Farewell to the Cousins.
Scarcely had Jessie feasted her eyes on her quilt, snugly fixed between
the bars of the quilting-frame, before the dinner-bell rang out its
pleasant call. The happy girl skipped down-stairs with a light and merry
step. In the hall she met her brothers.
"O Guy!" she exclaimed, "I have finished my quilt! Aren't you glad!"
"To be sure I am," said Guy, kissing her rosy cheek, "and I expect you
will be so well-pleased with my old friend, Never-give-up, who helped you
finish it, that you will never give him the mitten again."
"Pshaw!" cried Hugh with a sneer, "I'll bet my new knife, that she gives
him the mitten before the week is out. Jessie isn't made of the right
stuff for your famous Try Company, any more than I am. She hasn't got the
perseverance of a kitten."
"And yet she has more of it, than Master Hugh Carlton, for he has never
finished any thing but his dinner, and she has finished her _quilt_," said
Uncle Morris, who as he was crossing the hall to the dining-room, heard
Hugh's unkind remark.
"There, Hugh, you are fairly hit now," said Guy, laughing.
"They who live in glass-houses shouldn't throw stones, should they, my
little puss?" said Uncle Morris, leading Jessie into the dining-room.
"Hugh is always teasing me," replied Jessie, "I wish he was more like
Guy."
Dinner was waiting, and taking their seats at the table, they all sat in
silence, while Uncle Morris reverently craved a blessing. He had hardly
finished, before Charlie and Emily rushed into the room, leaving traces of
their feet on the carpet, at every step.
"My dears, where have you been to wet your feet so?" asked Mrs. Carlton,
seeing that their boots were soaked with water.
"Oh! it's been thawing, Aunt, and we got our feet wet, sliding," said
Emily, as she took her seat at the table, panting and pushing the ringlets
back from her face.
"You had better put on dry socks and boots, before you eat," observed Mrs.
Carlton. She then touched the bell. The servant entered.
"Mary," said the lady, "take these children to their rooms, and change
their socks and boots!"
"Yes mem," said Mary, looking daggers at the two cousins.
"Can't I wait till after dinner, aunt?" asked Emily.
"No, my dear. You must go at once, lest you get cold by sitting still so
long with wet feet."
Emily pouted, but knowing her aunt would firmly enforce her command, she
rose, and taking her brother by the wrist, said:
"Come, Charlie, let us go up-stairs!"
"I don't want to," growled Charlie, pulling away his arm, and putting it
round his plate.
"Charlie!" exclaimed Mrs. Carlton.
"I want my dinner!" was his surly reply.
Mary had now drawn near the ugly little fellow. Placing her heavy hand on
his shoulder, she seized him with a grip, which made him feel like a
pigmy, in the grasp of a giant. Having had a taste of Mary's anger, once
or twice before, and catching a glance from the kindling eye of Uncle
Morris, he yielded, and was led out of the room.
"The worst child of his age I ever knew," observed the old gentleman with
a sigh, as he proceeded to carve the chickens, which were smoking on the
hospitable table before him.
Jessie's face had clouded a little during this scene. The thaw of which
Emily had spoken, cut off her hope of trying her new skates. Leaning
towards Guy, who sat next to her at the table, she whispered:
"Is the ice _all_ gone, Guy?"
"I expect it is pretty much used up by the fog we've had all day."
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" said Jessie with a sigh.
Judging of her thoughts by her looks, Uncle Morris said, "Never mind,
Jessie. There will be plenty of ice to skate on, in a week or two."
"Skate! How can she _skate_? She hasn't got any skates!" said Hugh.
"Yes, I have," replied Jessie, smiling. "Pa sent me a beautiful pair this
morning."
This statement led to various remarks about skating, and winter weather in
the country. Meanwhile, the cousins came back to the table. Jessie soon
grew cheerful again, and the dinner passed without any other occurrence
worthy of notice.
