THAT HOMELY MISS PIKE.
And so it was settled. Preston dined at the red house; and Mr.
Danforth, who turned out to be a very different person from the man
with the sled, was glad enough to give up Rover to a gentle, well-bred
little boy, who would be sure to treat him kindly.
"I never saw you before," said Mr. Danforth, "but I know your father
very well; and I am not afraid to trust my dog to the care of Dr.
Gray's son."
Accordingly, Miss Pike and Preston and Rover had a very cosey ride home
that afternoon in the baggage-car. So very cosey it was and so social,
with nobody to disturb them but the baggage-master occasionally coming
in and going out, that Preston almost laid his heart bare before the
kindly Miss Pike. He told her how dreadful it was to have your eyes
cut with sharp instruments; how tedious it was to recite Latin to Mr.
Garland; how fine it would be to leave off study and become a gentleman
farmer, with the chance of receiving silver prizes for sheep and
poultry.
She listened with motherly sympathy, and he was tempted to go still
further, and relate the history of all his sisters and his little
brother. It might amuse her to hear Flaxie's great composition,
entitled "Domestic Animals," the one she wrote last fall, that had been
so freely laughed at by everybody far and near. He knew it by heart,
every single word of it; but just as he was about to say, "Oh, Miss
Pike, would you like to hear what a funny composition Flaxie wrote last
fall?" a sudden thought checked him.
Was this a kind thing to do? The composition was very foolish,
certainly, but his little sister had long ago grown thoroughly ashamed
of it, though very proud of it at first.
"It would cut her up dreadfully to have Miss Pike hear it. So what's
the use? I'm sure I don't like to have Flaxie make fun of _me_,"
thought he. He had been greatly humbled to-day, and nothing makes us so
tender of others as suffering keenly ourselves.
Miss Pike had been struck from the first with the remarkably frank and
noble expression of Preston's face. Possibly she would have admired
him still more if she had known of the temptation he was resisting. It
_was_ a temptation, for the composition would have amused Miss Pike,
and he knew it. Here it is, that you may see it for yourselves.
FLAXIE'S COMPOSITION.
"DOMESTIC ANIMALS.
"There is classed throughout the species domestic animals. The cat is
very domestic, and the turkey and the spider and the cow. The elephant
is not very domestic, but he is a very useful animal. The pig is a very
useful animal and very domestic. Were it not for the pig, what should
we have to bake with our beans, or in which to fry our doughnuts?
Ought we not then to be very thankful to the domestic animals for thus
treating us so kindly?"
* * * * *
Preston never afterward thought of this little trip without the warmest
gratitude to Miss Pike. He had dreaded meeting the family, but
she explained matters to them so charmingly that nobody thought of
laughing at him. And then the handsome Rover was such a surprise and
so generally admired that the mishaps of the day, dreadful as they had
been at the time, seemed hardly worth mentioning now.
"So you've been adopted by a dog, my son," said Dr. Gray.
"How nice it was that you stopped at Bremen!" said Julia. "I suppose
you really saved poor Rover's life. But then if it hadn't been just
you, he wouldn't have 'adopted' you. You make dogs love you by just
looking at them."
"And I don't wonder," thought Miss Pike.
Until to-day she had never seen any of the Gray family except Mrs. Gray
and Flaxie, but now, as she gazed about the room, she perceived at once
that it was a most delightful home. Mrs. Gray was a pretty, black-eyed
woman, who seldom sat still many minutes at a time except when the
children were safely asleep. Dr. Gray was a large, cheerful, agreeable
man, fond of telling short stories. Julia, almost a young lady, had a
remarkably sweet face, and it was a pleasure to see what care she took
of noisy Phil and dainty little Ethel.
But loveliest of all was Madam Gray, the little fairy grandmother, with
her white hair, white cap, white ribbons, and dear, benevolent face.
She sat peacefully knitting, in her easy-chair, while everybody was
talking and laughing around her; and Miss Pike fancied she was thinking
of the friends of her youth, for something in her calm and quiet face
seemed to say,--
"They are all gone into a world of light,
And I alone sit lingering here."
"And long may you linger, you dear, sweet, beautiful old lady," thought
Miss Pike, who knew, without being told, that the whole family were
better for blessed Grandma Gray.
In a little more than two weeks Flaxie returned from Hilltop, this time
"all sole alone," declaring she had had a "perfectly lovely visit,"
that well repaid her for the chicken-pox. She confided to her mother
that it was easy enough travelling alone, for then you could keep your
ticket and your check, and were not burdened with any troublesome
crackers and cheese. But she said nothing of this sort to Preston, for
her mother assured her it was wiser to drop the subject. Mrs. Gray
never approved of teasing.
Miss Pike was gratified to see that Flaxie had improved very much since
the days when she went to school with the twin cousin, Milly Allen, at
Hilltop.
"The pure and gentle influences of her home are moulding her into a
fine little girl. She is less rude, less forward, more amiable, and
thoughtful of others."
For her part, Flaxie told everybody that Miss Pike was her "favorite
friend," and it made her "too happy for anything" to have her in the
house all the time.
