FLORENCE IN STATE.
Mrs. Osgood leaned back in the carriage,--it was the very best that
Seabury afforded,--and, looking out on the pleasant sunshine and waving
trees, considered the subject before her. _If_ she took Florence, she
would have a governess in the house, and go on as rapidly as possible
with the finishing process. Music should be the first thing: the child
_did_ have a lovely voice, and such fair, slender hands! In a year she
would be quite presentable. How vexed all the Osgood nieces would be!
They were continually hinting at visits, and would be delighted at
having Aunt Osgood take them up. But somehow she had a grudge against
her husband's relatives, because the property reverted to them in the
end.
And then she fancied herself riding out with this beautiful daughter
by her side, or stopping at hotels where every one would wonder "who
that lovely girl could be!" And Florence would certainly be most
grateful for the change. It was a deed of charity to rescue the poor
child from the life before her, with no better prospect than that of a
school-teacher. She certainly had some ideas and ambitions beyond her
sphere.
School closed presently, and the children were wild with delight. They
had a great time on examination day, and Florence acquitted herself
finely. Mr. Fielder was very proud of her.
"If you can go to school another year, and improve as much," he said,
"I can almost promise you a very good situation."
Flossy's dream in respect to her elegant lady was fading, and she came
back to humbler prospects quite thankfully.
What Granny was to do with the children through vacation she hardly
knew.
"Oh, you needn't worry!" said Charlie consolingly. "Kit and me are
going out in the woods; and we'll build a stunning log-hut, or make a
cave"--
"O Charlie, if you would be a little more careful! Kit and I."
"I can't be always bothering! Mr. Fielder almost wears me out, so you
might let me have a little rest in vacation.
'For spelling is vexation,
And writing is bad:
Geography it puzzles me,
And grammar makes me mad.'"
With that Charlie perched herself on the gate-post, and began to
whistle.
"If Charlie only _had_ been a boy!" groaned Florence.
On Monday of the first week they washed. Florence assisted; but she
hurried to get herself dressed in the afternoon, for fear some one
_might_ come. And then she wondered a little what she ought to do.
Embroidering and fancy work appeared to be dull just now; and she would
have two months in which she _might_ earn considerable money, if it
only came. For, with all her small vanities and particular ways, she
was not indolent.
On Tuesday they began their ironing at an early hour. There were
Florence's pretty dresses and aprons, nothing very costly, but a dainty
ruffle here and there added to the general grace. These same ruffles
were a great trouble to some of the old ladies in Madison, "who didn't
see how Granny Kenneth could let Florence waste her time in such
nonsense while _she_ slaved herself to death!"
Florence had twisted her hair in a knot, and her dress was rather the
worse for wear; but she worked away cheerfully. Her pile of clothes was
decreasing very fast.
Suddenly a sound of carriage-wheels startled her; and, glancing up, she
uttered a frightened exclamation.
"O Granny! it's the lady again, and I look like a fright! What shall I
do? Won't you go and ask her in? and you look dreadful too! Put on your
other sacque. There! I'll run and tidy up a bit."
She made a snatch at the brush and comb, and hurried up in the boys'
room.
"Oh, dear! How red I am in the face! It's too bad;" and she felt
tempted to cry, but she knew that would only make matters worse. So
she let down her shining hair, brushed it out, and wound it round her
fingers in curls. Then Granny came plodding up stairs.
"I told her you were busy, but that you'd be ready in a few minutes,"
she explained.
"Why didn't you think to bring up one of my clean dresses?"
"To be sure! which one?"
"The pink calico, I guess. Oh! and the braided white apron."
Down went Granny. Ah! many a step had she taken for these children,
weary ones, and yet cheerfully done. Would they ever think of it?
Florence was not long in making herself neat and presentable, but the
flushed face still troubled her. She viewed herself critically in the
cracked glass, and then ran down, pausing to fan a few moments with the
cape of an old sun-bonnet, the nearest thing at hand.
"_Do_ I look decent, Granny?" she said apprehensively.
"To be sure you do, and nice too."
Granny's eyes expressed her admiration.
Florence ventured in timidly, and the lady inclined her head.
"I am sorry that I have kept you waiting so long, but it was
unavoidable;" and the child made a little halt to wonder if her long
word sounded well.
"I suppose I took you somewhat by surprise. Are you very busy to-day?"
"Not very," answered Florence at random, her heart beating violently.
"And quite well? but I hardly need ask the question."
