NEW SCENES AMONG OLD FRIENDS.
"NOW, mother, come up and look," said a young girl, popping her head
in at the door of the household room, where her mother was putting the
finishing touch to the frill of a snow-white little pillow-case, and
fitting it to the top of a large easy-chair covered with stuffed damask.
"Oh, how pretty and comfortable that looks, mother! Now she won't be
afraid to rest her head upon it. But do come and peep at her bedroom."
The mother smiled and followed, while the girl skipped upstairs and
began to point out all the improvements at once.
"See, here's my new pincushion, isn't it nice? I got these flowers
out of our own garden," and she showed the little glass vase full of
flowers, a rosebud or two, and some pinks and other favourites. "And
see, mother, I've turned down the bed as you showed me, and doesn't our
patch-work quilt look beautiful? How she will like it!"
"I think you have laid it all out very nicely, Bessy," said her mother,
looking round the room approvingly. "Now, I hope you will keep it so,
as you have begged for the charge of it all the while she stays."
"Yes, I mean to have it like this every day. Susy did it last time,
because I was too little. I do hope she'll like my pincushion."
"I'm sure she will, Bessy; but you mustn't be surprised if she asks you
whether you mended your stockings first."
"Ah, no, she despises fancy work from girls who can't mend their
stockings, I know," cried Bessy, laughing; "but I am a match for her
this time, for I've done father's, and Robert's as well. There's
Robert; he's going to meet her at the railway, I heard him ask father
to let him," and dancing down, she met a fine sturdy figure in working
clothes, hastening to wash and dress for the expedition.
In the meantime, the rest of the family had come in, and without any
fuss fell into their usual places and occupations. The father had
exchanged his working dress for a house suit, and sat, now looking at a
newspaper, now watching his wife and daughters preparing tea, and doing
sundry little things to make the welcome of some expected visitor fully
apparent. The youngest child, a little boy, was conning his lesson,
that he might not have to learn it by-and-by, and all were beginning to
listen for an arrival, when a car drove up with box, and baskets, and
hampers outside, and Robert and a very pleasant-looking old lady within.
Out flew the younger children, while one older stood more demurely by
her mother at the door, and the son gave place to his father to help
the old lady out.
And so the centre of all this interest, the object of all this
attention, the guest so warmly welcomed, was nothing after all but an
old woman.
[Illustration: MRS. HAYES APPEARS ON THE SCENE.]
"Well, they're all grown," said she, after having taken off her
travelling things, and been seated in the damask chair, and had time
to look about her; "some taller, some broader, and, I dare say, all
better. But where is Milly?"
Scarcely was the question asked when a light step was heard, and a
blooming young woman bounded in. The old woman rose from her seat,
opened her arms, and folded the girl in silence to her heart. There was
no need for words, for Aunt Hayes and Milly Taylor knew full well each
other's worth, and had long rested sweetly in each other's love.
"The Lord bless thee, my child. I humbly thank Him for giving me sight
of thee again," she said at last.
Milly was young ladies' maid at Mr. Drake's, and being spared for the
evening, the family party was complete, and a very happy party it was.
There was Mr. Taylor, now a middle-aged man, healthy, active, and
fresh-looking still, and to whom, after a season of trial and anxiety,
"the lines had fallen in pleasant places." He was truly the honoured
head of his house, "ruling in the fear of God," and commanding his
children to "keep the way of the Lord."
And there was his faithful Susan, the loved wife and honoured mother,
not very much the worse for wear; the burden and heat of her working
day over, and the guide and instructress of her daughters in the
virtues and duties which had made herself a blessing to all who came
within her influence.
Susan, her namesake and second daughter, was preparing for service,
while Bessy was taking her place in the household after leaving school.
"Susan, my dear," said Mrs. Hayes, "those hampers had better be
unpacked soon. There are two hams, and some bacon home-cured, and a
few vegetables, and odd things you'll find useful—my last butter and a
cheese or so, and my sister has sent you two dozen fresh eggs and some
poultry."
What delicious work to unpack such a present from the country! And
after the good things had been displayed to the admiration of all
beholders, Susan and Bessy had the coveted honour of bestowing them in
their proper places, and one or two sick acquaintances were remembered
when the eggs and chickens passed under review.
After the death of her husband, Mrs. Hayes had given up the land at the
farm, and kept only the dwelling-house and its immediate belongings of
poultry and piggery, and paddock for a cow or two. She did not intend
to be idle, and a grave question arose about who was to live with her.
Milly had done so, as the pet and comfort of her good uncle, and Mrs.
Hayes would fain have kept her and provided for her as her own child.
But she was a sensible woman, and she saw that other relatives would
feel jealous and annoyed at such a marked preference. Her own sister's
children were growing also into womanhood, and were so much improved by
her good training and kind interest, that she decided to have each in
turn who liked to come, and at the present time Miss Bella was prime
minister at the farm-house, trying to do as nicely as her Cousin Milly
had done, and to be as thoughtful and kind to her widowed aunt.
Mrs. Hayes had paid each family a visit since prevailing on herself to
move, and it was now the second time she had come alone to those she
loved best on earth.
"If they're so kind as to want me," said she, "the least I can do is to
go, so long as the Lord keeps me from being a burden; and with them I
could perhaps even bear to be that." The highest compliment that Mrs.
Hayes could have paid to any human being.
It was also the strongest proof of the mighty power of divine grace,
that a spirit so proud, so sensitive, so independent, could be brought,
with the humility of a little child, to endure the thought of such a
possible event.
But there seemed no fear of it yet, and Mrs. Hayes walked, and worked,
and busied herself in everything that was going forward, with all her
usual energy.
A new anxiety, however, dawned upon her at this time, though at present
she kept it to herself.
Robert's position at "The Works" was now such, and his prospects
of advancement in due time so satisfactory, that there would be no
impropriety in the notion, if he took it into his head to make a home
of his own and marry. She could not object to that, but the choice of a
wife worthy of Robert was a matter of the gravest importance, and her
shrewdest humour was on the moment any young woman came within range of
her scrutiny.
There was a very pretty and rather showy-looking girl who came to fit
Susan with the dresses which were being prepared for her in her first
service, and it struck Mrs. Hayes that the time of her visits was
peculiarly ill-chosen, inasmuch as Robert was sure somehow to be in
the way. And as Miss Brooks laughingly declared she had no objection,
it came to pass that he offered to carry her parcel, and walked by her
side on his way to work, so far as their road was the same, when she
happened to call at mid-day. And two or three times in the evening he
had gallantly taken her home.
Now Mrs. Hayes had a strong prejudice against milliners and dressmakers
as suitable wives for working men. "She never knew one yet," she said,
"who heeded where she threw her pins and needles, or cared what litter
she made, or knew how to make home comfortable. It might be more their
misfortune than their fault, poor things," she said, "for they were
put apprentices to woman's greatest snare, just when they ought to
have been learning woman's rightful duties; and silly heads were made
sillier, and time and care were fully devoted to what should occupy
the smallest place in female education, namely, 'the putting on of
apparel.'"
Well, it was to be hoped Robert would be cautious, and not get caught
by a pretty face, unless it might happen to be only the pleasant index
of all that is good and womanly within.
But Mrs. Hayes did feel a little uneasy about "that young dressmaker."
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