_OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES._
"It is _so_ good to be at home again! I wonder how we ever made up our
minds to go away!" exclaimed Rose, as she went roaming about the old
house next morning, full of the satisfaction one feels at revisiting
familiar nooks and corners, and finding them unchanged.
"That we might have the pleasure of coming back again," answered
Phebe, walking down the hall beside her little mistress, as happy as
she.
"Every thing seems just as we left it, even to the rose-leaves we used
to tuck in here," continued the younger girl, peeping into one of the
tall India jars that stood about the hall.
"Don't you remember how Jamie and Pokey used to play Forty Thieves
with them, and how you tried to get into that blue one and got stuck,
and the other boys found us before I could pull you out?" asked Phebe,
laughing.
"Yes, indeed; and speaking of angels one is apt to hear the rustling
of their wings," added Rose, as a shrill whistle came up the avenue,
accompanied by the clatter of hoofs.
"It is the circus!" cried Phebe, gaily, as they both recalled the red
cart and the charge of the Clan.
There was only one boy now, alas! but he made noise enough for half a
dozen; and, before Rose could run to the door, Jamie came bouncing in
with a "shining morning face," a bat over his shoulder, a red and
white jockey cap on his head, one pocket bulging with a big ball, the
other overflowing with cookies, and his mouth full of the apple he was
just finishing off in hot haste.
"Morning! I just looked in to make sure you'd really come, and see
that you were all right," he observed, saluting with the bat and
doffing the gay cap with one effective twitch.
"Good-morning, dear. Yes, we are really here, and getting to rights as
fast as possible. But it seems to me you are rather gorgeous, Jamie.
What do you belong to,--a fire company or a jockey club?" asked Rose,
turning up the once chubby face, which now was getting brown, and
square about the chin.
"No, _ma'am_! Why, don't you know? I'm captain of the Base Ball Star
Club. Look at that, will you?" and, as if the fact was one of national
importance, Jamie flung open his jacket to display upon his proudly
swelling chest a heart-shaped red-flannel shield, decorated with a
white cotton star the size of a tea-plate.
"Superb! I've been away so long I forgot there was such a game. And
_you_ are the captain?" cried Rose, deeply impressed by the high honor
to which her kinsman had arrived.
"I just am, and it's no joke you'd better believe; for we knock our
teeth out, black our eyes, and split our fingers almost as well as the
big fellows. You come down to the Common between one and two and see
us play a match; then you'll understand what hard work it is. I'll
teach you to bat now if you'll come out on the lawn," added Jamie,
fired with a wish to exhibit his prowess.
"No, thank you, captain. The grass is wet, and you'll be late at
school if you stay for us."
"I'm not afraid. Girls are not good for much generally; but you never
used to mind a little wet, and played cricket like a good one. Can't
you ever do that sort of thing now?" asked the boy, with a pitying
look at these hapless creatures, debarred from the joys and perils of
manly sports.
"I can run still: and I'll get to the gate before you; see if I
don't;" and, yielding to the impulse of the moment, Rose darted down
the steps before astonished Jamie could mount and follow.
He was off in a moment: but Rose had the start; and, though old
Sheltie did his best, she reached the goal just ahead, and stood there
laughing and panting, all rosy with the fresh October air, a pretty
picture for several gentlemen who were driving by.
"Good for you, Rose!" said Archie, jumping out to shake hands, while
Will and Geordie saluted, and Uncle Mac laughed at Jamie, who looked
as if girls had risen slightly in his opinion.
"I'm glad it is you, because you won't be shocked. But I'm so happy to
be back I forgot I was not little Rose still," said Atalanta,
smoothing down her flying hair.
"You look very like her, with the curls on your shoulders in the old
way. I missed them last night, and wondered what it was. How is uncle
and Phebe?" asked Archie, whose eyes had been looking over Rose's head
while he spoke toward the piazza, where a female figure was visible
among the reddening woodbines.
"All well, thanks. Won't you come up and see for yourselves?"
"Can't, my dear, can't possibly. Business, you know, business. This
fellow is my right-hand man, and I can't spare him a minute. Come,
Arch, we must be off, or these boys will miss their train," answered
Uncle Mac, pulling out his watch.
With a last look from the light-haired figure at the gate to the
dark-haired one among the vines, Archie drove away, and Jamie cantered
after, consoling himself for his defeat with apple number two.