"I am always well, thank you," with a touch of grace.
"How fortunate! Now, I have such wretched health, and my nerves are
weak beyond description."
Florence gave a glance of quick sympathy, not unmixed with admiration.
There was something very romantic about the languid lady.
"If you are quite at liberty," Mrs. Osgood began, "I should like to
have you drive out with me. I have a great deal to say to you, and we
shall not be interrupted."
Florence could hardly credit her hearing. To be asked to ride with so
grand a lady!
"Oh!" and then she paused and colored.
"Would you like to go?"
"Very, very much indeed;" and the young face was full of pleasure.
"Well, get yourself ready; and, if you will send your grandmother to
me, I will explain."
Florence felt as if she were in a dream. Then she wondered what she
ought to wear. She had a pretty light gray dress and sacque for "Sunday
best," and a new white dress; but her visitor's dress was gray, and
that decided her. So she took the articles out of the old-fashioned
wardrobe, and summoned Granny.
Granny was dazed. "Where is she going to take you?" she asked in
helpless astonishment.
"I don't know. She will tell you, I suppose."
"But, Flo, I have _heerd_ of girls being kidnapped or something;" and
Granny's face turned pale with fear.
"Nonsense!" returned Flossy with a toss of the curls. She could not
even trouble herself about Granny's mispronunciation just then.
"You don't know"--
"I guess she won't eat me up. Any how, I am going."
Florence uttered this with a touch of imperiousness. Granny felt that
she would have little influence over her, so she entered the room where
the guest was seated.
"Mrs. Kenneth," the lady began in her most impressive and gracious
manner, "when I was here a few days ago, I took a great fancy to your
granddaughter. My name is Osgood; and I am staying at Seabury with my
sister, Mrs. Duncan. And although you may hesitate to trust Florence
with a stranger, she will be quite safe, I assure you; and if you are
willing, therefore, I should like to take her out for a few hours. I
have some plans that may be greatly to the child's advantage, I think."
"You'll be sure to bring her back," asked Granny in a spasm of anxious
terror, which showed in her eyes.
"Why, certainly! My poor woman, I cannot blame you for this
carefulness;" for the worn face with its eagerness touched Mrs. Osgood.
"My brother-in-law, Mr. Duncan, is a well-known merchant in New York;
and I think you will confess when I return Florence this afternoon,
that the ride has been no injury to her."
Granny could make no further objections, and yet she did not feel quite
at ease. But Florence entered looking so bright and expectant, that she
had not the heart to disappoint her, so she kept her fears to herself.
"You must not feel troubled," Mrs. Osgood deigned to say, as she rose
rather haughtily. "You will find my promises perfectly reliable."
"You needn't finish my pieces," Florence whispered softly to Granny at
the door. "I shall be back time enough; and if the fire is out I'll
wait till to-morrow They are my ruffled aprons, and"--
Mrs. Osgood beckoned her with a smile and an inclination of the head.
Florence felt as if she were being bewitched.
Granny watched her as she stepped into the carriage.
[Illustration]
"If she'd been born a lady she couldn't act more like one. It's a great
pity"--
A few tears finished Granny's sentence. All the others were more
content with their poverty than Florence.
So she went back to her ironing with a heart into which had crept some
strange misgiving. Hal was out; Joe never came home to dinner; so
Granny gave the children a piece of bread all round, and kept going
steadily on until the last ruffled apron had been taken out of the pile.
Very long indeed the hours seemed. Oh, if any harm should befall her
beautiful, darling Flossy! Poor Joe, in his grave, had loved her so
well!
Flossy meanwhile was having a most delightful time.
"I am going to take you to Salem," Mrs. Osgood said, after Florence had
begun to feel quite at home with her. "We will have our dinner at the
hotel."
Salem was the county town,--quite a pretentious place, with some broad,
straight streets, several banks, and, indeed, a thriving business
locality. Florence had been there twice with Mrs. Kinsey.
Mrs. Osgood began to question the child about herself. Florence told
over her past life, making the best, it must be confessed, of the
poverty and discomforts. And yet she seemed to take rather hardly the
fact of such a lot having fallen upon her. Mrs. Osgood was secretly
pleased with her dissatisfaction.
"I wonder how you would like to live with me?" she questioned. "I think
I should enjoy having some one that I could make a companion of--as one
never can of a servant."
Flossy's heart beat with a sudden delight, and for the first moment she
could hardly speak.
