AUNT MARIA'S FAMILY.
But where were Aunt Maria's family? The carriage, when it left the
wharf, had been driven up a long narrow street, quite different from any
the children had ever seen before. On either side irregularly built
houses, most of them old and dingy, stood close together. Here and there
was a new one, which had the air of having dropped down by mistake. They
left this street, and turning into another, crossed a bridge, which
spanned an arm of the river that ran through part of the town. Now the
houses began to be large and stately, and were surrounded by ample
gardens, and walls of brick or iron railings separated them from each
other and the street.
Aunt Maria's coachman drove on and on, and the children began to think
he was going to drive into the river, for he seemed to be approaching
nearer and nearer to it. They looked out and saw a broad sheet of water,
over which many sloops and schooners, and many little row-boats were
moving. The light of the setting sun was touching the white sails and
the waves with a rosy glow. At the very water's edge they stopped, and
Aunt Maria led the way into her house.
It was a large mansion. One side of it was covered with ivy, and an
immense live-oak tree stood in the garden. Two or three tall magnolias,
and a number of fig-trees were scattered through the yard. Though it was
still wintry and cold at home, here the trees were in leaf, and there
were flowers in bloom.
A colored woman, with a red and yellow turban on her head, and a blue
and white checked dress on, came forward to receive the children. Their
trunks were carried up stairs, and opened, and they took off their
travelling dresses, and proceeded to get ready for dinner.
"Aunt Chloe will help you dress," Mrs. MacLain said. But Edith and Mabel
were unused to colored servants, and stood in great awe of her. They
were glad when she left the room to get some wood.
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"It too cold for missy without any fire," said she, as she went away.
"O Edith," Mabel whispered, "if we were only at home! I don't like it
here, I just hate it!"
"Never mind, it won't last always," said Edith. "I wish I had asked
mamma what to wear. Do you think we ought to put on our best frocks the
first day?"
"We're company, and company always _do_ put on their goodest
things," said Mabel.
"But not when they've come to stay so long. I suppose mamma would say,
'Use your own judgment,' but I haven't any judgment, I'll ask Aunt
Chloe."
"La, honey, _I_ don't know," said she. "Reckon I'll 'quire o' Miss
Mariar."
Aunt Maria came back with her, looked over the children's wardrobe, and
told them to put on a crimson delaine dress, and a white apron. It was
what they usually wore afternoons at home.
Johnnie had had no such trouble. His clothing was to him of no great
importance, so long as it had buttons and strings on.
But where was Aunt Maria's family? The table was only spread for four.
The children looked at each other, but were too polite to ask questions.
"Bring Lucifer Matches," said Aunt Maria to Henry the waiter. As it was
broad daylight, the children wondered why she asked for matches. Henry
came back soon, followed by a funny little Scotch terrier, who bounded
up to his mistress, and looked at her with intelligent eyes.
"Lucifer Matches," said Mrs. MacLain, "is my special and particular pet.
I call him Luce for short. Johnnie, you may play with him as much as you
like."
"Come in, you angel!" the lady then exclaimed, as if to encourage
somebody who was hesitating at the door. Six eyes followed hers. The
angel was a huge black cat, with green eyes, that shone like emeralds.
Mabel felt like getting down to pet her, and Edith who did not admire
cats, felt a cold chill creep down her back.
So, you see, the dog, the cat, the horses, the geese, the cow, and the
chickens, with the people who took care of them, composed Aunt Maria's
family.
After dinner, they had family worship. "We will have family prayers
before you are all tired and sleepy," their aunt said. The servants all
came in, and Mrs. MacLain read a chapter from John, and gave out a hymn,
which everybody sang. It was the beautiful hymn,
"Dear refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee, when sorrows rise,
On Thee, when storms of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies."
It was a great comfort to Edith to sing this, for it was one of her
mamma's favorites. After the singing they all knelt in prayer and Aunt
Maria asked God to take care of this family that was divided for the
present. "Be with the sick mother, and make her well," she prayed, "and
bless these dear little ones under this roof."
So the children felt safe, and at home. It makes everybody feel safe and
at home even in a strange house, if there is prayer in it, and Jesus is
loved and worshipped there.
Bright and early next morning, Mabel was dressed and out of doors, with
a piece of corn-bread in her hand to feed the chickens and geese. She
felt the least bit of terror when the geese craned their long necks and
hissed at her, but they soon stopped this and became very friendly.
Folks talk about dumb creatures, but they are not very dumb, are they,
children? though they have not the gift of speech. They soon learn to
know who love them, and they testify their affection in many pleasant
ways. Now Luce was not a dog to strike up friendships with everybody,
but he and Johnnie seemed to like each other at first sight. Of course,
the very first evening, bedtime came early, and weary eyes were very
glad to shut. But before noon the next day Johnnie had discovered that
his new companion could perform ever so many tricks: he could shoulder
arms, stand on his hind feet, pretend to smoke a pipe, carry a basket,
and beg in the most enchanting manner. Johnnie played soldier with Luce
for flag-bearer, for nearly an hour, till his auntie called him in.
"I think, dear," she said, "that I must have you read a while every
morning. Edie has promised to practise an hour a day, and Mabel is going
to sit by me and crochet. All work and no play would never do, but all
play and no work would make you all wish you had never seen Locust
Hall."
"Now, Aunt Maria, how can you say that! I am sure I should be perfectly
happy if I could play with Luce and do nothing else all day long."
"Well, I'll let you try it, some day, on this condition: you will
promise, as an honorable boy, that no matter how tired you get, you will
keep to your part of the bargain."
Johnnie was about to promise, when Edith called out:
"Better think about it first, Johnnie. I once tried playing a whole day,
and it was tiresome enough, I can tell you, before I got through with
it. It was _dreadful_."
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"If we agree to do it, I'll keep to my part, Aunt Maria; but as Edith
says, I'll think about it first." So Johnnie went off to the library,
and took down a volume of stories about the Revolutionary war.