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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seui ctlch6, 11 est f llmA A partir de I'nngle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'imeges nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivents illustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 TWENTY MINUTES LATE BY PANSY {Isabella M. Alden) Author of " John RtminRton, Martyr," " AiinV Hannah, Martha and John," " Judge Hurnham's Daughters," " Chrissy's Endeavor," " Mrs. Solomon Smith Looking On," "Chautauqua Girls," Etc. TORONTO: WIXvLIAM BRIGGS. •MONTREAL: C. W. COAIES. HALIFAX: S. F. HUESTIs. p.s A Knlered accordiiic fn tlip A':t of tlic Parliament nf Canada, in the year one thousand ci^lit hiimiix'd and ninety-three, by Wilijam Briggs, Toronto, in the ofTice of tlie Minist -r of Agriculture, at Ottawa. CONTENTS. CHAPTER TACF I. Disappointment . . . . 7 II. Clotlies .... 20 III. Sonietliin«>: to Hemcmber 20 IV. " A Pretty State of Things" 41 V. "Wliat Could Happen?" 64 VI. A New Friend . 69 VII. A Sunday in Philadelphia 8<; VIII. Night Work . 103 IX. Waiting 119 X. A Trying Position . 181 XI. Dark Days 147 XII. " So You Want to go Home ? i» 161 XIII. The Unexpected Happens 179 XIV. Conflicting Advice . 194 XV. A Long, Wonderful Day 211 XVI. Borrowed Trouble . 225 XVII. Learning . 241 XVIII. Machines and News 257 XIX. Entertaining Company 271 XX. Great Questions Settled . 287 XXI. " Merry Christmas " 305 XXII. "Luck" .... 322 XXIII. Another " Side-Track " . 343 XXIV. At Last .... 35!) TWENTY MINUTES LATE. CHAPTKR J. I>ISAPP(HNTMKXT. ^HE autumn day was as beautiful as scar- let and crimson and gold maple leaves could make it. The air was a charming crisp. The world looked lovely, and did its best to mak^i Caroline Bryant own it. Hut that young woman's heart was sore and sad. She tried her best to be cheerful, and succeeded so well that her little sister Daisy confided to the dolls that, "Sister Line took disappointments 2n a lovely w-^.y." Caroline did laugh a little when she heard this, but in a somewhat scorn- ful way. It struck her as absurd that anybody should call her trouble disappointment. "Be- cause," she told herself philosophically, « I do not suppose one can properly use that word when there has never been the slightest hope of having one's wish, and I am sure I have 7 7>/.Syl rrOlNTMKNT. never for five seconds believed that I could go away. It was out of the question, of course." Despite which statement, and following the smile so suddenly that it must almost have startled it, a great tear plashed down into the dishwater. Say what she might about never having an idea of it, the fact remained that when the letter was written and sealed and dropped into the post-office, which said a very grateful "No" to the invitation, an added lump of pain seemed to rise up in the girl's throat. The invitation had been from .Tudge Dun- more himself, heartily seconded by his wife, to spend two beautiful weeks in their city home and attend the Exposition, where so many won- derful things Mere to be seen that the Judge said it was really quite an education for a young person with wide-open eyes. The letter had further added that they would be glad to include both Ben and Daisy in the invi^ition, only they were well aware that the little Daisy would be considered too young to make a visit apart from her mother, and that Ben, the care taker, would be needed to look after mother and sister; so that Miss Caroline ma A PPOINTMENT, was the only person whom they could in hon- esty be said to expect. It would be dirticult to describe the state of excitement into which this letter threw Caroline Bryant. She remembered taking a journey with her mother on tiie cars when she was nine years old — a journey of seven hours' duration — and the marvelous e.\j>erience8 of that day she sometimes went over, even now, fo; Daisy's benefit. It was her one journey, and she had all an intelligent girl's longing for travel and the experiences to be gained by travel. The very "toot-toot" of the engine, as it halted for a few seconds at the depot around the corner, and then hurried on with increased speed, apparently sorry for having lost so much time, made her cheek flush and her heart beat faster. What joy it would have been to have taken a journey all by herself — quite a long journey too, nearly a hundred miles. To be sure a gray-headed lawyer whom Judge Dunmore knew would be on the Fame car with her, and see that she stopped at the right sta- tion. "Just as though she would not know enough for that ! " she said to the dishes, with a toss of the head. But then what was the 10 nrsA PPOIXTM EST. use in talking about that? sho couldn't do it. It was quite impossible of course to tliink of going, notwithstanding tin* fact that Judge Dunmore haresent circumstances, for 1 know as well as though I saw her undergoing it, that she would be miserable." Ben looked disappointed and troubled. "I don't see what she is to do, then," he said ; " she will be hindered from many places where she might have opportunities, if she is to go on nursing such a spirit." " That is true, and if she were able to rise above the question of dress so as to be happy in a neat blue calico, when the dresses of all about her were silks or cashmeres, I should be glad ; but I assure you she could not be happy 80 placed." " But, mother, I don't quite understand you ; if you don't think it right that Line should put the question of dress so high, why do you en- courage her in it ? I mean, why don't you ad- vise her to go and see for herself what nice times she could have in calico, if that is the name of the stuff which ought not to be worn. What is the matter with it, anyhow ? " "That is a hard question to answer," his mother said, smiling. " Nothing is the matter with it, I suppose, except that it is not worn by people of means, 1 ^o iiot wonder that jo\\ ar,. |,„zzlf,l," „lu, a,l,]e,|, „« ,h„ ^„i„,,„,, ,,.^ _,._^ turl..,l fa,... " It is a .juoHtion that l,as ..er- 1.1...X-.1 wiser l,..acl.s ll,a„ y,,,.™ or „,i„„, this one <-f.lr..s.sa,„|„l,at to,loal,„„til. F «a8 quite '•"llms,,,s.ie „v,.,- it once, an,l trie,] to get nj, , «"-n.tv ,■„„„»;, tl,.. sehooIgiHs, get the „-ealthy <'»- '" j-i", J.I.Mlging themselves to wear noth- "ig hut calico f,„- a term of years, so that the |K.o,.lc who were „l,lige,I to .Iress in caheo «o„|,l feel .■omfortahlc wl>er,.ver they went " Hen's face hrightene,!. " I think that was a xplenJi,! i,Iea," ho sai.l eagerly. «Dia yo„ .,o 't— .an.I if you eued about the middle of the afternoon. The nutting party- had worked industriously for several hours, had roved through the woods gathering other treas- ures than nuts, had found a sunny slope where only trees enough stood to make it pleasant for a camping ground that bright day, and had spread out their dinner of bread and butter, cold meat, rice jjudding with raisins in it, and a cake which Fanny Kedwin liad assured them was " really pound cake," made by her mother for this occasion. Never lunch tasted better than did this. When Daisy, rummaging in the basket, brought out a lovely litde tart apiece — Mrs. Bryant's surprise for them — their satisfaction reached its climax. It was after they had all agreed that it would not be possible to take home any more nuts than were gathered, that they resolved on fol- lowing the merry little brook which gurgled through the edge of the woods, a little further up the stream, to see if they could find any late berries. They were rewarded, not by berries, but by the growing beauty of the stream and the wood, and mosses and lichens, which were iiitit SOMETHING TO REMEMBER. 81 more to both Caroline and Daisy than berries woiilfl have been. Fanny did not share their tastes. She ad- mitted that she saw no beauty in the rough- looking Hchen, and said that the moss had ugly ixray streaks through it. But the Bryant bas- ket was filled with some that had the most streaks of any, to the exquisite joy of Daisy. 31eantime Rufus found a new enjoyment in sailing small boats made of tlie largest leaves from the trees and seeing them rush down the stream, only to make shipwreck on the gnarled trunk of an old tree which lay in the bend of the stream a few rods below. "Come down here," he called to the girls, " and see my boat. It is nice here ; the brook has grown into a river." " I can't go down any more hills," said Caro- line ; « 1 believe I am tired," and she threw herself upon the bank. "I am tired, too," Fanny said, dropping be- side her, « and I don't want to see any old boat either. Rufus is just wild over the water. If it were the ocean there would be some sense in it, but a little brook I am tired of,'' ♦'Pon't ^o down there, Daisy," called o^t 82 SOMETHING TO REMEMBER. ipi I i •r' ;:>i ll'ip! m\ HI!' 1 Caroline, as the little girl was taking careful steps clown tl)e hill in answer to Kufus's call. She stopped at Caroline's word, but looked wistfully down on the bright stream, that had become "almost a river." She was fond of water. " I would not go, dear ; I am too tired to go another step, and it looks there as though the water vvas deep." "Nonsense!" said Rufus, who had come half- way up the bank to see why his call was not answered, and heard the words, " if you and Fanny are too lazy to come, that is no reason why Daisy should not see the fish ; they are darting about there like everything. I have a line and hook in my pocket, and I should not wonder if she could catch one. Let her come, Line ; I'll take care of her. Where is Ben ? " "He went to cut some canes for us to walk home with. Do you want very much to go, Daisy? Well, Rufus, you keep watch of her, won't you? She isn't used to water, you know." "'Course," said Rufus indifferently, "there is no danger, not the least in tlie world. She couldn't drown herself if she should try." "I should not like to have her try^" said I I.; ti SOMETHING TO REMEMBER, 33 C.iroline, with a shiver; "she would get a wet- ting at least, and take cold." 'J'hen they went down the hill together. Caroline changed l^er position to get a view of the little girl established on the bank with a fish-line, standing very still, with a look of in- tense interest on her face. If she should catch a fish what an event it would be ! There really seemed to be no danger what- ever, as liufus had said, and Caroline allowed her mind to wander away from her little sister, and only half listened to a long story Fanny was telling, because her thoughts went forward to that city home which she so longed to visit, and for the hundredth time she began to picture to herself the delights that would have been hers if she had gone. Suddenly a faint little scream made her turn quickly in that direction. Rufus was nowhere to be seen, and the brown head of the little fisher was trying to- struggle up from the water. With a few great bounds Caroline Bryant was at the foot of the hill, followed by the fright- ened Fanny. "For mercy's sake what has happened?" she called ; then, taking in the situation, she added ■wr S4 SOMETHING TO REMEMBER. if t I S I I i: l'l()l i! I !^l|i her cry to the excitetiient. " Uufus, (), Hufus! where fire you? Daisy is drowning!" It really seemed as though she were, l^ufus had been mistaken when he said she could not drown if she tried ; nothing would have been easier for a frightened little girl who could not stand on the slippery stones. Caroline waited for no Rufus, gave no thought to herself, nor in^OMKTUL\u TO liKMEMliKU. 85 marcl.in^r ,.,,.u iit'niid to get any knowledge on this subject from Caroline, and decided it was not wise to talk to her about such things. A little later in the day, when the brisk fire and brisk wind had done their dutv with the wet elothes, and Daisy was arrayed in her own garments once more — "They would be as good as new if they had only been ironed," Line told her — Daisy sought a convenient moment to slip her hand into Ben's and draw him aside to say, "Ben, I want to ask you something, and T don't want the others to hear, because they do not seem to understand. When I was down there in the water, and no ope came, for just H s()Mi:tlll\ii TO HKMEMlUlli, 'M little iiiiiiute — il Met'incd longer than that, you kn..\v — 1 thought you couhl not hear me, and \s (»iil.l never come, and I shouKl drown to death. / was afrai CIIAPTEIl V. "what (juuli> happen?" A N hour afterwards the slirill whistle -*-~^ of the "freii^ht and accommodation" quickened the footsteps of the two on their return trip. ]>oth weie loaded with apples as many as they could carry, and it was not easy to hasten. "Hurry up," said Rufus, looking back with a frown at Fanny's lingering footsteps, " we shall miss the train tlie next thing and have to foot it. Don't you hear the whistle?" " I'm hurrying as fast as I can," said Fanny. "I'm just as tired as I can be. You ought not to have dragged me off, IJufus Kedwin, and you'll find mother will think so too." The simple truth is, both those young people were not only tired but cross. At the last min- ute they reached the train and fairly scrambled 54 IVflAT COULD HAPPEN?'' 