AUNT ACKERMAN.
"MY dear child," said Miss Ackerman, speaking in a tone which made
Percy start, "I am so glad you have come; but we did not expect you
till to-morrow. How did you get here?"
Percy had to explain that Mr. Hausen had changed his plans, which had
changed her own; and added, that Mrs. Richardson had telegraphed to
that effect.
"And here comes the message, I fancy," said Miss Ackerman, as Sylvester
brought in a yellow envelope. "But it does not matter, so long as you
are safe. I dare say you are tired and hungry enough. Come up and see
your room, and then we will see about some lunch. Never mind your bag;
Sylvester will bring it."
Percy followed her cousin, feeling more and more as if she was in a
dream; for Cousin Margaret's face, figure, and voice were exactly like
what her mother's had been before she was ill.
"See, this is your room," said Miss Ackerman, opening a door. "We could
have given you a larger one up-stairs, but mamma thought you would like
to be near us. Do you think you shall like this little blue and brown
place?"
"I think it is lovely," answered Percy, who had a great liking for all
sorts of pretty things. The room was finished with light oak wood in
the natural colour, and the furniture was of the same. The curtains
were of blue and white, and there was a blue and oak carpet on the
floor. Some pretty china figures and a sociable little clock stood on
the mantel; there was a dainty little writing-desk, and three or four
shelves hung over it, filled with books both new and old.
"It is the prettiest room I ever saw," said Percy.
"I am glad you like it," said Miss Ackerman. "Mamma had it fitted up
on purpose for you." She did not say that Mrs. Ackerman had given up
her own special sitting-room, that the strange little girl might not
have to go up-stairs alone to sleep. "Mamma is dressing to go out,"
continued Miss Ackerman; "and I hope you won't consider us uncivil if
We leave you to your own devices for a couple of hours. You see, we
have an engagement at the Orphans' Home, which can't be very well put
off. I will tell them to send you up some lunch; and you can amuse
yourself with a book, or in any way you please. You won't mind, will
you?"
"Oh, no, ma'am," answered Percy, rather relieved than otherwise at the
prospect of a little solitude. At that moment the door opened, and in
came the prettiest—yes, the very prettiest—little old lady that Percy
had ever seen, with a bright, gentle face and bright blue eyes, and
thin, soft-looking gray hair, put up in puffs under her bonnet. She was
dressed in black, with a good deal of beautiful fur; and everything
she wore was so suitable and becoming, that it made one feel as if her
dress were a part of herself.
"So this is my little niece?" said she, kissing Percy. "I should know
her anywhere from her resemblance to you, Margaret. My dear, it was
very good in you to give your holidays to us. I hope we shall make them
pleasant for you. Margaret, have you explained to Percy about our going
out?"
"Yes, mamma."
"You see, we are going to arrange about the orphans' Christmas-tree,"
continued Mrs. Ackerman, in a soft, purring kind of voice. "We have to
divide the work of buying supplies, because there are so many children
this year. To-morrow you shall go around to the shops with me to see
what we can find; and I dare say you will like to help Margaret dress
some dolls."
"Oh, yes, ma'am," answered Percy; and gathering courage, she added: "I
have got the doll you sent me out in Colorado; and it is as good as
new."
"Indeed! You must be a very careful little girl, I think. And how do
you like your school?"
"Oh, very much!" answered Percy, with animation. "It is not a bit like
a school: it seems just like home."
"It must be very unlike any boarding school I ever attended," said Miss
Ackerman. "Mamma, the carriage is ready; and there is not much time to
spare, you know."
"True," answered her mother. "Good-by, my love; you must try not to
feel lonely. Sylvester will show you the library and the flowers, if
you like, or you can lie down and rest after your lunch, just as you
feel disposed. It seems pleasant to have a little girl in the house
once more: doesn't it, Margaret?"
"Yes, indeed," answered Margaret, and Percy was sure that she saw
tears in her beautiful eyes. She wondered whom they could be thinking
of. There was a lovely picture over the mantel, of a little fair girl
playing with some flowers, and both the ladies looked at it as they
spoke.
Then they kissed her and went away, and presently Sylvester brought her
up a dainty luncheon.
"Whose picture is that?" she ventured to ask, as Sylvester busied
himself in setting out the table by the fire, and arranging the tray.
"That is Mrs. Ackerman's only daughter," replied Sylvester. "She was
a sweet, pretty young lady, and favoured her mother as much as you do
yours."
"I think Cousin Margaret looks like mamma," said Percy.
"The very picture of her. I've often said that very thing myself,"
replied Sylvester, evidently pleased with being talked to. "Miss
Margaret and your ma were near about of an age, and more like sisters
than aunt and niece. You see, your aunt—the first lady, as I may
say—was much older than your ma; and after your grandma died, she
took the charge of her. She was a splendid lady, was the first Mrs.
Ackerman; and the second is just as good, only different—more quiet and
gentle like, and apt to believe everything anybody tells her. The way
them beggars and folks does impose on her! Do you like stewed oysters,
Miss?"
"Very much."
"Then you are just suited, for here they are. I told Symantha I guessed
you would like something kind of hot and comfortable; and she thought
of oysters the very first thing. Symantha, she's my wife, and Drusilla,
the chambermaid, she's our girl. We've got a boy, too, but he works out
for himself. Just ring the bell, Miss, when you want anything." And
Sylvester departed, coming back again presently with the evening papers.
