UNCLE JOHN'S IDEA
"Margaret, I have an idea!"
"I am so glad, Uncle John; your ideas are always pleasant ones,
especially when they make your eyes twinkle. Is this about more dogs?"
"No, no, child. Do you think I have no soul except for dogs? I was
thinking--why, you see,--this is a delightful fellow, this nephew of
mine."
"Isn't he, Uncle? I never saw a more interesting person, I think. How
well he talks, and how much he knows!"
"Yes, and right-minded, too; singularly right-minded. Jim has done well,
certainly, by his children, and is very fortunate in them. H'm! yes. Who
would have thought, thirty years ago, that things would have turned out
in this way? Old Jim!"
Here Mr. Montfort fell into a brown study, and only roused himself after
some time, to ask Margaret what were her orders for the day.
"Why, Uncle John! And you have never told me your idea."
"Bless me! so I haven't. Age, my dear child, age! Such a fine idea as it
is, too. Listen, then! as I was saying, Hugh Montfort is a charming
fellow."
"Yes, Uncle John."
"And Peggy Montfort is a charming girl."
"Certainly she is. Dear Peggy!"
"We may not unreasonably infer, therefore, that other members of the
family may be charming also. Now, my idea is this. Peggy is not going
home this summer; why would it not be a good plan to send for her
nearest sister--Jean, isn't she?--to come here and meet her brother and
sister, and all have a good time together? What do you say?"
"Uncle John! I say that you are the very cleverest person in the world,
as well as the dearest."
"A little house-party, you see," Mr. Montfort went on, beaming with
pleasure at the delight that shone in Margaret's face. "And--we shall
want another lad, it seems to me, possibly two lads. Why not ask young
Merryweather and his brother for a couple of weeks? You liked the young
fellow?"
"Oh, certainly, Uncle John!" Margaret suddenly became interested in
tying up the Crimson Rambler that was straying over the verandah-rail.
"Yes, indeed, I thought him very nice."
"And you like the idea? You don't think it would make too much work, too
much responsibility, my dear little niece?"
Margaret was still busy with the rose, which proved quite refractory,
but it was clear that she thought nothing of the sort. It would be
altogether delightful, she said; and as for care--why, she had been
longing for something to take her mind off missing the children, and--
"And to see Jean, too!" she cried, suddenly emerging from the rose-vine,
with an unusual flush on her delicate cheek, and her gray eyes shining;
"I have always wanted so to know the other Peggypods, as you call them,
Uncle John; and now to have Hugh here, and Jean coming--oh, Uncle John,
you are _so_ dear!"
"Then that is all right," said Uncle John; "and I will go and telegraph
to old Jim and tell him to send the little girl along. Shall we tell
Peggy, or leave it for a surprise, eh? What do you say?"
"The surprise, by all means; Peggy loves a surprise, you know. Oh, how
can I wait a whole week to see her?"
Mr. Montfort looked with pleasure at Margaret's sparkling eyes and rosy
cheeks. He had hit on the right thing, evidently. Young people wanted
young people; didn't he remember well enough--here he fell into a muse
again, and said "Rose!" to himself two or three times. Perhaps he was
thinking of the Crimson Rambler.
"Now, about rooms!" he said, waking up after a few minutes. "And we must
get more help, Margaret. Frances--"
"I'll tell Elizabeth first, I think," said Margaret, thoughtfully. "She
has a way of breaking things gradually to Frances, and taking the edge
off them; she is really very clever about it."
"Elizabeth is a treasure," said Mr. Montfort. "So is Frances, of
course, a treasure--only with dragon attachment."
"And as for the room, Uncle John--let me see! Peggy's own room is big
enough for her and Jean, and I am quite sure they would like to be
together. Then there are the two little east rooms that are very
pleasant--or we could give the two Mr. Merryweathers the big nursery."
"That's it!" said Mr. Montfort, decidedly. "Boys like the nursery; it
was made for boys. Nothing breakable in it except the crockery, and
plenty of room for skylarking. Yes, my dear, get the nursery ready for
them--if they come!" he added. "We are counting our chickens in fine
style, Margaret. Suppose we find that Jean is in San Francisco and the
Merryweathers in Alaska."
"Oh, they won't be!" cried Margaret. "They wouldn't have the heart to
spoil our party. I have read about house-parties all my life, and to
think that I am going to have one! Why, it is a fairy tale, Uncle John."
"So it is, my dear; so it is. You are the fairy princess, and I am the
old magician--or the bear, if you like better, that used to be a prince
when he was young."
"The king that used to be a bear would be more like it," said Margaret,
gaily. "How about John Strong, Mr. Montfort?"
"John Strong was a useful fellow!" said her uncle, gravely. "I had a
regard for John; he is getting lazy now, and rheumatic besides, and he
neglects his roses shamefully, but there are still points about John.
Bring me my old hat, and the pruning-shears, and you shall see him in
the flesh, Miss Margaret."
Margaret enjoyed nothing more than what she called a "rose-potter" with
her uncle. He was never weary of tending his favorite flowers, and
handled and spoke of them as if they were real persons. Coming now to
join him, with the great shears, and the faithful old straw hat in
which, as John Strong the gardener, she had first seen the beloved
uncle, she found him bending over a beautiful "La France" with anxious
looks.
"My dear, this lovely person is not looking well to-day. Something is
wrong with her."
"Oh, Uncle, I am sorry. She had her bath last night, I know, for I gave
it to her myself. What do you think is the matter? To me, she looks as
silvery-lovely as usual; but you have a special pair of eyes, I know,
for roses."
