AT PRESTON.
"HERE, Tatty, are you sure there is a good fire in the south room? And,
Tatty, tell Uncle Cephas to have plenty of wood on hand, it is going
to be a cold night; we shall have to look to the plants. And, Tatty,
see if Ishmael is all right; he doesn't seem homesick, does he? There,
Posie-Cossie, you mustn't try to get off that pretty ribbon—you are
dressed up for your mistress, do you hear, naughty doggie; stop pawing
at your collar. Oh, yes, just run down-stairs, Tatty, and tell Manchild
to come up here for his white apron." And Val ran into the next room,
opening a closet energetically, and the next moment was darting across
the hall, her red dress making a flash of color in the shadowy place,
like the plumage of a scarlet tanager against a sombre wood.
Manchild, a speck of a boy for ten years of age, looked so funny, and
assumed such an air of importance in his clean white apron that Val,
sitting on the floor to regard him, burst into a fit of mirth. "Go
along now, Manchild," she said; "you'll do. Now, don't forget; always
go to the left side of the people. Which is your left hand?"
Manchild looked dubiously at his two hands, and finally selected the
one which appeared to him the most important and stretched it out. "Dis
yer, Miss?"
"No," was the emphatic response. "Still, I shall never teach you that
way," and Val arose from her sitting posture. "I'll have to train you
in the dining-room; come along." And she ran down to seat herself at
the table.
After repeated practice in passing a plate, Manchild was pronounced as
sufficiently drilled, and Val arose to turn her attention to something
else.
But just then, Aunt Pris appeared to put an amused interrogation:
"Miss Val, is I 'bleedged to w'ar one o' dem things?" ducking her head
sideways towards Tatty, who stood in all the glory of a housemaid's cap
and apron.
"What things?" asked Val.
"Why, dem kin' er night-caps. I ain't nuver been used to nothen' but my
ole haid hankcher; an' Cephas he 'clar I look lak a ole cluckin' hen
dress up in goose feathers in one o' dem."
There had evidently been a trial of Tatty's cap upon her mother, and a
family discussion as to its appropriateness upon so settled a person as
Aunt Pris.
"No," replied Val, laughing, "your bandanna suits you much better. You
don't need to give Miss Theo such a shock. Miss Janet and Mr. Archie
will be here very soon, Aunt Pris; tell Uncle Cephas to look out for
them, and let Manchild run down to open the gates. He'd better take off
his apron first, but be sure he has it on when he waits on the table."
Aunt Pris gave her head another duck, shutting her eyes as she did so,
then went out, chuckling over Manchild's appearance.
"How nice and comfortable it looks," said Val, looking around. "Oh,
I forgot the ferns for the middle of the table; I must get them. Oh,
there they come; go open the door, Tatty," and Val, following, was upon
the porch in a moment to receive Miss Nelson and Archie.
"What a snapping good fire," said Archie, pulling off his gloves, and
stretching out his hands over the cheerful blaze; "what a brisk body
you are, Val. I declare the place looks fine."
"Oh, I do hope so," responded Val, sitting down and stretching out
her red slippers to the fire. "I have tried for an even balance of
familiarness and cheerfulness,—just familiar enough not to seem
strange, and cheerful enough to take away the sad old memories, that is
at what I aimed."
"Well, you have struck it just about right. Hasn't she, auntie? It was
a little gloomy in Cousin Betty's day, and although the old furniture
and pictures are here, these warm-looking curtains, and pretty
draperies add so much; then all these little odds and ends give an air
of lightness to it that this room never had before."
"I am so glad," replied Val, well pleased. "Now, if you are thoroughly
warmed, I want you to see the other rooms before the master and
mistress arrive."
"I nearly fell out of the carriage when I saw Manchild's brass
buttons," said Archie.
"And Tatty's cap gives her quite a style," added Miss Janet. "What
innovations, to be sure."
"My innovations stop there," said Val; "I could not impose any upon
Aunt Prissy and Uncle Cephas. Oh, auntie, Dolly and I have had such fun
getting everything ready. I'm so glad you let us do it all our selves,
for it has given you a chance to have a good rest, and we have enjoyed
the fussing and fixing so much. Dolly only went home this morning."
"Why didn't she stay?" asked auntie.
"Oh, she couldn't; she had some sort of a dining out or something on
hand. Will Theo like her room, do you think?" And Val threw open the
door of a large room in which the heavy mahogany furniture had been
polished up to the last degree, and now caught the reflection of the
dancing flames upon the hearth.
"She couldn't help it," said Archie, looking over his aunt's shoulder.
"It is charming," pronounced Miss Janet, and then the other rooms were
viewed and pronounced each as attractive in its way.
After the tour of inspection was over, they went down-stairs again to
sit around the fire and wait till the crunching of the wheels on the
gravel should announce the approach of Theo and Jack.
"It will be a real Thanksgiving Day for Jack," remarked Archie. "We who
have always known a home cannot realize what this will mean to the dear
old chap. I'll tell you what let's do, Val," he exclaimed, impatient
from waiting, "let's go up and light all the rooms facing the road. It
will look fine when they turn in from the first gate."
And the two sped up-stairs to follow out this plan.
The last candle was hardly lighted before Manchild arrived, breathless
with the news that they were coming. Uncle Cephas had gone to meet them
with the carriage, and Manchild having opened the gates, had fairly
outrun the horses, in his excitement, though to tell the truth, Uncle
Cephas had driven leisurely up the hill. But how the youngster's little
short legs accomplished the feat always remained a mystery to the
family, for he certainly was the first to gain the house.