55 in, with apples tumbling from them in every direction. " Stupid ! " muttered Ruf us, still with a frown, as he saw a large one roll from Fanny's grasp. "You'd better say that to yourself,'" retorted Fanny, " I'm sure you dropped two." With most unamiable speed they made their way along the narrow-aisled, tobacco-stained floor and bumped into a hard seat. It took Fanny a little time to recover from the first feeling of utter weariness with which she had thrown herself down ; as the car bumped and rattled itself over the road toward home, she roused herself and began to look about for Caroline. The result was that Itufus, who had si)read himself out in a seat in front of her, his hat drawn over his eyes, and his hands stuffed in his pockets, ftit himself not gently nudged, and a shiill voice called into his ear, "Where's Line?" "How should I know?" he said angrily; " where we left her, I suppose, curled up in a heap. I wish you wouldn't yell into my ear, Fanny Kedwin." T must do Rufus justice, and tell you that he wab not always in such ill-humor as on this 50 ''WHAT COULJ) HAPPEN r' T'articular day. The truth was, certain matters troubled his conscience, and gave an undertone of unhappiness tc all his thoughts. " She isn't either," was fanny's apparently irrelevant reply to his last remark. " I've looked at every seat in this car."'' "That's a likely story!'' oaid Rufus. "There isn't another passenger car en this train." "I can't help i*^ if there isn't. You can see for yourself that she is not here. Say, Rufus, I'm afraid she woke up and was scared to find herself alone, and got out and walked home, because where would she ber " "Pooh! " said Rufus, nevertheless he roused himself and staggered through the car, which was not an easy thing to do, for the train was running even mort in'egularly than heavily- laden freight trains usiially do. "She isn't here," he said, when he at last succeeded in getting back to his seat. "I sup- pose she decided to walk home. She took the bundle I laid in her seat. What a goose ! we will get home long before she can, and it is pretty dark too." "O, dear!" said Fanny uneasily, "I'm afraid Ben will blame us, and his mother too." WHAT COULD HAPPEN?'^ 57 Fanny Kedwin, you may have observed, paid very little attention to the construction of her sentences; so that she understood what she meant herself, she seemed to consider it of no consequence how puzzling her remarks might be to other people. But Kufus was used to her. "Let him blame," he said savagely, "I should like to know what we have to do with it? If Line Bryant chooses to walk home she will do it in spite of anything you or I could do ; and as for being scared into it, I tell you she is not one of that sort. What was there to scare any- body, I should like to know? All there was to <\o was to sit still till the car got ready to start." "But it's so dark," Fanny murmured, trying to rub a clean place in her window, and flatten^ ing her nose against it. " I can't see anything hardly," she said, appealing to Rufus after a minute. " Don't look out, then," said Rufus crossly, "there's nothing to see by daylight worth look- ing at," and he curled himself down in his seat and drew his hat once more over his eyes, by no means so composed, inwardly, as he was trying to pretend. That Caroline Bryant had awakened, and, weary of waiting, had started h 68 WHAT COULD HAPPEN r' ■'■ !: Ii n ' .1 ! for liornt' on foot, was altogotlier j)robabk', and was a tiling lier mother would not like. "1 could not liave helped it if I liad been liere," muttered Kufus. " She would do what she liked in spite of me ; but then I su])pose I could have tramped along with her and not have got Mrs. Bryant down on me." For some reason, he did not clearly compre- liend why, llufus Kedwin always felt that i)e would rather have almost any other person "down on him" than Mrs. Bryant. It was quite dark when the train reached the Willow Lane Station, which meant home to llufus and Fanny, and they made iJi speed out of the car and down the street toward their mother's house. " Aren't you going to run over to Mrs. Bryant's?" Fanny asked, as, nearly breathless in trying to keej) up with her brother's rapid steps, she finally halted at her own door. "What for, I should like to know?" " Why, to see if Line is all right." "No, I just am not, Miss Kedwin! If you want any more running to-night you may do it yourself; I'm ready to go to bed. Why wouldn't Line be all right? You talk as though she were " WHAT COULD HAPPEN?^' 59 Daisy, or as though it was a hundred miles from the switch to her house." It was reassuring to think that liufus had no fears of anything being wrong. Fanny con- tented herself with this, and entered tlie house. Mrs. Kedwin was busy, as usual. She had just been attending to the supper of the latest comers, and was already planning anxiously what she should have for their breakfast. There was very little time to bestow upon \u^r children. "How late you are!" she said. "Mr. Hoi- roachful word had been spoken to him, but he did not like the look of Ben's eyes when he asked for his sister. He did not want to look at Mrs. Bryant at all. There was a sense in which he was to blame for this state of things. Mr. Ilolden was not at his boarding-house, M 77/17' COrr.I) HAPPEN f « and no one knew where to look for him. A little time was consumed in this way, but not much. Hen almost ran over the gentleman as he was npeeding down Main Street. " Hurrah ! " said Uw Ilolden cheerily, " is this an express train running away ? " Hut the next moment he was the alert, sympathizing friend. "We must find a railroad man," he said quickly, "one who knows about trains. She may have taken the wrong one; and your mother is right, we must send a j.arty at once down the track toward the switch. Come with me to the Young Men's Kooins ; tliere are a dozen men still there, upon whom I can depend." Rapid work was done after this, Ben keeping close to Mr. Ilolden, who, having started an eager and trustworthy company of young men down the track, went himself to the station. "We will get what infonnation we can here," he said, " then we will take my horse and drive with all speed to the switch ; I have sent Billy to harness her." The station looked deserted. The last nicdit train was in ; not another till four o'clock. The ticket ofKce was closed, and the night watchman knew nothing about trains or roads. •Mr/MT COULD IIAPPENf' ''i \ "Nothing to be le.irnt'd here," said Mr. Hol- den ; " we might go to the station agent. I5ut perhaps tl>e (juickeHt way will be to drive at once to t)ie Junction. The night switchman there will surely know about his own switch." What a ride it was through the moonlight. Ben had never taken such a ride before in his life. He had often longed to do so ; he could not have counted the number of times he had said to Line, " What a thing it would be to be skimming over the road on such a night as this." Nearly always such thoughts came to him when the moon was at its full. At last he was having the experience, but how far from happy he was ! Mr. Ilolden talked cheerfully, getting up theory after theory, more to comfort Ben than because he really was able to plan a theory to sui' himself. But Ben scarcely heard him ; he wjib busy going over and over in his mind the wearying question, " Where can Line be? What could have happened to her?" and then shivering over certain possibilities which would come crowding to the front. "Here we are," said Mr. Holden at last, sweeping around the curve and halting his horse. Before the faithful fellow had fairly over his body ; it seemed so terrible, when put into ])lain, brief English, that his sister Caroline was missino; : "The last that had been seen of her was at six o'clock, when she took a seat in the side-tracked car, and when the car started she was not to be found!" ::^ 1 CHAPTER VI. A NEW FKIEXD. n^HAT'S bad," said the man gravely; "it's a kind of poky place for a voun^ mrl. I shouldn't have thought her folks would have let her stay there alone ;" — Ben groaned and moved away — " not but wliat the switch- man here is a decent enough fellow," the man added, " and he would have looked after her if he had known she was in trouble ; but it kind of looks as if some one must have enticed her off, now don't it? Some one came along with a horse and wagon, maybe, and offered to take her liome." Ben fairly ground his teeth together to keep from screaming over the horrible suff^estiot; ! But Mr. Holden, who had tnought of that be- for*>, fmly turned his head to see if the poor brother was witljin hearing; then, slipping some- thiri|j into the switchman's hand in return for 70 A NEW FRIEXD. I I 1 i ■ '■^. , his broken nap, wont back to liis carriage, say- ing, " Wc will find the division siiperintenilent, if he is to be found. Keep up courage, Ben, my boy; (Caroline is quietly sleeping somewhere, I trust, anu know." !H > il' Caroline Bryant, having had her nap out, tried to turn over, but could not, and wondered much whv the bed seemed so narrow and liard, and what sort of a storm could be abroad to shake it so; then, after an unusually hard jolt, came to a sitting posture, rubbed her eyes, and tried to take ni the situation. Where was she, and what was the mattf^'? Gradually memory recall<'(1 the last she knew about hers»-lf. She had gone nutting and had alimost <]ro«rned Daisy, and had a dreadful head- acbe, and Ben went on an errand, and she went on the cars to be hitched to the six-o'clock freiirht. Where were Bufus and Fanny? She JLoIved about for them ; they were nowhere to be seen, but .1 bundle, looking as though it had been made u[) from the lujich baskets, lay be- side her, Slie rubbed her eves a<;ain, anubt. I can see how it was. You thought you got into the car that was on the side track, didn't you, and that the night freight was bound to pick you up? In- 1 A XE\y FHIKNI). 73 Stead of being on that car, you are on one that was si(le-trackeon his new ac(iuaintance. " Why, tlie driver? that man who sits out on the stool and manages the horses? Oh! well, I don't believe he manages that matter at all," and the broad shoulders of the conductor were shaken a little as though he might be laughing inside. "They don't go to church once a year, T suppose." "But is that right?" asked Caroline, in a tone so grieved that the laugh of her companion died out. " It doesn't look so, does it?" he said. "It's a dog's life they live, and that's a fact ; at it early and late, Sunday and Monday and every day. They don't get half a chance to eat or sleep, let alone going to church. No, T always thought the hotbC-car me i had it harder than the steanicar men on most roads, and that is unnecessary. Ours is hard enough.'' A XEW FRIEND. M I " I should think everybody ought to have a chfuice to go to eliuich," said Carolino gravely. "Well, I don't know as to that. The half nor the quarter would not ffo if thev had a chance. They aren't of that kind. They'd rather loaf around the saloons than go to any church that was ever heard of, and I suppose they might better be driving horses than doing that. If they were fond of going to church, why, it might be different." "I don't think that makes any difference," said Caroline, with a grave shake of the head. "You don't? why not? You can't oblige them to go to church. It's a free ccmntry." " No, but you can give them a chance, so that, if they don't go, it will be their fault, and not yours." The conductor gave his companion a thought- ful look. "That's a pretty true notion of yours, I guess," he said, after a moment's silence. •' Give them a chance, and if they choose the wrong side of the road when you've made a clear path to the right, why, you wash your iiands of it, eh ? That's a cute remark for one of your years, who has never been in a city before." M » fj CHAPTER VTI. A SUNDAY IN PHILADELPHIA, JM 1DID not think it out myself," said Caroline, with a flush on lier cheek ; " my brother Ben and I were talkint hmuj au:o. ' \o, sir, I haven't,' I said, 'I iiave heen too l)U8y u;etting tiie preachers there and nettinLC them liome aijain to take time to go myself.' He laughed as tliough lie thought it was a good joke, tlien he sobered up, and said he, " Don't you really get a chance to go at all? That is too bad,' "'Well,' said I, 'if folks wouldn't travel on Sundays folks wouldn't have to work to travel them.' He laughed again, and said he, 'There's some truth in that; but some people are situ- ated so they have to trave! on Sundays; see how it is with me: I live fifteen miles from my church, how could I get to it if it were not for the train ? ' " ' T su])pose you would have to live nearer your church,' said I. He shook his head, and says he, ' I cannot do that very well; I have an mvahd daughter who has to live in the country.' " I couldn't help asking one question. Said I, 'Poctor, what would you have (bine if you f ^ VP 88 A tiUNUAY IN PUJL IDELrillA. li ,: had lived before railroads were invented?' Well, he laughed again, and that was the end of it. " I like folks to be honest ; I'd have thought more of that minister if he had said, 'I believe in Sunday cars ; they are convenient and com- fortable, and I like to use them.' Here we are," he added, giving a sharp j)ull to the bell as they were neaiing a street crossing. There followed another brisk walk through streets less tilled with people, and at last the conductor halted before a neat, quiet-looking house. "This is home," he said cheerily ; " now for some breakfast." Caroline followed him timidly into a room at the end of the hall, where stood a tall, pale woman with her hair combed stniicrht back in an unbecoming way ; she had a child in her arms, and two more were clinging to her skirts, one of them crying wearily, as thoi gii she were simj)ly crying because she did not know what else to do. " Well," said the woman, turning as the door ()j)ened, "have you got home at last? You are late." " Yes," said Caroline's friend, " we were pretty late getting in this mornino;, but we are till. A SUNhAV IN rillLAUKLPFIlA. 