CHAPTER XXI.
"Then all was jollity, Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laughter."
"It seems nice and warm here," remarked Lulu; "but," glancing about, "I don't see any fire."
Her father pointed to a register. "There is a cellar underneath, and a furnace in it," he said. "I thought that the safest way to heat these rooms for the use of very little people. I do not want to expose you to any danger of setting yourselves on fire."
"It's getting a little dark," remarked Grace.
"Yes," he said. "We will go in now. It is time for you to be dressed for the evening."
"Papa, who is to tell us what to wear,—you, or mamma Vi?" asked Lulu, as they pursued their way back to the house.
"You may wear your cream-colored cashmere with the cherry trimmings;
Gracie, hers with the blue," he replied.
"That's just what I wanted you to say, papa! I like those dresses," remarked Lulu with satisfaction.
"That is well: and Gracie, of course, is pleased; for she never objects to any thing papa or mamma wishes her to do," he said, with a loving glance down into the little girl's face.
"'Course not, papa; 'cause I know you and mamma always know best," she said, her blue eyes smiling up into his.
"And I mean to try to be like her in that, papa," Lulu said with unwonted humility.
"I hope so: I have no fault to find with your behavior of late," he returned kindly.
They passed into the house, and in the hall met Christine and Alma.
"Ah! you have come, my good girls?" the captain said to them with a pleased look. "Jane," to the girl who had admitted them, "show them to their rooms."
Christine had come to assume her duties as housekeeper at Woodburn; Alma was to make her home there while still continuing to sew for the families at Ion and Fairview—an arrangement which suited the sisters admirably.
"Thanks, sir: it ees one grand place you haf here," said Christine. "We shall be very pleased to haf so nice a home."
"I hope it will prove a happy one to you both," he returned kindly.
Then, as they followed Jane to the rear of the mansion,—
"Now, children," he said, "make haste with your dressing."
"Yes, sir," they replied, hurrying up the broad stairway with willing feet.
At its head they met Agnes, their mamma's maid.
"I'se to help yo' dress, Miss Lu and Miss Gracie," she said. "Miss
Wi'let tole me so, and I'se laid out yo' things on yo' beds."
"What things? What dress for me?" asked Lulu sharply.
"De cream-colored cashmere, what Miss Wi'let corrected me to."
Lulu laughed. "Directed, you mean, Agnes. You may tie my sash when I'm ready. I can do all the rest myself," she said, passing on into her bedroom, while Grace skipped gayly into hers.
"Mamma's very good to send you, Agnes," she said; "and you may please dress me as fast as you can, 'cause papa told us to make haste."
Grace was a favorite with Agnes as with all the servants at Ion.
"Ya'as, I'll dress yo' up fine, Miss Gracie, and make yo' look putty as a pink," she said, beginning her task.
"Lots ob folks comin' to-night, honey, and grand doin's gwine on in de kitchen and de dinin'-room. Dere's a long table sot out in de bigges' dinin'-room, and heaps and heaps ob splendiferous china dishes, wid fruits and flowahs painted onto 'em, and silverware bright as de sun, and glass dishes dat sparkle like Miss Elsie's di'mon's; and in de kitchen dey's cookin' turkeys and chickens, and wild game ob warious kinds, and oysters in warious styles; 'sides all de pastry and cakes and fruits and ices, and—oh, I cayn't begin to tell yo' all de good things the captain has perwided! dere wasn't never nuffin' grander at Ion or Wiamede or de Oaks, or any ob de grand places belongin' to our fam'lies."
Grace was a highly interested listener.
"Oh," she said, "I want to see the table when it's all set and the good things on it! I wonder if papa will let me eat any of them."
"Maybe," said Agnes; "but you know, Miss Grace, yo's sickly,—leastways, not bery strong,—and de doctah doan' let you eat rich things."
"No," returned the little girl, sighing slightly, "but I do have a good many nice things; and I'd rather eat plain victuals than be weak and sick. Wouldn't you, Agnes?"
"Yaas, I reckon. Dere, you's done finished, Miss Gracie, and looks sweet as a rosebud."
"So she does," said Lulu, coming hurrying in from her room, arrayed in her pretty cashmere, and with a wide, rich sash-ribbon in her hand. "Now, Agnes, if you will please tie my sash, I'll be 'done finished' too."
"O Lu!" exclaimed Grace in loving admiration, "I'm sure you must look twice as sweet and pretty as I do."
Their father opened the door, and stepped in just in time to hear her words, and, glancing smilingly from one to the other, said, "To papa's eyes, both his dear little girls look sweet and lovable. Agnes, their appearance does you credit. Now, my darlings, we will go down to tea, for there is the bell."
"Have the folks come, papa?" asked Grace, putting her hand into his.
"No, daughter: they will probably not begin to come for an hour or so."
"Then, are we going to have two suppers?"
"Yes, one for ourselves—the children especially—at the usual hour, and a later one for the company. That last will be too late, and too heavy, for your weak digestion."
