MR. AND MRS. DINSMORE and Mrs. Travilla reached Philadelphia safely,
without accident or detention, spent a few days with their relatives
there, then, being urgently invited to pay a visit to the family of
their cousin Donald Keith—the brother of our old friend Mildred, wife
of Dr. Landreth, of Pleasant Plains, and father of Mary Keith, with
whom Edward and Violet spent some time in a cottage at Ocean Beach in
the summer after the death of their father—they did so.
About six years had passed since then. Some of Mary’s younger brothers
and sisters had grown up and married, so that her burdens were much
lightened, but she herself was still single and at home in her father’s
house.
Time seemed to have stood still with her. They found her the same
bright, cheery girl, looking scarcely older than she had looked six
years ago.
She was delighted to see again these relatives whom she had met and
learned to love during that ever-to-be-remembered summer in the
cottage by the sea, and very glad to hear all they had to tell of the
cousins who had helped to make enjoyable her effort at housekeeping
then and there. She had many questions to ask about them and the
little ones, and expressed an ardent desire to see them all again, to
which her cousin Elsie replied: “We are expecting to return home in a
fortnight, or a little sooner, and will be glad to take you with us if
you will go, Mary; will you not, dear girl?”
“Cousin Elsie, how very kind in you!” exclaimed Mary, both tone and
look full of delight. “But,” she added with a doubtful glance at her
mother, “I fear I could hardly be spared from home.”
“Now don’t be so conceited, Mary Keith,” laughed that lady, with a
mischievous glance into the flushed, eager face of her eldest daughter.
“I think I am quite capable of keeping house and attending to all
family affairs without a particle of aid from you. So if Cousin Elsie
wants you and you want to go, I advise you to set to work at once at
your preparations—putting your wardrobe in perfect order and adding to
it whatever may be needed. Oh, you needn’t look doubtful and troubled!
Your father has been greatly prospered of late, and I know will not
feel any necessity or inclination to deny anything desirable to the
good daughter who has been a very great help and comfort to him and me
through years of toil and struggle.”
Mary was affected even to tears. “O mother, how good and kind in you to
say all that!” she faltered. “I have done no more than my duty—hardly
even so much, I fear.”
“Possibly your father and I may be as capable of judging of that as
yourself,” returned Mrs. Keith in the same tone of careless gayety she
had used before; “and we think—for we were talking the matter over only
the other day—that our eldest daughter deserves and needs some weeks
of recreation this summer. We were discussing the comparative merits
of sea and mountain air, but finally decided to leave the selection to
yourself; and now doubtless Cousin Elsie’s kind invitation will decide
you in favor of a trip to the South, even in spite of its climate being
less suitable for the warm weather than our own.”
“It will be a change for her, at all events,” Elsie said, “and when we
come North again, as we expect to do in a few weeks, we may, I think,
hope to return her to you rested and invigorated. Or, still better, we
will hope to take her, with your consent, with us to the sea-shore for
a good rest there before returning her to you.”
Mrs. Keith and Mary returned warm thanks for this second invitation,
but it was not at that time definitely settled whether or not it could
or would be finally accepted.
“Ah, mother dear, I see now why you insisted this spring on my buying
and having made up more and handsomer dresses than ever I had in one
season before,” Mary said presently with an affectionate look and smile
into Mrs. Keith’s pleasant and still comely face.
“Yes, it is always wise to be ready for sudden emergencies,” returned
the mother playfully, “and I think you can easily be ready for a visit
to Ion by the time Cousin Elsie will be on her way home from Princeton.”
“Our plan is to start for home in about a week,” Elsie said, “as
the commencement will be over by that time, and my boys, Harold and
Herbert, ready to accompany us.”
“You are making us a very short visit, Cousin Elsie,” remarked Mrs.
Keith. “I hope when you come up North again you will piece it out with
a much longer one.”
“Thank you,” returned Elsie. “I should enjoy doing so, and perhaps may
be able to; but our plans for the season are not arranged.”
Then turning to Mary, “Our party is to pass through Philadelphia on our
return after the commencement. Can you not arrange to meet us there so
that we may travel the rest of the way to Ion in company?”
“I think so,” was the reply. “Can I not, mamma?”
“I see nothing to prevent,” said her mother. “We will have you there in
season if our cousins will let us know what train you are to meet.”
Mr. Dinsmore came in at that moment, and with his good help the
arrangements were presently satisfactorily completed.
To the great delight of Harold and Herbert, their grandfather and
mother arrived safely in Princeton on the evening of the day before
commencement.
