ROBERT'S LETTER.
ROBERT came in at dusk with flushed cheeks, and sat down with a book of
engravings, trying to avoid meeting his aunt's eye.
Presently, he called Marion to the corner of the room, and began to
whisper to her. They grew quite merry over the conversation, and his
aunt, in passing, heard him say: "I wouldn't tell any body but you."
When the mail came in the next morning, there was a letter to Mrs.
Woodward from her sister-in-law. In it, she made a request that Robert
be allowed to go and spend the day with a relative of her own in
another part of the city of Baltimore.
"When would you like to go," inquired his aunt, wondering at his rely
evident excitement, "to-morrow?"
"No, not to-morrow, next day, aunty. Can't I wear my best clothes?"
"Certainly."
There was no fault found with the lessons next day, neither with the
copy of the confession, which Mr. Woodward filed and put away in his
desk. Robert was again given his liberty for the afternoon, though
his aunt requested him to do an errand for her if he was going into
Baltimore street.
He was out only an hour. When he came back, he went directly to his
room, stayed for some time, then ran down the back way with a bundle
under his arm. No one saw him but the cook, who thought nothing of it
at the time. When his aunt came from her chamber, he was in the library
with his cousins, laughing and chatting merrily.
"Are you well, Robert?" she inquired a little later. "Come here and let
me feel your pulse. You look feverish."
"I'm as well as can be, aunty, 'deed I am," he answered laughing, and
shaking back the long locks which fell over his forehead.
"You talk just like our black Maria," said Marion laughing. "She's
always saying: ''deed, Miss, it is;' or ''deed, ma'am, I am.'"
"I suppose I learned it from the black people," Robert answered, "and I
used to say, 'Where are you going at?' Grandpa laughed me out of that."
As he had no writing this evening, he spent the time in games with his
cousins, though once he was called to the back door to see a boy, and
was absent half an hour.
"They're plotting some mischief," said the cook to Rose the colored
table girl. "That is a rough boy. If he comes again, I'll tell missus."
The next morning, almost as soon as it was light, Robert arose and
dressed himself in a new suit his aunt had given him. It was some time
before breakfast, and he grew impatient. Suddenly he ran out of the
back door, telling Rose he should be back in a few minutes.
Mrs. Woodward was dressing herself in her chamber, when happening
to look from the window, she saw two boys with their heads together
talking with great earnestness. She did not at first recognize her
nephew; but presently, she called her husband to ask if it was he.
Robert turned toward the house, saying, "I'll be on hand," while the
other boy walked slowly on.
"I don't like the looks of Robert's companion," said Mr. Woodward.
"Good bye, aunt Josephine; good bye, uncle; good bye, Nelly, and all,"
exclaimed Robert making a parting bow at the door, "good bye, till I
see you again."
"How funny for him to say so, when he's coming back to-night,"
exclaimed Ellen laughing.
Mrs. Woodward ran to the door and called after him. "Have you money for
the horse cars, Robert?"
"I have—a—little," he answered blushing up to the roots of his hair.
She opened her portemonnaie, gave him the required sum, then saying,
"Be a good boy, and don't be late home," shut the door.
Toward evening it began to rain, and no one thought it strange that
he did not make his appearance. The next morning, though it was not
raining, the sun did not shine. Mrs. Woodward was somewhat surprised,
therefore, when at an early hour the bell rang, and Mrs. Weeks entered,
having taken the eight o'clock train from Washington.
After receiving a cordial welcome, she sat down to a hearty breakfast
which her sister-in-law had ordered to be prepared.
Mrs. Woodward had told her visitor where Robert was, but beyond this,
nothing concerning him. Now she retired to her room to reflect upon
the proper course to pursue. After half an hour, she left it still
undecided.
"I should think Robert would be here soon," said Mrs. Weeks trying to
restrain her impatience. "How is he getting on with his lessons?"
"Mr. Woodward has him in charge now. I heard him say yesterday that
your boy was not wanting in ability to learn as he has abundantly
proved."
"I wouldn't have believed, Josephine," exclaimed her sister-in-law in a
sudden burst of emotion; "I wouldn't have believed that you could have
had the heart to treat a fatherless boy so—so harshly."
"I am entirely at a loss to understand you, Annie. If Robert had been
our own son, we could not have treated him with more kindness, both his
uncle and myself."
The lady grew very pale, but tried to speak with calmness, well knowing
Annie's violent temper.
"I'll read you what he says about it," retorted the mother, producing
from her pocket a soiled sheet, and reading aloud.
"DEAR MOTHER:—I sha'n't stay here much longer. They treat me awfully.
Aunt Josephine scolds and makes me study all day long. Uncle is the
worst though, he makes me eat in my room; and I don't have half enough;
and I wont bear it much longer. I know of a place where I can get lots
to eat, and have a splendid time. I want you to send a letter here
right off and tell aunty you want me to go to Mr. Bullock's, and spend
the day. Don't forget, 'cause she wont let me stir out of the house
without leave. Good bye. You needn't expect to hear from me again very
soon.
"ROBERT WEEKS."
"Now what do you make of that, Josephine?"
I cannot deny that for a minute or two Mrs. Woodward was very angry,
both with Robert and his mother. Conscience told her that she had borne
with him as if he had been her own,—that she had entreated the throne
of mercy in his behalf,—and she knew that her husband had joined with
her in every effort for the child's good. But she was a true disciple
of His who has told us to return good for evil, and she presently
was able to conquer the enmity which rose in her breast. So when the
question was asked, "what do you make of that?" she answered calmly.
"Robert will be here soon, we will see what he has to say."