"But not for Max's and mine, will it, papa?" questioned Lulu.
"Yes, I fear so."
"But we are strong and healthy."
"And I wish to keep you so," he said pleasantly; "but you may rest assured that I shall not deny you any enjoyment I think it safe to grant you. Now sit down and be quiet till the blessing has been asked,"—for they had reached the dining-room, and found Violet and Max there waiting for them.
Lulu had overheard a good deal of the glowing account of the coming feast to which Agnes had treated Grace, and, when at liberty to speak again, asked, in a rather discontented tone, if she and Max were not to have any share in the good supper being prepared for the expected guests.
Instead of answering directly, the captain turned to his son, and asked,
"Max, what do you think of this supper?"
"It's good enough for a king, sir," returned the lad heartily, glancing over the table as he spoke,—"the nicest of bread and butter, plenty of rich milk and cream, canned peaches and plums, and splendid gingerbread. Why, Lu, what more could you ask?"
Lulu only blushed and hung her head in reply.
"I think it is a meal to be thankful for," remarked Violet cheerily; "but, my dear, you will let them share in some of the lighter refreshments provided for the guests, won't you?"
"Yes, I intend they shall," replied her husband. "Even Gracie can, I think, eat some ice-cream with safety."
"Thank you, papa: I'll be satisfied with that, if you don't think it is best for me to have any thing else," Lulu said, recovering her spirits.
They had scarcely left the table when the guests began to arrive, those from Ion and Fairview coming first.
"Mamma, dearest mamma! welcome, a thousand times welcome, to our home!" exclaimed Violet, embracing her mother with ardent affection.
"I wish it were yours also, mother," the captain said: "there could be no more welcome inmate."
There were cordial, affectionate greetings for each of the others also: then, when outdoor garments had been laid aside, all were conducted over the house, to be shown the improvements already made, and told of those still in contemplation.
It was a great delight to Lulu and Grace to exhibit their pretty rooms to Evelyn and Rosie, and hear their expressions of surprise and admiration; and the pleasure was repeated several times, as the little folks from the Laurels, the Oaks, and the Pines arrived, and in succession went the same round.
"I am pleased with all I have seen, Vi; but this room is especially charming to me," grandma Elsie said, when Violet led her a second time into the nursery, the rest of the Ion party having passed on down to the parlors. "Baby should be a merry, happy child, if pleasant, cheerful surroundings can make her so."
"I trust she will, mamma," returned the young mother, leading the way to the dainty crib where the little one lay sweetly sleeping.
Elsie bent over the little form, gazing at the sweet baby face with eyes brimful of motherly love and tenderness.
"The lovely, precious darling!" she murmured softly. "I am so rejoiced, so thankful, to see her looking almost herself again!"
"As we are," said Violet, in low, tremulous tones. "Her father is extremely fond of her, mamma, as he is of all his children. I think he has no favorite among them, but loves each one devotedly."
"As I do mine," Elsie responded, a bright, sweet smile lighting up her face. "I love you, my Vi, and all your brothers and sisters, very dearly,—each with a love differing somewhat in kind from that given to the others, but not at all in intensity."
They lingered a moment longer, watching the young sleeper: then with a parting injunction to the nurse to be very careful of her, not leaving her alone for an instant, they went down-stairs again, and rejoined the rest of the company.
Everybody had come, the last party of children just descended from the inspection of the rooms of Max and his sisters.
"Now, have we seen positively every thing?" asked Rosie Travilla.
"Why, no!" cried Max, as with sudden recollection. Then hurrying to his father, who was talking on the other side of the room to Dr. Conly, and Mr. Horace Dinsmore of the Oaks, he stood waiting respectfully for an opportunity to speak.
The gentlemen paused in their conversations and the captain asked, "What is it, my son?"
"We haven't shown the workroom or the playroom, papa."
"Ah, sure enough! We must have them lighted first. Send Scipio out to put a lamp in each. Then the ladies' wraps will have to be brought down, for they would be in danger of taking cold going even that short distance without."
"I'll attend to it all, sir," Max rejoined with cheerful alacrity, and hastened away to do so.
In a few minutes all was in readiness.
Max, announcing the fact to his father, and the company in general, said dubiously, "I'm afraid we can't go all at once: the rooms aren't big enough to take in so many."
"So we will go in divisions," said Mr. Dinsmore. "There are thirty of us—not counting the Woodburn family proper: we will make five divisions, six in each, in addition to the guide and exhibiter. Does everybody consent?"
"Yes, yes," was heard on every side.
Then ensued a merry time forming the divisions, and deciding the order of precedence; for every one was in mirthful mood.
It was all settled at last. The visits of inspection were made: everybody agreed in praising all they saw, and congratulating Max and his sisters on the good fortune that had befallen them.
The rest of the evening passed off very pleasantly. The feast was enjoyed, every dish being pronounced a success: the Woodburn children were satisfied with the share of it allowed them,—all the more, perhaps, that a like care was exercised by the parents and guardians of the other young folks in respect to their indulgence of appetite.