Rose lingered a moment, feeling much inclined to continue her run, and
pop in upon all the aunts in succession; but, remembering her
uncovered head, was about to turn back, when a cheerful "Ahoy! ahoy!"
made her look up, to see Mac approaching at a great pace, waving his
hat as he came.
"The Campbells are coming thick and fast this morning, and the more
the merrier," she said, running to meet him. "You look like a good boy
going to school, and virtuously conning your lesson by the way," she
added, smiling to see him take his finger out of the book he had
evidently been reading, and tuck it under his arm, just as he used to
do years ago.
"I _am_ a school-boy going to the school I like best," he answered,
waving a plumy spray of asters, as if pointing out the lovely autumn
world about them, full of gay hues, fresh airs, and mellow sunshine.
"That reminds me that I didn't get a chance to hear much about your
plans last night: the other boys all talked at once, and you only got
in a word now and then. What have you decided to be, Mac?" asked Rose,
as they went up the avenue side by side.
"A man first, and a good one if possible; after that, what God
pleases."
Something in the tone, as well as the words, made Rose look up quickly
into Mac's face, to see a new expression there. It was indescribable;
but she felt as she had often done when watching the mists part
suddenly, giving glimpses of some mountain-top, shining serene and
high against the blue.
"I think you _will_ be something splendid; for you really look quite
glorified, walking under this arch of yellow leaves with the sunshine
on your face," she exclaimed, conscious of a sudden admiration never
felt before; for Mac was the plainest of all the cousins.
"I don't know about that; but I have my dreams and aspirations, and
some of them are pretty high ones. Aim at the best, you know, and keep
climbing if you want to get on," he said, looking at the asters with
an inward sort of smile, as if he and they had some sweet secret
between them.
"You are queerer than ever. But I like your ambition, and hope you
will get on. Only mustn't you begin at something soon? I fancied you
would study medicine with uncle: that used to be our plan, you know."
"I shall, for the present at least, because I quite agree with you
that it is necessary to have an anchor somewhere, and not go floating
off into the world of imagination without ballast of the right sort.
Uncle and I had some talk about it last night, and I'm going up to
begin as soon as possible; for I've mooned long enough," and giving
himself a shake, Mac threw down the pretty spray, adding half aloud,--
"Chide me not, laborious band,
For the idle flowers I brought:
Every aster in my hand
Goes home laden with a thought."
Rose caught the words and smiled, thinking to herself, "Oh, that's it:
he is getting into the sentimental age, and Aunt Jane has been
lecturing him. Dear me, how we _are_ growing up!"
"You look as if you didn't like the prospect very well," she said
aloud; for Mac had rammed the volume of Shelley into his pocket, and
the glorified expression was so entirely gone Rose fancied that she
had been mistaken about the mountain-top behind the mists.
"Yes, well enough: I always thought the profession a grand one; and
where could I find a better teacher than uncle? I've got into lazy
ways lately, and it is high time I went at something useful; so here I
go," and Mac abruptly vanished into the study, while Rose joined Phebe
in Aunt Plenty's room.
The dear old lady had just decided, after long and earnest discussion,
which of six favorite puddings should be served for dinner, and thus
had a few moments to devote to sentiment; so, when Rose came in, she
held out her arms, saying fondly,--
"I shall not feel as if I'd got my child back again, until I have her
in my lap a minute. No, you're not a bit too heavy; my rheumatism
doesn't begin much before November: so sit here, darling, and put your
two arms round my neck."
Rose obeyed, and neither spoke for a moment, as the old woman held the
young one close, and appeased the two years' longing of a motherly
heart by the caresses women give the creatures dearest to them. Right
in the middle of a kiss, however, she stopped suddenly; and, holding
out one arm, caught Phebe, who was trying to steal away unobserved.
"Don't go: there's room for both in my love, though there isn't in my
lap. I'm so grateful to get my dear girls safely home again, that I
hardly know what I'm about," said Aunt Plenty, embracing Phebe so
heartily that she could not feel left out in the cold, and stood there
with her black eyes shining through the happiest tears.
"There, now I've had a good hug, and feel as if I was all right again.
I wish you'd set that cap in order, Rose: I went to bed in such a
hurry I pulled the strings off and left it all in a heap. Phebe, dear,
you shall dust round a mite, just as you used to; for I haven't had
any one to do it as I like since you've been gone, and it will do me
good to see all my knickknacks straightened out in your tidy way,"
said the elder lady, getting up with a refreshed expression on her
rosy old face.
