GETTING SETTLED.
Poor little Edna! she was so unhappy, so anxious, as the train moved
along faster and faster. Even kind Mrs. Porter by her side felt that
she did not know just how to comfort the child, although she did try
very hard, and at least made the little girl feel that she should be
safely guarded on her way to her aunt's house; for Mrs. Porter lived
in the same city, and had promised to take Edna in charge and deliver
her safely at her aunt's very door.
The rising sun was lighting up the mountain tops and finding its way
into the deep gorges, when suddenly Edna started to her feet with a
cry, as the door opened and a man came in, very pale, with his head
bandaged and his hand in a sling.
"Papa! Papa!" a little voice rang out, in tones of such gladness as
caused everyone in the car to turn. It was Edna's father, truly, who
made his way over to the seat where his little girl was sitting.
With his uninjured hand fondly clasped in that of his daughter he told
how he had happened to be absent from her so long. "I was in the
smoking car when the accident occurred," he said, "and I was thrown
forward so violently that I was stunned, and was carried out of the
car to a place of safety. Later I was placed in a berth in the car
ahead of this, and lay in a stupor till a short time ago, when some
one discovered me and asked if my name were Conway, saying that
inquiries had been made for me. In the confusion and trouble I had
been forgotten, but a doctor has been looking me over and tells me I
am only a little shaken up, so all I needed was a bit of patching, as
you see by this cut head and sprained wrist. I shall be as good as new
in a few days. Poor, little daughter! I suspect that you fancied all
sorts of things about me."
"Indeed she did," said Mrs. Porter, smiling, "we were really alarmed
ourselves for your safety."
"I don't know what I should have done without Mrs. Porter. You don't
know how good she has been to me," said Edna, looking up gratefully.
So the rest of the journey they were all on very good terms, and when
Edna parted from her kind friends at the depot it was with a promise
to go and see them as soon as she could.
"We have two boys, but no little girl," Mrs. Porter told her; "but
we'll have a good time, even if we have no dolls in our house."
The accident had kept them from reaching Aunt Elizabeth's at the time
they expected, and it was quite dark by the time they arrived at the
house. Edna, therefore, could not see much of the street, but she
could see the open square near by. The door was opened by Uncle Justus
himself. "Heigho, little girl!" he exclaimed. "What's all this?"
"We were beginning to think you were not coming," was Aunt Elizabeth's
greeting, as she, too, came forward. "What detained you, Henry? Why,
what has happened to you?"
"We had an accident," explained Mr. Conway; and he proceeded to give
an account of it, while Edna sat looking about her and wondering where
her Cousin Louis was.
She was not long wondering, for in a few moments the door of the
sitting-room opened and a little boy about ten years of age came
quietly in; he was fair-haired and pale, and did not burst into the
room as Frank or Charlie would have done.
"Louis, here is Cousin Edna," said Aunt Elizabeth. "Come and shake
hands with her, then go with her to find Ellen, who will show her to
her room. She will want to prepare for supper."
Edna cast an appealing glance at her father as she went out; but he
was absorbed in talking to Uncle Justus, and, after shaking hands
absently with Louis, returned to his conversation, and Edna followed
Louis, feeling a little aggrieved at being sent off in this way. "My
mamma would have gone with a little girl herself," she thought, as she
waited for Louis to return with a candle, for which he went to the
kitchen. "Say," he said, on his return, "Ellen is setting the table.
I'll take you to your room; it's 'way up stairs;" and he swung around
the post of the baluster to run up ahead of her. On the first landing
he paused. "This is the parlor," he said, and Edna peeped in. The
appearance of the room gave her a subdued feeling, as if she must not
speak above a whisper. The windows were heavily curtained, and the
children's voices had a muffled sound as they slipped cautiously
inside. The furniture was big and ponderous; on a little stand was
placed a heavy family Bible, a hymn book, bound in purple velvet, with
gilt clasp, lying on top. Edna thought this last very beautiful, and
looked back at it as they stole quietly out of the room.
On the next floor were the schoolrooms; these too, were shown Edna by
Louis.