Grace bade good-night, and went to her nest at nine o'clock, a cheerful, happy child; but, as the party broke up at ten, Max and Lulu were allowed to remain up to see them off.
Lulu had taken an early opportunity to give the invitation for the next day to Evelyn, and it was joyfully accepted, "uncle Lester" giving ready permission.
"You'll come as soon as lessons are over at Ion, won't you?" asked Lulu in parting.
"Yes, you may be sure I'll come the first minute I can," Eva answered gayly. "I expect to have a lovely time with you in those beautiful rooms, and I've had a lovely time to-night. Good-by," giving her friend a hearty embrace.
"Well, children," the captain said at breakfast the next morning, "remember, I expect every one of you to be in the schoolroom at five minutes before nine, and to begin studying exactly at the hour."
"Every thing to be done with naval precision, I suppose," remarked Violet, giving him a bright half-saucy smile; "that being, I understand, about on a par with military."
"Yes," he said, smiling in return, "that is to be the rule in this house for every one but my wife: she is to follow her own sweet will in all things."
"Ah!" she responded gayly, "I fear you do not realize what a rash promise you are making; or, rather, how rash you are in according such a privilege."
"It is hardly that," he answered: "acknowledging a right, would be my way of expressing it."
They had left the table and the breakfast-room, and were alone at the moment, the children having scattered to their work or play.
"How good you are to me, my dear husband!" she said, looking up fondly into his face as they stood together before the parlor fire.
"Not a whit better than I ought to be, my darling," he responded, bending to kiss the sweet, upturned face. "I have taken you from a tender mother and a most luxurious home, and it must be my care to see that you lose nothing by the transplantation—sweet and delicate flower that you are!"
"In my place, Zoe would call you an old flatterer," she returned with a light laugh, but a tell-tale moisture gathering in her eyes.
"And what do you call me, my Violet?" he asked, putting his arm about her, and drawing her close to his side.
"The kindest, best, dearest of husbands, the noblest of men!"
"Ah, my dear! who is the flatterer now?" he laughed. "I'm afraid you and
I might be accused of forming a mutual admiration society."
"Well, what if we do? isn't it the very best sort of a society for husband and wife to form? Levis, am I to have no duties in this house? none of the cares and labors that the mistress of an establishment is usually expected to assume?"
"You shall have no care of housekeeping that I can save you from," he said. "I undertake that, with Christine as my head assistant; though you, of course, are mistress, with the right to give orders and directions whenever you will—to housekeeper, servants, children, even to your husband if you see fit," he concluded with a humorous look and smile.
"The idea of my ordering you whom I have promised to obey," she returned merrily. "But I'm afraid you are going to spoil me. Am I to have nothing to do?"
"You are to do exactly what you please," he said: "the care and training of our little one, aside from all the assistance to be had from servants, will furnish you with no small amount of employment."
"But you will help me with that?"
"Certainly, love; I intend to be as good and faithful a father to her as I know how to be: but you are her mother, and will do a mother's part by her, I know. Then, there are wifely duties which you would not wish to delegate to any one else."
"No, never!" she cried. "O my dear husband! it is the greatest pleasure in life to do any thing I can to add to your comfort and happiness."
"I know it, sweet wife. Ah!" glancing at his watch, "I must tear myself away now from your dear society, and attend to the duties of employer and teacher. I have some directions to give both employees and children."
Grace ran and opened the schoolroom door at the sound of her father's approaching footsteps.
"See, papa," she said, "we are all here, waiting for you to come, and tell us what lessons to learn."
"Yes, you are good, punctual children," he replied, glancing at the pretty little clock on the mantel; "for it still wants five minutes to nine."
"Papa, I know what lessons to learn, of course," remarked Lulu; "but the others are waiting for you to tell them."
"Yes. I shall examine Max first," the captain said, seating himself at his writing-table. "Bring your books here, my son."
"Are you dreadfully frightened, Maxie? very afraid of your new teacher?"
Lulu asked laughingly as her brother obeyed the order.
"I don't expect to faint with fright," he returned; "for I've a notion he's pretty fond of me."
"Of you and of all his pupils," the captain said. "Lulu, you may take out your books, and begin to study."
When the tasks had been assigned to each, "Now children," he said, "I am going to leave you for a while. I can do so without fear that you will take advantage of my absence to idle away your time; for I know that you are honorable and trustworthy, also obedient. I have seldom known any one of you to disobey an order from me."
"Thank you, papa," Max said, answering for both himself and sisters, and coloring with pleasure as he spoke. "We'll try to deserve your praise and your confidence. But are we to consider ourselves forbidden to speak at all to each other while you are gone?"
"No, not entirely; but do not engage in unnecessary talk, to the neglect of your studies."
So saying, he went out and left them.
Returning exactly at the expiration of the first hour for study, he found them all busily at work.
He commended their industry, and gave permission for five minutes' rest.
They were prompt to avail themselves of it, and gathered about him full of gleeful chat, the girls seating themselves one on each knee, Max standing close at his side.
