OUT OF THE OLD HOME-NEST.
But then it all looked so different by daylight! The old rickety house,
the noisy children, the general shabbiness, and the life of hard work
and dissatisfaction, stretching out interminably. For, to the eyes
of fifteen, it seems a long way to fifty; and roses are so much more
tempting than thorns!
Hal found her out in the garden crying.
"Dear Flossy," he began tenderly, "I think you had better go, after
all. When the parting is over, Granny will be reconciled, and
understand that it is for the best."
"But I ought to stay at home and help," she sobbed. "If I could do
both"--
"That is not possible;" and Hal tried to smile away the tears in his
eyes.
"It looks so--so foolish not to be able to make up one's mind."
"It is a hard case, and there is so much on Mrs. Osgood's side."
"Hal, what would you do?" and Florence glanced up earnestly.
"My darling, I think you want to go, and that you would always be
unhappy and regretful if you staid. We can't help all our feelings and
wants and tastes; and it seems as if you were born for a lady. That is
natural too."
"But I do love you all, and dear Granny"--
"We shall never doubt that," he answered re-assuringly. "We shall often
sit on the old doorstep, and talk about you, and try to imagine you in
the beautiful house, with the pictures and the piano, and all the nice
things you will be learning. It will be just lovely for us too. Then
you can write every summer."
"And perhaps I shall come back when I am a woman!"
At this Florence brightened wonderfully, but after a moment said, "You
don't think it very selfish, Hal?"
"My dear, no," replied brave little Hal. "I am sure it would be a great
trial for me to give up any thing so splendid."
"If you would only tell Granny--again."
Hal nodded; for he couldn't say any more just then.
Granny wiped the tears out of her old eyes with the corner of her
checked apron, and trod upon the cat, stretched out upon the floor, who
added her pathetic howl to the fund of general sorrow.
So it came to pass, when Mrs. Osgood made her appearance, Florence was
quite elegant and composed. The lady was very, very gracious. She
expatiated on the great advantage this step would be to Florence, the
pleasure to _her_, and the relief to Granny to know that one of her
flock was provided for. Of course, she understood it was hard to part
with her; but they had so many left, that in a little while they would
hardly miss her. Then they _would_ hear about her, and no doubt come to
rejoice in her good fortune.
Indeed, by the time Mr. Howard arrived, she had talked them into quite
a reasonable frame of mind. She promised to treat her like a daughter,
educate her handsomely; so that, in case of her death, Florence would
be able to take care of herself. If, at the end of the first year,
she should feel unwilling to remain, Mrs. Osgood would not oppose her
return.
Granny was calm, but very grave, while these preliminaries were being
discussed. Hal kept swallowing over great sobs that wrenched his heart
at every breath. The agreement was concluded and signed.
"Now, my dear, put on your hat," said Mrs. Osgood in her sweetest tone.
"Brief partings are the kindest; are they not, Mr. Howard? I am much
obliged for your assistance in this matter; and you must permit me to
offer you a small donation for your pretty little church."
Granny's tears streamed afresh; but Hal managed her with delicate
tenderness. Florence kissed them all many times. Dot wanted to go in
the "boofer wagon;" while Kit and Charlie looked on, with tearful,
wondering eyes, not half understanding the importance of the step.
Then--she was driving away. One last, long look. Was that the waving of
her pretty white hand? Their eyes were too dim to see.
"It seems to me that she will come back to the old house some time,"
said Hal, breaking the sad silence.
Granny turned away, and shut herself in the best room. For a long while
they heard nothing of her. But God was listening to the heart-broken
prayer, which he answered in his own time and his own way.
"So Flossy's gone!" exclaimed Joe soberly that night. "I can't make it
seem a bit real. Air-castles don't generally turn into the substantial.
After the king's ball I guess she will come home in glass slippers, and
we will have her giving us loads of good advice. It is so sure to be
true, Granny, that we can afford to take a little comfort meanwhile."
Granny did not laugh as usual. Kit chewed his thumb vigorously, and saw
piles of violins in the distance.
But they confessed to being very lonesome on Sunday. Charlie declined
wearing Flossy's second-best hat; for she insisted that she "felt it in
her bones" that Florence would return, which Joe declared was incipient
rheumatism, and that she must take a steam-bath over the spout of the
tea-kettle. Yet secretly in his heart he had greater faith in the
mythical sea-captain who was to take him off with flying colors.
