OVER at Ion the family were left alone, all the guests having now
departed to their own homes. Zoe was seeing her children in their nests
for the night; Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore were chatting together
on the front veranda, while Grandma Elsie and her sons, Edward and
Herbert, a little removed from the older couple, were engaged in a
similar manner—her sons asking questions in regard to their mother’s
experiences during the summer and fall, and she telling a pleasant and
interesting tale in regard to them.
Just then a hack came rolling up the avenue.
“Who’s that now, I wonder,” growled Edward, “coming to interrupt our
first private chat with our long absent mother?”
“Probably somebody wanting the doctor,” sighed Herbert, rising and
moving toward the entrance.
At that moment the vehicle came to a standstill at the veranda steps,
and instantly out sprang a manly form and came quickly up them.
“Walter!” exclaimed Herbert, reaching out his hand, which the other
grasped and shook heartily.
“Yes, brother mine, it is I. Where’s mother? Mother! mother, dear! Oh,
how glad I am to have you in my arms once more!” as she sprang forward
with a cry of joy.
“Walter, my dear, dear youngest son!” and he caught her in his arms.
“My baby boy,” she laughed the next moment; “my baby boy grown taller
than his mother. Oh, why wasn’t he here to meet and greet me when I got
home?”
“A little business matter, and a misunderstanding as to the probable
time of my mother’s arrival,” he answered, repeating his caresses.
Then they released each other, and joyous and affectionate greetings
were exchanged with the remaining members of the family.
“You should have been here sooner, Walter,” said Herbert when all were
seated again, with his mother in the midst. “She has been telling
Ed and me some very interesting things about her recent visit to
California.”
“Perhaps mother will repeat her story to me one of these days,” said
Walter. “At present it seems almost enough to see her dear face,
without hearing anything but the sound of her sweet voice.”
“That sounds very much as if my youngest son had been licking the
blarney stone,” laughed his mother.
“Not a bit of it, mother,” he returned. “You know I wasn’t brought up
to do such things.”
“I hope you were not,” she said, “but you have been under other
teachers than your mother for years past.”
“True, my mother dear, but I hope I have not forgotten your teachings.
Now what is the latest news about uncles, aunts, cousins and friends in
this neighborhood?”
“I really think but little has taken place which would be new to you,
Walter,” replied his mother.
“I doubt,” laughed Edward, “if he has heard of the good fortune of Eva
and Max.”
“Money or estate?” queried Walter.
“Something better than either,” remarked his mother, with a pleased
smile.
“Oh, I suppose Max has been promoted. Good for him! He’s very happy
over it, I dare say.”
“But it isn’t that. You’re wide of the mark,” laughed Edward.
“You may as well tell me. I don’t seem to be Yankee enough to be good
at guessing.”
“A little daughter, as pretty a baby as ever was seen—of course,
excepting Zoe’s and mine.”
“Oh, is that it?” laughed Walter. “Well, I’ll congratulate them when I
see them. Am I uncle to it, mother?”
“No,” she replied with a smile; “you are not really related at all to
either parent, so of course not to the child.”
“Yet both the parents and I have been in the habit of calling each
other cousin, so I think I’ll claim kin with the little beauty you tell
me of.”
“And I don’t think any one will object,” said his mother.
Zoe now joined them, welcomed Walter heartily, and the talk went on,
principally about the various relatives and connections, but with never
an unkind or uncharitable word in regard to any of them.
“And you had them all here to-day,” Walter said at length. “I wish I
had reached home a few hours sooner.”
“We would all have been glad to see you then, as we are now, my son,”
said his mother. “But don’t feel too much disappointed. I have an idea
that there will be a number of other family gatherings before Max is
ordered away again.”
“Yes,” said Grandma Dinsmore, “I heard several of to-day’s guests
express an intention to have such a family gathering themselves before
very long.”
“And they are the most agreeable kind to have,” said Zoe.