8» here n(nv, and glad enough this little woman and 1 are to be here ; hungry as bears we are, too. Halloo, Babies! how are you all?" and he patted one on the head, stooped to kiss the other, and held out his hands for the baby. The woman meantime looked her astonishment at Caroline, while she talked to her husband. ^"They are all as fretful as they can be," she said, resigning the baby. "I have had a dread- ful time getting breakfast ; they have all stuck to me like bui'rs, and cried every time I Jstirred out of their sight. John, who have you here?" " Sure enough," he said, whirling around, " I didn't introduce you, did I? This is little Miss Bryant ; I declare, I don't know what your first name is." — It was given in a very low and somewhat tremulous voice. — "O, yes! Caroline Bryant ; that is her name, mother, and she has come a journey without intending it ; she got started on the wrong train last night, and in- stead of glinting home at seven in the evening, as she had planned, she slept througli, and got to this city by daylight; that's the story in a nutshell. T brought her home with me to stay until the ten o'clock train to-morrow morning." "Mercy!" said the woman, and Caroline 1 m m m IT ■ 90 A SUNDAY IN PUILADELPUIA. :.;if! could not help wondering just what the exela- Uiation meant. Was her hostess shocked with her appearance, or dismayed because she would have to keep her over night ? The poor girl could not wonder at the dismay, when she looked down at herself and realized that the dress which had gone a-nutting and a-wading in the swift-running stream, was actually the one in which she was making a Sunday morning appearance in Philadelphia ! It really seemed due to her that some explanation of her condi- tion be made at once. "We had been nutting," she said, "my brother and some friends and I ; when we reached the station ray brother was sent on an errand and the others went to take a walk, and I got into the right train, I thought, and fell asleep, and did not waken until morning. I had had a fright, and tore my dress and got it * wet, and my head ached so badly I hardly knew what I did." "Humph!" said the woman; "you must have made trouble enough at home, if you have a home." This was almost too much for poor Caroline ; she strusrirled with the lump in her throat, which •if A suyvAV ly puiladelvuia. 91 she supposed slie had conquered some time be- fore, but wliich was there now larger llian ever. " Yes'm," slie said faintly, " I have a liomo and r. mother. I don't know wl.at mother will do." "Mother is all rigiit long ago," the eonduetor said cheerily, and he cast a reproachful look at his wife. " I wired her as soon as we reached the city ; she is planning by this time how to meet you to-morrow. See here. Kit, don't pull papa's hair all out," and he triod to turn the attention on the babv. Tiu' woman, o!i1y apparently half satisfied, turned away and began to dish up the breakfast. It was after Caroline had eaten the little bit which she could coax herself to swallow, and retired to the farther end of the room to look out of the window and wipe the tears away unseen, that she lieard the conductor's wife say, "That is rather a queer story, isn't it, which she tells? What became of the rest of her folks who went nutting? Did they all go to sleep ? and if they didn't why didn't they look after her?" " 1 don't know what became of the others, I'm sure," the conductor said, taking large i ■ t! itie ' w ra A SUNDAY IN PIULADFA.IUUA. mouthfuls of bread and butter, 'Mmt I know this party is all right ; slie is a very interesting little girl. I had to bring her home — there wasn't anything else to do; she will amuse the children, I guess, and so help you a little." " IFumph ! " said his wife. " Mrs. Preseott Smith was on the train," he said, between the bites of beefsteak, "and took quite a fancy to her; she stayed with her in the station while I went to telegraph." " Why didn't Mrs. Preseott Smith take her home with her?" his wife asked. " She would have liked to, onlv their house is closed ; they stay at the hotel over Sunday." " Well, I suppose there was room in the hotel for another one?" ^ " I suppose she thought a hotel wasn't a nice place to take a strange little girl to, who wasn't rigged up for traveling ; she h.'ul been nutting all day, you see." "I suppose she was very glad not to be both- ered with other people's business," said his wife. "Oh! I don't know about that; Mrs. Smith is a benevolent woman." "Humph! she is benevolent with other i)eo- ple's things; I never heard that she was with h A .srNDA)' l.\ I'lULMtKU'lllA. W8 Ir r own |»articularly. She will scikI her s<»conrl girl f'> help wnsh t}i« dishrs .iftcr a sociable, hut then the girl has to wash In-r own cUshca all tlu; satno, and doesn't get a cent more wages for doing extra work ; she told nie so. I eall that th«' girl' h«*nevoler)C( an«l not Mrs. Snutli's." Her husband l.uighed. (), well !" he said, "she has ]i«r weak j»laces, I supjjose, but there are worse people in the world thai' Mrs. Prescott Suiitii." " Ves, and better people; some of them would have taken a strange girl home with them, in- steaoor man like you bear the burden." At this point Caroline came forward ; her tears were dried, and she felt that she could not endure the sound of another word. " If you please," she said, speaking rapidly and excitedly, " is there not some place where T can go and stay until to-morrow morning? Somewhere where I will not be in the way? My mother will pay the people for keeping me, 1 know she will, and I vvant very much to go." The conductor gave his wife the most re- proachful look she had ever received from him. !i.' v\ I ■^ \ p. \£ Wmm IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) O eek' and 'bow-wow' and evervthin I: if ■I i ; ff \ I! 198 WAITING. Rufus and Fanny, and, to Mrs. Bryant's sur- prise, Mrs. Kedwin herself. " I could hardly get away," she said, shaking hands with Mrs. Bryant, "just near to supper time, you know ; hut I had to come down to the market, and says I to myself, * I'll just run over and see with my own eyes that Line is all right, and give her a shaking, maybe, for scaring us all out of our senses.' Land alive! what a night it was, wasn't it? I didn't sleep two hours myself; I kept thinking what if it was my Fanny ! And to think it should be one of your children, when you are always so careful of them, and mine have to knock around almost any way. I ought not to be surprised most any day if they do not cume home, but I should be. Well, it isn't as if she had done anything wrong; it wasn't even her fault, to begin with ; Rufus ouijht to have taken more care to see she was on the right train ; he often goes out to the Junction on that train, and he ought to have known all about it and kept watch. I told him so when I found out, by questioning him, how it all was. I gave him a good lecture after I found that Line was safe. I hadn't the heart to do it before, for the poor fellow was so mis- ^m WAITING. 129 erable I didn't know but it would make him sick : he took it to heart worse than Fanny, I believe, but I tell him that was because he waa to blame." And then the train whistled, and all the peo- ple started uj) and tried to get out of the door at once, and the train came thundering into the station witli a final sliriek, which Ben could not help thinkmg sounded like a cry of desperation instead of triumph, and they looked up and down, and right and left for Caroline ; but no Caroline appeared. " She is in the conductor's care, remember," said Mr. Holden's reassuring voice. "Ben, if I were you I wouldn't go on the cars ; you do not know which one she is in ; the wisest way is just to stand here, with eyes wide open, and watch for the conductor." He came presently, but no Caroline was with him. The group pressed toward him. " Where is Caroline ? " asked Ben, touching his arm. The conductor turned and looked at him with a bewildered air and a slight frown. And Mr. Hoiden asked, "Are you Conductor Brinker?" Tiie man shook his head. "Brinker only comes to the Junction," he if I ii" I, m i ' I fili ; i: < tl i i ii: 130 WAITING. said; "I conduct the train from there." Ben turned in despair. "Then where can Line be?" he said. But at tliat moment another blue-coated man came hurriedly toward them, and the conductor said : "There's Brinker now; he came on, it seems. Halloo, Brinker, come this way; here is a party asking for you." "The Bryant family?" the man asked, turn- ing hurriedly at the sound of his name, and pushing his way through the crowd to reach them. "Yes," said Ben, "we are here. Where is Line?" F CIIAI'TKU X. ^i M A TKYIXd POSITION. "VTTIIV, you see," said the man — "which is her mother?" lie broke off to ask this question, and l>cn in reply silently laid his hand on liis mother's arm ; then tiie conductor addressed himself to her, becinninji arrain. "Why, you see, ma'am, it's this way. Noth- ing has hai)pened to her; but I left lier in Philadelphia." " In Philadelphia ! " said Mrs. Bryant and Ben in the same breath, and Daisy said, "O, dear! " 1 . • I' 1.6 . ;! ! In order to undeistand why Caroline Bryant was in Philadelphia, when she was expected at liorae, we will be obliged to go back to that Sunday evening when she took her first walk alone in the great city. She had gone out with her eyes wide open and her wits on the alert, and made the one turn without mistake, and 13' ■'.\ ■ It* n m p llVi .1 77/J'A7; POSITION. ' !■; I 1 I .rl ' invst'iitly iMiii:; the Ix'll at \\\v house bearinuf iho iiJiiiM' wliicli had Ik'cii ujivcii her. Tlu.' walk had tiot been taken williout stroiiT bcatinufs of heart, ami withoiil one or two IViLifhls. For iii- Rtaiu'c, there was a man on the o])|)OHitc side of the street wlio reeled from side to side in siieh a manner that slie eould not but tliink how im- possibh' it would have l)een for lier to liavc k<'i)t out of his way ha| I'* i I' m I '~ir^ 234 A TRYING POSITION. and mother was watching alone Avliile Ben went for the doctor. But at thi-"* point Line reso- lutely told herself to husli, that it was foolish and wicked to make herself miserable over such thoughts, borrowing trouble when there was so much real trouble in the world all about her. What if that drunken man wore her very own brother ! that would be trouble indeed. A door clanged in the distance, and a firm step sounded in the hall. Several of the wait- ing people arose ; so did Caroline, and a tall, keen-eyed man looked in at the door. Whether Caroline's face wore the most anxious look, or whether it was because she was a little girl, in- stead of asking who had been waiting the long- est, as he was in the habit of doing, the doctor turned to her. " Well, ray little friend," he said, in a quick voice, " what do you want ? " Caroline had carefully formulated her mes- sage, and planned how to make it as brief .and clear as possible, so it took her but a moment to say, "Will you come to No. 1747 just as quick as you can .'' Mr. Brinker's children are both sick ; we are afraid they are going to be ery sick j> I , A TRYING POSITION. 135 "Is that Conductor Brinker's? Children sick, eh ? I will go as soon as I can," and he turned to the next waitinportunity for talk ; the two babies awakened again from their brief rest, one moaning as if in pain, the other screaming as though he felt himself ill-treated, and demandeathetic. *'No," said the poor mother, "I don't, no more than a child ; I never saw either of them so sick, and it has come on rae all of a sudden, and isn't a bit like their little sick 8i)ells, and I don't know what to think.'* " It is scarlet tever," he said briefly, " and it would be simply cruelty to hide from you the fact that the disease has assumed a serious form, and there is danger." What the mother could Imve felt, Caroline wondered afterward. Of course her anxiety must have been the greater, yet the girl went on the swift wings of thought back to her home, and Daisy, their darling, so frail that she had been shielded as a Hower from every breath of I n ^ I !;]> iUi lih ill' I 1 ■ • i i .: IK) A r]ivi.\(; rosirioy. rude wind ; how cirofiilly tlioy had guarded her from exposure to this dread disease! Caro- line remembered only too well the sacrifice her mother had made to take her, but a year or two before, from a j)lace of possible danger, and here was she in the very jaws of the enemy, which had come in so serious a form that even the doctor owned it, and planning to go to lier darling that very day. Might it not be possi- ble that if she got away from the house now, in a very few minutes, it would have been too soon for her to carry danger to Daisy? Hark! what was that the doctor was saying in reply to some trembling words of the distressed mother? "You see, madam, the cases are more serious because the children have evidently been suffer- ing from the disease for some time. It proba- bly attacked them at first in a mild form, and was mistaken for an ordinary cold, or for teeth- ing troubles ; did you not tell me last night of a slight irritation of the skin which you had noticed ? " " O, yes ! " said the poor mother, " but I'm sure it was just a breaking out from those warm days we had last week ; don't you remember, Doctor, it was quite hot in the middle of the ill A TRYING POSITION. 