Max and Lulu were on the veranda at Woodburn,—its only occupants.
The western sky was all aglow with the gorgeous hues of a brilliant
sunset; rich masses of purple, gold, amber, pale-green, and delicate
rose color were piled from the horizon half way up to the zenith, while
flecks, patches, and long streaks of flame, changing every moment—here
spreading and deepening, there contracting and fading to paler
tints—stretched above and beyond on every side.
It was a grand scene, and Max, who was whittling a bit of soft wood,
paused for several minutes to gaze upon it with admiration and delight.
“What a splendid sunset!” he exclaimed, turning toward his sister.
But she was absorbed in a story-book, holding it in a way to catch
the last beams of the fading light, and reading on with eager haste,
utterly oblivious to the glories of the sunset sky, and the beauties of
the grounds arrayed in all the verdure of June.
“Lu, you’re straining your eyes, reading by this fading light,” said
Max. “If papa were here he would certainly tell you to stop at once.”
Lulu made no reply, but continued to read as if she had not heard the
remark.
Max waited a moment, then began again, “Lu—”
“Oh, Max, do be quiet!” she exclaimed impatiently, without moving her
eyes from the page.
Max gazed at her for another minute without speaking, an odd sort of
smile in his eyes and playing about the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, I’ll do it,” he muttered under his breath; “now’s as good a time
as any for the experiment.”
At that instant their father’s voice was heard in grave, slightly
reproving accents, coming apparently from the hall. “Lulu!”
“Sir,” she answered promptly, dropping her book, while a vivid color
suffused her cheek.
“Don’t read any longer; you will injure your eyes. Lay aside your book
and come here to me.”
She obeyed at once, hurrying into the hall. Max looking after her with
a gleam of mingled fun and triumph in his eyes.
“Why, papa, where are you?” he heard her ask the next moment; then she
came rushing back with a face full of astonishment and perplexity.
“Max, where can papa be? didn’t you hear him call me? I was sure he was
in the hall, but he isn’t; and I can’t find him in any of the rooms.
And oh, now I remember he drove away with Mamma Vi not half an hour
ago, and they were going to the Oaks, and he couldn’t possibly be back
by this time, even if they didn’t stop there long enough to get out of
the carriage. Besides, we would have seen it drive up from the gate.”
“Couldn’t they have come back through the wood, as you and I do
sometimes?”
“Yes, so they could; but even then we should have seen and heard
them, and—no, they can’t have come back. Papa can’t be at home; and
yet I heard him call me as plainly as ever I did in my life. Oh!—”
and she dropped into a chair with a look of dread and alarm that half
frightened her brother.
“Max,” she went on in low, half-tremulous tones, “I—I—do believe it
means that I’m going to die.”
“Why, Lu!” he exclaimed, “I should never have thought you could be so
silly! What on earth can have put that notion into your head?”
“I’ve heard stories of people hearing themselves called in that
mysterious way and dying very soon afterward,” she answered, looking
rather ashamed.
“Well, that’s all nonsense,” he returned with an air of superior
wisdom. “I’m perfectly sure papa would tell you so.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t care if you thought it did mean that?” she said,
half-interrogatively.
“Oh, of course not; you don’t suppose I care anything about you, do
you?”
“Yes; I know you do. And if you didn’t, you know papa loves me, and
would be grieved to lose me, and you love him well enough to be sorry
on his account.”
“Well, maybe so; though I hadn’t thought it out. But you’re very
healthy, and I’ve a notion are going to outlive all the rest of us.”
“Dear me, how awful that would be!” she cried; “to be left all alone,
after seeing you all dead and buried. I believe I’d rather go first.”
“But not very soon?”
“No, I—think I’d like to live a little longer; we do have such good
times nowadays—in our own home with papa. But—Max, who could have
called me like that?” she queried, with a look of anxious perplexity.
“You heard it, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But why do you laugh, and look so pleased and amused? I should think
you’d be troubled by the mysteriousness of it, same as I am.”
“No, I’m not,” he answered, “because it isn’t really very mysterious to
me. Lu, to save you from worrying, I’ll explain.”
She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise.
“Then you know who it was?”