After dinner, the fog having grown into a fine, drizzling rain, the
children found it impossible to go out of doors in search of amusement. It
was therefore agreed to invite Miss Carrie Sherwood to tea. Guy promised
to go after her. To add to the pleasure of the occasion, Jessie had her
mother's permission to use a sweet little tea-set of her own, and to have
tea with her cousins and Carrie by themselves in the parlor.
Carrie arrived in due time, snugly wrapped in hood and shawl. Her feet
were protected by rubbers. She declared that Guy was a capital _beau_. Guy
laughed at her compliment, and repaid it by saying that she was a nice
little _belle_, and then he ran off to school.
The afternoon passed rapidly, because, on the whole, it was pleasantly
spent. Emily, knowing it was the last day of her visit, seemed anxious to
do away with the bad impression she had previously made upon the mind of
her cousin and her friend. Charlie, too, was in his best mood most of the
time. Once, indeed, he came very near breaking up the harmony of the
party. Seeing a strap of Jessie's new skates peeping from beneath the
what-not where she had hidden them, he seized it, pulled out the skates,
and began to put them on.
"Please, Charlie, don't do that," said Jessie. "You can't skate on the
carpet, you know; please give them to me?"
"I won't!" retorted the wilful boy.
"Please do give them to me?" implored Jessie.
"I want to skate on the carpet, first," said Charlie, still trying to
buckle on the skates.
"Do ask him to give them to me?" said Jessie, addressing Emily.
"There, take your old skates!" cried the boy, throwing them violently
across the room.
The fact was, he did not understand the mystery of straps and buckles in
which the skates were involved. Hence his desire to try the skates was
borne away upon the current of his impatience, and thereby the little
party escaped a scene for the time being.
But it was only for a time. Charlie had been so used to have his own way
and to oppose the wishes of others, that he seemed to find his pleasure in
spoiling the delights of others. Hence, when the hour for tea arrived, and
Jessie's sweet little china tea-set, with its ornaments of gold and
flowers, was spread out upon a little round table, he drew near to it and
taking Jessie's seat, said:
"I'm going to play lady and pour out the tea."
"Nonsense, Charlie!" said his sister. "Take the next seat and let Jessie
have hers."
"I won't," muttered Charlie.
"Come, Charlie, do get out of your cousin's chair! Young gentlemen don't
pour out tea for ladies, you know," said Carrie in her most coaxing
tones.
"I don't care! I'm going to play lady and pour out the tea," replied the
boy in his most dogged manner.
"I never did see such a boy in all my life," whispered Jessie to her
friend.
"Nor I," rejoined Carrie; "my father says he's a young hornet."
"Oh dear! what shall I do?" sighed Jessie.
"Why don't you sit down?" said Charlie, as he began to handle the little
teapot.
"Charlie, get up!" exclaimed his sister, as she snatched the teapot from
his hand.
"Don't touch him. I'll call my uncle; he'll make him move," said Jessie,
moving towards the door.
She was too late; Emily's act had roused the fiery temper of the boy.
Placing his hands on each side of his chair, he leaned back, and lifting
up his feet to the edge of the table, kicked it over and sent the tea-set
crashing to the floor.
"Oh dear! Oh dear! He has broken my nice tea-set all to pieces!" cried
Jessie, pausing, gazing on the wreck, and bursting into tears.
The crash of the falling tea-things was heard by Uncle Morris. He entered
the room with a grave face. Charlie still sat on the chair, looking surly
and wicked at the ruin he had wrought.
"See what Charlie has done, Uncle!" exclaimed Jessie, sobbing. "I wouldn't
care if it wasn't poor Aunt Lucy's present that he has broken."
Aunt Lucy was dead. She had given this charming little tea-set to Jessie
only a few weeks before her death.
"How did he do it?" asked Mr. Morris.
"He kicked the table over, Sir, because we wanted him to let Jessie sit in
her place, and pour out the tea," said Carrie.
Just then Mrs. Carlton, and Mary the waiting-maid, both of whom had heard
the noise, entered the parlor. Turning to the latter, Mr. Morris said:
"Mary, put that ugly boy to bed!"
Charlie, frightened at Mr. Morris's manner, yielded to this command
without a word, and was led out of the room.