About a month afterwards they received a letter from Mrs. Osgood. Joe
displayed the handsome monogram in great triumph, and begged Mr. Terry
to let him run home with it at noon. They all crowded round him with
eager eyes.
"It's Granny's letter," he said, handing it to her.
"Read it, Hal," she rejoined tremulously.
Mrs. Osgood gave a delightful account of Florence; declaring that she
already loved her as a mother, and, the homesickness being over, she
was studying industriously. There was no doubt but that she would make
a very fine musician; and it was extremely fortunate that such talent
could be rescued in time to make the most of it. Then Florence added
a few words, to say that she was very happy, and that it seemed like
fairy-land, every thing was so beautiful. She enclosed a gift for them
all, and said good-by until next year.
They felt then how surely they were divided; yet they all rejoiced in
Flossy's good fortune. Mr. and Mrs. Howard were very kind; but I think
Hal's tender love did more towards comforting Granny than all the rest.
She kept telling herself that it was foolish to grieve; yet there was
a dumb ache way down in the poor old heart, an empty corner where one
birdling had flown out of the home-nest.
The affair had created quite an excitement in Madison. Joe pictured
it in the most gorgeous style, and made Mrs. Osgood an actual fairy
godmother. Mrs. Van Wyck, who still held a little grudge against her,
insisted that it was not half as grand as the Kenneths represented it.
"Now, Mr. Howard," she said at one of the parsonage gatherings, "is it
really true? Did this woman adopt that flyaway Kenneth girl, or only
take her as a sort of servant? And is she so very rich?"
"Mrs. Osgood is a lady of means and position, and is connected with
some of the most reliable people in New York. She has legally adopted
Florence, and I was a witness to the agreement. It certainly was a
rather remarkable event."
"Well, she's nothing but a bunch of vanity, anyhow. She'll make one of
the high-flyers, without a grain of sense, and I dare say elope with
the coachman. I wish the woman joy of her bargain;" and Mrs. Van Wyck
set her cap-streamers in violent motion.
Autumn came on apace. Poor Granny was grievously perplexed when she
entered the clothing-campaign. Florence's fertile brain and handy
fingers were sorely missed. Granny did her best; but the tasty touches
the child was wont to add, that transformed the commonest garb into
certain prettiness, were lacking now. Still, Charlie thought it a
godsend to have so many clothes all at once, having fallen heir to
Flossy's discarded heritage.
"Granny!" exclaimed Hal, rushing in breathless one afternoon, "Mr.
Kinsey says he will take all my chickens to market! Isn't that
splendid? He is going on Friday, and again next Tuesday; and he showed
me how to make a crate to pack them in. Now is the very time, he says."
"But we'll have to kill 'em, Hal!" exclaimed Granny aghast.
"To be sure: that's the hard part of it, isn't it;" and Hal looked
sober.
"They seem a'most like human beings. They patter round after Dot, and
talk to her in their queer fashion, and eat out of her hand. But, then,
we couldn't keep them all through the winter."
"We shall save the pets. There are some that I could not spare. But you
must not grow chicken-hearted, Granny;" and he laughed softly at her.
"Deary me! Somehow I can't bear to part with any thing any more. What a
foolish old cretur!"
"The dearest old creature in the world!" and Hal kissed her. "I wouldn't
have you changed a mite, except, that, when you were almost a hundred,
I'd like to set you back so that we could keep you always."
"I sha'n't be worth it, Hal;" and she shook her head.
"I shall have to stay home from school on Tuesday. I am quite anxious
to know what our fortune will be, and whether it has paid."
For Hal had gone back to school, as there seemed no business opening
for him. Mr. Terry had raised Joe's wages; and, one way and another,
they managed to get along quite comfortably. Hal tried to make up for
the absence of Florence, and comforted Granny in many tender, girlish
ways. He would pull her cap straight, and find her glasses and her
thimble, two things that were forever going astray. Then he borrowed
books from one and another to read aloud evenings; and, though Granny
sat in the chimney-corner and nodded, she always declared that it was
the loveliest thing in the world, and that she didn't believe but Hal
would write a book some day himself, he was so powerful fond of them.