"I fear--I think--ah! here he is, the beast! Yes, Margaret; a
caterpillar, curled up--see him! Right in the heart of this exquisite
bud. No wonder the whole plant has sickened; she is very sensitive, La
France. There, Madame, he is gone. Now, a little shower of quassia, just
to freshen you up; eh? See, Margaret, how gratefully the beautiful
creature responds. Now, Jack here,"--he passed on to a Jacqueminot rose,
covered with splendid crimson blossoms,--"Jack is thick-skinned, quite a
rhinoceros by contrast with La France or the Bride. Here
are--one--two--five--my patience! here are seven aphides on his poor
leaves, and yet he has not curled up so much as the edge of one. Take
him for all in all, Jack is as good a fellow as I know. Responsive,
cordial, ready for anything--not expecting to have the whole world
waiting on him, as some of these people do--ah, Hugh! Finished your
letters? That's right!"
Hugh Montfort, who had come in unobserved, was leaning on his stick,
watching them with some amusement.
"Who is this Jack, if I may ask, Uncle John? He seems to be a rather
remarkable sort of chap."
Mr. Montfort looked slightly confused. "Only my fantastic way of
speaking of my roses," he said. "They seem like real people to me, and I
am apt to call them by their names. A shame, to be sure, to take such
liberties with the General. Permit me to present you in due form! M. le
General Jacqueminot, I have the honor to present to you Mr. Hugh
Montfort, my nephew, and--may I say admirer? The General is sensitive to
admiration."
"You may indeed!" said Hugh, bowing gravely to the splendid plant.
"General, your most obedient servant! I have known others of your
family, some of them, I may say, intimately, and I can truly say that I
never saw a finer specimen of the race."
The General glowed responsive, and Mr. Montfort glowed too, with
pleasure. "Fond of roses?" he said; "that's good! that's good! why,
boy, you seem to have a great many of my tastes. How's that, hey? your
father never knew one flower from another."
There was a very tender light in Hugh's eyes as he returned his uncle's
look. "When I was a little chap, sir," he said, "my father used to tell
me a good deal about you and Uncle Roger, the two best fellows he ever
knew. I used to think--and I think still--that if I could be like them
in anything I should do well; so I took to flowers because you loved
them, and to books because they were Uncle Roger's delight. The big
things seemed pretty big, but I thought the little ones would be better
than nothing."
The glow deepened on John Montfort's cheek, and the light in his eyes;
in Margaret's eyes the quick tears sprang; and with one impulse she and
her uncle held out their hands. Hugh grasped them both, and there was a
moment of silence that was better than speech. Hugh was the first to
break it. "I have two new friends!" he said, in his sweet, cordial
voice. "This day is better than I dreamed, and that is saying a good
deal. But now, go on with the roses, Uncle John, please; there are
several kinds here that I do not know. What is this cream-colored
beauty?"
"Why, that, Hugh, is my special pride. That is a sport of my own
raising; Victoria, I call her. She took a first prize at the flower show
last year. We were proud, weren't we, Margaret?"
"Indeed we were, Uncle John. Think, Hugh, she had two hundred and seven
buds and blossoms when we sent her. She looked like a snow-drift at
sunrise; didn't you, Victoria?"
"Could you send a plant of this size without injury? Ah! I see; pot
sunk. Well, she is a marvel of beauty, certainly. I have some slips
coming from home for you, Uncle; the box ought to be here to-day or
to-morrow. There are one or two things that I think you may not have.
But you have a noble collection; what a joy a rose-garden is!"
"Mine used to be the greatest pleasure I had," said Mr. Montfort, "until
I took to cultivating another kind of flower, the human variety." He
pinched Margaret's ear affectionately, and she returned the pinch with
a confidential pat on his arm.
"For many years," he continued, "I lived something of a hermit life,
Hugh. There were reasons--no matter now--at all events I preferred
solitude, and save for my good aunt, your great-aunt Faith, about whom
Margaret will have a great deal to tell you, I saw practically no one
from year's end to year's end. Very foolish, as I am now aware;
criminally foolish. I have got beyond all that, thank Heaven! During
this secluded period, my garden, and my roses in particular, were my
chief resource, next to my books. Indeed, in summer time the books had
to take the second place, and it should be so. You remember Bacon, Hugh:
'God Almighty first planted a garden; it is the purest of human
pleasures,' etc. I used to know that essay by heart. In summer time, the
Great Book, sir, the Book of Nature, is opened for us, spread open by a
divine hand; it were thankless as well as stupid to refuse to study it.
So I studied my garden first, and after that, my fields and woods and
pastures. Great reading in a broken pasture! When I wanted human
companionship--apart from that sweet and gracious influence of her who
was my second mother--I found it in my friends between the covers, who
were always ready to talk or be silent, as my mood inclined. I thought I
did well enough with Shakespeare and Montaigne and the rest; I have
learned now that one living voice, speaking in love and kindness, is
worth them all for 'human nature's daily food.'"
Margaret listened, wondering. Her uncle had seldom said so much about
his own life even to her, his housemate and intimate companion these two
years; while Hugh, without a word, simply from some power of silent
sympathy that lay in him, had drawn out this frank speech a few hours
after their first meeting. She wondered; and then asked herself, why
should she wonder, since she herself felt the same drawing toward her
new-found relative. "This must be what it is like to have a brother!"
she said to herself; and felt her heart quicken with a new sense of
comfort and happiness. "Such a pleasant world!" said Margaret.