Aunt Pris came running from the kitchen, Tatty following. Manchild's
brass buttons continued to rise and fall rapidly from his out-of-breath
condition, but he stoutly held his place in line, and kept up a series
of remarkable bows in time with the bobbing curtseys of Aunt Prissy and
Tatty, begun before Theo had stepped from the carriage.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Allen," cried Val, with Ishmael in her arms and
Posie-Cossie at her heels. "Come right in, Theo; it is really you,
isn't it? What kind of a trip did you have? How did you find New York?
How do you like the looks of your home? Could you see the light? There,
I am not giving auntie a chance at all, and Jack, oh, Jack, how cold
your hands are. Come into this corner; it is lovely and warm. I've been
saving it for some one. Now, Archie, I'm not going to say another word;
I'll subside."
And Val, drawing up a low seat, cuddled close to Theo, while
Posie-Cossie danced about in a perfect frenzy of delight, and Ishmael,
after sniffing around, jumped up into Theo's lap, contentedly settling
himself.
"Oh, Val, what a dear cosey place you have made of it," said Theo,
looking around the room. "Isn't it perfectly charming and homelike,
Jack, with my beautiful new piano open, and the lamp, and all the
pretty things? I am wild to try the piano. It was just like the dear
old Colonel to think of giving us that, instead of anything else. I
told him I should think of him every day, for I should have to have
music that often. Isn't everything lovely, Jack?"
And Jack agreed that nothing could be more so.
Supper was a very merry meal. Theo absently took her place where she
had always been accustomed to sit, and was immediately cried out upon
by Archie and Val, who demanded that she should take her proper seat as
mistress of the mansion.
"And Jack will have to carve," laughed Theo. "Fancy him to-morrow
with the turkey. You'll have to do it, Jack. Our butler," glancing
at Manchild, "will hardly be able to manage it yet. Oh, Val, you
are a most executive young person. I was completely overcome by the
appearance of my household. Tatty's cap and Manchild's buttons," she
said, as Manchild left the room for hot biscuits.
The small waiter kept them in a constant state of amusement during the
meal, his air of solemn importance, combined with his confused efforts
to tell right side from left, convulsed them all.
Being warmed and fed, the party proceeded to make a tour of the house,
and each room was duly admired and praised. But nowhere did her
family's loving thought display itself so well to Theo as in a little
room high up under the eaves.
"See how you like this," said Val, throwing open the door.
Theo stepped forward. "Oh!" she cried. "It is my very own room. Who did
it?"
"Archie thought of it," Val informed her.
"You can see Roseville very plainly from the window," said Miss Janet;
"and we thought, since you loved your room so much, we would just
transfer it here bodily."
Theo looked around. "Surely, it must be the same," she said; "why, even
the window is in the same place, and there is the window-seat, and oh,
Archie, the same paper; how did you manage it?"
"Mr. Little's stock does not go very fast," he replied, "and a century
hence you will probably be able to match it."
"And my books, and everything. Oh, you dear, darling people, how good
you are to me. Oh, Jack, aren't they the dearest in the world?"
"What a thanksgiving for us," replied Jack; "nowhere can there be such
a thankful heart as mine to-night. Sister, brother, mother, wife, home,
all mine," and he gathered them every one into his arms.
As the days went on, Theo could hardly believe that Preston had not
long been her home. It was much easier for her to adjust herself to her
surroundings there than it would have been in any other place.
She had spent many days there as a child, and every nook and corner was
familiar to her. Uncle Cephas and Aunt Pris had occupied their little
cabin ever since she could remember. She had watched their children
from Tatty to Manchild tumble about the door-sill; she had a child's
acquaintance with the trees and growing things about the place, and
knew what she could expect to find in each fence corner, so that she
at the very outset felt a keen interest in all that met her eye. To
be sure, Aunt Prissy was a little difficult at times, and there were
greater responsibilities presented than she had yet been called upon
to take, but she was very happy and content, with auntie so near
always ready to help her over hard places, with Jack, thoughtful and
considerate, to depend upon. And even if once in a while he allowed his
little rages to get the upper hand, he was so penitent afterwards and
was so severe in his own self-condemnation that he was easily forgiven.
That first difficult strain which comes in all close relations was
not wanting; it is never easy to feel equal to it, even in a simple
friendship. It is that delicate subtle point at which one first
discovers that reserve has fled, and that there is no longer a mystery
surrounding the person with whom one is thrown in every-day contact;
it is just where two persons must either drift apart or must come
closer together, and must realize that little frailties, oddities,
idiosyncrasies exist, which will either annoy greatly or will provoke
nothing more than an easy tolerance. Where there is no forced effort at
responsiveness, and where the two fall into true and natural accord,
the critical moment passes safely, and the readjustment is founded upon
a new respect, which is closer and more lasting.
Fortunately, it was so with Theo and Jack. Auntie, watching them with
a wistful eagerness, felt that when this first agitation had passed,
they were left more closely united than ever before. Auntie's wise
philosophies had doubtless much to do with creating this harmony
between the two, for Theo, feeling everything vividly, seeing
everything with young, intense eyes, was inclined to overestimate, and
was hurt beyond expression at the first sign of what, at the time,
she called Jack's indifference, but which was really only a natural
preoccupation, due to some absorbing business complication.
Theo dwelt upon the matter one entire day, working herself up into
a very unhappy frame of mind. But while she was watching for Jack's
homecoming that evening, the recollection of a talk with auntie some
years before upon that very subject stopped the recriminations which
rose to her lips before they were uttered.
And she met Jack's cheery, "Where are you, girl of mine? All alone in
the dark?" with a glad welcome.
And then a little tact brought to light the real cause of Jack's
abstractions.
So the result was that to Theo's sweet sympathy, Jack brought his
difficulties, seeking hers in return, and together they talked
them over, both gaining strength and succor thereby, with a new
determination to spare each, the other any added worry or care.
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