To Charlie and Kit this was a great enjoyment. Indeed, it seemed as
if in most things they listened more readily than they ever had to
Florence. Dear, sweet-souled Hal! Your uses and duties in the world
were manifold. And yet it tries our faith to see such fine gold dropped
into the crucible. Is it those whom the Lord loveth?
They had a great time on Thursday. Joe was up early in the morning, as
he thought there was some fun in making an onslaught upon the army of
chickens; so when Hal and Granny stepped over the threshold, they saw a
great pile of decapitated fowls.
"Why, Hal, you'll make a mint of money!" exclaimed Joe. "I suppose you
mean to put it in government bonds."
Hal only laughed.
But he and Granny were busy as bees all day. About four o'clock Mr.
Kinsey came over to see how the packing progressed.
"There are just two dozen," said Hal; "and I shall have two dozen again
next week."
"They're beauties too! Why, I believe they go ahead of mine. You've
plucked them nicely. Poultry's pretty high this year; retailing at
twenty-five and twenty-eight, I heard."
They weighed them, and then laid them snugly in the crate; plump and
yellow, looking almost good enough to eat without a pinch of salt, Mr.
Kinsey said.
"Now I shall send them all over to the station, and they'll go through
in the freight-train. Jim will soon be here with the wagon."
Joe and Hal counted up the possible profit that evening. They had
raised, with all their broods, sixty-five chickens. The actual outlay
for food had been seventeen dollars; and Hal had sold eggs to the value
of two dollars and a half.
"It's better than keeping store, I do believe!" ejaculated Joe. "Hal,
you have a genius for farming."
"Does raising chickens prove it?"
"If a hundred of corn-meal costs two fifty, what will the biggest
chanticleer in the lot come to? There's a question for you, Granny."
"Why, it would depend on--how much he weighed," said Granny cautiously.
"Oh, no! it would depend on how you cooked him. In my kitchen he'd come
to pot-pie, according to the double rule of a good hot fire."
"You won't sell 'em all, Hal?" said Charlie anxiously.
"No: we will have a little Thanksgiving for ourselves."
Granny sighed. They all knew of whom she was thinking,--a sweet,
fair face dropped out of the circle. Now that Flossy was gone, they
remembered only her pleasant qualities; and it seemed as if Joe did not
care half so much for making a noise when she was not here to be teased.
Mr. Kinsey did not return until Saturday, but he came over with a
smiling face.
"Royal luck for you, Hal!" he said in his hearty tone. "I've half a
mind to make you guess, and keep all that is over."
"But I might guess high;" and a bright smile brought sunshine into the
boy's face.
"Try it, then."
"Thirty dollars," ventured Hal, rather hesitatingly. "Though I don't
believe it _is_ as much as that."
"Thirty-two dollars; and the same man has spoken for your next lot.
They were about the handsomest chickens in the market."
"Oh! isn't that splendid?" said Hal. "Why, I can hardly believe it!"
"There's the money. I've always observed that there's no eye-salve like
money;" and Mr. Kinsey laughed.
"You ought to have something for your trouble."
"No, my fine little fellow. I shall only take out the freight. I'm glad
to see you so energetic; and I do hope you will prosper as well in
every thing you undertake."
Hal thanked Mr. Kinsey again and again, and insisted that he should
come over and do some work for the farmer; but that gentleman only
laughed.
"Have your second lot ready on Tuesday evening," said he, as he wished
them good-day.
The next was still more of a success, for they netted thirty-four
dollars. Hal was overjoyed.
"That certainly is 'bully!' our dear Flossy to the contrary," declared
Joe. "Why, I'm so glad that I could stand on my head or the tip of my
little finger. What _will_ you do with it all? Granny, was there ever
so much money in this old house? It's lucky that I have a pistol to
keep guard."
Granny smiled, but a tear crept to the corner of her eye.
"Now let us reckon it all up," said Hal. "Here is my book."
Every item had been put down in the most systematic manner. They made
a list of the expenses, and added the column, then subtracted it from
the whole sum.
"Forty-seven dollars!"
"All that clear!" asked Granny in amaze.