School was a decided success that day, and neither teacher nor pupils saw any reason to regret the establishment of the new order of things.
Evelyn came soon after they were dismissed, spent the afternoon and evening, and, when she left, averred that it had been the most delightful visit she had ever paid.
CHAPTER XXII.
LIFE AT WOODBURN.
Lulu's temper was not conquered, but she was more successful than formerly in combating it. The terrible lesson she had had in the injury to her baby sister, consequent upon her outburst of passion, could not easily be forgotten: the bitter recollection was often a great restraint upon her, and her father's loving watchfulness saved her many a time, when, without it, she would have fallen; he kept her with him almost constantly when at home,—and he was rarely absent,—scarcely allowed her to go anywhere off the estate without him, and seemed never for a moment to forget her and her special temptation: the slightest elevation in the tones of her voice was sure to catch his ear; and a warning look generally proved sufficient to put her on her guard, and check the rising storm of anger.
There were several reasons why it was—as she often asserted—easier to be good with him than with Mr. Dinsmore: he was more patient and sympathizing, less ready to speak with stern authority, though he could be stern enough when he deemed it necessary. Besides, he was her father, whom she greatly reverenced and dearly loved, and who had, as she expressed it, a right to rule her and to punish her when she deserved it.
One morning, after several very happy weeks at Woodburn, the quiet of the schoolroom, which had been profound for many minutes, was broken by a slight exclamation of impatience from Lulu.
Her father, glancing up from the letter he was writing, saw an ominous frown on her brow, as she bent over her slate, setting down figures upon it, and quickly erasing them again, with a sort of feverish haste, shrugging her shoulders fretfully, and pushing her arithmetic peevishly aside with the free hand.
"Lulu, my daughter," he said, in a quiet tone, "put on your hat and coat, and take a five-minutes' run on the driveway."
"Just now, papa?" she asked, looking up in surprise.
"Yes, just now. When you think you have been out the specified number of minutes, you may come back; but I shall not find fault with you if you are not quite punctual, as you will not have a timepiece with you."
"Thank you, sir," she said, obeying with alacrity.
She came in again presently, with cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling, not a cloud on her brow.
"Ah! I see you feel better," her father remarked, smiling kindly upon her; "and I have finished my letter, so have time to talk with you. Max and Gracie, you may take your turn at a run in the fresh air now."
Donning their outdoor garments, while Lulu took hers off, and put them in their proper place, they hurried away.
"Bring your slate and book here, daughter," was the next order, in the kindest of tones, "and let me see what was troubling you so."
"It's these vulgar fractions, papa," she said, giving herself an impatient shake. "I don't wonder they call them vulgar, for they're so hateful! I can't understand the rule, and I can't get the examples right. I wish you wouldn't make me learn them."
"Daughter, daughter!" he said, in grave, reproving accents, "don't give way to an impatient temper. It will only make matters worse."
"But, papa," she said, bringing the book and slate as directed, "won't you please let me skip these vulgar fractions?"
"I thought," he said, "that my Lulu was a brave, persevering little girl, not ready to be overcome by a slight difficulty."
"Oh! but it isn't a slight one, papa: it's big and hard," she pleaded.
"I will go over the rule with you, and try to make it clear," he returned, still speaking in a pleasant tone; "and then we will see what we can do with these troublesome examples."
She sighed almost hopelessly, but gave her attention fully to his explanation, and presently cried out joyfully, "Oh, I do understand it now, papa! and I believe I can get the sums right."
"I think you can," he said. "Stand here by my side, and let me see you try."
She succeeded, and was full of joy.
"There is nothing like trying, my little girl," he said, smiling at her exultation and delight.
She came to him again after lessons were done, and Max and Grace had left the room once more.
"May I talk a little to you, papa?" she asked.
"Yes, more than a little, if you wish," he replied, laying aside the book he had taken up. "What is it?"
"Papa, I want to thank you for sending me out to take that run, and then helping me so nicely and kindly with my arithmetic."
"You are very welcome, my darling," he said, drawing her to a seat upon his knee.
"If you hadn't done it, papa, or if you had spoken sternly to me, as grandpa Dinsmore would have done in your place, I'd have been in a great passion in a minute. I was feeling like just picking up my slate, and dashing it to pieces against the corner of the desk."
"How grieved I should have been had you done so!" he said; "very, very sorry for your wrong-doing, and that I should have to keep my word in regard to the punishment to be meted out for such conduct."
"Yes, papa," she murmured, hanging her head, and blushing deeply.
"Would breaking the slate have helped you?" he asked with grave seriousness.
"Oh, no, papa! you cannot suppose I'm so foolish as to think it would."
"Was it the fault of the slate that you had such difficulty with your examples?"
"Why, no, papa, of course not."
"Then, was it not extremely foolish, as well as wrong, to want to break it just because of your want of success with your ciphering?"
"Yes, sir," she reluctantly admitted.