"Shall I dust in here too?" asked Phebe, glancing toward an inner room
which used to be her care.
"No, dear, I'd rather do that myself. Go in if you like: nothing is
changed. I _must_ go and see to my pudding;" and Aunt Plenty trotted
abruptly away, with a quiver of emotion in her voice which made even
her last words pathetic.
Pausing on the threshold as if it was a sacred place, the girls looked
in with eyes soon dimmed by tender tears; for it seemed as if the
gentle occupant was still there. Sunshine shone on the old geraniums
by the window; the cushioned chair stood in its accustomed place, with
the white wrapper hung across it, and the faded slippers lying ready.
Books and basket, knitting and spectacles, were all just as she had
left them; and the beautiful tranquillity that always filled the room
seemed so natural both lookers turned involuntarily toward the bed
where Aunt Peace used to greet them with a smile. There was no sweet
old face upon the pillow now, yet the tears that wet the blooming
cheeks were not for her who had gone, but for her who was left;
because they saw something which spoke eloquently of the love which
outlives death and makes the humblest thing beautiful and sacred.
A well-worn footstool stood beside the bed, and in the high-piled
whiteness of the empty couch there was a little hollow where a gray
head nightly rested, while Aunt Plenty said the prayers her mother
taught her seventy years ago.
Without a word, the girls softly shut the door: and, while Phebe put
the room in the most exquisite order, Rose retrimmed the plain white
cap, where pink and yellow ribbons never rustled now; both feeling
honored by their tasks, and better for their knowledge of the faithful
love and piety which sanctified a good old woman's life.
"You darling creature, I'm _so_ glad to get you back! I know it's
shamefully early; but I really couldn't keep away another minute. Let
me help you: I'm dying to see all your splendid things; for I saw the
trunks pass, and I know you've quantities of treasures," cried
Annabel Bliss, all in one breath as she embraced Rose an hour later,
and glanced about the room bestrewn with a variety of agreeable
objects.
"How well you are looking! Sit down and I'll show you my lovely
photographs. Uncle chose all the best for me, and it's a treat to see
them," answered Rose, putting a roll on the table and looking about
for more.
"Oh, thanks! I haven't time now: one needs hours to study such things.
Show me your Paris dresses, there's a dear: I'm perfectly aching to
see the last styles," and Annabel cast a hungry eye toward certain
large boxes delightfully suggestive of French finery.
"I haven't got any," said Rose, fondly surveying the fine photographs
as she laid them away.
"Rose Campbell! you don't mean to say that you didn't get one Paris
dress at least?" cried Annabel, scandalized at the bare idea of such
neglect.
"Not one for myself: Aunt Clara ordered several, and will be charmed
to show them when her box comes."
"Such a chance! right there and plenty of money! How _could_ you love
your uncle after such cruelty?" sighed Annabel, with a face full of
sympathy.
Rose looked puzzled for a minute, then seemed to understand, and
assumed a superior air which became her very well, as she said,
good-naturedly opening a box of laces, "Uncle did not forbid my doing
it, and I had money enough; but I chose not to spend it on things of
that sort."
"Could and didn't! I can't believe it!" And Annabel sunk into a chair,
as if the thought was too much for her.
"I did rather want to at first, just for the fun of the thing; in
fact, I went and looked at some amazing gowns. But they were very
expensive, very much trimmed, and not my style at all; so I gave them
up, and kept what I valued more than all the gowns Worth ever made."
"What in the world was it?" cried Annabel, hoping she would say
diamonds.
"Uncle's good opinion," answered Rose, looking thoughtfully into the
depths of a packing case, where lay the lovely picture that would
always remind her of the little triumph over girlish vanity, which not
only kept but increased "Uncle's good opinion."
"Oh, indeed!" said Annabel, blankly, and fell to examining Aunt
Plenty's lace; while Rose went on with a happy smile in her eyes as
she dived into another trunk.
"Uncle thinks one has no right to waste money on such things; but he
is very generous, and loves to give useful, beautiful, or curious
gifts. See, all these pretty ornaments are for presents; and you shall
choose first whatever you like."
"He's a perfect dear!" cried Annabel, revelling in the crystal,
filigree, coral, and mosaic trinkets spread before her; while Rose
completed her rapture by adding sundry tasteful trifles fresh from
Paris.