"I live a short distance from New York, on the banks of the Hudson:
at least, my house is there, but I travel a great deal. It would be
very pleasant to have a--a friend of one's own,"--Mrs. Osgood was not
_quite_ sure that it was best or wisest to say child.
"Oh, it would be very delightful! If I could"--and the child's eyes
were aglow with delight.
"There are so many of you at home, that your grandmother would not miss
one. Besides, I could do a great many nice things for you."
"It is like a dream!" and Flossy thought of her wild day-dream. "And I
could sew as well as embroider; and oh! I _would_ try to make myself
useful," she said eagerly.
Mrs. Osgood smiled. She had taken a strange fancy to this child, and
enjoyed her look of adoration.
They talked it over at some length, and Flossy listened with delight to
the description of the beautiful house. This was altogether different
from Mrs. Van Wyck's affair.
Presently they arrived at the hotel. Mrs. Osgood ordered the horses to
be cared for, and then entered the parlor.
"Can we have a private room?" she asked with an air that Florence
thought extremely elegant. "And then our dinner"--
"Will you have it brought up to your room?"
"Oh, no! Perhaps I had better give my order now," and there was a
languid indifference in her tone.
"Yes, it would be better," replied the brisk waitress.
"Well, we will have some broiled chicken, I think--are you fond of
that, Florence? and vegetables--with some lobster salad and relishes."
Florence had a wonderful deal of adaptiveness, and she almost
insensibly copied Mrs. Osgood. They went up to the room, and refreshed
themselves with a small ablution, for the riding had been rather dusty.
Florence shook out her beautiful curls, and passed her damp fingers
over them.
"What lovely hair!" exclaimed Mrs. Osgood with a sigh: it was a habit
of hers, as if every thing called up some past regret. "When I was a
young girl, mine was the admiration of everybody. You would hardly
think it now."
"Were you ill?" asked Florence, feeling that she was expected to say
something sympathizing.
"My health has been wretched for years. Mr. Osgood was sick a long
while, and I had so much trouble! His people were not very kind to me:
they tried to make him leave the property away from me, and then they
attempted to break the will. There's so much selfishness in this world,
my dear!"
Florence experienced a profound sympathy for Mrs. Osgood, and was quite
ready to espouse her cause against any one. Already she felt in some
way constituted her champion.
But, as Mr. Osgood left no children, he thought it quite just that his
property should go back to his own family after Mrs. Osgood's death.
And, to confess the truth, he had not found his wife quite perfection.
There were not many people in the dining-room when they entered. They
had one end of the long table, and the colored waiter was most polite
and solicitous. One by one their little dishes came on, and the broiled
chicken had a most appetizing flavor.
Florence acquitted herself very creditably. She was not awkward with
her silver fork, and allowed herself to be waited upon with great
complacency. Mrs. Osgood was wonderfully pleased, for she was watching
every action. How had the child acquired so many pretty ways?
By the time they reached home again it was agreed, if grandmother made
no objection, that Florence should spend a month at Seabury with Mrs.
Osgood. This was the better arrangement the lady thought; for, if she
changed her mind, in that case she could draw back gracefully.
Granny was much relieved to see them return. Mrs. Osgood deigned to
enter the cottage again, and explained the matter to old Mrs. Kenneth.
Florence seconded the plan so earnestly, that it was quite impossible
to refuse. And somehow Granny felt very much bewildered.
"Can you be ready next week?" asked Mrs. Osgood.
Florence questioned Granny mutely with her eyes; but, seeing that her
senses were going astray, answered for herself.
"Monday, then, I will come over for you. And now, my child, good-by. I
hope you have had a pleasant day."
Florence thanked her again and again. Mrs. Osgood's heart was really
touched.
"What does she want you to do?" asked Granny, absently trying to thread
the point of her darning-needle.
"Why,--I'm sure I don't know;" and Flossy fell into a brown study. "To
wait upon her, I suppose, and sew a little, and--I like her so much! We
had an elegant dinner at Salem, and ice-cream for dessert. O Granny, if
one only _could_ be rich!"
"Yes," rejoined Granny with a sigh.
"Tell us all about it," said open-mouthed Charlie. "Mrs. Green saw you
riding by; and maybe she didn't make a time! She said you put on more
airs than all Madison."
"It is nothing to her," bridled Flossy.
"But what _did_ you have? Lots of goodies?"
"Yes, indeed. Silver forks and damask napkins and finger-bowls."
"Finger-bowls?"