He went on, "Anger is great folly. The Bible says, 'Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry; for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.' It seems to be the sort of foolishness that, more than any other, is bound in the heart of this child of mine. It seems, too, that nothing but 'the rod of correction' will drive it out."
She gave him a frightened look.
"No," he said, "you need not be alarmed: as you did not indulge your passionate impulse, I have no punishment to inflict.
"My dear, dear child, try, try to conquer the propensity! Watch and pray against this besetting sin."
"I will, papa," she murmured with a half despairing sigh.
Some weeks later—it was on an afternoon early in December—Lulu and Grace were in their own little sitting-room, busied in the manufacture of some small gifts for "papa and Maxie," who were, of course, to be kept in profound ignorance on the subject till the time for presentation; therefore, the young workers sat with locked doors; and when presently Maxie's boyish footsteps were heard rapidly approaching, their materials were hastily gathered up, thrust into a closet close at hand, and the key turned upon them. Then Lulu ran and opened the door.
"Hollo!" cried Max, in a perfectly good-humored tone, "what do you lock a fellow out for? It looks as if you're up to some mischief. I just came to tell you there's company in the parlor, and they've asked for you, both of you."
"Who are they?" asked Lulu, glancing at her reflection in a pier-glass opposite, to make sure that dress and hair were in order.
She was neat and orderly by nature, and her father very particular about the appearance of his children; not caring to have them expensively attired, but always neat and tidy.
"The Oaks young folks," replied Max,—"Horace and Frank and their two sisters, Maud and Sydney."
"Come, Gracie," said Lulu, turning to her little sister: "we both look nice, and we'll go right down."
The children all felt rather flattered by the call, because the Oaks young people were older than themselves. Horace, Frank, and Maud were all older than Max, and Sydney was between him and Lulu in age.
With the Dinsmore girls, the Raymonds were quite well acquainted, having seen them frequently at Ion, and sometimes met them elsewhere; but the boys, who had been away at school, were comparative strangers.
Violet was in the parlor chatting pleasantly with her young cousins, the call being intended for her also; and her cheerful presence set her little step-daughters more at their ease than they would otherwise have been.
They had not been long in the room ere they learned that the special object of the visit was to invite them and Max to the Oaks, to spend the greater part of Christmas week.
"It is to be a young people's party, you must all understand," said
Maud, who seemed to be the chief speaker, "and so the captain and cousin
Vi are not invited: not that cousin Vi is not young, you know, for she
is that; but there are to be no married folks asked.
"There is to be the usual Christmas-eve party at Ion for all the family connection, Christmas-tree and all that, and the grand dinner-party on Christmas Day; then all the boys and girls of the connection are invited to the Oaks to stay till the next Saturday evening.
"We hope, cousin Vi, that Max and his sisters may come?"
"If it depended upon me," returned Violet pleasantly, "I presume I should say yes; but of course it will have to be as their father says."
"Oh, yes! certainly. Is he in?"
"No, and I fear he will not be for an hour or two; but if you will stay to tea, you will be pretty sure to see him."
The invitation was declined with thanks; "they had other calls to make, and must be going presently:" but they sat for some minutes longer, the whole four joining in an animated description of various diversions planned for the entertainment of their expected guests, and repeating again and again that they hoped Max and his sisters would be permitted to come.
"I do wish papa may let us go!" cried Lulu, the moment the visitors had departed. "I'm sure it will be perfectly delightful!"
"So do I," said Max. "Mamma Vi, do you think papa will consent?"
"I really cannot say, Max," she answered doubtfully. "Do you want to go, too, Gracie?" drawing the child to her side, and softly smoothing her hair.
"Yes, mamma, if—if I could have you or papa there with me. I don't want to go very much 'less one of you goes too."
"And you are such a delicate little darling, that I hardly think your papa will feel willing to have you go, without either of us along to take care of you."
"I can take perfectly good care of Gracie, mamma Vi," asserted Lulu with dignity.
"Here comes papa," cried Max, as a step was heard in the hall.
Then the door opened, and the captain came in.
"We've had an invitation, papa, and hope you will let us accept it," Max said, coming eagerly forward.
"O papa! please, please do!" cried Lulu, running to him, and taking hold of his hand.
"Let me hear about it," he said, sitting down, and allowing Lulu to take possession of one knee, Gracie of the other; "but speak one at a time. Max, you are the eldest: we will let you have the first turn."
Violet sat quietly listening, and watching her husband's face, while the eager children told their tale, and expressed their wishes.
He looked grave and thoughtful; and before he spoke, she had a tolerably correct idea what he was about to say.
"I am glad my little Gracie does not care to go," he said, caressing the child as he spoke, "because she is too feeble and too young to be so long among comparative strangers, without papa or mamma to take care of her. I am sorry Lulu does want to accept the invitation, as there is an insuperable objection to letting her do so."
Lulu's countenance had assumed an expression of woful disappointment not unmingled with anger and wilfulness.
"I want to go, papa, and I do think you might let me," she said with an ominous frown. "I'm not sickly, and I'm a good deal older than Gracie."