141 day? and they both break out in that way in hot weather." "No," said the doctor, with quiet positive- ness, "it was the scarlet rash, and it has disap- peared, when it should be on the surface ; that is why this little fellow is suffering so. But you must keep up good courage ; the cases are serious, but by no means hopeless ; I told you the worst at once, because 1 know you are a sensible woman, and want the truth." Then he wheeled round to Caroline. " Have you had the scarlet fever?" he asked. She shook her head ; at that moment it would have been impossible to speak. "Then of course you know the probabilities are you will have it?" " O, dear ! " said Mrs. Brinker, " O, dear, dear me ! not only us, but we are getting other people into trouble ; whatever will her mother do?" Still Caroline said nothing; not yet could she trust her voice, and there was no telling what that dreadful lump in her throat would do if she but opened her mouth and let it have its way. "Don't borrow trouble, my friend," said the if i. I \ !,' t s t U2 A TRYING rOSLTlON, doctor, turning back to her with a reassuring smile, "there is enough trouble in the world without looking ahead for some which may never come. Not every one who is exposed to scarlet fever takes it, by any means, and the fact that this little woman has lived so long and escaped speaks well for her." It was ten minutes later, when the doctor had given once more the careful directions, and promised to come in at evening and see if all was being done that could be, that Caroline followed him to the door, her face almost as white as the steps on which she stooJ, but her voice controlled. " Doctor, I have a little sister at home who is very delicate ; mother was told to keep her from all the diseases which people catch as long as possible, and she has never had any of them" — " Better stay away from her, then," the doc- tor said promptly, before she had time to put her dread question into words. If it had been possible for her to have grown paler, she would have done so. " But how can I?" she gasped ; "it is home, and I was going to-day. My mother never meant me to come I A TIiYIN(; POSITION. 141) awJiy, and I never meant to, and I've nowhere else ; and if I should be sick " — "Now you are borrowing trouble," he said, smiling; *'you may not be sick ; I think it quite possible you will esca])e ; I can sec you have a sound body, capable of resisting poisoned air ; but did you never hear the old proverb, *An ounce of prevention is worth a ])Ound of cure?' I'm prescribing the ounce of prevention for the little sister, that is all. As to the staying, I have an idea you will be very welcome indeed in there, and have opportunity to make your- self as useful as I fancy you know how to be ; if I am mistaken come to my house, I will see that you are well cared for. Talk it over with your friends, and I will hear your decision to-night." "To-night," echoed Caroline's white lips; that is, they lormed as if to say the words, but no sound escaped. How many times hnd she said, since daylight, "To-night I shall be at home?" The doctor, three strides away from the steps, turned back to say, "I see Conductor Brinker coming, perhaps you can help explain the situ- ation to him, and save that poor mother; they is Hi ^ 1 ■ ■ ■ ill: \ . M< *n C'.i (1' i s i' 1 ' li 'i'i ^ = 1 t i >» Then Caroline sjjoke '..a (juietiy as though slio was not saying a tremendous thing. "If you please, Mr. lirinker, could I stay here, do you think, for a few days? I've been exposed to the fever, you know, and I'm afraid if I go home I shall have it and give it to our Daisy, and she is very delicate. I think mother would want me to stay and go to a hospital or some- where, rather than expose Daisy." "Can you stay?" the conductor said, with a sudden lighting up of his strong, troubled face; and before he could say more his wife added, " Not an angel from heaven could be more wel- come; she has been that, Drinker, all this dread- ful night. I don't see how I could have gotten through it without her." "If you will stay," said the conductor, "it will be such a blessinor as I did not believe this day could bring; we'll never forget it of you, never, and I don't believe you will have the fever, either; I can't seem to feel that you will be let to have it." m 11 I ' 'i| 1 , ^IF: S^ili 11 ^^HP i r itc A TliYIXa I 'OS IT low " I think motlier will want me to stay," H.-iid Caroline, lier voice trembling a little. This dreadful tliins,', which she had had sueh trouble to speak of, seemed to he decided hy others. "I cannot tell until I hear from her just wliat to do, but I tliink I ought to stay until she knows about it." And tills was the reason Conductor lirinker went westward without her, and went on from the Junction to explain why ohe was not there. 1^ I ciiAi»Ti:ii xr. I J)ai;k i»avs. TTTHV, you sets nifi'juii," the conductor was saying to Mrs. JJrvant, "tlie trouble is just this; my little ojies liave got the seailet fever. Tliey have been ailing for a week, and their mother tliought they had bad colds, ant it bad. Before my train left this morning I took time to run over to the doctoi's, and he shook his head, and says he, 'My friend, T don't know how it will go; we will make as brave a fight as we can, but I am an honest man and will be perfectly frank with you, and tell you that there is great danger.' Those were his very words, and you may judge how a father felt to listen to them." "Poor father!" said Mrs. Bryant irently, i)ut- ting aside her own great anxiety in her sympa- H7 I n il'. ; 1 'I Ni m [I:), !Ril 148 D.Hliv DAYS. tliy for this irouljlod straDij^cr. Ilo felt tlie earnest kindnoss of tlio tone, and suddenly choked and drew tlie back cf his hand across his eyes. Then, struggling to regain self-con- trol, he went on with his story. "And your Caroline, she thought of her little sister, like the woman that she is, and wrote you a note, wliich, after all, will explain better than I can." He dashed the tears from his eves with one hand, while with ihe other he fumbled in his vest pocket and drew forth a neatly-folded sheet, which iMrs. J^ryaiit reached for eagerly. Ben looked over her shoulder while she read : Dear, oaumnc; motiiki;: What (lid you (liiiik had Ijccmiie of inc? And oh! wliat will you say Avlien you see Mr. I'n-iukcr, and nio not with him? Dear mother, I don't know what to do, but it seems to ine you will think I am doini; right, beiause our precious Daisy must not have scarlet fever, you know. Shall I stay, mother? I can help them very much, I know I can, and they need help. They have been very kind to me. I can take all the care of the one who is not sick — her name is Daisv, don't vou think — and help about the others. Will it not be the right Avay t) do? Dear mother and IJen and Daisy darling, I ncfd not try to tell how hard it is for me to stay away from y^iu when I almost ran away in the lirst place; only people who run away from home generally want to go, don't they? and I'm sure I was never in a greater hurry to do anything that night than I was to get homo. How long ago it seems! And it was only Satur- day night, and to-(lav is Moiulay. (), dear mother! what shall DA UK DAYS. U9 I (In? Si'tid nit> word liy Mr. IJriiiker wlietlior I liavc done ri^iit, and just what to do. Of course you know how it ended. Oil! they talked about it a lon and the little lips quivered pitifully. "It is onlv for a little while, darlinir," the mother said cheerfully, "keep \i\) a brave heart. In three weeks at tiie utmost I think Caroline can come liome, unless 5? She did not finish her sentence, and t urne< 1 away quickly lest Daisy should see the tears. How could she sav, " Unless Caroline should herself take the fever?" "If she does," thought the mother tirndy, " I must go to her, whatever it costs." ]>ut this thought she kept, with many another one, quite to herself. I will not try to tell you about the weeks which followed. Caroline is not likely ever to forget them; but then, she had to live them, and since we could not helj) her do it, of what use to linger over DA HK DA VS. 151 the story, rjiibby .'inretentious brick house, set in a row ])recisely like liundreds of other liouscs, and stayed lonir sometimes, watchinGf the effect of some myste- rious ])Otion which he had given. There were three dreadful days when he came ihree times, and one awful night when he sat until midnight, much of the time with his skilled lingers on the pulse of the suffering baby, Ids keen eyes watch- ing for the slightest change in liis ]iatient. Very little talking was done during these weeks. Mrs. Brinker was for the most part absorbed in her children, and gave them every^bit of strength she had. ITer attempts at conversation rarely weot farther than to ask, "ITow do they seem to vou now?" or "Did the doctor say anvthinji more when you went to the door with him? Do you think he has givi'ii U)) hope of llaby?" Nearly alway:^ tliusc .'ittempts at talk ended ^ fh^ It i ill m -II m \U: ill. ir-\\ is 11 152 DARK DAYS. with the words, " What should I do without you? I declare for it, Caroline, I never was so sure that the Lord thought about ]»eople and planned for them, as I have been about this ; I couldn't take care of tAVo at once, as sick as they are, now could I ? And Brinker has to be away. Railroads must run, you know, just the same as ever, and people must go and come if all the babies in Philadelphia are dying. Doesn't it seem strange that folks jare to go anywhere when liubby and Baby are so sick? What was I saying? Oh! I don't kno»v and can't imagine what I would have done if you hadn't stayed. Let alone the sick ones, what would have be- come of Daisy?" For Daisy, whenever Ca."0- line could spare time from the sick ones, became her special charge. She was very unlike the Daisy at home, but she bore the same name, and the homesick girl loved her at first for that reason solely, • but bestowed such care and thought upon her that it ended in her loving the little girl most heartily, for herself alone. Sometimes it seemed wonderful to her, the way she had taken the little Brinkers into her heart, "It is almost as bad as having Daisy or Ben sick," she told herself one night, with a queer LA UK DAYS. 153 little catch in her breath. "Almost, but O, dear! not quite, Still, if Baby should die, and I am afraid he will"— And then her heart would beat with great thuds. There is one hour that stands out in Caroline Bryant's memory more keenly vivid than any other. She remembers every little insignificant thing about the room — the way the chairs were set, and the picture-book which Miss Webster sent to the Philadelphia Daisy, lying where it had fallen face downward, when she left it in answer to a sudden call ; even the way the cur- tain was looped back to let in the gray dawn of the morning has photographed itself upon her meinorv. The presentment or impression of some coming change was upon her. Unskilled as she was in sickness, she knew that the Baby was different from what, he had been before; whether the change was for the better, or whether the dreaded end was coming she did not know. She had not dared to speak a word to the mother, but she felt, rather than knew, that the same impression was on her mind ; and the father had for that one morning secured a substi- tute, and did not leave the house when the ten o'clock train sent out the usual warning whistle. ft 1 I i; t*i| hi \': I hil li i I i 1 154 UAIiK DAYS. "I'm not going out until tho doctor comos," he sni (( you feel" — and there she stopped. "Yes," he said, his eyes drop]>ing to the floor, " there is some change ; I don't know what it is" — And then the quick step of the doctor was heard outside, and Caroline stepped to open the door. There was utmost stillness while he bent over Unby, and then he turned with a sfiiile on his face and held out his hand to Mr. DAIiK DAYS. 155 Briiiker: "My friend, I have good news for yoii ; T Ix'liove the danger is over." And then INfrs. Brinker, strong-nerved, sensible woman that she was, did what she had never done be- fore in her life, slie fainted. Perhaps it was just as well that the others had to restrain their feelings and run to pick her up and give her water and fan her, otherwise I do not know what might have happened. i'f 1 "We all folt soqiiopr" [wrote ("larolinn to Ben] "tlint it seemed ns tliouij;Ii we could not act naturally; and we were a little bit frii;litencd about Mrs. Brinker, too; she never faints, and it lasted a ijood while; if the baby had not raised up and eried just wlien he did I don't know what we should have done; but the moment she heard his voice she was on her feet a,a:ain, and stairfrered over to him, thoup:h slie was just as white as the wall. The doctor smiled and said, 'I thonjjht that would bring her back; there is nothing like mother love.' " m Over this Ben looked grave. " Mother," he said, after a little silence, " Line tallfs exactly as though she belonged to those people, and always had; did you notice how she says, *Mr8. Brinker never faints?' How does she know what she i- in the habit of doinof?" jVFrs. Bryant laughed ])leasantly. " Do