FATHER'S SHORT VISITOR.
Ralph's mother was a widow. She had traveled on the Continent for a long
time, but had at last taken a small house in London. Sir John intended week
after week to go and see his sister, and week after week put off doing so,
until it suddenly dawned upon him that Ralph's society might do his own
little princess good. Sir John told his wife to say nothing to Maggie about
her cousin's visit, as it was quite uncertain whether his mother would
spare him, and he did not wish the little maid to be disappointed. Maggie,
however, was a very sharp child, and she was much interested in sundry
mysterious preparations which were taking place in a certain very pretty
bedroom not far from her own nurseries. A little brass bedstead, quite new
and bright, was being covered with snowy draperies; and sundry articles
which girls were not supposed to care about, but which, nevertheless,
Maggie looked at with eyes of the deepest veneration and curiosity, were
being placed in the room; among these articles might have been seen some
cricket-bats, a pair of boxing-gloves, a couple of racket-balls, and even a
little miniature gun. The little gun was harmless enough in its way; it had
belonged to Sir John when a lad, but why was it placed in this room, and
what did all these preparations mean? Maggie eagerly questioned Rosalie,
the under-housemaid, but Rosalie could tell her nothing, beyond the fact
that she was bid to make certain preparations in the room, and she supposed
one of master's visitors was expected.
"He must be a very short man," said Maggie, laying herself down at full
length on the little white bed, and measuring the distance between her feet
and the bright brass bars at the bottom; "he'll be about half a foot bigger
than me," and then she scampered off to Miss Grey.
"Father's visitor's room is all ready," she said. "How tall should you
think he'd be, Miss Grey?"
"Dear me, Maggie, how can I tell? If the visitor is a man, he'll be sure to
be somewhere between five feet and six feet; I can't tell you the exact
number of inches."
"No, you're as wrong as possible," answered Maggie, clapping her hands.
"There's a visitor coming to father, and of course he's a man, or he
wouldn't be father's visitor, and he's only about one head bigger than me.
He's very manly, too; he likes cricket, and racket, and boxing, and firing
guns. His room is full of all those 'licious things. Oh, I wish I was a man
too. Miss Grey, darling, how soon shall I be growed up?"
"Not for a long, long time yet. Now do sit straight, dear, and don't cross
your legs. Sit upright on your chair, Maggie, like a little lady. Here is
your hemming, love; I have turned down a nice piece for you. Now be sure
you put in small stitches, and don't prick your finger."
These remarks and these little injunctions always drew a deep frown
between Maggie's arched brows.
"Sewing isn't meant for rich little girls like me," she said. "I'm not
going to sew when I grow up; I know what I'll do then. I know quite well;
when I'm tired I'll sit in an easy-chair and eat lollipops, and when I'm
not tired I'll ride on all the wildest horses I can find, and I'll play
cricket, and fire guns, and fish, and--and--oh, I wish I was grown up."
Miss Grey, who was by this time quite accustomed to Maggie's erratic
speeches, thought it best to take no notice whatever of her present
remarks. Maggie would have liked her to argue with her and remonstrate; she
would have preferred anything to the calm and perfect stillness of the
governess. She was allowed to talk a little while she was at her hemming,
and she now turned her conversation into a different channel.
"Miss Grey," she said, "which do you think are the best off, very rich
little only children girls, or very poor little many children girls?"
"Maggie dear," replied her governess, "you are asking me, as usual, a
silly question. The fact of a little girl being rich and an only child, or
the fact of a little girl being poor and having a great many brothers and
sisters, has really much less to do with happiness than people think.
Happiness is a very precious possession, and sometimes it is given to
people who look very pale and suffering, and sometimes it is denied to
those who look as if they wanted for nothing."
"That's me," said Maggie, uttering a profound sigh. "I'm rich and I want
for nothing, and I'm the mis'rable one, and Jim, the cripple in our
village, is poor, and he hasn't got no nice things, and he's the happy one.
Oh, how I wish I was Jim the cripple."
"Why, Maggie, you would not surely like to give up your dear father and
mother to be somebody else's child."
"No, of course not. They'd have to be poor too. Mother would have to take
in washing and father--I'm afraid father would have to put on ragged
clothes, and go about begging from place to place. I don't think Jim, the
cripple, has any father, but I couldn't do without mine, so he'd have to be
a beggar and go about from place to place to get pennies for mother and me.
We'd be darling and poor, and we couldn't afford to keep you, Miss Grey,
and I wouldn't mind that at all, 'cause then I need never do reading and
hemming, and I'd be as ignoram as possible all my days."
Just at this moment somebody called Maggie, and she was told to put on her
out-door things, and to go for a drive with her mother in the carriage.
Maggie was a very sharp little girl, and she could not help noticing a
certain air of expectancy on Lady Ascot's face, and a certain brightening
of her eyes, particularly when Maggie, in her usual impetuous fashion,
asked eager questions about the very short gentleman visitor who was coming
to stay with father.