"You cannot go, Lucilla," he said gravely, and with some sternness of tone. "Max," in answer to the eagerly questioning look in the lad's eyes, "if you are particularly desirous to go, you have my permission."
"Thank you, sir," said the boy heartily.
"Papa, why can't I go?" grumbled Lulu.
"I think a moment's reflection will tell you why," he answered. "I will talk with you about it at another time. And now not another word on the subject till I mention it to you first."
Lulu was silenced for the time; but after tea, going into the library, and finding her father sitting there alone, she went up to him, and in her most coaxing tones said, "O papa! won't you please let me go? I'll be"—
"Lulu," he interrupted sternly, "go immediately to your room and your bed."
"Papa, it isn't my bedtime for two hours yet," she said, in a half pleading tone, "and I want to read this new 'Companion' that has just come."
"Don't let me have to repeat my order," was the stern rejoinder; and she obeyed, trembling and in haste.
She felt sorely disappointed, angry, and rebellious; but, as her father had said, a few moments' reflection showed her the reason of his refusal to allow her to accept the invitation to the Oaks: and, as she glanced round her rooms at the many pretty things his indulgent kindness had supplied, her anger changed to penitence and love.
"Of course, papa was right," she sighed to herself, as she moved about, getting ready for bed; "and it wasn't because he doesn't love to see me happy; and I wish, oh, how I wish, I'd been good about it!"
She was not at all drowsy; and it seemed a long, long time that she had been lying there awake, when at last she heard her father's step in the hall: then he opened the door, and came in.
He had a lighted lamp in his hand. He set it on the mantel, and drew near the bed.
"You are awake, I see," he said.
"Yes, papa; and I'm sorry I was naughty."
"You understand why I sent you to bed? and why I refused to grant your request?"
"Yes, sir; you can't trust me to pay that visit, because of my bad temper; and you sent me to bed for disobeying you, by asking again, after you had told me to say no more about it."
"Yes: you must learn to be more obedient, less wilful. Did you obey me about going immediately to bed?" he asked, drawing up a chair, and seating himself close beside her.
"Yes, papa,—just as quickly as I could get ready."
"I hope you did not neglect to kneel down and ask forgiveness of God?" he said inquiringly, in a gentle, tender tone, bending over her, and smoothing her hair as he spoke. "You do not need to be told, that, when you are rebellious and disobedient to your earthly father, you are so toward your heavenly Father also; because he bids you 'honor thy father and thy mother.'"
"Yes, papa, I know; I did ask him; and won't you forgive me too?"
"Yes," he said, giving her a kiss. "I am sorry to have to deprive you of the pleasure of accepting that invitation, but I cannot yet trust you anywhere away from me; and it was to spare your feelings that I did not state my reason before your mamma and brother and sister."
"Oh! I'm sorry I was naughty about it, papa," he said, again putting her hand into his.
He held it in a kindly pressure, while he went on talking to her.
"I intend you shall go to Ion to the Christmas-eve party, and the dinner-party the next day, as I shall be there too."
"Thank you, dear papa: I'd like to go ever so much, but I don't deserve to," she said humbly, "or to have any Christmas gifts. If I were you, and had such a bad child, I wouldn't give her a single thing."
"I hope she is going to be a better girl, in future," he said, kissing her good-night.
It was a joyful surprise to Lulu when, at the breakfast-table the next morning, her father said, "Children, your mamma and I are going to drive into the city, and will take you all along: and, as I suppose you would like to do some Christmas shopping, I shall advance your next week's allowance,—perhaps furnish something over," he added, with a kindly smile.
All three young faces had grown very bright, and there was a chorus of thanks.
"We expect to start in a few minutes after prayers," the captain went on, "and so there will be no school to-day."
"We like school, papa," said Grace. "I never liked it half so well before."
"Nor I." "Nor I," cried the other two.
"But you are glad of a holiday once in a while, nevertheless?" their father said, with a pleased look.
"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! 'specially when it is to go somewhere with you," replied Grace; and again the others gave a hearty assent.
When family worship was over, the captain handed a little roll of bank-notes to each, saying, "Now run away, and get yourselves ready for your ride. Put on your warmest clothing, for the wind is sharp."
They flurried out into the hall; then Lulu hesitated, turned about, and ran back.
"Papa," she said, rushing up to him, where he sat beside a table, with some papers before him, and throwing her arm round his neck, "dear papa! you are just too good and kind to me! Oh, I don't mean to be disobedient, wilful, or passionate ever again!"
"I am rejoiced to hear you say that, my dear little daughter," he replied, putting his arm round her, hugging her close, and kissing her tenderly; "and I do not think I shall ever regret any thing I have done for you or either of the others. It is, to me, the greatest pleasure in life to do whatever I can to make my children happy."
"I am so, so sorry I was naughty and disobedient last night," she murmured, laying her cheek to his.
"Dear child," he said, "it is fully and freely forgiven. Now run up to your room and dress."