"These two rooms are the girls' schoolrooms, and back there is the
boys' room," he explained.
"It must be a big school. Does Uncle Justus teach all the scholars?"
asked Edna, with a little hope that the shaggy eyebrows would not be
within her line of vision during all the school hours.
"No," replied Louis. "Aunt Elizabeth teaches the boys and Miss Ashurst
the little girls."
Edna was relieved, and followed Louis up the last flight to the top
floor. "My!" she said, "it is 'way up at the top of the house, isn't
it? This is a queer house. I never saw one like it, with the parlor on
the second floor. Where is your room, Louis?"
"I sleep in a little room next to aunt and uncle. Here's yours. Ellen
has that one next to you," and he flung open a door; but by the dim
light of the candle Edna could not see all the details.
"There isn't any gas up here," explained Louis, "but you won't mind
that. It is pretty high up, too, but you can see ever so far from this
window--the harbor where the ships sail and where the bridge crosses
this side, and you can see the cars and lots of things. I'd a heap
rather be up here, but Aunt Elizabeth said 'No,' and that settled it.
There now, can I do anything for you?" he asked, setting down Edna's
little hand satchel.
"No-o, thank you," replied the little girl, helplessly. She was so
used to having sister or mamma at hand that it seemed very queer to be
left alone, and after Louis had shut the door she stood looking
around, not knowing just what to do; but she concluded she must take
off her coat and hat, anyhow. This she did, and then washed off some
of the dust as best she could, smoothing down her hair with her little
wet hands.
"I wonder if I am to blow out the candle or take it back," she said to
herself, but a recollection of the dark passageway decided her to take
the candle down stairs, and she proceeded to descend, feeling rather
scared as she passed the dusky corners of a strange house.
Supper was ready shortly after she entered the sitting-room; it
consisted of warmed-over rolls, dried apples stewed, grated cheese,
weak tea, and a dry kind of cake which tasted of the wooden box in
which it had been kept. Edna never forgot the taste of that cake with
which she became very familiar as time went on.
[Illustration: UNCLE JUSTUS.]
Uncle Justus was a very quiet, dignified man, with a Roman nose and
gray side whiskers. He wore spectacles, which added to the effect of
the shaggy eyebrows. Edna was very much afraid of him at first. Aunt
Elizabeth was portly and bland, but her sharp eyes had a way of
looking you through and through. Edna soon discovered that she was a
person much more to be feared than Uncle Justus. She allowed no
nonsense, no indecision. When she looked at you during mealtime and
said, in a severe tone, "Butter or molasses?" if you wavered an
instant you were told you could have neither, since you did not know
what you wanted. To be allowed both was out of the question, and so it
was a serious matter, with a slice of bread on your plate, to make a
wise choice instantly.
After supper Edna and Louis played quietly with a queer old-fashioned
game, called "The War of the Revolution;" it was played by using a
teetotum and counters. Tiring of this the children next looked at a
huge picture book containing Bible stories, with very highly colored
illustrations. Edna was charmed with it, but was told that hereafter
it was to be viewed only on Sundays, although as a special privilege
it could be examined this first evening. The little girl was far too
tired to care to sit up late, after the exciting scenes she had gone
through, and of which she told Louis in reply to his eager
questionings.
"My!" he had said, "I'd like to have been there. Won't they all stare
at you in school to-morrow when I tell them?" To her little high-up
room Edna was taken by the maid, Ellen, who was an uncouth, kindly
creature, and from the first befriended the little girl.
"I'll sit up here, dear," she said, "an' kape open me dhure so yez
will know I'm there;" and Edna fell asleep quite comforted by the near
presence of the girl.
She was aroused the next morning by a voice, saying, "Come, come,
child, it's high time to be up. I've let you sleep overtime after your
journey, but you must be ready for school;" and opening her eyes the
child saw Aunt Elizabeth standing over her.
"Am I to go to school to-day?" she asked, sitting up straight.
"Why not?"
Edna had no reply ready; she didn't know why not, except that her
father was going home that afternoon, and she had hoped to have the
morning with him.