“I think I shall go to-morrow and have a peep at that new relative, as
well as a chat with her parents,” said Walter. “I dare say they feel
quite rich. But how funny to think of the captain and Vi as grandpa and
grandma. But, of course, Vi isn’t really that, and nobody will think of
calling her so.”
“She called herself that,” said Zoe, “but certainly it seems quite
ridiculous. They will all be sorry, as we are, that you were not here
to-day to take part in our reception,” she added; “but if you would
like to speak to any of them now, you know you can use the ’phone.”
“Thanks,” returned Walter, “but I believe I should prefer to give them
a rousing surprise to-morrow by just walking in on them.”
“I think that the better plan,” said his grandfather approvingly.
“And perhaps I can persuade my mother to go along,” added Walter,
looking smilingly at her.
“If you get Herbert or Harold to prescribe the ride—or walk; which is
it to be?—I will go, expecting benefit from so doing,” she responded in
mirthful tone.
“Harold!” exclaimed Walter. “By the way, where is he? Visiting some
desperately sick patient? I know that’s often the case when he fails to
adorn the family circle.”
“No,” said Herbert; “at present he is dancing attendance on Grace
Raymond, his adored ladylove.”
Walter laughed and said: “Ah, yes, that’s all right; Grace is a
dear, sweet girl—a beauty, too; and except for the odd mixing up of
relationships and the fact that she is delicate, I should be delighted
with the prospective match.”
“I also,” said his mother. “I am very fond of Grace; have loved her
ever since my first sight of her sweet face. I can see that she loves
Harold dearly, yet is perfectly submissive to her father’s will in
regard to the time of their marriage. Nor does Harold rebel, though it
is plain to be seen that he longs for the time when he may claim her as
his very own.”
“Yes, mother. Well, I hope he will prescribe early retirement for his
ladylove to-night and hasten home to greet his youngest brother, whom
he has not seen for nearly a year.”
“I presume he has done so; for here he comes now, walking up the
avenue,” exclaimed Herbert, glancing in that direction.
At that Walter sprang to his feet and hastened forward to meet Harold
as he came up the veranda steps.
“Howdy’do, doctor?” he cried with a pleasant laugh. “I hope you’ve left
that pretty patient of yours doing well.”
“Why, Walter, my man, I’m glad to see you and know that, young as you
are, you’ve travelled home safely by yourself,” responded Harold,
reaching the top step and grasping heartily the hand held out to him.
“How do you know that I travelled by myself?” laughed Walter. “Are you
quite sure I may not have a ladylove and future father-in-law as well
as yourself?”
“Yes, my little man; for if you had I should certainly have learned it
before this, since my youngest brother has always been communicative to
me.”
“Don’t be too sure of that, laddie,” laughed Walter. “But come along
now and join the family circle, which, with you in it, will be quite
complete.”
“So you are here again, Harold,” said his grandfather, as they seated
themselves. “How did you and the Raymonds find matters at Woodburn?”
“Everything in perfect order, sir; at least, so far as I could tell,
and all seemed entirely satisfied and full of delight that they had at
last reached their home.”
“That is pleasant news. I suppose you didn’t go on to Sunnyside?”
“No, sir; I reserved that pleasant visit for to-morrow.”
“Oh,” said Walter, “Chester and Lu, Max and Eva are at home now, I
suppose; and I’m told the latter couple rejoice in owning a beauty of a
baby.”
“Yes, she is a beauty, I think,” said Harold; “as sweet a little
creature as ever I saw.”
“That’s pretty strong, coming from an old bach, isn’t it?” laughed
Walter.
“Hardly at an age to be reasonably called old, Walter,” remonstrated
their mother gently, and with a smile.
“It seems quite well, from a business point of view, for a doctor to
be considered old—or at least not very young, mother,” said Harold
pleasantly, and with a smile.
“Most people are more ready to trust themselves and dear ones to the
treatment of a physician who has had some experience in the practice
of his profession, than to one whose youth proves him to be but a
beginner.”
“Quite true, Harold, and very sensible in those who act upon that
principle,” remarked his grandfather.