[Illustration: 9105]
HE Van Vleet family was composed of seven individuals. There were Father
and Mother Van Vleet, who had been married while both were in their
teens, and their five children, Gretchen, Heide, Francesca, Pauline, and
Hans Van Vleet, who had been born in the order named in the seven years
immediately succeeding their parents' marriage. So, in point of fact,
now that they were grown, there was scarcely any perceptible difference
between this comfortable Dutch couple and their children, save that the
children were taller, which made it seem more of a joke that they
should actually belong to a father and mother who looked almost as
young themselves. All this combined to make them a united and congenial
family, and they lived in a comfortable old Dutch homestead and were
very well-to-do, owing to the well-tilled acres that stretched down to
the river in front of them and back to the ridge of the Jersey Flats
behind. But there was one minor chord in the otherwise cheery harmony
of the Van Vleet household. Pauline, the youngest sister, now about
twenty-two, was not “quite bright,” but she was serene and, as a rule,
perfectly happy, which is a deal more than can be said of many people,
be they ever so bright. There were two reasons for this serenity of
Pauline's: her own naturally placid temperament and the tender care with
which all the others watched over her. But one thing must be confessed,
they were not a patriotic family, and the blood in their veins coursed
somewhat sluggishly. They had rather hoped that the colonists would win
in the war of the Revolution, thinking, no doubt, it would be more to
their interest, yet it had never once occurred to Hans or his father to
shoulder a flintlock in place of a hoe and go and help them. They were a
good, narrow, stay-at-home family, with their thoughts moving in one and
the same channel, and with interests bounded by their own acres, their
own experiences, and those of their nearest neighbors.
But there was one delightful feature about their neutrality: they could
be the best of friends alike with Whigs and Royalists, and were able
to invite the Bonifaces to a tea party just as cordially as they could
offer the shelter of their home to poor fugitive Aunt Frances. And a few
days before they had invited them. Kind old Mrs. Van Vleet, knowing
that these were very lonely days at best for Captain Boniface's family,
determined to do all that lay in her power to brighten them, and so a
formal invitation, written by Heide in the stiffest of little cramped
hands, was sent them. Mrs. Boniface had accepted most gladly. It meant
so much to have this evidence of true friendship at a time when many old
friends were looking askance and turning a cold shoulder.
*****
And now Saturday afternoon had come, the first Saturday in October, and
the Boniface boat was tacking across the river in the teeth of a bracing
west wind. They were all there, the entire household, from Captain
Boniface, at the helm, to Flutters, in his well-fitting corduroys,
seated astride of the bow. Flutters loved to be in the “front of
things” generally, but in the present instance it frequently became
necessary for him to draw his knees quickly up to his chin, being quite
too newly shod to run the risk of contact with the salt water white caps
that now and then thumped plumply against the bow. Harry Avery was at
the wharf long before the little boat touched it, and stood whittling
a brier-wood stick as he waited, and dreaming the while the happiest
dreams about the future that might open up before him if he should
secure that position with Colonel Hamilton. Somehow or other Harry felt
almost certain he could get ahead in the world if it would only give him
any sort of a chance.
“Halloo there, Harry! a penny for your thoughts,” called Captain
Boniface, bringing his boat about and alongside of the wharf in true
sailor fashion.
Harry jumped to his feet and blushed like a school-girl, as if he
half feared the thought of his heart could be read by them all. “It is
fortunate that I am not bound to tell them,” he answered, catching the
rope which the Captain had thrown him, and securing it to a staple.
“No, not bound, of course, but thoughts ought to be of a pretty high
order that make you unmindful of the coming of the 'Grayling' and the
Bonifaces.”
Harry was glad to find the Captain in this lighter vein, for life had
been too serious and complicated a matter lately for him often to forget
its seriousness. As for Mrs. Boniface, she had been both surprised and
delighted when she found her husband willing to accept the Van Vleets'
invitation, for lately it had been quite impossible to get him to take
any interest in anything of the sort, and she feared a kind but absolute
refusal. But no sooner had the “Grayling” cleared her dock than the
Captain seemed to regain his wonted good spirits, and to leave all his
heavy-heartedness behind, and glad indeed was his little family to see
him in a cheery mood once more.