Aunt Elizabeth, however, would not listen to protests, but bade her
niece hurry down.
"Who will fasten my buttons?" asked Edna.
Aunt Elizabeth looked at her severely. "A big girl, eight years old,
that has to be dressed like a baby!" she exclaimed. "Hereafter you
must fasten your own buttons;" and she left Edna sitting on the floor
feeling rather disconsolate at this prospect.
However, by fastening the buttons in front and then twisting the
garments around, slipping her arms into the shoulder straps last, she
managed all the buttons but those of her frock, and for this she
concluded she must ask Ellen's help. So she stole softly down stairs
and out into the kitchen, where the willing maid helped her through
the difficulty.
And so the new life began. School was rather pleasant, after all. Miss
Ashurst made the lessons interesting, and while Uncle Justus had an
eye to the schoolroom where the little girls were he seldom came in,
although to him were offenders sent. Edna thought she could not
possibly endure the disgrace of being ordered into the next room, so
terrible did it seem to her. Consequently she took care to give no
cause. She soon became acquainted with the little girls, and chose her
special companions from them. They were, however, never allowed to
visit her, as she soon found out to her confusion, for in the
innocence of her heart she asked her deskmate to come and bring her
dolls one Friday afternoon, but the little visitor was not allowed to
enter the house, and was given the message that Edna was not permitted
to receive company unless invited by her aunt. Poor little Edna was
overcome with shame, and for the first time realized what real
homesickness meant.
"My mamma let me have little girls to come and play with me," she
sobbed; "and I used to go to play with them."
Aunt Elizabeth was a trifle less stern than usual; perhaps she did
have some tender feeling for the child. "Stop crying, my dear," she
said. "You and Louis may go and take a walk in the square. To-morrow I
will take you to see some children who will, I hope, make you
understand how highly favored you are. Run along, now, and get your
hat. You may stay out an hour."
In the hall Uncle Justus met her, and seeing her wet eyes asked, "What
is the matter, little girl?"
A grieving sigh was his only answer, so he patted her head and gave
her a nickel. "There is a nice little shop around the corner," he
said. "Louis can take you there to buy some candy." This showed such
real sympathy that Edna looked up gratefully and ran to find her
cousin.
"Good!" cried Louis whom she found in the schoolroom studying his
lessons for Monday. "I'm tired of staying here, and they won't let me
play with the boys in the street. There is one boy, though, that I do
know. I see him in the square sometimes; he is a jolly fellow. They
don't know I see him."
"O, is that right?" asked Edna.
"Ho! why not?"
"Why, I don't know, it's--it's kind of deceiving."
"I'd tell 'em if they'd ask me," replied Louis, conclusively. "Come,
I'll race you around the square;" and they started out.
The square was a pretty place even in winter weather. In the center
was a circular coping from which a flight of steps led down to a
spring, the water of which ran constantly from two lions' mouths. Edna
had never seen anything like this before, and was filled with
admiration. It ever after remained a delight to her, and to the square
she would rather go than anywhere else. The candy shop around the
corner was another place to be favored. It was a queer little
old-fashioned affair, quite unlike the big shops on the other streets,
but there was something the children liked about the way the wares
were shown, and the good-natured German woman who kept the shop was
always ready to attend to the little ones, helping them out when it
came to be a serious question whether peanut taffy or sour balls
should be chosen.
On this Friday afternoon the gift from Uncle Justus was spent in
little scalloped cakes of maple sugar, at which the children nibbled
as they ran back to the square.
"There's Phil Blaney now," said Louis. "Come along, Edna;" and the
little girl followed her cousin to a bench where a boy, somewhat older
than Louis, was sitting. He looked Edna over rather contemptuously,
and she, on her part, took a dislike to him which she never overcame,
although the boy tried to be friendly, especially after Louis told him
of Edna's exciting journey. But the hour was soon up, and Ellen at the
door beckoned them in. Edna wanted to tell about Phil Blaney, but
didn't know just what to do about it, especially when Louis called her
a telltale for thinking of such a thing. Before she decided the
question something happened which put it quite out of her mind.