“Yes; it was I—myself.”
“You? why how—what do you mean, Max?”
“That I’ve found out that I’m a ventriloquist, like Cousin Ronald.”
“Oh, Maxie! is that so? Oh, how nice!”
“Yes; I wondered if I could do it, and I asked him to tell me exactly
how he did it, and if people could learn how if they tried very hard.
He said it depended upon practice and dexterity, and explained and
showed me as nearly as he could; and I tried, and would go off into the
wood yonder, when I could get a chance without anybody noticing, and
practice. To-night I thought I’d try it on you, and I’m just delighted
that I succeeded so well.”
“Indeed you did!” she exclaimed. “I don’t believe Cousin Ronald himself
could have done it any better. Oh, Max, I think it’s ever so nice! what
fun we shall have! Try it on papa when he comes home; do! He wouldn’t
be vexed; papa enjoys fun just as much as we do, and is never angry,
even if the joke is at his expense.”
“No, indeed! and I never had a boy friend that was better company, or
even as good, going gunning or fishing, or in a game of base-ball, or
anything else.”
“And I never enjoy our parlor games half so much when he doesn’t take
part.”
“No; but he always does, unless he’s too busy or has company to
entertain. I tell you, Lu, it’s just splendid to have a father you can
talk to just as freely as if he was a boy like yourself—tell him all
you think and feel, and see that he’s interested, and know that if your
thoughts and feelings aren’t right he’ll show you it’s so without being
angry or stern, or making you feel that he considers you a simpleton or
a fool. I like to be reasoned with as if I had some sense; and that’s
the way papa does with me; and sometimes he asks my opinion, as if he
thought it was worth something.”
“Yes, I know he does; and mine too, and I’m younger than you, and not
nearly so far along in my studies. But, oh, Max, let’s be thinking
of the tricks you can play with your ventriloquism. What will you do
to-night to astonish papa and Mamma Vi?”
“I don’t know; have you any suggestion to make?”
She had several, and was very eager to see one or more of her plans
tried. Max had some of his own too, and they made themselves very merry
talking them over.
The sunset glow had faded from the sky, but the moon had risen and
was flooding the beautiful grounds with silvery light. Suddenly a
mocking-bird in a tree close at hand began to pour forth a perfect
flood of melody. The children ceased talking to listen to its song.
“Oh, isn’t that delicious music?” cried Lulu, as the bird paused for a
moment. “Max, you couldn’t do that, could you?”
“No, indeed,” laughed Max. “I’d give a great deal if I could. But hark,
he’s beginning again.”
“It sounds as if he’s praising God,” Lulu remarked, at the next pause;
“he sings as if his little heart is so full of joy and thankfulness
that he doesn’t know how to express it.”
“Yes,” said Gracie’s voice, close at her side. “I think he’s rejoicing
in the beautiful moonlight, Lu; and isn’t it lovely? It makes a rainbow
in the spray of the fountain, and I can see the dewdrops glitter in the
grass. And look at the fireflies dancing in and out among the trees and
bushes.”
“Some of them soaring away above the tree-tops,” put in Max.
“And maybe birdie is rejoicing in the sweet scent of the roses and
honeysuckle, the mignonette, the moon-flowers, and others too numerous
to mention,” said Lulu. “But where have you been all this time, Gracie?”
“With Elsie and baby Ned. Mamma put them to bed as usual before she
and papa went, but she couldn’t stay till Elsie went to sleep, and I
offered to stay beside Elsie and sing to her and tell her stories, and
mamma said I might, and she would be very much obliged to me for it.”
“That was good in you, Gracie,” Lulu said, pulling Grace down into her
lap, and putting her arm round her; “I suppose it was my place to do
it, really, as I’m the oldest, but I never thought of it. But you are
always such a dear, kind, unselfish girl.”
“And so you are,” said Max and Grace, speaking together, Max adding,
“Who was it was so brave the night the burglars got into the strong
room, and so unselfish as to prefer to risk her own life, locking them
in there, rather than have papa risk his?”
“Lulu, of course,” said a voice that sounded like Evelyn Leland’s,
speaking near at hand, on the other side of the little girls, “for who
else would have done it?”