The young men, though looking somewhat overworked, yet seemed in good
health and good spirits. They had passed successfully through their
examination and the next day were graduated with high honors.
Both grandfather and mother showed by their looks, manner, and words of
commendation and congratulation that they were highly gratified and not
a little proud of their bright, intelligent, industrious lads.
“And now, my sons, I suppose you are quite ready for home?” their
grandfather said when the congratulations were over.
“Almost ready to start for it, grandpa,” Harold replied with a joyous
laugh. Then turning to his mother, “Mamma, I have a request to make,
and I do not think you or grandpa will object to its being granted.”
“Not if it is anything reasonable, my dear boy,” she returned. “Are you
desirous to invite some friend to accompany us to Ion?”
“Ah, mother mine,” he laughed, “you certainly are good at guessing.
Yes, I should like to give a warm invitation from grandpa, you, and
ourselves to a classmate whose home is closed at present, his parents
being in Europe for the health of his mother, who is a sad invalid.
William Croly is his name—Will we call him—and he is as good, bright,
and lovable a fellow as could be found anywhere.”
“He is indeed, mamma,” said Herbert. “I esteem him as highly as Harold
does.”
“Then I think he will be a very welcome guest at Ion,” Mrs. Travilla
returned with a look of inquiry at her father, as if she would consult
his wishes as well as her own and those of her sons.
“I should ask him by all means,” said Mr. Dinsmore. “I judge from the
recommendation just given that he will prove a pleasant guest; besides,
the Bible bids us ‘use hospitality without grudging.’”
“And that is one thing I am sure you and mother love to do, grandpa,”
returned Herbert, giving a look of affectionate admiration to first
one, then the other.
“Yes, it is a great pleasure, therefore hardly meritorious,” his
grandfather said with a smile.
“Then I may bring Croly and introduce him, may I not?” asked Harold.
A ready assent was given in reply. Harold hurried away and presently
returned, bringing with him a young man who had a very pleasant, bright
face and refined, gentlemanly manners.
Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter gave him a pleasant greeting and kindly
shake of the hand as Harold introduced him, and after a little a
cordial invitation to accompany them on their return to Ion and remain
until they should all come North again for the summer.
Croly was evidently delighted with the invitation, and it did not take
much urging to induce him to accept it.
That evening they all journeyed to Philadelphia, where they were joined
by Mrs. Dinsmore and Mary Keith, and the next morning the whole party
started southward, a pleasant, jovial company.
They met with no accident or detention, and were greeted with the
warmest of welcomes on their arrival at Ion at an early hour on the
second day.
They took some hours of rest and sleep, then were able to enjoy the
family gathering which had been planned by Elsie’s sons and daughters
to celebrate the safe return of their loved mother and grandparents
from their visit to the North and the home-coming of the young
graduates.
The children and young people were included in the invitation, and not
a single one failed to be present. From Woodburn, the Oaks, Pinegrove,
Roselands, the Laurels, and Fairview they came, forming of themselves
alone a goodly company, full of mirth and jollity, which was in no way
checked by any of their elders, with whom they remained for a time,
hanging about those who had been absent from home, particularly Grandma
Elsie, and next to her the young uncles, who had been away so long that
they seemed almost as strangers to the very little ones; pleasant and
attractive strangers, however, inclined to make much of their little
nieces and nephews, a business in which their college friend, Will
Croly, took an active part.
Almost every one presently forsook the rooms and verandas to sit
beneath the trees or wander here and there about the beautiful,
well-kept grounds, visiting the gardens, hot-houses, and the lovely
little lakelet.
A handsome rowboat was there and the young men invited the older girls
to take a row around the pretty little sheet of water. Marian McAlpine,
Evelyn Leland, Rosie Travilla, and the two Dinsmore girls from the
Oaks accepted, but Lulu Raymond, who was with them, regretfully
declined, saying she knew papa would be displeased if she went without
his knowledge and consent.
“Why, Lu, you are growing remarkably good and obedient,” laughed Sidney
Dinsmore.
“For which we should all honor her,” said Harold. “The captain is one
of the best and kindest of fathers and his requirements are never
unreasonable.”
“Oh, of course not,” laughed Sidney; “only I’m glad he hasn’t the care
of me and control of my actions.”
“I’m glad that he has of me and mine,” returned Lulu rather hotly as
the boat pushed out into the water, leaving her standing alone on
the shore gazing wistfully after it. “How delightful it looks,” she
sighed to herself. “I wish I had thought of the possibility of such an
invitation and got papa’s permission beforehand.”