"Yes. Isn't it wonderful?"
Joe could hold in no longer; but took a tour over the chairs, as if
they had been a part of the flying trapeze. Hal's eyes were as large as
saucers,--small ones.
"I wouldn't a' believed it! But you've been very ekernomical, Hal, and
used every thing, and raised so much corn"--
"And the buckwheat-field was so nice for them! If we can only keep them
comfortable through the winter, and have them lay lots of eggs!"
"It's astonishing how contrary they are when eggs are scarce," said Joe
gravely. "What do you suppose is the reason, Charlie?"
"Forty-seven dollars!" said Charlie, loftily ignoring the last remark.
"Enough to buy me a fiddle," Kit remarked.
"It will have to buy a good many things," said Hal. "I am so very, very
thankful for it."
Granny insisted that Hal should have a suit of clothes, and finally
persuaded him into buying a complete outfit. That took twenty-three
dollars. Then some boots for Kit, shoes for Charley, a pretty dress
for Dot, a barrel of flour, and there was very little of it left.
"But it was really magnificent!" said Hal with a sigh of pleasure. "I
shall try it again next year, if you don't mind the trouble, Granny."
Granny said that she should not.
Their Christmas festival was quiet compared to the last one. Flossy had
helped make them gay then, and there had been the wonderful shoe. Would
any thing ever be quite as brilliant again?
"It almost seems as if Flossy was dead, doesn't it?" Hal said softly
to granny. "And yet I suppose she has had lots of presents, and
is--very--happy."
"God keep her safely," answered Granny.
Before spring some changes came to Madison. Grandmother Kinsey died,
having reached a good old age; and Mr. Kinsey resolved to put his pet
project into execution,--removing to the West, and farming on a large
scale. Everybody was very sorry to have them go. It seemed to Granny as
if she were losing her best friend. Ah! by and by the world would look
very wide and desolate.
But the Kenneths had a little recompense for their loss. In casting
about for a parting gift to Hal, fortune seemed to put an excellent one
right in his way. In having some dealings with Farmer Peters, he took
the small piece of land that Hal had made so profitable, and deeded it
to the boy.
"It is not much," he said; "but it may help along a little. I only wish
you were going out West with me. That's the place for boys!"
Hal almost wished that he could.
"But you will come and visit us some day, I know. You are a brave,
ambitious little chap, and deserve to prosper. I hope you will, indeed."
Hal was a good deal astonished, and wonderfully thankful for his gift.
To think of being actual owner of some land!
"You beat the Dutch for luck, Hal! I never did see any thing like it,"
was Joe's comment.
All Madison bewailed the Kinseys. They were some of the oldest
settlers, and it was like removing a landmark. Mrs. Kinsey did not
forget Granny, but sent her many useful articles in the way of old
clothes, and some furniture that would have brought but a trifle at
auction, yet served to quite renovate the little cottage. But when
Granny tried to thank her kind friend, Mrs. Kinsey said,--
"I've always been glad to do what I could; for when I thought of you at
your age, taking charge of all those little ones, it seemed as if every
one ought to stand by you. And they will be a comfort to you, I know.
God will not let you go without some reward."
Granny wiped the tears from her eyes, and answered brokenly. One and
another were dropping out of her world.
She had hardly recovered from this blow when one night Joe came home in
high glee.
"The luck's changed, Hal!" he said in his laughing, breezy voice. "Just
guess"--
"More wages?"
"No indeed! Better still, a great sight. If you have tears, please
wring out your pocket-hand_kerchers_, and prepare to shed 'em! Slightly
altered from Shakspeare. I'm going to sea! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
Joe swung his old hat so hard that crown and brim parted, the crown
landing on the mantle-piece.
"Couldn't have done better if I'd tried. I'm a dead shot, for certain!"
"Going to sea?"
Granny came out at that.
"Yes. A cousin of Mr. Terry's has been visiting there; and we have
struck up a friendship and a bargain,--Cap'n Burton. He owns a sloop
that goes to Albany and around, and wants a boy who can keep books a
little, and all that. It's just as jolly as a lark!"
It was plain to be seen that Joe no longer stood in awe of Florence's
ladylike reprimands.
Granny's eyes grew larger and larger. She fairly clutched Joe's arm as
she gasped,--
"Going--to sea!"
"Yes, Granny. Don't get solemn new, as if you thought a shark would
devour me the first thing,--body and boots. You know it always _was_
my idea, and this is real splendid! And there's no more danger than
driving Mr. Terry's grocery-wagon."
"But you might get drownded," Granny said awesomely.
"Tell you what I'll do, Granny. Tie a rope to my leg, and fasten it
to the mast. Then you know, if I fall overboard, I can haul in. There
isn't a bit of danger. Why, Capt. Burton's been all his life. There,
don't cry. You are the dearest old grandmother that ever was; but we
can't stay under your wing forever."
"You have not made your bargain?" asked Hal, surprised that another
dream should come true.
"Well,--almost. He's coming down here in the morning to have a talk
with Granny. He will give me ten dollars a month and found, which mean,
tea and fish and baccy."
"Oh!" said Hal, "you won't chew tobacco?"
"Sailors always do. But ten dollars a month _is_ better than eight, and
my board thrown in. I'm going, Granny."
Granny sighed. It was useless to endeavor to talk Joe out of his
project; and so she might as well keep silence.
Capt. Burton came the next morning. He had taken a wonderful fancy to
Joe, and was very anxious to engage him.
"He's just the kind of lad that I need," exclaimed the captain. "I
want some one who is handy, and quick in figgers; who can keep my
accounts for me, as my eyes are getting rather poor; and do arrants;
and I've taken a 'mazing liking to him. I'll keep a good watch over
him; and he can come home once in a while."
"How far do you go?" asked Granny.
"To Albany, mostly. Now and then I take a trip around Long Island, or
up the Sound. Your boy has taken a 'mazing fancy to the sea; and he
will never be satisfied until he's had a taste of salt water, in my
'pinion."
"No, that I won't!" declared Joe stoutly.
"We haul off in the winter 'bout three months; which'll give him a
holiday. Sence he hankers after it so, you better consent, I think.
Cousin Terry will tell you that I ain't a hard master."
What could Granny say? Nothing but cry a little, look up Joe's clothes,
and kiss him a hundred times, or more, after the fashion of Mrs. Malloy
and her dear Pat. Joe was so delighted, that he could hardly "hold in
his skin," as he said to Kit, who sagely advised him not to get into a
cast-iron sweat,--Kit's chronic fear on remarkable occasions.
There was not much time for consideration. In two days Joe was off, bag
and baggage, whistling, "The girl I left behind me."
And so the gay household thinned out. They missed Joe terribly. To be
sure, vacation commenced after a while; and Kit and Charlie were in
mischief continually, or in rags: Granny hardly knew which was worse.
They had some glowing letters from Joe, who didn't believe there was
any thing finer in Europe than New York and the Hudson River. Capt.
Burton was a "jolly old tar;" and nautical phrases were sprinkled about
thick as blackberries.
Mr. Terry offered the place in the store to Hal, who consulted awhile
with Granny.
"I think I could make as much money by working round, and raising
chickens, and all that; and then I could go to school. I believe I
should like it better; and there is so much that I want to learn!"
"But you know a master sight now, Hal," said Granny in admiration.
So the proposal was very kindly declined.
Charlie thought Fourth of July was "awful dull" this year. She lamented
Joe loudly.
"If she had only been a boy!" said Hal regretfully.
The latter part of July, Joe came home for a flying visit. It seemed
as if he had grown taller in this brief while. His curly hair had been
cropped close; and he was brown as an Indian. Charlie made herself a
perpetual interrogation-point; and Joe told her the most marvellous
yarns that ever were invented. She soon learned every thing about the
sloop, and wished that she could be a sailor, but finally comforted
herself by thinking that she _might_ marry a sea-captain.
Then, to crown all, they had a letter from Florence. It was written on
tinted paper, and had a beautiful monogram in green and gold. She was
very well, very happy; had grown a little taller than Mrs. Osgood; and
was studying every thing. She could play quite well, and read French,
and went to dancing-school, besides lovely little parties. Then the
house was so elegant! She had never been homesick at all.
Perhaps she thought it would be wrong to wish to see them; for that was
never once expressed.
"But I am glad she is happy," said Granny, striving to be heroic.