching school," she explained to Miss Holmes. "When you once rise to a positive dictum in style, people give in to you and pay you any price. I'm not going to spend all my time on furbelows. After a few years I shall retire and take some journeys about the world. One of my cousins is anxious to come out and I shall send for her. As for marrying—I certainly shall not take a man to hang on to me, as one might easily every month in the year."

The hard times had touched Jason Chadsey rather severely, but he held up his head bravely. For he saw that San Francisco must be the brain of the outlying country. The treaty with Japan would open up new ventures. There was to be a line of mail steamers from San Francisco to Shanghai. And all up and down the coast from Puget Sound to the Isthmus vessels were plying, bringing the treasures of other lands.

The visit to Oaklands had been beautifully arranged. Mrs. Savedra had sent a written invitation to her sister-in-law, enclosing a note to Miss Holmes. They were to come early in the morning, at least the big carriage would meet the boat at ten. It was across the bay, to be sure, but only like a ferry.

Olive took upon herself the real significance of the visit. They were her relatives, not even her stepmother's. Her aunt was quite French still and talked with a pretty accent, and was really very charming, though she did not go much into society.

"Of course, you've seen Victor—you can't help liking him, you know. Isola is only a year younger, but she's a queer, fretful sort of girl, who always has a headache if she doesn't want to do the things you choose. Elena is a little witch, good and bad, sweet and sour all in a minute. Then some children died, and Andrea is a sweet, big, spoiled baby."

Laverne laughed.

"If Isola was like most girls we could have lots of fun. I hate half-sick people, don't you? I want them to be ill enough to stay in bed, or else able to have some fun. She plays beautifully on the organ, though, and the piano."

"Oh, I do love music," declared Laverne. "I could listen forever."

"Then you and she will get along. Victor will entertain Isabel, of course. You can't have him all the time," with a touch of malice.

Laverne turned scarlet.

Up and down the bay seemed alive with vessels of every kind and degree, and some sailboats keeping out of the way of the larger craft.

Victor had the big family carriage with its three seats.

"I'm going to sit with the driver," announced Olive.

Victor assisted the ladies in, expressing his pleasure that it was a fine day and that they could all come. The two handsome horses flung up their heads and pawed the ground a little. They went somewhat south-easterly, passed the streets that already had quite a city aspect, and then turned into a road bordered with magnificent trees and almost paved with great violets of all colors, and farther back a wild profusion of bloom. Geraniums like small trees, brilliant in scarlet, rose, and pink. Magnificent palms, shining olive trees, and oranges that had been cultivated to perfection. Laverne drew long breaths of the perfumed air.

All at the southern side was an immense garden. At the north it was protected by a great belt of woods. How different from their rocky mound, but she recalled the fact that Victor had found some points to admire.

The mansion was broad and low, the centre reaching up two stories with a sharp peak, the wings but one story. A porch ran the whole length of it, shaded by heliotrope trained as a vine and full of purple bloom, and passion flowers in lavender, purplish red and white, with touches of grayish purple. These climbed over lattices, leaving spaces between that looked like French windows reaching to the ground. It was really a succession of rooms. Easy chairs, lounging chairs (one on wheels for Isola when she felt indisposed for walking), small tables with books and papers, or a work-basket, and down one end a large one with various dishes of fruit.

Mrs. Savedra welcomed them in a most cordial manner. She was hardly medium height; indeed, she looked short beside these taller women. Her black hair was a bed of ripples with curling ends, her eyes a soft dusky black, and her complexion a rather pale sort of olive with a dash of color in the cheeks.

Victor could hardly be said to resemble her, and yet he had taken some of her best points.

Isola stood beside her mother, almost as tall, but slim as a willow wand, and sallow as to complexion, with a deep shade under the eyes. Her hair was a duller tint, and her eyes a gleam that in some lights would have a suggestion of yellow.

There were also two young gentlemen—one a visitor who had come with his father on some business, the other a schoolmate of Victor's that the Personette girls had met before, Vance Lensam. Louis Alvarado was older than either of them, a handsome young fellow, with blue black hair and eyes that seemed to look through one.

Victor had asked his friend Vance, so that, he said laughingly, his cousins would not pull him to pieces.

"And this is the little girl we have heard about, who took the long, long journey around Cape Horn," Mrs. Savedra said, holding her small fair hand and glancing smilingly into the deep blue eyes. "I took one journey from New Orleans with my husband, and it seemed endless, though we had many pleasures by the way and some dangers. Once we lost our way and had to sleep in the woods, and we heard the wolves howl."

"There were no wolves on shipboard and we couldn't get lost," returned the child, in a soft tone.

"Oh, you might have been blown out of your course by a storm," commented Victor.

"I think we were once or twice. But they all said it was an exceptional passage," returned his aunt.

Then they were seated on the porch while the maids took their hats and mantles, for one never quite knew when a strong west wind would come up. And for a few moments there was a confusion of pleasant voices. The servant brought a great stone pitcher of delightful fruit beverage and filled the glasses. It was ice-cold and most grateful. There were some queer crispy cakes with scalloped edges that were very nice, Laverne thought.