"He's not four feet high," said Maggie. "I am sure I shall like him
greatly; he'll be a sort of companion to me, and I know he must be very
brave."
"Why do you know that, little woman?" asked Lady Ascot in an amused voice
"Oh, 'cause, 'cause--his gun, and his fishing-tackle, and his boxing-gloves
have been sent on already. Of course he must be brave and manly, or father
would have nothing to say to him. But as he's only three inches taller than
me, I'm thinking perhaps he'll be tired keeping up with father's long
steps, when they go out shooting together; and so perhaps he will really
like to make a companion of me."
"I should not be surprised, Maggie--I should not be the least surprised,
and now I'm going to tell you a secret. We are going at this very moment to
drive to Ashburnham station to meet father and his gentleman visitor."
"Oh, mother!" exclaimed Maggie, "and do you know the visitor? Have you seen
him before? What is his name?"
"His name is Ralph, and though I have heard a great deal about him, it so
happens I have never seen him."
"Mr. Ralph," repeated Maggie, softly; "it's a nice short name, and easy to
remember. I think Mr. Ralph is a very good name indeed for father's little
tiny gentleman visitor."
All during their drive to Ashburnham Maggie chattered, and laughed, and
wondered. Her bright little face looked its brightest, and her merry blue
eyes quite danced with fun and happiness. No wonder her mother thought her
a most charming little girl, and no wonder the village children looked at
the pretty and beautifully dressed child with eyes of envy and admiration!
When they reached Ashburnham station, Lady Ascot got out of the carriage,
and taking Maggie's hand in hers, went on the platform. They had scarcely
arrived there before the train from London puffed into the station, and Sir
John Ascot was seen to jump out of a first-class smoking carriage,
accompanied by a brown-faced, slender-looking boy, whose hands were full of
parcels, and who began to help Sir John vigorously, and to indignantly
disdain the services of the porter, and of Sir John's own groom, who came
up at that moment.
"No, thank you; I wish to hold these rabbits myself," he exclaimed, "and
my pigeons. Uncle John, will you please hand me down that cage? Oh, aren't
my fantails beauties!"
"Mother," exclaimed Maggie in a low, breathless voice, "is that the
gentleman visitor?"
"Yes, darling, your cousin Ralph Grenville. Ralph is your visitor, Maggie,
not your father's. Come up and let me introduce you. Ralph, my dear boy,
how do you do? I am your aunt. I am very glad to see you. Welcome to Tower
Hill!"
"Are you Aunt Beatrice?" answered the brown-faced boy. "How do you do, Aunt
Beatrice? Oh, I do hope my fishing-tackle is safe."
"And this is your Cousin Maggie," proceeded Lady Ascot. "You and Maggie
must be great friends."
"Do you like fantails?" asked Ralph, looking full at his little cousin.
"Do you mean those darling white birds in the cage?" answered Maggie, her
cheeks crimsoning.
[Illustration: "I CAUGHT HIM MY OWN SELF."--Page 21.]
"Yes; I've got some pouters at home, but I only brought the fantails here.
I hope you've got a nice pigeon-cote at Tower Hill. Oh, my rabbits, my
bunnies! Help me, Maggie; one of them has got loose; help me, Maggie, to
catch him."
Before either Sir John or Lady Ascot could interfere, the two children had
disappeared into a crowd of porters, passengers, and luggage. Lady Ascot
uttered a scream of dismay, but Sir John said coolly:
"Let them be. The little lad has got his head screwed on the right way; and
if I don't mistake, my pretty maid can hold her own with anybody. Don't
agitate yourself, Bee; they'll be back all right in a moment."
So they were, Maggie holding a huge white rabbit clasped against her
beautiful embroidered frock. The rabbit scratched and struggled, but Maggie
held him without flinching, although her face was very red.
"I caught him my own self," she screamed. "Ralph couldn't, 'cause his hands
were too full."
"Pop him into this cage now," exclaimed the boy. "Uncle John, has a
separate trap come for all the luggage? and if so, may I go home in it? I
must watch my bunnies, and I should like to keep the fantails on my lap."
"Well, yes, Ralph," replied Sir John Ascot in an amused voice. "I have no
doubt the dog-cart has turned up by now. Do you think you can manage to
stick on, my boy? The mare is very fresh."
"I stick on? Rather!" answered Ralph. "You may hold the cage with the
bunnies, if you like, while I step up, Jo--Maggie, I mean."
"I'd like to go up there, too, father," whispered little Miss Ascot's full
round tones.
"No, no, bairnie," answered the baronet. "I don't want your pretty little
neck to be broken. There, hop into the carriage beside mother, and I'll get
in the dog-cart to keep this young scamp out of mischief. Now then, off we
go. We'll all be at home in a twinkling."