"Now tell me, when do you mean to have your coming-out party? I ask
because I've nothing ready, and want plenty of time; for, I suppose,
it will be _the_ event of the season," asked Annabel, a few minutes
later, as she wavered between a pink coral and a blue lava set.
"I came out when I went to Europe; but I suppose Aunty Plen will want
to have some sort of merrymaking to celebrate our return. I shall
begin as I mean to go on, and have a simple, sociable sort of party,
and invite every one whom I like, no matter in what 'set' they happen
to belong. No one shall ever say _I_ am aristocratic and exclusive: so
prepare yourself to be shocked; for old friends and young, rich and
poor, will be asked to all my parties."
"Oh, my heart! you _are_ going to be odd just as mamma predicted!"
sighed Annabel, clasping her hands in despair, and studying the effect
of three bracelets on her chubby arm in the midst of her woe.
"In my own house I'm going to do as I think best; and, if people call
me odd, I can't help it. I shall endeavor not to do any thing very
dreadful; but I seem to inherit uncle's love for experiments, and mean
to try some. I dare say they will fail and I shall get laughed at; I
intend to do it nevertheless, so you had better drop me now before I
begin," said Rose, with an air of resolution that was rather alarming.
"What shall you wear at this new sort of party of yours?" asked
Annabel, wisely turning a deaf ear to all delicate or dangerous topics
and keeping to matters she understood.
"That white thing over there. It is fresh and pretty, and Phebe has
one like it. I never want to dress more than she does; and gowns of
that sort are always most appropriate and becoming to girls of our
age."
"Phebe! you don't mean to say you are going to make a lady of _her_!"
gasped Annabel, upsetting her treasures, as she fell back with a
gesture that made the little chair creak again; for Miss Bliss was as
plump as a partridge.
"She _is_ one already, and anybody who slights her slights me; for she
is the best girl I know and the dearest," cried Rose, warmly.
"Yes, of course,--I was only surprised,--you are quite right; for she
_may_ turn out to be somebody, and then how glad you'll feel that you
were so good to her!" said Annabel, veering round at once, seeing
which way the wind blew.
Before Rose could speak again, a cheery voice called from the hall,--
"Little mistress, where are you?"
"In my room, Phebe, dear," and up came the girl Rose was going to
"make a lady of," looking so like one that Annabel opened her
china-blue eyes, and smiled involuntarily as Phebe dropped a little
courtesy in playful imitation of her old manner, and said quietly,--
"How do you do, Miss Bliss?"
"Glad to see you back, Miss Moore," answered Annabel, shaking hands in
a way that settled the question of Phebe's place in _her_ mind for
ever; for the stout damsel had a kind heart in spite of a weak head,
and was really fond of Rose. It was evidently, "Love me, love my
Phebe;" so she made up her mind on the spot that Phebe _was_ somebody,
and that gave an air of romance even to the poor-house.
She could not help staring a little, as she watched the two friends
work together, and listened to their happy talk over each new treasure
as it came to light; for every look and word plainly showed that years
of close companionship had made them very dear to one another. It was
pretty to see Rose try to do the hardest part of any little job
herself: still prettier to see Phebe circumvent her, and untie the
hard knots, fold the stiff papers, or lift the heavy trays with her
own strong hands; and prettiest of all to hear her say in a motherly
tone, as she put Rose into an easy chair,--
"Now, my deary, sit and rest; for you will have to see company all
day, and I can't let you get tired out so early."
"That is no reason why I should let you either. Call Jane to help or
I'll bob up again directly," answered Rose, with a very bad
assumption of authority.
"Jane may take my place downstairs; but no one shall wait on you here
except me, as long as I'm with you," said stately Phebe, stooping to
put a hassock under the feet of her little mistress.
"It is very nice and pretty to see; but I don't know what people
_will_ say when she goes into society with the rest of us. I do hope
Rose won't be _very_ odd," said Annabel to herself as she went away to
circulate the depressing news that there was to be no grand ball; and,
saddest disappointment of all, that Rose had not a single Paris
costume with which to refresh the eyes and rouse the envy of her
amiable friends.
"Now I've seen or heard from all the boys but Charlie, and I suppose
he is too busy. I wonder what he is about," thought Rose, turning from
the hall door, whither she had courteously accompanied her guest.
The wish was granted a moment after; for, going into the parlor to
decide where some of her pictures should hang, she saw a pair of boots
at one end of the sofa, a tawny-brown head at the other, and
discovered that Charlie was busily occupied in doing nothing.