you feel the least bit jealous of Mrs. Brinker, my son?'" she asked playfully. "It is Is; ill: HP nmi ifl »: 1 1 ff 150 7>.l/.7v' DAYS. quite ii.itui.ll for young people to f;ill into such li.ibits of ('xj)ression at Caroline's .aiie. A few clays or a few weeks seem like a lifetime, espe- ci.ally if the circumstances are such .as to make deep impression. I knew a young girl who said of her friend, 'lie always wears his hair that way; 1 never saw liim comb it in any other fashion,' and when cross-questioned slie w.as obliged to admit that she h.ad seen him but three times in her life. But I have not the least fear that our Line will forget any of us or put the lirinkers in our pl.aces. Can we not rejoice with those that rejoice, my de.ar boy?" Ben blushed a little as he said quickly,"! do, mother ; 1 am sure I am very glad for them and for us; I suppose we shall soon have Line at home." P\)r Line had escaped the disease, it was hoped and believed. " Yes,'^ said Mrs. Bryant, smiling brightly, " I think we m.ay soon claim her now. Of course she could not leave while the children are so ill. It would have been cruel, when they took a fancy to her and would allow her to help the over-burdened mother ; I can well imagine how helpful she has been. Dear girl, she was always to be depcp.ded upon ; I scarcely knew ' I i. i' TAKING CAKE OF BUBBY. I, in ( :li, « ili 1 DARK DAYS. V »i how much until since T have lia«l to miss her help instead of receive it. I told her in my last letter to ask the doctor liow soon it woullunged Ben into the depths of despair ; and even gen- tle little Daisy, who always trie«l to look on the bright side of things, shed a few tears ; as for Mrs. Bryant, she said not a word for the first five minutes after reading the letter aloud. Poor Daisy, who, it was believed, had also es- caped the dread disease, had been taken with it, and though not, as yet, so alarmingly ill as the others had been, was still sick enough to demand constant care from her mother, who was thus obliged to leave the care of Bubby and the baby largely to Caroline. "Bosidfs" [wrote tlic hcavily-burdoned yoiins wninan], "Dai^-y is very nuieli attaelied to nie, and cries wlien I raii't come to tell her a story before she ko»'s to sleep. She has never had anybody to tell her stories before - Mrs. Brinker says she doesn't know how — and Daisy has become nscd to them, and thinks they are wonderful. And so, mother, I can- IV 1' ii'l i 1! ' I ll I i: ;. ,iO 'II S.I m \-l i:>8 7>.l/i7r DAYS. lint fi'cl tlint vfiii wmilil waiif im- U> Icjivr jiisf now; in fjicf, it wmild iMit 1)0 ]»r»>.sililr iiiilfss thi'V foiijil ^»'t homr liclp, fur tif (•')iir«(! Mrs. Uriiikor ciuiimt nmiiiiK'' "'"'i"'l 't i^ wdrse tiiiin it WHS at lirst, Itccaiisu Daisv was really a i;n'at deal of lulp with the lialiy. "I (tiiylit to stay, motiicr, otii,''lilii't F? <), dciirl I do not dare to It'll yoii how drcadtiilly disa|)|)oiiit('d I am ! It s(iiiiid!4 to. I si'llisli, I know yon will think so." "I don't think any Huch tliiTiLjj !" burst forth I Jen, .IS lie rotid tliis sentence Jiloiid ai^Mln. "The ifli'ii! h1)o goes o\\ |irocisely fif* ihoui^h she were hoimd to stay .'in d take eare of tliose folks; it wotild not he possible for lier to come lionie until they get help! 1 call ih.at ri«li(Milous! What would they have done if Line had never gone there? as she never would have done if it had not l)e(?n for that idiot of a IJiifns Kedwin. I'd like to shake him tliis minute!" " Softly, softly, my son ! " cautioned liis mother, while Daisy 'ooked at him in amaze- ment; she had never heard good-natured, self- controlled I>e?i go on in this way before. " Well, but, mother, don't you call that ab- surd? What is Line to those people, or they to her? It was just an accident that took her there in the first place," , " Such an accident as God understood and over-ruled, Ben, my boy, don't you think so? hAlih' h.ws. l.v.i As for wlial I/m<' is to tlicin, nro tlu\v not, licr TioiirlihorH for tlic iircscnt ? :iss l»y on \ho. oIIrt sitle wlu'U tlic'V Jirc ill tlic'ir itivsciit straits?" "1 think wo \n'v*\ l/inc at lionu'," grumbltMl Ucn, who for once hal»or liand, an«l could not bring it into 8u))joc- tion. " It is almost a month sinco sho wont away — ovor throo weoks, anyhow — and jieoplo all asking wlioro slio is! 1 think you nood l»or, njollior, as much as Mrs. IJrinkor does." "(), no, you don't, my son ! Thank God we aro woll and at i)o:u'o; and tho home where slie is lias at least its shan; of trouble. I think, my ast. If, after thinking it over, and especially ]»raying over it, vou believe I ought to tell her to come home, I thbik T may promise to do so. Will you take until to-morrow morning to consider it?" J* .- .HI '\i ill ! KiU DAIIK hAVS. " No, in.'i'ain," s;ii(l Den, after a silenco of less than two minutes, and his troubled face broke into a lialf-asliamed smile. "Forgive me, mother, I \va« cros - and unreasonable ; 1 think 1 knew ail the time that Line ou^ht to stay; and tiiat is what made it so hard to bear, because I knew I would have to give in." It was found that the doctor was decidedly of Caroline's o})inion ; she ought to stay for the present. " Besides," he added, when she had gravely gone over with him the objections to her return home, to each of which he had nodded assent, 'you are exposed again to the disease, you must remember ; and although you will probably not take it, we must face the pos- sible with brave hearts and be ready for it." L^ilAPTER XII. "so YOU WANT TO GO HOME? »j yES, Mrs. Bryant had faced that possibility with a linking heart the moment she read the news of Daisy's illness. Ben and the little sister in tlioir eagerness or ignorance, had not thought of it; not so tlie mother. She realized that Caroline, worn with watching and unusual responsibility, would be a much more probable victim than Caroline, fresh from home and in good health and strength. « But that part we must leave," she said to Mr. Holden. "It is very clear to me that the d?ar child is doing right, for it would go harder with the sick one if she were fretted by Caro- line's leaving her ; it might even increase the fever to meh an extent as to endanger her Hfe ; I dare not nu'iiW my daughter ; but it is very hard to leave h^-r there. If I could only go i6i lit 1 ' i "I II T f: i«;2 .so YOU lI'ylA'7' TO CO HOME.' r ! k 1 1 ; ■ I 4 li I niysolf and save hor streiigtli and seo lliat sho takes earo of herself! " "Tliat is another thinu^ you must leave," Mr. Ilolden said brightly. " Is It not a biesscMJ thing, Mrs. Bryant, that you and I have a sure resting place in our ])eri)lexities and burdens?" "Do you have any burdens?" she asked the quiet-faced minister. A curious l«»ok as of a pain which he must hide, swept across his face for a moment, even as he smiled. -'■ Every heart knoweth its own bitterness," he said. " We have the Lord's word for that." "T ran away from this disease with Caroline when she was a baby," Mrs. Bryant said gravely after a moment of silence. "I was thinking last night how nirach better it miglit have been, possibly, now, if I had not done so." Then Mr. ITolden laughed outright. "That is borrowing troubl<^, certainly," he said. " I have known many people to borrow from the future, but I think it is rather new to try to b«)r4*ow from the past. T)ear friend, how can vou be sure vou would have anv d.'iuijfhter Caro- lineon this si'ie if vou had notti ^m1 to shield her totliebestof vour knowledije and conscience?" '*S0 YOU WANT TO GO HOMEf' lfi3 • •' That is true," she answered, and her smile was free again. "I suppose no one borrows trouble on all sides more foolishly than a mother ; but indeed, Mr. Holden, this new dis- appointment in regard to Caroline has almost unnerved me; I am used to having my children in the nest. I was so sure that my daughter could not go away from home this winter; I tried to plan for ways and means for her to make a visit, and when I decided that it could not be done, there was an undertone of gladness over the thought that the family circle would be unbroken." But tlie Brinkers were not destined to have so hard an experience this time. Daisy was "sick enouf^h," her mother said, 'Mjut she didn't hold a candle to the other." By which, I sup- pose Mrs. Brinker meant to convey the impres- sion that although Daisy certainly suffered some pain and much weariness, she was by no means so sick as her little brothers had been ; though why the good woman thought "holding a can- dle" had anything to do with it, must be ex- plained by thofite who have fallen into the habit of using slang phrases, instead of good English. But if the illnew- was not so severe, Daisv l: i( m 164 SO YOU WANT TO GO HOME?'* I was almost longer than the others in gettmg well, and was so weak and nervous that a mere hint in regard to Caroline's going away would serve to throw her into a crying fit, sure to be followed by more or less fever. So it was that the two weeks to which the poor girl had limited herself, had more than passed away, and still the day was not set for her home-going. " I really think, daughter, that you may con- scientiously fix the date now," her mother wrote. "The little girl, you say, is gaining every day; it is surely time for her to begin to exercise self- control, and remember that you have been long away from your own Daisy; tell her how pa- tient^y and uncomplainin2;ly your little sister, her namesake, has given you up to her for all these weeks, and yet how eagerly she watches the mails in hope of hearing good news of your coming; perhaps it will help Daisy Brinker to grow unselfish herself ; not that I would cen- sure the poor little girl, indeed, I think she shows good sense in wanting my Caroline by tier side as long as possible. Mother knows junt how much she aiisses you, daughter, but she can never put it into words." This letter, full of sweetness though it was, ".so rOU WANT TO GO HOME?'' 165 E i made Caroline feel, as she expressed it to her- self, "ready to fly;" slie went downstairs re- solved to ask the doctor that very day if he thought it vvouM do any harm to set Daisy Brinker-to crying in real earnest over her de- parture. She and the doctor had become very good friends during all these weeks ; not that they said much to each otlier — at least Caroline had never realized that mnch had been said to her ; the doctor was always in as much haste as the condition of his patients would admit, and confined his talking chiefly, to very care- ful directions' connected with them. Neverthe- less, he had observed the quiet, womanly, quick- motioned young stranger, and knew more about her than she could have imagined possible ; also he had occasionally asked a question or two, with a view to drawing her out, and was really fairly well acquainted with the Bryant family and their circumstances, though the questions had been so far apart, and apparently so dis- connected, that Caroline had no suspicion of the truti). " So you want to go home ? " he said, wheel- ing around from the last step to look at her ; it \^a8 on the white dour-steps that she had t I: 1 (< I'-'l 166 "50 rOU WANT TO GO HOME?'* \ s '' I' carry on most of her conversations with the doctor. • " Why should you be in haste to go there ? I should think, now that there is a possibility of your being out of })rison, you would, want to stay and see a little of our great city. It is un- usual for people to spend six weeks in Phila- delphia and not go a block away from the house where they are staying." Caroline laughed pleasantly. "I suppose so," she said, " but tlie truth is I want to see mother, and Ben, and Daisy, more than all the cit'es in the world put together." " Then you really are very homesick ? " he asked, eying her so keenly that she blushed, and was troubled, she hardly knew why. " I want to go home very much indeed, if that is what you mean," she said, " I was never away from mother before, and you know I did not intend to be, this time. Do you think it will hurt Daisy if I begin to plan to go?" " I was not thinking of Daisy," was the curi- ous answer, and the great man still stood look- ing thoughtfully at her. " I was — well, perhaps I will not speak of it now, I have hardly time \ " he drew his watch I % i X "SO YOU WANT TO GO HOMKr' StT as he spoke, and seemed startled over the late- ness of the hour. *' ril tell you what we'll do," he said after a moment's silence, " I am in haste now, and so are you ; I hear Daisy calling you ; she con- siders you essential to her comfort, you see ; but I want to have a little talk with you, raor^' at leisure ; if you will come round to my house this afternoon, say at three o'clock, I shall be at leisure, perhaps, for a few mirmtes, and I will be able to tell you then what I think about this home-going. It is true I may not be able to see you, I may not be at home ; a doctor has no time of his own, you know, but if you care to try it, I will be there if I can." Much wondering, and not a little disappointed, Caroline promised, and went back to Daisy, with a grave face. " I almost believe he thinks I ought not to go for another week," she said to herself, '* but 1 do not see why ; Daisy is growing real strong now, and he said he was not thinking of her, any way ; it can't be that he thinks 1 will have the fever even yet ; the time is surely past! O, dear! I suppose 1 can wait another week even if I must ; but it does seem