“You did right, little girl, and I am very sure that when your papa
hears of it he will commend you in a way that will give you far more
pleasure than the row could have done if taken without his permission,”
said a voice from behind her, and turning to look for the speaker, she
found Mr. Lilburn close at hand.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “I wanted badly to
go, yet I know I couldn’t have enjoyed it without papa’s permission.”
“I should hope not indeed,” returned the old gentleman.
“Oh, Mr. Lilburn,” cried Lulu, struck with a sudden thought, “there are
several in our company here this afternoon who know nothing of your
ventriloquial powers. Can’t you think of some way of using them that
will puzzle the strangers and furnish amusement for us all?”
“Suppose we consider that question—you and I,” he returned with a
smile. “Have you any suggestion to make?”
“How would it do to make them hear trumpets or bugles or something of
that kind in the woods near by, as you did to the Ku Klux years ago?”
she asked in eager tones, adding: “Grandma Elsie has told us the story
of their attack on this place when Mamma Vi was quite a little girl.”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” he said with a slight smile. “Let us sit down
here,” leading her to a rustic seat near at hand, “and I will see what
I can do to excite the curiosity of the strangers.”
“Oh, I’m glad now I was left behind!” Lulu exclaimed as she took
the offered seat and turned an excited, expectant face toward her
companion.
For a minute or more he seemed buried in thought, then suddenly the
clear notes of a bugle seemed to come from behind a clump of trees a
few rods distant from where they sat.
Lulu was startled for an instant and turned in that direction, half
expecting to catch a glimpse of the bugler. Then she laughed and
clapped her hands softly.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” she said. “They’ll be sure there’s somebody there
and wonder who it can be. Yes, see how they are turning their heads in
that direction.”
“Can you see the expression o’ ony o’ their countenances, bit lassie? I
canna, for my eyes are growing old.”
“Yes, sir. I can see that Miss Keith looks startled and astonished and
seems to be questioning Uncle Harold, and that Mr. Croly is laughing
and trying his best to catch a peep at the trumpeter. The others I
think look as if they are trying to keep from laughing. I dare say they
see you here, sir, and can guess what it means. Oh, there’s our Prince!
He seems to be in search of the trumpeter.”
Even as Lulu spoke she was startled by another bugle-blast seemingly
directly behind them, or from the branches of the tree under which they
sat.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to look behind her; then with a
merry laugh, “I wasn’t expecting your bugler to come so very near, sir.”
But the concluding words were almost drowned in Prince’s loud bark as
he came bounding toward them, evidently in search of the intruding
bugler.
“Find him, Prince, find him as fast as you can and teach him not to
intrude into the Ion grounds,” laughed Lulu.
But the bugler’s notes had already died away and Prince’s bark changed
to a low growl as he searched for him here and there, but vainly.
“So you have a bugler on the estate, eh?” Croly was saying, with an
inquiring glance at Harold. “One of your darkies, I presume? They are a
musical race, I know.”
“They are,” Harold replied with unmoved countenance.
“I thought the notes musical and pleasant,” observed Miss Keith, “but
they do not seem to have taken the fancy of your dog.”
“Prince—a fine fellow, by the way—is not our dog, but belongs to Max
Raymond,” said Herbert. “No, he does not seem to fancy the intruder,
whoever he may be.”
“Hark!” cried Rosie, “the bugler is at it again.”
“And this time it is a Scotch air,” remarked Mary Keith. “How soft and
sweet it sounds! But it comes from quite another quarter; yet I do not
know how the bugler can have changed his position so entirely without
any of us catching sight of him as he went.”
“It does seem odd,” said Croly. But his words were nearly drowned in
the loud bark of Prince as he rushed in the new direction, with evident
intent to oust the intruder this time. His effort was, however, as
complete a failure as the former one. The notes of the bugle died
softly away, the dog sniffed about the tree from which they had seemed
to come, but finally gave it up and trotted away in the direction of
the house. “Point out that bugler to me when we come across him, won’t
you, Harold?”
“Really I never knew that we had a bugler among our servants,” returned
Harold evasively.
“Nor I,” said Herbert. “But,” taking out his watch, “it is nearing
tea-time, and as we are likely to find plenty of opportunities for this
kind of sport, I think we had better now return to the house.”
No one objected, the boat was immediately headed for the wharf, and all
had presently landed and were sauntering along by the way that they had
come, Mr. Lilburn and Lulu accompanying them.