Grace called to Lulu as she came up the stairs, "O Lu! come in here a minute, into my room. Look, look, on the bed! see how many papa has given me,—ten nice new one dollars."
Lulu counted them as they lay spread out in a row.
"Yes, ten," she said. "O Gracie! isn't it nice? isn't papa kind?"
"'Course he is; kindest man ever was made," said Grace. "Now see how many you have."
Lulu hastily spread out her roll, and counted the bills. "Nine ones, and one two," she announced.
"Just as many as mine," said Grace; "and I've got this besides," holding up a bright new silver half-dollar. "So mine's the most this time, isn't it?"
"No, because one of my bills counts two: that makes mine fifty cents the most. Papa has given us each ten dollars besides our regular allowance."
CHAPTER XXIII.
"At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year."
—TUSSER.
The morning of the twenty-fourth found Grace almost too ill, with a heavy cold, to be out of bed; and it was quite evident that she would not be able to go to the Christmas-eve party at Ion, or the dinner on Christmas Day.
The captain was just finishing his morning toilet when Lulu knocked at his dressing-room door. She had come with the news of Grace's illness, and he followed her at once to the bedside of the sick child.
"My poor darling," he said, bending over her in tender concern, "you seem quite feverish. I think you must stay in bed, and we will send for your doctor."
"And can't I go to-night, papa?" she asked, the tears starting to her eyes.
"I'm afraid not, darling; but don't fret; papa will try to find some way to make it up to you."
"I'll stay with her, papa, and read her stories, and do every thing I can to help her enjoy herself," cried Lulu eagerly. "I may, mayn't I?"
"You may, if you choose," he said; "but I thought you were very anxious to go."
"I was, but I'm not now," she said. "I'd rather stay with Gracie. I shouldn't be one bit happy there without her."
"O Lu! I'd love to have you! but I don't want you to lose all that fun just for me," Grace said, with a wistful, loving look into her sister's eyes.
"It wouldn't be fun without you, my Gracie," was the quick rejoinder.
"I am glad indeed that my little daughters love each other so dearly," the captain said, kissing first one and then the other. "Well, we will see what can be done. If it were not for the disappointment to your mamma, I should stay at home with you, my darlings; as it is, I shall spend at least a part of the evening with you."
He left them, and sought Violet in her dressing-room.
"My dear, what has happened? I am sure you look anxious and troubled!" she exclaimed, the instant she caught sight of his face.
"I confess that I am a little troubled about Gracie," he replied: "she seems to have taken a very heavy cold. I shall send at once for the doctor. And, of course, she has to be disappointed in her expectations for this evening."
"Then, let us all stay at home," returned Violet promptly. "I could not enjoy myself, leaving the poor darling at home, sick. Besides," glancing from the window, "do you see? it is snowing fast, and I should not like to expose baby to the storm. So I propose that we change our plans entirely, and have a private Christmas of our own," she went on in a lively tone. "What do you say to it, my dear?"
They discussed the idea for some minutes, presently growing quite enthusiastic over it.
Their plans were nearly matured when the breakfast-bell rang; and, shortly after leaving the table, they began carrying them out.
Max was taken into their confidence, and allowed to assist; and a proud and happy boy was he, going about with an air of mystery, as one to whom secret and important business is intrusted.
The little girls, shut up in their own apartments,—Grace reclining on a couch, Lulu with her as constant companion, and making every exertion for her entertainment, while papa, mamma, and Maxie came running in now and then to ask how she was,—knew nothing of messages sent back and forth through the telephone, of packages of various shapes and sizes brought into the house, of mysterious goings and comings, and much time spent by papa, mamma, Maxie, Christine, and others in a certain large room, hitherto but little used.
Grace frequently fell asleep: then Lulu would darken the room, go into the adjoining one, leaving the door ajar, so that she could hear the slightest movement her little sick sister might make on waking, and amuse herself with a book or her own thoughts.
Their meals were brought to them, and set out in their sitting-room upon a little round table, covered with a snowy damask cloth, whereon were arranged a set of dainty china dishes of a size just suited to the occasion, and toothsome viands such as "papa" deemed they might eat and enjoy without danger to health.
It was very nice, they thought; almost nicer, just for a change, than going to the larger table down-stairs with the rest of the family.
Soon after they had had their supper, their father came in, bringing the doctor with him, for his second visit that day.
"Ah! she is a good deal better," Dr. Conly said, when he had examined his little patient. "Hardly well enough yet to go to Ion," he added with a humorous look and smile; "but I think, if well wrapped up, she may venture a trip down-stairs in papa's arms, and even stay a little while, if she finds the change to the parlor a pleasant one."
"Should you like it, papa's dear pet?" the captain asked, leaning over her.
"Yes, sir, if you and my doctor think it will be good for me," was the reply, in a submissive and rather languid tone, "and if my Lulu is to come too," she added, with a loving look at her sister.
"Oh, yes, indeed! we would not think of going without Lulu!" their father said, smiling affectionately upon her also.