Percy was hungry, and she ate her oysters and drank her coffee with
great satisfaction, thinking, as she did so, that the dreadful part
of her visit had not begun as yet. Aunt Ackerman was not in the least
like the image she had formed in her own mind; which image was modelled
principally on that fashionable city aunt to be found, I believe,
only in a certain class of story-books. Milly Russell's aunt, in the
story of "The Broken Saucer," had been very wicked and worldly, and
had treated Milly with such scorn and contempt, because the said Milly
had read her Bible on Sundays. But Aunt Ackerman, though she was
beautifully dressed, and lived in such a fine house, did not seem as if
she could be either scornful or unkind.
"And I am sure it was very good in her to fit up this pretty room for
me, next her own," thought Percy; "and I am sure Cousin Margaret looks
good. Oh, dear, I hope they will like me. I wish I was fair and rosy,
like the little girl in the picture."
Percy's meditations were here interrupted by a sound as of a cat
scratching to be let in. She arose and opened the door, to admit a
beautiful great Persian or Angora cat, with very long hair and long,
bushy tail; the most superb pussy that Percy had ever seen, and
followed by an equally pretty kitten. Percy loved all kinds of pets,
cats and kittens especially.
"Oh, you beauties!" she exclaimed. "I wonder if I dare give you a
little milk. I have heard that milk is dreadfully dear in New York;
but, then, aunt is so rich, I dare say she won't mind."
Pussy accepted the milk, and drank it with an air of having conferred
a polite attention on a stranger, and established herself on the
rug before the fire, while the kitten frisked about the room. Percy
finished her own lunch, and then began exploring her new quarters.
The room was furnished with every convenience, and on opening the
desk she found a store of nice paper and envelopes, all—wonderful to
tell!—marked with the name of Percy in bright blue and red. There was
an inkstand filled with perfumed violet ink, a gold pen,—even a little
waferstand and a box of wax matches: and on the top of all lay a card
with this inscription, "To Percy from Aunt Ackerman."
"What a lovely Christmas present!" exclaimed Percy, as she turned over
the contents of the desk. "I always did want some paper stamped with my
name. I mean to write to Aunt Zoe directly, and to Blandina and Florry,
and everybody."
"That looks nice," said Sylvester, as he came after the dishes and
found Percy busy at her letter-writing. "Looks as if Missy was getting
to feel at home. Mrs. Ackerman she bought that desk herself on purpose
for your room. I am so glad you have come, Miss Percy. I am sure you
will do Mrs. Ackerman good; and it seems so nice to have a young lady
in the house again."
In process of time, Mrs. Ackerman and Margaret came home; and they had
dinner. Mrs. Ackerman told Percy of the arrangements for the orphans'
Christmas-tree, and of the number and kind of children in The Home;
and she and Margaret talked over the different children on their list,
and discussed what would be the best present for each, and Percy quite
forgot to be shy as she listened. They would go out in the carriage
to-morrow, Mrs. Ackerman said, and Percy should help her buy the
presents, "unless you want to spend the morning writing to your aunt,"
added Mrs. Ackerman.
"I wrote to her this afternoon," answered Percy; "and oh, aunt, I want
to thank you and Cousin Margaret for my beautiful writing paper and
things. I always wanted some paper stamped with my name, and I never
saw any so pretty."
"And the desk? I hope you like that," said Margaret; "because it is my
taste. We will have it safely boxed for you to carry home."
Percy's eyes opened so wide that they seemed to swallow up her whole
face, as she exclaimed:
"Why, Cousin Margaret! You don't mean that the desk is mine to take
home with me? Not mine to keep? I thought it belonged to the room."
"It belongs to you, and nobody else, my little cousin," answered
Margaret, smiling.
"Well!" said Percy, in a tone between resignation and satisfaction. "I
never thought I should have such a desk as that in this world. But I
don't know what I ought to say."
"You have said just the right thing, dear," remarked Margaret. "You
can't please mamma better than by being pleased yourself."
"Well, I do like to have people pleased when I take pains for them,"
said Mrs. Ackerman, piling some raisins and almonds on Percy's plate.
"Now there was old Mrs. Smith, at the Aged Widows' Asylum, you know,
Margaret: I hunted the city over to find her a purple-and-black checked
shawl, because she wanted one so much; and, after all, she said she
thought she would rather have a black and white one, because the
purple made the black look green. And when I bought that Paisley shawl
for Cousin Sarah, I am sure I would not have taken so much pains for
myself, that hot weather. I actually put off going out of town three
days, on purpose to buy that shawl; and yet Sarah was not pleased,
because she said she was sure she found three threads of cotton on the
wrong side."
"I have about made up my mind that I shall not do any more shopping for
Cousin Sarah," said Margaret; "only, I suppose, if I don't, you will:
and she can't impose on me quite so badly as she does on you; I am not
so good-natured. But, as you say, mamma, I do love to have people show
themselves gratified, when one tries to please them. I think you must
be satisfied this time."
Percy resolved that she would be pleased with everything her aunt did
for her. She was examining her desk again before she went to bed,
hardly able to believe that she could be the possessor of so many
little drawers and pigeon-holes, when there was a knock at a door which
Percy had not seen opened, and presently her aunt opened it.
"I was only going to tell you that you can have this door opened into
my room, if you like," said she. "You need not hurry in the morning. We
are not very early risers; and I will see that you are called in time
for prayers and breakfast. You say your own prayers: don't you, dear?"
"Yes, aunt. Mamma taught me," answered Percy, in a low tone.
"Well," thought Percy, as she lay down, "I don't think the dreadful
place has come yet. I do believe I was silly, as Jenny said. I wish she
had as nice a place to spend her Christmas in."