That grandeur was altogether above Charlie's capacity.
"You need not look so amazed."
"What do you do with 'em."
"Why, there's a piece of lemon floating round on the top; and you dip
in the ends of your fingers, and wipe them on the napkin."
"But can't you eat the lemon? That's what I'd do."
"It would be very ill-bred."
"Hum!" and Charlie's nose was elevated. "As if I'd care!"
"You would if you were out with refined people."
"Oh, my! How aristocrockery you are getting!" and Charlie gave a
prolonged whistle, and stood on one foot.
Flossy sighed a little over the supper-table. How nice it would be to
live at a hotel, and have a servant to wait upon one! But every thing
here was so dreadfully common and poor. And, though Flossy would have
scorned the idea of living out as a servant, she fancied a position of
companion or ladies' maid would be rather agreeable than otherwise.
Hal was very much interested in her day's adventure. He seemed to
understand it better than any of the others, and she could talk to him
without the fear of being laughed at. They still sat in the moonlight,
when suddenly a sharp click was heard, and a report that made them all
scream.
Joe, the good-for-nothing, laughed.
"Wasn't that gay? Hurrah for Fourth of July!"
"Is it you?" asked Granny, who had thrown her apron over her head to
keep her from being shot. "And is it a musket, or a cannon?"
"Why don't you frighten us all to death?" said Florence indignantly.
"Oh, it's a pistol!" exclaimed Hal.
"O Joe! and you'll be shot all to pieces before to-morrow night,"
bewailed Granny. "I'm so afraid of guns and fire-crackers! I once knew
a little boy who had his hand shot off."
"If he could only have had it shot on again. I mean to try that way,
like the man who jumped into the bramble-bush. Or wouldn't it do to
shoot the pistol off instead of my fingers."
"Is it yours for good, Joe?" and Charlie's head was thrust over Hal's
shoulders. "A real pistol! Let me see it."
"Yes, it's mine. I bought it to keep Fourth of July with."
"Why, I forgot all about Fourth of July," said Charlie in an aggrieved
tone. "And I haven't a cent!"
"Bad for you, Charlie."
"Won't you let me fire off the pistol?"
"Oh, don't!" implored Granny.
"Just once more. It was splendid! I was fast asleep on the floor, and
it woke me up."
"Good for the pistol," said Joe. "I'll try it in the morning when you
are asleep."
They all had to handle the pistol, and express their opinions. Joe had
bought it of Johnny Hall, for a dollar, as Johnny, in turn, wanted to
buy a cannon. And the remaining half-dollar of his week's wages had
been invested in fireworks.
Granny sighed. But boys would be boys, and Fourth of July only came
once a year.
"There's to be an oration on the green, and the soldiers will be out,
and it'll be just jolly! Hurray! And a holiday in the middle of the
week! Mr. Terry said I needn't come to the store at all."
"There'll be some music, won't there?" asked Kit.
"A drum and a bass-viol, I guess. But it would be royal to go over to
Salem, and hear the brass band."
"What's a brass band?" was Kit's rather puzzled inquiry.
"What a goose! Why, a brass band is--horns and things."
"What kind of horns?" for Joe's explanation lacked lucidity.
"Oh, bother! Kit, you'll burn up the ocean some day with your
brightness."
"Cornets," said Hal; "and something like a flute, and cymbals, and ever
so many instruments."
"Did you ever see 'em?"
"No, but I've read about them."
Kit chewed his thumb. It was one of his old baby habits.
"Now I am going to load her again," said Joe, in a peculiarly
affectionate tone. "It's as light as day out here."
"But, Joe, if you _should_ shoot some one, or your fingers, or put your
eyes out!"
"Never you mind, Granny. Boys go ahead of cats for lives."
Granny put her apron over her head again, and then ran in to Dot.
"Bang!"
"Nobody wounded," laughed Joe, "and only two or three slightly killed.
The country is safe, Granny, this great and _gelorious_ country, over
which the eagle waves his plumes, and flaps his wings, and would crow
if he could. My soul is filled with enthusiasm,--I feel as if I should
_bust_, and fly all round! There's that miserable Dot lifting up her
voice."
The racket had broken her slumbers, and then the children were implored
to be quiet. Joe went to bed, in order to be able to get up good and
early. Charlie thought she should sleep with her clothes on, so as
to save the trouble of dressing. Kit sat in the moonlight chewing his
thumb, and wondering if he could manage to get over to Salem to-morrow.
If he could only hear that music!