Lessons were taught every morning in the large pink chamber over the
dining-room. It was a school for the whole family, from Julia, who
learned French and painting, down to tiny Ethel, who was allowed
sometimes to sit in the room and draw pictures on the slate, or hold
kitty in her lap, if she wouldn't "'peak one word."
Yes, and often Rover came, too, the quietest scholar of all, and
perfectly happy to crouch at his young master's feet and receive a
caressing pat now and then.
It was far more interesting than going to the brick school-house, which
was poorly heated and not ventilated at all. Flaxie was inclined to
sore throats and Julia to headaches, and it was for their sakes that
Doctor Papa had decided this winter to have a governess in the house.
He could not have chosen a better one. Miss Pike was an excellent young
lady, highly educated and refined. Moreover, there was a peculiar charm
about her, you hardly knew what it was, though you could not be with
her five minutes without feeling it.
Flaxie remembered how she used to go to the white school-house at
Hilltop with her cousin Milly, and sit and admire Miss Pike, and
"wish she could see her soul," which Aunt Charlotte said was so much
more beautiful than her face. And now Flaxie sat in an armed chair in
the pink chamber and admired her just the same. Somehow there was a
happy feeling all over the room because Miss Pike was in it. Flaxie's
thoughts grew calm and pleasant, as if the world were made of sunshine
and flowers; and she wished with all her heart to be truly good and
always growing better. She hoped she should never do another wrong
thing as long as she lived.
But there was one drawback to this home school, and that was Kittyleen.
Did anything ever happen at the village, particularly at Dr. Gray's,
that Kittyleen Garland did not find it out sooner or later? No, indeed.
It was of no use trying to keep this little brown-eyed maid away unless
you locked the door.
"I can read some now. If I go to school I can read _all_," said Miss
Kittyleen, coming in all out of breath and peeping at the children from
between the rounds of a chair.
Then Flaxie had to take her down-stairs to Mrs. Gray, who dropped her
work to amuse her.
Next day it would be the same thing over again.
"Fought I'd come up and look out o' your winner, Miss Pike.--There now,
Effel, draw a little baby on the slate, and I'll say oh! oh!"
But Ethel, who had been taught to obey orders, always shook her head
sternly at Kittyleen, whispering, "Effie don't 'peak a word."
Miss Pike was never vexed with sweet little wayward Kittyleen; but she
did think Mrs. Garland ought to keep her at home. It was Flaxie whose
temper was most tried, for Flaxie was always the one to take the young
rogue down-stairs; and she found it hard sometimes to refrain from
shaking her just a wee bit.
"What _made_ you throw Ethel's kitty out of the window?" she would
say. "_You_ are the little girl that picked my dolly's eyes out. O,
Kittyleen, I made my will, and I _was_ going to give you the prettiest,
cunningest present; but if you don't stay at home I shall make my will
all over again, and not give you one single thing."
Kittyleen had often heard of Flaxie's "will," and had formed various
opinions as to what it might be. Sometimes she thought it was a very
large pin-cushion, sometimes she thought it was a sort of Christmas
box; but she always cried when Flaxie said she should "make it all over
again," feeling that this was more than she could bear.
"O Flatsie, please don't," she would plead, with her little arms around
her friend's neck. "It's such a _pretty_ will! Me velly much obliged."
"Oh, you good-for-nothing, darling little goosie. Let me kiss that
snarl of hair. Does your hair ache, Kittyleen, when it is snarled?"
So the scolding generally ended in a kiss, for let Baby Kittyleen do
what she would, Flaxie very well knew there was no guile in her tiny
heart.
"Do you suppose, mamma, I'll ever grow patient and good, like you
and grammy and Miss Pike?" asked Flaxie one night, in a tone of deep
discouragement. "I can't keep my patience with Kittyleen when she comes
and rubs out my figures on the slate. Why, mamma, I was real naughty
to-day, I _lost my calm_."
"But you do try to be patient, dear, I know you try," said Mrs. Gray.
"Yes, mamma, but I lost my calm," repeated the little girl dolefully.
"I ought not to. I ought to do unto Kittyleen as I'd like to have other
people do unto Ethel. That's the Golden-Rule way, Julia says. And
should I like to have anybody whirl Ethel round by the shoulders and
call her a _disgustable_ girl?"
"She is a remarkably sweet child, my daughter. She loves you in spite
of everything."
"Well, mamma, I love her, too, only I'd love her better if she didn't
always go where she isn't wanted."
"Kittyleen goes _everywhere_," broke in little Ethel, on a high key.
"She goes to church, Kittyleen does. Mayn't I go to church, I won't
'peak a word."
"Oh, mamma, do let her," said Flaxie, forgetting her late distress of
mind, and taking up a new subject. "She'd behave ever so much better
than Kittyleen; and she has a new bonnet, too."
"Do you suppose it does Kittyleen any good to go to church?" asked Mrs.
Gray, smiling.
"No'm, but it would do Ethel good, for she'd sit still and hear every
word like a little lady."
"Do _you_ hear every word, Mary?"
"N--o, mamma, not always, but I mean to. And Ethel has such a pretty
bonnet."
"Please, mamma," echoed the little one eagerly, "such a pretty bonnet.
And I won't 'peak a word."
"Well," said Mrs. Gray, kissing baby's cherry lips. "Perhaps we'll let
the _bonnet_ go to church; we will see."