"The voice of the Bliss was heard in the land, so I dodged till she
went upstairs, and then took a brief _siesta_ while waiting to pay my
respects to the distinguished traveller, Lady Hester Stanhope," he
said, leaping up to make his best bow.
"The voice of the sluggard would be a more appropriate quotation, I
think. Does Annabel still pine for you?" asked Rose, recalling certain
youthful jokes upon the subject of unrequited affections.
"Not a bit of it. Fun has cut me out, and the fair Annabella will be
Mrs. Tokio before the winter is over, if I'm not much mistaken."
"What, little Fun See? How droll it seems to think of him grown up and
married to Annabel of all people! She never said a word about him; but
this accounts for her admiring my pretty Chinese things, and being so
interested in Canton."
"Little Fun is a great swell now, and much enamoured of our fat
friend, who will take to chopsticks whenever he says the word. I
needn't ask how you do, cousin; for you beat that Aurora all hollow in
the way of color. I should have been up before, but I thought you'd
like a good rest after your voyage."
"I was running a race with Jamie before nine o'clock. What were you
doing, young man?"
"'Sleeping I dreamed, love, dreamed, love, of thee,'"
began Charlie; but Rose cut him short by saying as reproachfully as
she could, while the culprit stood regarding her with placid
satisfaction,--
"You ought to have been up and at work like the rest of the boys. I
felt like a drone in a hive of very busy bees, when I saw them all
hurrying off to their business."
"But, my dear girl, I've got no business. I'm making up my mind, you
see, and do the ornamental while I'm deciding. There always ought to
be one gentleman in a family, and that seems to be rather my line,"
answered Charlie, posing for the character, with an assumption of
languid elegance which would have been very effective if his twinkling
eyes had not spoilt it.
"There are none _but_ gentlemen in our family, I hope," answered Rose,
with the proud air she always wore when any thing was said derogatory
to the name of Campbell.
"Of course, of course. I should have said gentleman of leisure. You
see it is against my principles to slave as Archie does. What's the
use? Don't need the money, got plenty; so why not enjoy it, and keep
jolly as long as possible? I'm sure cheerful people are public
benefactors in this world of woe."
It was not easy to object to this proposition, especially when made by
a comely young man, who looked the picture of health and happiness as
he sat on the arm of the sofa, smiling at his cousin in the most
engaging manner. Rose knew very well that the Epicurean philosophy was
not the true one to begin life upon; but it was difficult to reason
with Charlie, because he always dodged sober subjects, and was so full
of cheery spirits, one hated to lessen the sort of sunshine which
certainly is a public benefactor.
"You have such a clever way of putting things that I don't know how to
contradict you, though I still think I'm right," she said gravely.
"Mac likes to idle as well as you; but he is not going to do it,
because he knows it's bad for him to fritter away his time. He is
going to study a profession like a wise boy; though he would much
prefer to live among his beloved books, or ride his hobbies in peace."
"That's all very well for _him_, because _he_ doesn't care for
society, and may as well be studying medicine as philandering about
the woods with his pockets full of musty philosophers and
old-fashioned poets," answered Charlie, with a shrug which plainly
expressed his opinion of Mac.
"I wonder if musty philosophers, like Socrates and Aristotle, and
old-fashioned poets, like Shakspeare and Milton, are not safer company
for him to keep than some of the more modern friends you have?" said
Rose, remembering Jamie's hints about wild oats; for she could be a
little sharp sometimes, and had not lectured "the boys" for so long it
seemed unusually pleasant.
But Charlie changed the subject skilfully by exclaiming with an
anxious expression,--
"I do believe you are going to be like Aunt Jane; for that's just the
way she comes down on me whenever she gets a chance! Don't take her
for a model, I beg: she is a good woman, but a mighty disagreeable
one, in my humble opinion."
The fear of being disagreeable is a great bugbear to a girl, as this
artful young man well knew, and Rose fell into the trap at once; for
Aunt Jane was far from being her model, though she could not help
respecting her worth.
"Have you given up your painting?" she asked rather abruptly, turning
to a gilded Fra Angelico angel which leaned in the sofa corner.
"Sweetest face I ever saw, and very like you about the eyes, isn't
it?" said Charlie, who seemed to have a Yankee trick of replying to
one question with another.
"I want an answer, not a compliment," and Rose tried to look severe,
as she put away the picture more quickly than she took it up.
