A BEAUTIFUL PRESENT
Mr. Rowe staid at the parsonage one day, and then went back to
Gallatin, taking with him Weezy and Kisty. Kisty's brother Ned met her
at the station, and drove her away in the dog-cart; and Weezy went home
with her father in a hack.
"There's Kirke looking out of the window. Oh, oh! and there's Molly.
Guess they'll be glad to see their dear little sister," cried Weezy
complacently, as the driver stopped at the gate.
"Did you tell her, papa? Did you tell her?" shouted Kirke, dancing out
in his slippers, and catching up Weezy at the risk of breaking his
back.
"No, no, my son, I didn't tell her," said papa, laughing. "I remembered
my promise to you and Molly."
Molly was already on the threshold, hugging and kissing "her dear
little sister;" and Mr. Rowe had to drive the excited children in,
before he could close the door.
"Where's mamma? Where _is_ my mamma? cried Weezy, running into the
sitting-room.
"Up-stairs," said Molly, her blue eyes sparkling. "Papa's gone up; and
we're going in a minute, just as soon as I can get your things off.
Dear, dear, I do believe your hood is tied in a hard knot."
"Bust the string; _I_ would! Oh, come ahead," cried Kirke impatiently,
perching on the railing of the stairway.
"In a minute. The knot's undoing. There, now we'll scamper," said
Molly, dropping the hood, and taking one of Weezy's hands; while Kirke
skipped down and took the other. Side by side the three children
hurried up-stairs, into their mamma's chamber.
"Here I am, mamma! Don't you feel _belighted_ to have your little girl
come home?" cried Weezy, frisking up to her mother, who sat in an
easy-chair by the grate, in a new cardinal wrapper, holding on her lap
a white flannel bundle.
"Yes, dear, I am _belighted_; indeed I am," said mamma, kissing the
bright, eager face again and again. "Have you been grandma's little
comfort?"
"Some," replied Weezy, rather doubtfully. "Gramma says I improve."
"Let me show it first; please let me show it first," whispered Kirke,
fingering the white flannel bundle, which his little sister had not yet
observed.
"You haven't asked what mamma has for you, Weezy," said papa, very near
telling.
"It's yours, and it's Molly's, and it's mine," said Kirke, turning
down the blanket with a flourish. "There, sir, what do you think of
that? It's a little live brother!"
"An onty donty little brother! Oh, oh, oh!" gasped Weezy, hopping up
and down, and gazing at the awakening little stranger. "Truly, mamma,
is he ours to keep?"
"We trust so, dear."
"O mamma, just see his little fists wiggle! And, mamma, look: he's got
his eyes open a'ready."
Kisty ran over early the next morning to see the baby; and, when she
and Weezy became too noisy, Mrs. Rowe sent them into Molly's room,
where, to tell the truth, they were not wanted. Molly sprang up and
hid her work in a drawer; for she was doing something that her little
sister must not know of at present,--something that would please her
vastly by and by.
To begin at the beginning. Mrs. Rowe had said one day that at
Christmas she should give Viola Maud to Weezy. Whereupon Mr. Rowe had
remarked, that, if she did so, he should give Weezy a new "gentleman
doll" in place of Sambo, who had now grown old and decrepit.
Then it was that it came into Molly's head to marry these dolls to each
other, and make them a fine wedding. She and Kirke had talked about it
a great deal during Weezy's absence, and made all the arrangements.
Kirke, with his toy press, was to print the wedding-cards; Lovisa had
promised to make the wedding-cake; and Molly herself was to provide the
bride's _trousseau_, which must be as elegant and ample as Viola Maud
herself could desire.
It was nearly completed; and Molly was setting the last stitches in the
bridal veil this morning, when interrupted by Weezy and Kisty.
The little girls were discussing the new baby with great animation.
"What do you suppose makes him cry so funny?" exclaimed Kisty, inclined
to be jealous of his young lordship.
"Oh, he hasn't learned how!" cried Weezy, warm in his defence. "Course
he can't cry nice _yet_. He hasn't been down here only but just two
weeks."
"Oh, so he hasn't! I forgot," said Kisty meekly.
"Before he came down he used to be a little angel fluttering 'round the
sky," added Weezy instructively; "and, you know, he didn't hear anybody
crying up there."
This must be so, and seemed to settle the matter; and no more fault
could be found with his manner of crying.
"Who cut off his wings?" queried matter-of-fact Kisty, sniffing Molly's
cologne. "Was it your mamma?"
"_I_ don' know. Guess they dropped off."
"He's got awful little feet," remarked Kisty, putting the stopper back
into the cologne-bottle.
"Awful little," echoed Weezy; "and so soft and pinky!"
"_I_ don't think baby's nose is very pretty," said Kisty frankly.
"I don't care: it's prettier'n yours is, any old how, Kisty Nye,"
retorted Weezy, backing away from the bureau where Kisty stood.
"Visa calls it a Roman nose," said Molly, with a grown-up smile, very
irritating to her small sister.
"Well, I don't care if it is a _roaming_ nose; it's just as good as
anybody's."
"Yes, indeed, dear," said Molly soothingly; "and mamma says it won't
look so big when baby gets plumper. And now if you and Kisty will run
down and play in the dining-room, I'll give each of you a piece of
candy out of the box grandma sent me."
"Well," said Weezy, again in good-humor, "if you won't give us the
_tongue-smarty_ kind, we'll go."