CONCLUSION.
“It was nine years back, or more--if I don’t forget;
But as to the children, Fannie, they’re all about me yet.
Often they come to the door, in a pleasant kind of dream,
They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my bed,--
I am not always certain if they be alive or dead.”
Aunt Emma came into the garden on the last morning of the children’s
visit, and calling them into the little arbor, said,
“I feel sorry, dears, to interrupt your merry games, but I think, as
you are to travel all the afternoon, it is best you should rest now, so
I propose sitting with you for a quiet talk, and that you may remain
in the garden till the last moment, Celia will have lunch for us under
the trees.”
“Oh! isn’t that nice, Auntie? We don’t mind one bit giving up, I Spy,
and Lady Queen Annie she sits in the Sun, she sends you three letters
and prays you read one,” cried Artie; and little Bear looking up
eagerly said,
“Would it be too much trouble, Auntie, for you to tell us a good-bye
story?”
“Certainly not, darling, but what shall it be about? You shall choose,
Harry.”
“Well, I think I’d a little rather hear a story about animals than most
anything I can think of.”
“Have I ever told you about Old Whitey?”
“No, indeed,” cry all, “will you do it now?”
“Some years ago, I went to board for a few weeks in a quiet mountain
village in Connecticut. The Farmer’s wife, with whom I stayed, was a
simple body who loved her cows, pigs and chickens next to her boys; but
above all of their out-of-door pets Old Whitey Cow reigned chief. One
day, I went into the barnyard, with Mrs. May, to watch the milking.
Whitey’s turn always came first, but for some wise reason of her own,
that morning, Madam Whitey kept out of the way, till her patient
Mistress could wait no longer, so called Speckled Sides to come to
her. Just as the white stream began to flow into the shining pail, Old
Whitey appeared, looking very much excited. Trotting briskly up to
Speckled Sides, she pushed her away with her horns, kicked over the
pail of milk, and _then_ stood demurely before her Mistress, as if she
had only done the most proper thing in the world.
“One rainy morning, as I pushed my window-curtain aside, I saw Tom
May and his Brother coming up the lane, with a large umbrella over
their heads, from under which Whitey’s broad flanks and bushy tail
appeared. Mrs. May told me whenever the boys came into the pasture with
an umbrella, Whitey would come trotting up and put her head under its
shelter, and walk along as the village people used to say, ‘just like
folks.’
“One day the good old creature strayed away from home and visited
the village, where she surprised a fine city lady who was boarding
there for the Summer, by suddenly thrusting her head under her silk
sun-umbrella and showing her intention to join in the promenade.
When the lady indignantly stamped her foot and scolded, Old Whitey
retreated as if subdued, but, a moment after, ran up behind her, thrust
her horns under the umbrella, and, to the great amusement of the
lookers on, and greatly to the indignation of the umbrella’s owner,
bore it triumphantly off through the principal street of the village.
“Fancy the surprise of the May family, when they saw Old Whitey coming
up the lane, with her head sheltered by a silk umbrella through which
her horns were sticking.
“Mrs. May tells another story about her favorite’s intelligence. She
had an Irish girl living with her, who had a lover, a stable boy,
living near. One day Mike visited his Biddie as she was preparing to
milk Whitey, and Biddie became so engaged in her talk that she forgot
her business.
“In vain Whitey whisked her bushy tail in the milk-maid’s face; Biddie
had eyes and ears for no one but Mike. At last the impatient animal
turned slowly around to see what was the trouble, and immediately
rushed up to poor Mike, and fairly drove him from the barn yard, then
took her place before the astonished Biddie, who did not need to be
again reminded of her duty.”
That is the end of the Whitey story, and there is Papa coming to join
us, and Hugh follows with the table.
“Oh, isn’t this a regular Pic-Nic,” said the children, as they gathered
around the little table which Celia had taken pains should be covered
with her daintiest dishes.
“And Auntie dear,” said thoughtful Daisy, “I don’t think we can ever
thank you enough for giving us such a lovely time. I don’t think any
children ever had so much pleasure.”
“I wish,” said little Jack, with mouth full, as usual, “I wish there
was out of doors in New York ’cept the Park.”
In spite of the parting so near, that was a pleasant meal. The old
apple tree spread its branches protectingly over the young heads,
choice flowers perfumed the air about them, and Robins, Locusts and
Crickets formed an Orchestra to supply sweet music.
Papa’s watch at last told the parting near, and very sad were the
little faces that Aunt Emma saw looking back from the open carriage, at
the Funny House on Funny Street.
“God bless and keep my darlings,” the old Auntie murmured, “and bring
us all to meet one day in that bright land where partings are unknown.”
Then the kind old Aunt, taking Charlie Leonard with her, went to see a
poor sick girl, and whilst she spoke words of comfort to the sufferer,
the ache left her own heart, and all was peace and joy within.
* * * * *
Thrusting aside the Library curtains at 310 Madison Avenue, for we fain
would have another glance at the Little Menagerie, we see them all
gathered about Mamma, all so eager to tell of the rare pleasures they
have enjoyed, and all so happy to be at home again, that there is no
room in their young hearts for regrets for past pleasures.
Farewell, little folk! The Funny Old House on Funny Street no longer
reëchoes with your merry voices and frolicsome steps, but the sunshine
you brought there still seems to linger in its every apartment, but
most of all in the loving hearts you have left behind.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] “Oh, is it you, little one? That was a great knocking.”
Transcriber's Note:
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as
possible, including inconsistent hyphenation. Some minor corrections
of spelling and punctuation have been made.
Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.