Even Lulu was startled enough to turn her head, half-expecting to see
her friend standing there, while Grace sprang up and turned in the
direction of the sound, exclaiming, “Why, Eva when did you come? I
didn’t know you were here! Oh, she isn’t there! How quickly she got
away—into the hall, I suppose,” running toward the door. “Eva, Eva,”
she called, “where can you have gone to so fast?”
Max and Lulu looked after her with a low, gleeful laugh.
“Another success for you, Max,” Lulu said.
“Oh, I hope Gracie won’t be frightened!” he exclaimed, in sudden fear
of the effect of his experiment upon his timid, nervous little sister,
and just then Grace came hurrying back, looking a little alarmed and
very much perplexed.
“Why,” she said, “where could Eva have gone to? I’ve looked all about
and can’t find her.”
“Shall I tell her, Max?” asked Lulu.
“Yes,” he answered, and Lulu went on, “Max has learned to be a kind of
Cousin Ronald, Gracie, and we shall have lots of fun because of it,
don’t you think so?”
“A ventriloquist, do you mean?” asked Grace in astonishment. “Why, how
can he?”
“Because he is so smart, I suppose,” laughed Lulu. “Aren’t you proud of
being the sister of such a genius? I am.”
“Yes,” returned Grace promptly. “I always was proud of Maxie. But this
astonishes me very much indeed. Oh, I’m ever so glad of it! I’m sure he
can make a great deal of fun for himself and us. Does papa know?”
“No,” said Max, “and you mustn’t tell him. When he comes home we’ll
see if we can’t have some fun out of him. He’ll enjoy it as much as we
will.”
“Of course; and be as proud of you, Maxie, as Lu and I are.”
Just then they saw the carriage, bringing their parents, turn in at the
great gates leading from the highway into the Woodburn grounds, and
come rapidly up the drive.
It drew up before the entrance, and the captain alighted and handed out
his wife.
The children, always delighted to see them return after even the
shortest absence, sprang up and ran forward with eager, joyous
greetings.
“I hope you have not been lonely, dears?” said Violet, bending down to
receive and return an ardent kiss from Grace. “But I must hurry up to
the nursery to see how the babies are doing.”
“Papa, sit down in this easy-chair, please,” said Lulu.
“And let me take your hat and hang it on the rack,” added Max.
“And may I get you a glass of ice-water?”
“And I a fan?” asked Lulu and Grace.
“Thank you, my darlings, I do not feel the need of either,” he
answered, seating himself and drawing Grace to his knee, Lulu to his
side, and putting an arm affectionately around each.
Max drew up a chair close to his father’s side. “Had you a pleasant
time, papa?” he asked.
“Very; we happened upon quite a number of the relatives—Dr. Conly and
his brother Calhoun, from Roselands, the Fairview family, Grandpa and
Grandma Dinsmore, and Grandma Elsie. Some of them were spending the
day, while others, like ourselves, had just dropped in for a call.”
At the sound of the carriage-wheels on the driveway, Prince, Max’s big
Newfoundland dog, had come rushing round from the back of the house
with a joyous welcoming bark. He was devotedly attached to every member
of the family, to no one of them more than to the captain. He had
followed Max into the hall and out again, and stood close beside him
now, evidently considering himself entitled to make one of the little
group; pushing himself a little farther in among them, he laid his head
on Grace’s lap, wagging his tail in pleased expectancy, and looking up
wistfully into the captain’s face.
“Good Prince! good dog!” the captain said kindly, stroking and patting
the dog’s head. “How are you to-night, old fellow?”
“Wide awake, and glad to see you home, sir,” were the words that seemed
to come from Prince’s own mouth in reply.
“What!” exclaimed the captain, hastily putting Grace off his knee to
rise and turn round toward the open hall door, “Cousin Ronald here?
Children, why didn’t you tell me he had come?”
He was moving quickly in the direction of the doorway as he spoke,
the children exchanging amused glances and finding some difficulty in
suppressing an inclination to laugh aloud.
The captain glanced within the hall, saw no one, though it was
brilliantly lighted, then turning toward the little group, “Max,” he
asked, “where is Mr. Lilburn?”