to me sometimes as though T can't." m If i;! ■ M I l6ft "SO YOU WANT TO GO DOMEf^^ It was quite an event in her day, this getting ready to go to the doctor's at three o'clock. As the liour drew near, she dressed herself with great care, and thought how strange it was that she should be planning to go out en a city street and call on one ot iLc great doctors. What could he possibly want to say to her ! If Ben were only here to go with her how nice it would be ! She had much trouble getting off ; poor Daisy, who had had her own way exactly, for a fortnight, save where the doctor was concerned, made herself and everybody about her as un- comfortable as possible, over the dreary fact that her dear Caroline was going out walking, and she must be left at home. She cried, and refused to be comforted ; and her mother, who at first coaxed, and petted, and promised to amuse her every minute until Caroline should return, finally lost all patience and called Daisy a selfish little girl who had forgotten there was anybody in the world but Daisy Brinker ; and said in plain words that she was ashamed of her. This return to plain speaking seemed to do the little girl good ; Caroline had the satis- faction of noting that the low fretful wail had quite ceased before she closed the front door. \m •'.so YOU WANT TO GO UOMEf' 160 ' As slic ranc: the bell at the doctor's door and stood waiting to be admitted, she naturally thought of that Sunday evening, now seeming 80 far in the past, when she had stood here, ring- ing and waiting. How many strange and utterly unexpected, and really dreadful things had hap- pened since then ! Suppose somebody had told her that night, that six weeks afterwards she would be ringing that same bell, and would not in all those weeks have had a glimpse of mother, and Ben and Daisy ? She would have looked at the jterson with horror, and assured him that such a think could not possibly be; that she was going home to-morrow. Yet here she was! Still, it was not all unpleasant; there was in Caroline's heart a satisfied feeling that she had been a very useful person during these trying weeks ; and now that they were over, she could afford to be dad. " I am sure I do not know what poor Mrs. Brinker would have done with- out me," she said to herself, and it was no more than that good woman echoed in her hearing many times a day. Oh, they were grateful, and would never forget it of her, never! Conductor Brinker was anxious to convince her of that fact, "Besides," said Caroline, with a gratified smile ii' HI \ 1 I in. t i i 'ki; 1 ill! A 1 h\ il i !■ ; 6', >' ■:,l In 1 111 1 I I 170 ".SO YOU WANT TO GO UOME r' creeping over her face, " I know a great doctor, now; know him pretty well; think of my stand- ing out on the steps asking him questions ! " The smile became broader as she remembered with what fear and trembling she had stood there on that first evening. How she had dreaded to speak at all, and had tried to plan just what words she should use. Now, al- though she had an immense respect for the doc- tor, the feeling of almost terror had passed. She was able to answer his questions without stammering, and generally to look into his face when she spoke, without blushing. Visions of long talks with Fui.iiy Kedwin, and Rufus, in which she would describe this doctor and his house, and his carriage, and the numbers of people who were always in waiting in the re- ception room, came to her pleasantly. Fanny Kedwin had been rather fond of talking about her uncle, Dr. Freeman, who drove two horses, and was sometimes called to the city ten miles away in consultation. Caroline did not know how many horses Dr. Forsythe kept, but she knew he was consulted during every minute of his office hours, and she had heard people won- der when Dr. Forsythe ate or slept. ' 'I ' 'I TiiK iKKKtuV iii;ti;rTiii.N i:(»u.m. "iJO You WAJyi TO GO UOMEr' 171 I 1 "ITc is one of the bijrgcst doctors in iho city," Conductor Drinker cxplnincd, " ;unl lie won't go into the more fashionable jmrt of the city to live, either, because this is a handy |»lace for people to get at him, and because some who are poor would not dare to send for him if he lived far away. He is very good to poor peojile ; charges them less than the second-rate doctors, and shows them more attention." That he had shown the sick children at Con- ductor Drinker's the most patient attention, Caroline could witness; and every word slie heard about him but added to her sense of his greatness; yet here she was, coming by his own direction to liave a few minutes' talk with bim ! • She was in the reception room by this time, which to her astonishment was em|)ty. The young man smiled in answer to her look of sur- prise, and said : "The doctor's office hours are over, but he told me to admit you and ask you to wait; you are Caroline Dryant, I think?" Caroline, as she sank into a sofa asked herself if it could be that she really was Cai'oliiie Dry- ant, and what Fanny Kedwin and Rufus would say when she described this room to them; and I It! I (, m \ U I 11 m 172 "SO YOU WANT TO GO lIOMEf* ^''■i M 'i t' /' then her heart beffan to beat so hard at tlie thought of seeing them perliaps in two more davs that it almost took her breatli away. " The doctor has been called out," the younuf man had explained, "but he hopes net to be long gone, and you are to wait if you can/' Then he had left her to the silence and ele- gance of the room. It was in reality a large plainly furnished room, fitted up with conven- iences for waiting people ; but to Caroline it looked very grand indeed. Very softly the door opened — so softly that the young girl who had drawn aside the heavy curtains and was looking out upon the busy- street, did not hear it. A small slight Lgure with a shower of short curls about her face, the color of the sunlight, came on slippered feet into the room, and pausing midway gazed with a curious mixture of shvness and thoucrhtf ulness upon the stranger. Even on this winter day she was dressed in white — a soft white wool, belted by a broad band of white ribbon ; her face, too, was white, not a touch of color about her anywhere ; to Caroline's startled eyes when at last something made her turn her head, the child looked something as an angel might. ".§0 rou WANT TO r:o rroME}'' 1:3 " Are you Caroline ? " asked the little white spirit, speaking in a slow, low voice. " I am Dorothy Forsythe, nnd papa said I was to en- tertain yon until he came." Whereupon Caroline smiled reassuringly and held out her hand. "Yes," she said, "I am Caroline, and I like to be entertained. How are you going to do it?*" " I don't know I might show you pictures. Do you like pictures V Or we might talk ; I like to talk, myself." "Very well," said Caroline, "by all means let us talk. What do vou like to talk about?" " All sorts of things. I suppose I like to ta^k better than other people, because I cannot run and play like other children. I have to walk carefully, and but a little way at a time, and I cannot ever run. I am not like other children." The voice in which these sad words were said was very quiet and self controlled. It was as if she was merely stating a fact in which she had no personal interest of any sort ; but Caroline was startled and shocked. " Oh, poor little girl ! " she said, " what is the matter?" !l^ 174 "SO you [VANT TO GO HOME}'' ' {■: I'^H'' " It is something about my heart," said Dorothy in the same quiet, matter-of-fact tone. " It has always been so ; papa has tried and tried to cure me, but he cannot; and by and by I cannot walk any more at all, he thinks. And I must never run, lie says, until I get to Heaven. 1 shall be quite well there, you know." "'' Yes," said Caroline, low-voiced, and shad- ing her eyes that the child might not see the tears which were gathering in them. The little thing could not be older than her Daisy ; and as she thought of Daisy's tripping feet this story seemed too sad. " Do not cry," said Dorothy gravely. " I never do any more; not about this. I made up my mind not to, because it makes mamma feel worse, and mamma is sick and has to be taken care of ; papa de|)ends upon me not to let her feel worse about anytliing ; so I do not cry any more. It does no good, you know. If it would make me run and hop, I suppose I couKi cry for a whole week ; but it only hinders, so what is the use ? " " That is true," said Caroline, and she choked back her tears and smiled ; what a curious little fairy philosopher this wns ! so YOU WANT TO GO HOME?" J7n *'I tliink you may talk to me if you will," said Dorothy, beginning again before her guest could say more. " I like to be talked to, and I don't have it very often. Papa has not time, and mamma is sick, and Xurse — well, Nurse is good ; but she does not know how to talk about some things. For instance, she does not know what they do at school ; Nurse never went to school when she was little ; and she cannot think what thev find to do all day — little firls as young as I, you know ; and she and T have wondered and wondered, until she is tired of it ; but I am not ; I want to know all about it. Could you tell me some things?" The wistfulnes« in the tones was almost too much for Caroline's tears; she had never heard anything which seemed to her so pitiful ; but she held them back with resolute will, and began to describe, in detail, a day in school as she had often lived it, Dorothy sinkir.ir on a low cushioned seat in front of her and listening like one fascinated. They were interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock, and a quick step in the hall. "That is papa," said Dorothy, rising at once, " I must go now ; he cannot be hindered when there are ll^ I i ill r 176 "SO YOU IV ANT TO GC flOMEf'* i i h?^!' im people in this room waiting for him; I shall tell him you entertained me beautifully, and I hope — oh! I do hope you can tinish the story for me sometime." She clasped her hands with a sort of sup- pressed eagerness as she spoke, and then slowly, softly, moved away, reaching the door just as Dr. Forsythe opened it. He stooped and kissed her, without speaking, then advanced toward Caroline. ••' Well," he said, " 1 had to keep you waiting, after all ; but you have made ac(|uaintance with my Dorothy, I see. Now I must talk fast ; " he looked at his watch as he spoke. "I had hoped to have more time, and make my sugges- tions a little less abruptly, but there are those waiting for me who need my help, and I must just plunge into the su' ^t at once. This little girl, whom I feel sure you have enjoyed, is our only one, and is the frailest flower that blooms> I am afraid. It is only by utmost care that we have kept her here at all ; we cannot hope to keep her for many years ; you do not need to be told that she is very peculiarly dear to us, and that we long to gratify all her desires. One of them is, to go to school ; to a regulat ''SO YOU WANT TO GO HOME?'' 177 school such as other children attend ; she has been brave and unselfish in this desire, but no liome governess or home study has been able to meet her evident longing wish in this matter. We would like to gratify her and have been afraid to. Her motlier is an invalid, and her whole frail life seems bound up in this little girl ; she does not like to trust her out of her sight, and yet is too ill to have her with her very much. "There is a school, a semi-Kindergarten for children who have outgrown the Kindergarten age ; I should like to send her to it. There are fciome reasons why I believe it would be good for her to mingle with other children and see how they live, and what they have to do, and be ; but we dare not trust her with a servant. The school is a mile away from my house. I could take her to and from it in my carriage if I could command my time, but I cannot ; she could go in a street car, if there were some one always with her whom we trusted. Some one to see that she did not walk too fast, or step too suddenly, or sit in a draught, or be wrapped too warmly, or not warmly enough ; in short, some one w bo would think for her, and dare idt i| ' 'I p Pi i' El I 'if t 1 »!:, , !■:; 178 '^ SO YOTJ WANT TO GO HOME?'' her as an older sister who lovc' hor might do. She wouhl also need a loving oversight while at school, such as that same older sister could give. The trouble is, she has no sister." The sentence closed with a smile so grave and wistful that Caroline, who had been looking earnestly at him, felt a strong desire to cry. But his next words checked the tears and made her heart beat fast. " Vou would like to know why I am telling you all this. It is because I have thought that you might find it in your heart to take the place of that sister which my little girl so greatly needs. The Kindergarten department of which I told you, is connected with an excellent school for girls of your age, and if you would stay here this winter and undertake the care of our dar- ling, we would send you to this school, clothe you properly and give you in every respect 'he comforts and ail vantages of a home, and pay you a dollar a week for your spending money. Now what do you say? Will it be of any use for me to write to your mother, or must you go home?" L CHAPTER XIII. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. TN Mrs. Bryant's kitchen utmost order reigned. -*- Not only the kitchen, but the little shop, as well as the study, which the initiated will remember all belonged to one room, wore an air of expectancy. The very dollies in the pretty show window seemed to be listening, and their sweet puckered lips looked almost ready to say, "We believe she is coming ! We think we hear her step ! " As for Daisy Bryant, nervousness had almost gotten the better of her. She had wiped the dishes, and helped to set them away ; she had dusted every article of furniture in the "suite" of rooms; she had nrranged and re-arranged the dollies until she was sure they made as good an exhibit as possible, and there was literally nothing else to busy herself about. What could 79 1 :"?' 180 THE UNEXPECTED IIAPPENS. she lo but watch the slow-moving hands of the slow old dock, and walk back and forth from the window to her little chair in the study, and hold herself by main force of will from either shouting or crying? In her highly-wrought nervous condition she felt almost equally ready for either. The condition of things was just this : the Bryant family had elected that this was the day in which their Caroline was to arrive. So cer- tain were they of this, that one of the precious chickens of Daisy's own raising, liad been killed and dressed, and was at that moment gently stewing on the back part of the shining stove, making itself ready for the five o'clock grand dinner which they meant to have in honcn* of the home coming. Some delicious Spitzejiberg apples were sputtering at one anotlior in the oven, making read}' for the same feast ; there were potatoes just ready to pop into the kettle to be boiled, and MotJier Bryant was at that moment engaged in putting the tinishing touches to a wonderful rice i)udding whicli she knew how to make delicious, without eggs or cream. Oh ! the dinner was to be everything that heart coukl 1 t't'? k THE rjNEXPECTED IIAPPEXS. ISl 1 I desire ; the only question was, would she be there to eat it ? They had diseussed it in all its probabilities at the breakfast tai)le that niorninii:, Hen and Daisy witii tiie assuranee of tiieir years, and the mother coming' in with hei' notes of wai'niiiix. "■ Kemendu'r, ehildien, she has not \\ritten posi- tively that she would come to-day." "No; but, mother, what could hinder her any lonirer? J am sure she has been lonj^ enough, and of course ;die is in a hurry. The little <2;irl is better, a-id you know she said she was almost certain the doctor would say yes ; and if he did she would surely start this morn- ing. Of course she would not need to wait to write ; she would know well enough that I would meet every single train." "All true, lien dear, l)ut many things might occur to hinder her. The conductor might have reasons why he thought it bettei- for hei- to wait until to-morrow, or the doctor might suggest her waiting, for reasons of his own. Perhaps it is not probable, but what I want you to remember is that it is better not to be certain of thinirs." **I like to be certain," said Ben, speaking h; !li! w m "i ' 182 rilE UXEXPECrKD IIAPPKXS. almost crossly — ho was so anxious to sec Caro- liiK*, poor fellow I " W(^ have been kept on uncertainties lonu enonuh." As for Daisy, she had no :ii-uunients to put into words, and could only say, with a curious little catch in her hreath, which told the watch- ful mother how nuich hei- heart wtis set upon it, "1 think she will come to-day, mother; I do indeed." And now it was nearinjj; the hour when she ought in all reasonableness to l)e expected, if the day was to brin<:; her. It had been a lonjj;, nervous one to «iet throu IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Kv «?• ^/_ '^A^ ^A 1.0 1.1 I^|2j8 |25 Ul 140 <^ r^ w 'f ^ >' Photographic Sciences Corporation n WCST MAM S1MET WIK1fR,N.Y. USfO (716)172-4503 \ ^ •SJ <> ^^. ^S WrS '*:^o '%^^^ ^ Dkn and Daisy: To think that I ana sitii'i^ down writinjj to you instead of putting the last things into my trunk as I expected to be \ 0, mother, I don't know how to tell it, and I don't know what to do. ["Do!" bursi forth Ben, in uncontrollable indignation, " why in the name of all that is sensible doesn't .she come home? I wouldn't wait another hour for any little girl or doc- tor in the world." " O, please to listen, Ben! " pleaded Daisy, and the mother continued.] It is such a strange thing to tell, and seems so kind of tangled up in my mind; I want to begin at the end and woi k my way back to the beginning, somehow, but I guess I wtm't. I'll n)ake it tell itself like a storj', then Daisy will like to hear it. I went to Dr. Forsythe's yesterdaj' afternoon, as I told you I was to do, and I liad the longest time to wait in the parlor — he had to go out, after all, though he meant to be at home to see me. While I waited, the loveliest little girl I ever saw in my life, except, of course, my own dar- ling Daisy, came and talked to me. She said she was Dorothy Forsythe, and that she was " not like other little girls; " there is something the matter with her heart. She has never been to school, and she wants to go very niuch. ihr father said it was the desire of his heart to indulge hc% because he could not hope to have her numy years. Just think! although he is so great a doctor, he cannot cure his own little girl. [To savr his life, Ben could r.ot help interrupting again, with a groan of impatience: ^'Mother! what in the world is she waiting to tell us all that for? Why doesn't she come home?" " Have patience, my boy," said Mrs. Bryant, and read on.] Oh! I cannot wait to tell you all about it. The doctor came, and was in a hurry, after all, and said he must talk fast and, mother, he wants me to stay in Philadelphia this winterl There, I have told the end in the middle, after all. He says if I will he can trust me to take Dorothy to school every morning, and bring her home in the afternoon, and see that I I 186 THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. she has enough wraps on, and not too many, and that oue does not walk too fast, nor get on and off the cars too quickly; you see she is very, very delicate, and her face looks like an tingol's, 1 should think. And he says if I will stay, he will have me live at his house, and get ine nil the clothes I need, and send mc to school, and lit me take music Ics'ons, and pay me a dollar a week for looking after Dorotliy. Anu O, mother, motlier! I want to see you so badly I can hardly wait to Avrite the words; but he thought — and the worst of it is I thought 80 too — that I ought to wait and write to you all about it, and he has written this bijj k'tter which I enclose. That will tell ■vou the whole storv ever so much better than I could, but I knew you wuuld read mine first- So now they knew why Caroline did not come on the five o'clock train There was more to the letter — much more, indeed — but before it could be finished, or the doctor's letter looked at, Mrs. Bryant had to stop and gather her little Daisy in her arms and try to soothe the most heart-broken fit of crying she had ever seen the child indulge herself in. And the mother was glad of it; for she felt that tears, however bitter, were better than the still, white-faced way in which Daisy sometimes bore pain. Meantime, Ben walked the floor, and gave vent to his long pent-up feelings by declaring that he thought "'Line Bryant was simply too horrid for anything, and that if she liked little angels and doctors and things better THE UXEXVECTED HAPPENS. 187 i than she did them, she would better let them adopt her and not come home at all." Nobody paid the slightest attention to what he said, and nobody knew tliat he did not mean a word of it better than he did himself. I do not know when they would have got set- tled down again, if it had not been for the chicken, which took that opportunity to stick itself fast to the stewing-pan and emit an odor which made Mrs. Bryant drop letters and little girl in a heap, as she said, "-Oh! our chicken is burning," and ran. Ben had to go to the rescue, and bring her a dish and a fork, and put the covers on the stove ; and when the ex- citement was over, it was found that Daisy had dried her eyes, and was ready to hear the reet of the story. It was later than they had meant it should be when the Bryant family ate their supper. Mrs. Bryant had scrambled the extra plate and knife and fork out of sight, and motioned Ben to set away the extra chair, before she summoned Daisy, who sat holding Arabella Aurelia close to her heart, and clasping Caroline's letter firmly in her left hand. They had certainly plenty to ■ I ■■ i i>iiiwwii j »i i 188 THE UNEXPECTED HAPPEXS. .1 talk about. The solemn question over which each one thought and nobody cared to put into words was, Would mother write to Line to sta}*, or to come home? Ben settled it in his own mind that it would be ridiculous and absurd to think of such a tiling. Why, they might as well give Line up altogether ! He assured him- self that he should express his mind freely, and say that Line ought to have known better than to have waited to ask. Of course she was to come home ; and if his mother dreamed of such a thing as telling her lo stay, lie slioukl think they had all gone crazy together, liv argued it all out ; how he would controvert his mother's logic, supposing for a moment that she had any on the wrong side, and convince her that the thing was not to be thought of for a moment. He wished she would begin the discussion her- self. Twice he opened his mouth to say, *' Mother, of course you will write to Line to come home day after to-morrow without fail, will you not?" But a glance at Daisy's pale face, and a realization of the effort that she was bravely making to shed no more tears and even eat a little supper, held his impatience in THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 189 check. The mother, meantime, talked only of the little Dorothy. She had a little sister once who had heart disease — a beautiful little white sister, who could never run, nor play bull, nor skip the rope, nor swing ; and everybody loved her and felt sorry for her, and she died when she was fourteen. Then Mrs. Bryant went on to say that it was certainly a great honor which had been bestowed upon Caroline, to think of entrustiug her with such a charge ; it showed plainer than anything else could, what Dr. For- sythe thought of their dear girl. Then she said, as though it had just occurred to her, *'Why, we have not read his letter yet! I will read while you two finish your suppers." It was a beautiful letter, long and full, with such a description of Dorothy as a great, loving- hearted father wi^h one little lamb to love knew how to give, and such words about Caroline as a fond mother would love to read. Altogether, Hen's excitement quieted a little, and he silently accepted his mother's decision that ihey would not talk over how to answer the letter until they had prayed and slept over it. Daisy, apparently, was very willing not to talk ; 100 TUE Uy EXPECTED HAPPENS. i she looked pale aud tired — excitement and dis- appointment had worn her out. She was quite willing to take Arabella Aurelia and go early to bed. When the last things for the. night had been done, aud Ben turned away from bolting the door to meet his mother's gaze, and she stood up beside him, not in a protecting, but a caress- ing way, aud leaned her head against his broad shoulder as if for support, and said, *'0, Ben, dear! what shall mother do? Can you help her to be unselfish and make a wise choice for her daughter — one that she will not regret afterwards? " — instead of breaking forth into a tirade as to the absurdity and impossibility of the whole scheme, Ben flushed, and hesitated, and choked a little, and at last said huskily, "It is very hard on you, mother, and on us, but it is a rare chance for Line, I suppose ; she has a talent for music, and the city schools are " — He stopped just there ; he felt that he had said every word he could, and had admitted a great deal. Of course there were many things to be con- sidered before such an important letter could be THE UNEXPECTED HAPPEXS. lOi answered. Ben did not expect to sleep a wink that night, and even poor little Daisy whispered to Arabella Aurelia that they must lie awake and think; but before she had quite finished the whisper she was asleep. As for Ben, he turned over three times, but when he was ready for the fourth turn it was broad daylight. The mother had not fared so well; she made no resolutions as to wakefulness — on the contrary, she told herself that she must put it all aside and get her regular sleep — and she did her best ; but from midnight until three o'clock she \ay broad awake , and went over the entire ground many times. It was not until the breakfast next morning was well under way that she asked her question : *'Well, children, when shall we hold our council as to what to say to Caroline ? " Both children were entirely silent. At last Ben, his face flushing as he spoke, "I'm willing to leave it to you, mother. I know you will do the right thing." Was not that a beautiful thing for a boy to say? His mother answered him with a fond, appreciative smile, and turned to Daisy. ir 192 THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. **What does our little girl say?" Daisy was even slower than Ben had been. "Of course you know best," she said presently, low- voiced and sweet; *'and I mean to be very good, if I can, whatever you decide, because if I should be selfish about my Line it would make me feel