"I didn't know that so much ugliness could be got into so small a parcel
before that boy came here. He goes home to-morrow morning, however, and we
shall all witness his departure, I guess, with very dry eyes," said Mr.
Morris.
"He needs somebody to weep over him, though, brother," interposed Mrs.
Carlton, "for otherwise he will grow up into a very wicked and dangerous
manhood."
"Very true, sister. He is a spoiled child. I must write to sister Hannah
about him. If rigid training, and the rod of correction, be not soon
applied to him, he will become a spoiled man."
After telling Mrs. Carlton the cause of this disaster, the girls with her
aid began to repair the ruin wrought by ugly Charlie. Having replaced the
table, they picked up the pieces, and were relieved to find that, with the
exception of the knob of the teapot lid, and the handles of two cups,
which were off, nothing was broken. Uncle Morris said he had a cement with
which he could fasten on the knob and the handles. This relieved Jessie
very much. She smiled, and said:
"Oh, I am so glad! I want to keep that tea-set, for dear Aunt Lucy's
sake."
Of course the tea was all spilled, and the food scattered over the carpet.
These, however, were soon replaced from the well-supplied closets of the
kitchen and dining-room. In half an hour, the table was reset, and the
three girls were seated, quietly eating their supper.
Did they enjoy their feast? A little, perhaps, but the upsetting of the
table could not be forgotten. It chilled their spirits, and checked the
flow of their joy. Thus, as always, did the evil conduct of one
wrong-doer, act, like a cloud in the path of the sun, on the joy of
others.
Carrie Sherwood left early in the evening, and Jessie went to her chamber
with Emily to assist her in packing her trunk, so that she might be ready
for an early start in the morning. When the last stray article was nicely
packed, Emily threw herself back in the big arm-chair, and with a
long-drawn sigh, exclaimed:
"Oh dear!"
"What's the matter?" inquired Jessie.
"Oh! nothing. Only I'm glad I'm going home."
"So am I," was the _thought_ that leaped to Jessie's lips. She was,
however, too polite to utter it, and too sincere to say she was sorry, so
she sat still and said nothing.
Several minutes were passed in silence, a very unusual thing, I believe,
where the company is composed of young ladies. But Jessie did not know
what to say, and Emily was thinking, and did not wish to say any thing. At
last she looked up and said:
"Jessie, I'm afraid I haven't behaved well since I came to Glen Morris."
Jessie again thought with Emily, and again her politeness and sincerity
kept her silent. Emily went on.
"You have been very kind to me and Charlie. I'm sorry we haven't made
ourselves more agreeable to you."
"Oh! never mind that," said Jessie. "I hope you will come and see me
again, one of these days."
Emily then went on to tell Jessie about her thoughts and feelings. She had
not forgotten the advice of Uncle Morris, nor had Jessie's example been
without its influence over her. True, her old habits of self-will and
falsehood, had acted the part of tyrants over her. Yet she had been
secretly wishing to be like Jessie. These wishes, frail as they had proved
themselves to be, showed that good seed from Jessie's example had been
sown in her heart. Now that she was about to return home, all her better
feelings were awake, and she begged forgiveness of her cousin, promising
to do her best, hereafter, to be a good, truthful, affectionate girl.
All this and much more, she said to Jessie, before they slept that night.
These confessions and purposes did Emily good. They also cheered Jessie,
by causing her to hope that after all, she might be to her cousin, what
Guy had been to Richard Duncan.
The next morning, directly after breakfast, the hack drove up to the door,
and the cousins were borne away to the depot in care of Mr. Carlton. As
the carriage left the lawn, Uncle Morris patted his niece on the head, and
said:
"As vinegar to the teeth, and smoke to the eyes, so are self-willed guests
to those who entertain them."
"O Uncle Morris!" exclaimed Jessie, with an air of mock gravity, which
showed that, harsh as her uncle's remark sounded, she felt its justice. In
fact, the departure of the ungracious cousins was to the inmates of Glen
Morris, like the flight of the angry storm-cloud to a company of mariners,
after weary weeks of squalls and tempests.