“I don’t know, papa; not here; at least, I have not seen or heard
anything of him.”
“Strange!” said his father, with a look of perplexity. “Ah, I see you
are all laughing. Come, if you can explain Prince’s sudden power of
speech, do so at once.”
Captain Raymond’s tones were perfectly pleasant; evidently he was not
at all angry at the liberty taken with him.
He sat down again, and they crowded round him, Max answering, “Yes,
sir”; the little girls, “Max can tell you, papa,” generously resigning
to him the pleasure of revealing the secret.
The captain began to have an inkling of the truth. “Out with it, Max,”
he said, pretending to be very stern; “so you’ve been playing tricks on
your father, have you? I never expected such disrespectful treatment
from you.”
Max had dropped his eyes and did not see the twinkle of fun in his
father’s.
Coloring deeply, “Papa,” he said in a remorseful tone, “I—I wouldn’t
for anything have been disrespectful to you; I didn’t mean it; there’s
nobody else I so sincerely respect as I do you. Please forgive me, and—”
“My boy, don’t you see that I am only in jest?” the captain asked,
taking his hand and holding it in a kindly pressure. “But come,” he
added sportively, “make a clear breast of it now, and let me judge
whether you have sinned beyond forgiveness.”
Max answered with a full confession and explanation, making them as
brief as possible; and his sisters gave a mirthful account of the
exhibitions of his power that he had given them.
“Well, my son,” the captain said, “this newly discovered talent may be
made a source of innocent amusement to yourself and others, but I trust
you will never use it to injure or annoy—unless the victim of a slight
annoyance is to be more than recompensed for it by the after results,”
he added in a playful tone, laying his hand affectionately on the boy’s
head.
Max heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ll try not to, papa,” he said, with an
arch look and smile up into his father’s face, “and you’ll forgive me
for tricking you, won’t you?”
“Yes; taking into consideration the extenuating circumstance of its
being the first offense.”
“Thank you, sir. But I hope you don’t forbid me to try it on Mamma Vi,
one of these times?” returned Max insinuatingly, and with another arch
look and smile.
“No, I shall not, as I incline to the opinion that she would rather
enjoy it,” laughed his father.
“Oh, Max, when will you do it?” cried Lulu. “Gracie and I will want to
be there to see and hear it all, for you know it’s only once you can
play the trick on any one person; at least if you try it again they’re
very apt to think immediately that it’s you doing it.”
“I’ll take some time when you two girls are by,” said Max; “papa also.
But perhaps,” with an inquiring glance at his father, “I’d better not
try any more of it to-night.”
“No; it is time now for prayers,” the captain answered. “We will go in,
and, Max, you may ring for the servants.”
They all repaired to the library, where Violet and the servants
presently came also, and the short service was held.
At its conclusion, as the children were bidding good-night, Violet
noticed a large doll sitting in state in its own tiny chair. She picked
it up, saying, “Ah, Elsie has forgotten her favorite Fatima, and will
probably be crying out for her before morning.”
Max’s eyes twinkled, and he sent a questioning, wishful glance in his
father’s direction.
The captain smiled, and gave a nod of acquiescence.
“Where’s my little mamma?” asked a tiny voice, that seemed to issue
from Fatima’s lips. “Please take me to my little mamma.”
Violet started and opened her eyes wide in astonishment, then glancing
quickly around the room, “Cousin Ronald!” she exclaimed. “But where is
he?”
No answer but a half-suppressed giggle from the little girls, and an
exchange of amused glances between them, their father, and Max.
“Captain, is Cousin Ronald here? have you seen him? What does it all
mean?” Violet asked, piling one question upon another.
“No, my dear, but it seems he has left a representative behind him,”
returned her husband pleasantly, laying a hand on Max’s shoulder, and
giving him a little playful shake.
“Max!” she cried in fresh astonishment; “is it possible that you can
imitate his powers as a ventriloquist so well, Maxie?”
Max modestly repeated the explanation already made to his father and
sisters; they gave a laughing account of his exploits witnessed by
them, then the captain bade Lulu and Grace say good-night and seek
their nests.
“But you, Max, my son,” he added, “may stay a little longer. I have
something to say to you.”