So a large shawl was brought, and carefully wrapped about Gracie's little slender figure; and she made the short journey in her father's strong arms, the doctor and Lulu going on before, hand in hand, chatting and laughing merrily.
Max heard them, and threw open the parlor-door just as they reached it.
Then what a surprise for the little girls! A large, handsome Christmas-tree, loaded with beautiful things, burst upon their astonished sight, and was greeted by them with exclamations of wonder and delight.
"Oh! oh! oh! it's the very prettiest Christmas-tree we ever saw! And we didn't know we were to have any at all! And how many, many lovely things are on it! Papa, papa, how good and kind you are to us!"
He looked as if he enjoyed their surprise and delight quite as much as they did the tree.
"Other folks have been kind to you, too, my darlings," he said, seating himself, with Gracie still in his arms, "as you will see presently, when the gifts are distributed."
"Who, papa?" asked Gracie, laying her head on his shoulder, and gazing with delighted eyes, beginning to single out one beautiful object from another as she sent her glances up and down, here and there.
"Grandma Elsie, and everybody else in the Ion family, I believe; the Oaks and Laurels and Fairview friends; and Roselands people too; to say nothing of mamma and Maxie."
"They're ever so good and kind! they always are," she said in grateful tones. "Oh!" for the first time perceiving that Violet stood near her with the baby in her arms, "mamma and baby too! and how pleased baby looks at the tree!" for the little one was stretching her arms toward it, and cooing and smiling, her pretty blue eyes shining with delight.
When all, children and servants,—for the latter had been called in to enjoy the sight also,—had looked to their full, the gifts were distributed.
They were very numerous,—nearly everybody having given to nearly everybody else,—and many of those received by the parents and children were very handsome. But their father's gift—a tiny watch to each, to help them to be punctual with all their duties, he said—was what gave the greatest amount of pleasure to Lulu and Grace.
Both they and their brother went to bed that night, and woke the next morning, very happy children.
The weather being still too severe for the little ones to be taken out, the captain and Violet went to Ion only for a call, and returned early in the day, bringing a portion of the party that usually gathered there, to dine with them at Woodburn.
Among these, to Lulu's extreme satisfaction, was Evelyn. She staid till after tea; and all the afternoon, there was much passing to and fro of the different members of the large family connection.
Evelyn was to be at the Oaks for the next few days, with the other young people, and regretted greatly that Lulu was not to go too.
But Lulu's rebellious feeling about it was a thing of the past. She told Evelyn frankly her father's reason for refusing his consent, adding that she felt that he was right, and that he was so dear, so kind and indulgent in every thing that he thought best to allow, that she was now entirely satisfied to stay at home; particularly as Gracie was not well, and needed her nursing.
Grace went early to bed and to sleep. Max and Evelyn had gone to the Oaks: there were only grown people in the parlors now; and Lulu did not care to be there, even if she had not wanted to be near her sleeping sister.
There was an open, glowing fire in their little sitting-room, a high fender of polished brass obviating all danger from it to the children's skirts. Lulu seated herself in an easy-chair beside it, and fell into a reverie, unusually deep and prolonged for her.
She called to mind all the Christmases she could remember,—not very many,—the last two spent very pleasantly with her new mamma's relatives; the two previous ones passed not half so agreeably, in the poor apology for a home that had been hers and Grade's before their father's second marriage.
But what a change for the better that had brought! What forlorn little things she and Gracie were then! and what favored children now! What a sweet, sweet home of their very own, with their father in it!—as she had said to Eva that afternoon, "such a dear, kind father; interested in every thing that concerned his children; so thoughtful about providing pleasures for them, as well as needful food, shelter, and clothing; about their health, too, and the improvement of their minds; reading with them, even in other than school-hours; talking with them of what they read, and explaining so clearly and patiently any thing they did not quite understand; but, above all, striving to lead them to Christ, and train them for his service in this world and the next."
He had read with them that morning the story of our Saviour's birth, and spoken feelingly to them of God's wonderful love shown in the "unspeakable gift" of his dear Son.
"Certainly, there could not be in all the world a better, dearer father, than theirs. How strange that she could ever grieve him by being naughty, rebellious, passionate! Oh, if she could only be good! always a comfort and blessing to him! she would try, she would, with all her might!"
Just then the door opened softly; and he came in, came noiselessly to her side, lifted her in his arms, and sat down with her on his knee.
"What has my little girl been thinking of sitting here all by herself?" he asked, pressing his lips to her cheek.
She told him in a few words, finishing with her longing desire to be to him a better child, a comfort and blessing.
"Indeed I ought to be, papa," she said; "and you are such a dear, kind father! you have given me—and all of us—such a lovely home, and such a happy, happy Christmas,—the very happiest we have ever known!"
"And it is God our heavenly Father who has put it in my power to do all that I have done for you, and for all my darlings," he said with emotion, drawing her closer, and holding her tenderly to his heart; "and, O my dear child! if I could know that you had begun this day to truly love and serve him, it would be to me the happiest Christmas that I have ever known."