As soon as the Bonifaces commenced to ascend the beautiful grass-grown
meadow, which swept down to the water's edge, out came all the Van
Vleets to meet them and escort them up to the house; and it was a
remarkable old dwelling, unlike anything one would see nowadays, if it
were not that two or three such homesteads have chanced to survive
the ravages of a century, by grace of having once been dignified as
“Washington's Headquarters.”
[Illustration: 0108]
It was a double two-story house, or rather three-story, if you count the
little rooms in the gables. It was built of stone, coated with a rough
sort of plaster, and faced the river; its large square stoop, flanked
with its two benches, being protected by the overhanging eaves of the
roof itself. The front door, seldom opened, was ornamented with a huge
brass knocker in the shape of a lion's head, and was daily burnished
with as much thoroughness as though in constant use. Indeed, it must
be confessed that in front everything was severe and prim and painfully
stiff, but fortunately at the side things were different. Indeed, the
house, in its two entirely different aspects, resembled an old army
officer, always stern and arbitrary with his men for the sake of
discipline, but 'another fellow altogether' when off duty and in the
company of his brother officers. At the side it was as though you
surprised it in undress uniform. In the first place, there was
always, in the season, a great profusion of flowers; not, however, in
conventional flower beds, but parading their blaze of color from painted
tubs, mounted here and there on the table-like tops of old tree stumps,
which had evidently survived the first clearing of the land. Fortunately
for general effectiveness, these tubs were not filled with a promiscuous
assortment of plants, but each held the luxurious growth of some single
variety--here a hydrangea, with its wealth of heavy-headed blooms,
fairly concealing its leaves; there a great cluster of peonies or
brilliant scarlet geraniums. As might be expected on the first Saturday
of October, many of these plants bore only a few tardy blossoms, and
some of them had evidently lost all heart with the first intimation
of frost; but in the centre of the old-fashioned grass plot was a
contrivance that from June well into November presented a remarkable
blaze of color, varying with every month, and always beautiful. This
contrivance, called by the Van Vleets “The flower fountain,” was
composed of a series of five circular shelves, each shelf a little
smaller in circumference than the one below it, and terminating, at the
height of about five feet from the ground, in a round flat top. These
shelves were constantly crowded with pots of plants in full bloom.
Indeed, Hans kept a sort of nursery for no other reason than to supply
the fountain, and the moment a plant took it into its head to bloom no
longer, or only in a spiritless way, back it was marched to the nursery,
and another took its place. What a fine thing it would be if some of the
little folk too, who are not blooming out into just the sort of grown
folk we could wish, might simply be remanded to the nursery, there to be
restarted, after the manner of Hans's plants, and perhaps coaxed into a
more satisfying growth than they now, alas! give promise of! But if it
had not been for this flower fountain, who knows but Hans might have
gone to the war? You can see how it would not be an easy thing for a
placid, kind-hearted Dutchman, who loved the training and slipping
and potting of plants above everything else in the world, to turn his
pruning-knife into a sword.
On the afternoon of the tea-party this fountain was ablaze with
chrysanthemums, varying in color from the darkest red to the palest
pink, and from orange to pure white. The plants of one shelf hid the
pots of the shelf above it, and the lowest shelf of all was sunk so low
in the ground as to be concealed by the grass. But what gave this side
of the house the “homiest” look of all was the row of shining milk tins
ranged in a row on a low bench, and tilted against the wall. Then, just
beyond them, the kitchen door opened, and such a kitchen! with
tables and dresser and every wooden thing in it scoured to immaculate
whiteness, and with white sand daily sifted upon the floor in most
remarkable patterns. In this kitchen the Van Vleets not only ate,
but lived, and so it possessed that undefinable charm which sometimes
belongs to the living-room of a family, and never to any other. In
preparation for the Bonifaces' coming, large, high-backed Dutch rockers
had been ranged round this kitchen door, and here the little party
seated themselves under the uncertain shade of a half-leafless oak-tree,
that allowed the warm sunshine to slant gratefully down upon them, and
where they could enjoy the flower fountain to the full. The Misses
Van Vleet were busy within doors attending to the preparations for
supper--that is, with the exception of Pauline, who was always at
liberty to do pretty much as she chose; and what she had chosen to do
this afternoon was this: After the Bonifaces had come up from their boat
she had noticed somebody still moving about in it, so down she went
to investigate. Then, when she reached a point near enough to be quite
satisfactory to her ladyship, she sat herself down on the low, straight
limb of a stunted apple-tree, and waited.