"Have I given up painting? Oh, no! I daub a little in oils, slop a
little in water-colors, sketch now and then, and poke about the
studios when the artistic fit comes on."
"How is the music?"
"More flourishing. I don't practise much, but sing a good deal in
company. Set up a guitar last summer, and went troubadouring round in
great style. The girls like it, and it's jolly among the fellows."
"Are you studying any thing?"
"Well, I have some law books on my table,--good, big, wise-looking
chaps,--and I take a turn at them semi-occasionally, when pleasure
palls or parents chide. But I doubt if I do more than learn what 'a
allybi' is this year," and a sly laugh in Charlie's eye suggested that
he sometimes availed himself of this bit of legal knowledge.
"What _do_ you do then?"
"Fair catechist, I enjoy myself. Private theatricals have been the
rage of late, and I have won such laurels that I seriously think of
adopting the stage as my profession."
"Really!" cried Rose, alarmed.
"Why not? if I _must_ go to work, isn't that as good as any thing?"
"Not without more talent than I think you possess. With genius one can
do any thing: without it one had better let the stage alone."
"There's a quencher for the 'star of the goodlie companie' to which I
belong. Mac hasn't a ray of genius for any thing, yet you admire him
for trying to be an M.D.," cried Charlie, rather nettled by her words.
"It is respectable, at all events; and I'd rather be a second-rate
doctor than a second-rate actor. But I know you don't mean it, and
only say so to frighten me."
"Exactly. I always bring it up when any one begins to lecture, and it
works wonders. Uncle Mac turns pale, the aunts hold up their hands in
holy horror, and a general panic ensues. Then I magnanimously promise
not to disgrace the family; and in the first burst of gratitude the
dear souls agree to every thing I ask; so peace is restored, and I go
on my way rejoicing."
"Just the way you used to threaten to run off to sea, if your mother
objected to any of your whims. You are not changed in that respect,
though you are in others. You had great plans and projects once,
Charlie; and now you seem to be contented with being a 'jack of all
trades and master of none.'"
"Boyish nonsense! Time has brought wisdom; and I don't see the sense
of tying myself down to one particular thing, and grinding away at it
year after year. People of one idea get so deucedly narrow and tame,
I've no patience with them. Culture is the thing; and the sort one
gets by ranging over a wide field is the easiest to acquire, the
handiest to have, and the most successful in the end. At any rate, it
is the kind I like, and the only kind I intend to bother myself
about."
With this declaration, Charlie smoothed his brow, clasped his hands
over his head, and, leaning back, gently warbled the chorus of a
college song, as if it expressed his views of life better than he
could:--
"While our rosy fillets shed
Blushes o'er each fervid head,
With many a cup and many a smile
The festal moments we beguile."
"Some of my saints here were people of one idea; and, though they were
not very successful in a worldly point of view while alive, they were
loved and canonized when dead," said Rose, who had been turning over a
pile of photographs upon the table, and, just then, found her
favorite, St. Francis, among them.
"This is more to my taste. Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows give me
the blues; but here's a gentlemanly saint, who takes things easy, and
does good as he goes along, without howling over his own sins, or
making other people miserable by telling them of theirs." And Charlie
laid a handsome St. Martin beside the brown-frocked monk.
Rose looked at both, and understood why her cousin preferred the
soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix. One
was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with
horse and hound, and squires at his back; the other was in a
lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying. The contrast was a
strong one; and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight, though
she said thoughtfully,--
"Yours is certainly the pleasantest: and yet I never heard of any good
deed he did, except divide his cloak with a beggar; while my St.
Francis gave himself to charity just when life was most tempting, and
spent years working for God without reward. He's old and poor, and in
a dreadful place, but I won't give him up; and you may have your gay
St. Martin, if you want him."
"No, thank you; saints are not in my line: but I'd like the
golden-haired angel in the blue gown, if you'll let me have her. She
shall be my little Madonna, and I'll pray to her like a good
Catholic," answered Charlie, turning to the delicate, deep-eyed
figure, with the lilies in its hand.
"With all my heart, and any others that you like. Choose some for
your mother, and give them to her with my love."
So Charlie sat down beside Rose to turn and talk over the pictures for
a long and pleasant hour. But when they went away to lunch, if there
had been any one to observe so small but significant a trifle, good
St. Francis lay face downward behind the sofa, while gallant St.
Martin stood erect upon the chimney-piece.