The elders began to talk on the subjects of the day. There was never any lack of news in the various papers, though there were few telegraph connections and no cables to flash around the world. Vance Lensam came round to Isabel's side. He had been to the theatre a few nights before and seen a remarkable young actress, Miss Heron, in the play of "Fazio," and it was superb.

"I want so to go to the theatre," declared Isabel. "Father will not allow us, he declares it is no place for young people."

"Anybody might see this play, I think. And the audiences have grown more respectful and respectable. We are getting to be quite a staid and orderly city," and he laughed with a little irony.

"And just as soon as a girl is married she can go anywhere," Isabel declared.

"With her husband—yes."

"And I want to go to a real ball. I have outgrown children's parties. Oh, there are to be some splendid picnics when school closes. I hope we can go. Mother has so many engagements all the time. We ought to have a summer governess."

"That would be a good idea. One as manageable as the Señorita's," and he half nodded in Isola's direction.

"But she never wants to do anything worth while. Oh, dear, it isn't a nice thing never to be real well."

"No, I wouldn't like it."

"Do you know that Mr. Alvarado?"

"I only met him yesterday. They are Spanish Cubans, I believe."

"Come down and talk to him. Oh, I do get on so slowly with French and Spanish. Mother wishes she could send me to a good Eastern school, where they make girls study."

"You wouldn't like it?" enquiringly.

"Do they lock them up and keep them on bread and water, or beat them? I'd like to see the teacher who could make me study."

"Are you so very obstreperous?" he laughed.

"I don't see the use of so much of it. You marry, and that's the end of learning. But I wish I was a good French scholar. I was quite ashamed the other night. Father had a French visitor come in about something, and he didn't understand English very well, so he asked me to translate, and I couldn't."

"Moral!" Vance said sententiously.

They had been moving slowly down to the young man, who now gave them a nod of welcome, and began to air his rather lame English.

The nurse brought out the baby, a charming child of four, and Laverne's face lighted up with joy.

"You are fond of babies," said the mother, in a glad tone.

"Oh, yes, and there are so few of them, except the dirty street children."

"Where is Lena?" asked Olive.

"One can never tell for five minutes where she is," said the mother.

"I'm going to hunt her up; she's such fun."

But Olive went no further than the group shaded by the passion vine, and the four were in the midst of something amusing, to judge by their merry laughs.

"Why, I didn't know Alvarado could be so gay," declared Victor. "He doesn't talk very well, and last night I hardly knew how to entertain him. His father is to send him North to one of the cities in the autumn. We need some of this work here, high schools and colleges."

"That will come. Think how young you are. I am amazed at the progress," declared Mrs. Personette.

"I suppose San Francisco is an old, young city. The Americanos have really overpowered us. But, Aunt Grace, did you ever stand in the street a few moments and listen to the jargon? You can imagine what the Tower of Babel must have been. I think we have gathered all the nations of the earth within our borders. And the Chinese are the oddest. Oh, mother, I am glad you were not a Chinese woman."

"I think your father would not have been allowed to marry me," she said smilingly. "And I did not know a word of English then. I had been in a convent. We thought it a barbarous tongue."

"It's going to conquer the world some day."

"Will everybody speak English, do you think?" and Laverne glanced up. The baby's arms were tight about her neck.

"Oh, baby!" cried the mother. "Nurse, you had better take him."

It was funny to hear the baby scold in French.

"Victor, you might take the little girl—Laverne, is it not? and show her the garden. I heard about your pets. You must have a charm."

Laverne smiled. They walked down the porch and Victor paused a moment to invite his friends to join them. They did not at once, but the two kept on. They turned down a wide alley, under some orange trees. The late blossoms had fruited, the early ones been killed by the unusual frost of the winter.

"Oh, it is so beautiful, so very beautiful!" she exclaimed, with almost the poignancy of joy. "I never supposed there was all this beauty such a little distance from us. Why didn't they come over here and build the city?"

"You will not ask that twenty years from this time. San Francisco will be one of the great cities of the world, the gateway of the Western coast, the link of everything splendid! Think of the Golden Gate, of the magnificent bay, where no enemy could touch a ship. And that rocky coast, a defence in itself."

"Twenty years," she repeated musingly. "Why, I shall be quite an old woman," and a look almost of terror flashed up in her face.

He laughed at her dismay. "I am not quite seventeen. Then I shall be thirty-seven, and I hope to have a home and be just as happy as my father is, and shall endeavor to be just as prosperous. But I wouldn't want you to call me an old man."

She flushed under his eager eyes.

"Everything grows finer here than in San Francisco. Even at the Estenegas it was not luxuriant like this."

"For fifteen years father has had it cultivated. There are two gardeners working all the time. He is so fond of beautiful things—trees, and flowers, and birds. No one is allowed to molest them. Oh, listen!"

They both stood still. She clasped her hands, and her eyes were lucent with mistiness.

"Oh," she cried, "it is like this: