when will you come and see us? I have got a little room to
myself, and I have got a glass case under which I keep all
the things that Papa ever sent me, and his letters. I bought
it with part of a sovereign Uncle Garbett gave me when I
came away. Do you know he was so very kind when I came away.
He kissed me, and said, 'GOD bless you, my dear!
You are a good child, a very good child;' and you know it
was very kind of him, for I don't think I ever was good
somehow with him. But he was so kind it made me cry, so I
couldn't say anything, but I gave him a great many kisses,
for I did not want him to know I love Papa the best. Carlo
will put his nose on my knee, and I can't help making blots.
He came with us in the railway carriage, and ate nearly all
my sandwiches. When he and Papa roll on the hearthrug
together, I mix their curls up and pretend I can't tell
which is which. Only really Papa's have got some grey hairs
in them: _we know why_. I always kiss the white hairs when I
find them, and he says he thinks I shall kiss the colour
into them again. He is so kind! I said I didn't like Nurse
to wear her black dress now, and she said it was the best
one she had, and she must wear it in the afternoon; so Papa
said he would get us all some bright things, for he says
English people dress in mud-colour, while people who live in
much sunnier, brighter countries wear gay clothes. So we
went into a shop this morning, and I asked him to get my
things all blue, because it is his favourite colour. But he
said he should choose Nurse's things himself. So he asked
for a very smart dress, and the man asked what kind; and I
said it was for a nurse, so he brought out a lot of prints,
and at last Papa chose one with a yellow ground and
carnations on it. He wanted very much to have got another
one with very big flowers, but the man said it was meant for
curtains, not for dresses, so I persuaded him not to get it;
but he says now he wishes he had, as it was much the best.
Then he got a red shawl, and a bonnet ribbon of a kind of
green tartan. Nurse was very much pleased, but she said they
were too smart by half. But Papa told her it was because she
knew no better, and had never seen the parrots in the East
Indian Islands. Yesterday we all went to church. Carlo came
too, and when we got to the porch, Papa put up his hand, and
said, 'Prayers, sir!' and Carlo lay down and stayed there
till we came out. Papa says that he used to do so when he
was going to say prayers on board ship, and that Carlo
always lay quietly on deck till the service was over. Before
we went to church Papa gave me a little parcel sealed up, to
put in the plate. I asked him what it was, and he said it
was a thankoffering. Before one of the prayers the clergyman
said something. I don't quite remember the words, but it
began, 'A sailor desires to thank GOD--' and oh! I
_knew_ who it was, and I squeezed his hand very tight, and I
tried to pray every word of that prayer, only once I began
to think of the island--but I _did_ try! And indeed I do try
to be very, very thankful, for I am so very happy! Papa got
a letter from Barker this morning, and we are going out to
choose him a wedding present. He sent a photograph of the
girl he is going to marry, and I was rather disappointed,
for I thought she would be very lovely, only, perhaps,
rather sad-looking; but she doesn't look very pretty, and is
sitting in rather a vulgar dress, with a photograph book in
her hand. Her dress is tartan, and queer-looking about the
waist, you know, like Nurse's, and it is coloured in the
picture, and her brooch is gilt. Papa laughs, and says
Barker likes colour, as he does; and he says he thinks she
has a nice face, and he knows she is very good, and very
fond of Barker, and that Barker thinks her beautiful. He
didn't write before he went to see her, like Papa. He just
walked up to the house, and found her sitting at the window
with his photograph in her hand. She said she had been so
restless all day, she could do nothing but sit and look at
it. Wasn't it funny? She had been very ill with thinking he
was dead, and Barker says she nearly died of the joy of
seeing him again. Papa sends you his love, and I send lots
and lots of mine, and millions of kisses. And please,
_please_ come and see us if you can, for I miss you every
morning, and I do love you, and am always your grateful and
affectionate
"IDA."
"P.S.--I am telling Papa all your stories by bits. And do
you know he went to sleep whilst I was telling him Mrs.
Moss!"
Chim! chime! chim! chime! chim! chime!
The story is ended, but the bells still call to Morning Prayer, and
life goes on. The little old lady comes through the green gate, and
looks over the way, but there is no face at that window now; something
in it made her start for an instant, but it is only a looking-glass,
for the smart toilette-table has been brought back to the window where
Ida used to kneel, and the nursery is a spare bedroom once more. That
episode in this dull house in the quiet street is over, and gone by.
The old lady thinks so rather sadly as she goes where the bells are
calling. The pale, eager, loving little face that turned to her in its
loneliness, now brightens a happy home; but the remembrance of it is
with the little old lady still, pleasant as the remembrance of flowers
when winter has come. Yes, truly, not the least pleasant of Mrs.
Overtheway's Remembrances.
_The present Series of Mrs. Ewing's Works is the only authorized,
complete, and uniform Edition published._
_It will consist of 18 volumes, Small Crown 8vo, at 2s. 6d. per vol.,
issued, as far as possible, in chronological order, and these will
appear at the rate of two volumes every two months, so that the Series
will be completed within 18 months. The device of the cover was
specially designed by a Friend of Mrs. Ewing._
_The following is a list of the books included in the Series--_
1. MELCHIOR'S DREAM, AND OTHER TALES.
2. MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES.
3. OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY-TALES.
4. A FLAT-IRON FOR A FARTHING.
5. THE BROWNIES, AND OTHER TALES.
6. SIX TO SIXTEEN.
7. LOB-LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, AND OTHER TALES.
8. JAN OF THE WINDMILL.
9. VERSES FOR CHILDREN, AND SONGS.
10. THE PEACE EGG--A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY--HINTS FOR PRIVATE
THEATRICALS, &c.
11. A GREAT EMERGENCY, AND OTHER TALES.
12. BROTHERS OF PITY, AND OTHER TALES OF BEASTS AND MEN.
13. WE AND THE WORLD, Part I.
14. WE AND THE WORLD, Part II.
15. JACKANAPES--DADDY DARWIN'S DOVECOTE--THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE.
16. MARY'S MEADOW, AND OTHER TALES OF FIELDS AND FLOWERS.
17. MISCELLANEA, including The Mystery of the Bloody Hand--Wonder
Stories--Tales of the Khoja, and other translations.
18. JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS, with a selection from
Mrs. Ewing's Letters.
S.P.C.K., NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, LONDON, W.C.