ashomed when I met that little Dorothy in heaven." Mother and son telegraphed a look at each other, and both felt that Daisy had gone to the root of the matter. Nevertheless, Mrs. Bryant felt that in so important a question as this she ought to have counsel. *'I think I shall call upon Dr. Mather this morning and ask his advice," she said thought- fully, after a few minutes of silence. Ben looked his surprise, but said not a word. Dr. Mather was their pastor, and it was so en- tirely reasonable a thing to look to him for ad- vice that there seemed no wdtds in which to express surprise ; nevertheless Ben, if it nad been respectful, would have declared that he would have considered it more appropriate for Dr. Mather to come to his mother for advice. THE UXEXrECTED HAPPENS 103 Truth to tell, Mrs. Bryant had come to her decision by a roundabout road. She found that she wanted very much to know what Mr. Ilolden would say about it ; but to go to him for advice would be discourteous to her pastor. Even thoujjjh Dr. Mather should never hear of it, as he probably would not, this true woman felt that her own heart would condemn it as a discourtesy, and that was not to be borne. Long thinking over the matter had brought her to that decision : "I shall call upon Dr. Mather this morning." J CHAPTER XIV. r CONFLICTING ADVICE. DR. MATHER was in his study. He frowned upon the servant who brought him word that a woman was waiting to see him. To be sure he had not yet set to work ; in fact, he was only glancing over the morning paper, but then he meant to go to work in a few minutes, and felt that his good intentions ought not to be interrupted. "Mrs. Bryant?" he repeated, in a surprised tone ; " doesn't the woman know better than to make calls on me in the morning? Ask her if it is important." The messenger returned. "It is somewhat so, she says ; she wants to ask a little advice before the mail closes, but if you are too busy she will wait." Dr. Mather tossed down his paper. "Oj 194 CONfLlCTJNG ADVICE. 10.1 well ! show her in. I may an well »ec her now and lijivf it cloiu' with." And MiH. lirvant came in. She was a woman of j?ood sense, and knew that an apoiojjy was in order for intruding upon her pastor during his stuily hours ; she made it in few words, and then told her errand briefly. " Your daughter? Ah ! let me see. I think I remember her ; her name is Nancy, is it not?" **No, sir; it is Caroline." "O, yes, Caroline! she is a young woman grown, I believe?" *'Xot quite," said Mrs. Bryant, and she gave Caroline's age. "Ah, yt's! well, I am mixing her with some one else, I presume ; I have a great many young persons to look after. And you say she has been absent for some time. Has she been em- ployed in this man's family ? " "No, sir;" and as briefly as possible the mother went over the story of her anxieties concerning this daughter — a story which she had thought everybody in the town knew. '* O, yes ! " the minister said again ; " I think I have heard something about it. Well, my 190 CONFLICTING A D VICE. good lady, I cannot see why you liesitate for a moment. It seems to me a royal opportunity — such a chance, indeed, as comes to a person but once in a lifetime. Of course you wiU have her stay," he added reassurin<.':ly. ^'To do otherwise would l)e to tlsrow away a D-MORNING," said a cheery voice ^^ just at her elbow. So absorbed had she beeu with her own thoujrhts that Dr. Forsythe had puslied aside the curtains and entered noise- lessly without her knowing it. '' Here you are, as fresh as the morning ; which is fortunate, for my little Dorothy is in such a state of excite- ment and expectancy that J hardly know how she could have waited much longer. She is at this moment taking breakfast in her room. I believe I will take you directly there ; she will like to serve you to a glass of milk with her own hands ; you have breakfasted, I suppose ? " "O, yes, sir! a long time ago," said Caro- line, following the doctor's swift movements down the long hall. *'Ah! that is fortunate, also, because now 211 212 A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY, !«' 'I'i you will not mind taking a second one with Dorothy. I was obliged to take mine very early, also, so Dorothy and her grandmother had theirs sent to their rooms." So there was a grandmother in this home? Caroline had not heard of her before, and but for the fact that there was so much to look at, «\'Ould have set to wondering what she was like. By this time they were at the top of the long flight of stairs, and were moving swiftly down another hall, where half-open doors on either side revealed glimpses of beautiful rooms which reminded Caroline of Judge Dunmore's parlor. " Here we are at last," the doctor said, and he threw wide open a door at his left, bringing to view a room so lovely that Caroline could not repress a little exclamation of delight. It had many long, low windows, from two of which the morning sun was streaming ; it was carpeted in some soft, thick stuff of a delicate cream color, bestrewn with delicately-tinted autumn leaves. At one end of the room was a great white rug of softest fur, near which was a large easy-chair of luxurious pattern, in the depths of which sat Dorothy at this moment, a pretty with very other lome ? id but ok at, s like, e long J down either 3 which ^:>arlor. Ad, and )ringing )uld not It had ,f which L*arpeted e cream autumn \ a great Ls a large le depths , a pretty A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY. 213 table drawn near her, on which stood a silver salver, with a dainty breakfast spread tempt- ingly upon it. There was a large alcove near one of the sunny windows, the curtains of which being only partially looped, showed a beautiful bedstead in white and gold. Indeed those two colors prevailed wherever one's eyes rested ; and the small, golden-haired child in a white merino wrapper fitted elegantly into the surroundings. "Has she come?" said Dorothy, raising her- self on one elbow to look eagerly past her father; then siie caught a glimpse of Caroline. "Oh! I am so glad! Now you will take some breakfast with me; I have been saving It ; It IS so very desolate to eat alone." Dr. Forsythe rolled a great easy-chair to the table's side and motioned Caroline to a seat before he answered the bell which just then tinkled. "That is papa's bell," said Dorothy, nodding towai.1 the little white knob in the wall. "It always rings when he comes to see me; it is just as though the people knew he had stopped for a minute, and did not want him to. Do 1 ' 1 1 1 i 1 I 1 i' !, 214 A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY you suppose T cau ever tell you how glad I am that you have come? You know I told you how lonely I got with only nurse to talk to. Of course I have others every little while, but times when I want tiiem most I can't have them. Will you eat n piece of the steak? It is ver}^ good, I suppose ; I tried to eat some to please papa, but I am not hungry this morning. Perhaps I can eat noAv that 1 have somebody to help me. Isn't it nice to have you all to my- self? Do you suppose you will like me?" "I do not see how I could help it," said Caroline, trying not to laugh; "but 1 do not think I can eat much breakfast — not this morn- ing; I had mine almost two hours ago." Yet while she spoke she put a bit of the steak to her lips and was forced to tell herself that it was very different from that served at Conductor Brinker's table ; it seemed surprising that Doro- thy could not eat such breakfasts as this. Presently she found opportunity to ask the question which she found was uppermost. "Haven't j'ou a grandmother, Dorothy?" "Yes," said the little girl gravely; "but she is not at all like the grandmothers iu books. # n r A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY. 215 She isn't," shakiiin: Iht liea(l, as Caroline gave her ail iuqniriMo- look and waited for an explana- tion ; ''she is very l.nt she wears black silk dresses a uood deal, and rnllles, and does not like t(. iiaye them rnmi)led ; she does not haye aiij place for heads to rest and be petted, you know; and she thinks that papa pets me too much and n akes me haye less strength than I would haye. She says little girls are brought uj) yery difterently from wiiat they were when she was young, and she thinks her way was the best. She is father's mother, and we all love her, of course ; but she is not like a grand- mother in a book, not in the least." Caroline began to understand. That day was a very remarkable one to Caro- line Bryant. Several times during its progress she felt as though she must get by herself some- where and write to Ben, there were so many wonderful things to describe ; but by evening she began to feel as though it would be of no use to write any letters ; she could never do 216 A LONG, yVONDERFUL DAY. > J justice to the subject. Dorothy's eager interest in her new possession did not flag in the least. She spent the entire day in showing her through the rooms, explaining the uses of many things which were entirely new to Caroline and ask- ing her questions about a life which was equally strange to her. One experience gave Caroline a mixed sensation ; she could not be sure which was the stronger*, pleasure or pain. Dr. For- sythe had looked in hurriedly to say, " Dorothy, you must not forget to take your friend to Mrs. Packard's room and ask her to give her what attention is needed ; and it should be done before twelve o'clock, you know." Then he turned to Caroline. "Mrs. Packard is the member of our family who does the planning and the buying for us all. We wear, as a rule, what she selects as proper. Of course we are allowed an opinion, which may weigh with her and may not. She understands that she is to add you to her list, and get for you what you may need between this and to-morrow morning. It IS merely a matter of business, you know; your mother and I have exchanged letters a.id we understand one another perfectly." H •'I • A LONG, WONDEUFVL DAY. 217 Caroline folt that lie added this last in kind- ness to Jier, because her cheeks Iiad Hushed and Jhm- eyes drooped, ft seemed so very stranoe to have any other person than her mother plan- 'linj^- as to her needs ; and it seemed so very tryin^^ to have to need things which her mother had not provided. But Dorothy took it all as a matter of course. "O, yes!" she said; "we must go to Mrs. Packard directly. Has your trunk come, Caro- line? She will have to go through it, you know, to find what you need, and you will have to answer dozens of questions ; it is rather tiresome, but we will go at once and have done with it." Dr. Forsythe had already gone; Caroline drew back from the open door. -Must I go?" she said pitifully to Dorothy. " I do not think I need anything just now, and It seems very strange." "Oh! but papa said so, you know. It is all very well for papa to say we have to do as Mrs. Packard says ; but the truth is we have to do just as he says, every one of us, Mrs Packard and all; and he has told her what to do for you. You needn't mind, Caroline ; it is i i '■ i . I I ai8 A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY. always pleasant to do as papa says; come,'* said Dorothy. And Caroline went. Mrs. Packard was tall and grave, with gray eyes and thin lips. The gray eyes were very keen ; they embarrassed Caroline ; she had a feeling that her thoughts were being looked at and commented upon. " 0, yes ! " said Mrs. Packard ; " this is the young person, is it? I remember. Well, there is no time to be lost, I should judge. I had your trunk sent up to your room a short time ago. We will look through it at once and make a memoranda. Miss Dorothy, will you come with us or sit here and rest? Your papa is afraid you will overtax your strength to-day." *'I will come, if you please," said Dorothy. "Papa is always afraid of that; I will sit in Caroline's easy-chair and rest." As they crossed the room Caroline had a vision of herself in the tall glass. A somewhat overgrown girl in a dress which was too short for her, and whose sleeves were not made in the prevailing style, and whose waist did not fit so well as it used. These things she real- ized as she had not before. She began to A Loya, WOSDEllFUL DAY 219 realize tlieiii wlieii Mrs. Packard sail, lookin^r her over from head to foot, ''There is uo time to be lost, I should juduv." The first glimpse t)f he* own room nearly took her breath away. They had not been ad- mitted when iJorothy had undertaken to show it to her; a chamber-maid had assured her that there was sweeping- goino- on, „„d she mu.«*: wait, so Caroline followed Mrs. Packai-d into it for the first time. Such a lovely room ! open- ing out of Dorothy's ; not so Jaroe as hers, but sunny, and furnished with extjuisite taste, eveu to a cunning little writing-desk in the corner. "Do you like it ? " asked Dorothy. '' I wanted you hen^ right beside me. Nurse sleei)s on the other side of my room, where the folding doors are ; at llrst I wanted you there, but papa would not consent to it ; he said this was quite as near as the other, if there were not folding doors; iuid I planned how the furniture should be ar- ranged. Do you like it?" ''It is lovely !" said Caroline softly. And it was then that she decided there would be no use iu, trying to put this day into a letter for Ren. ii * I 220 A LONG, WONDERFUL DAY. Mrs. Packard was a woman of business; she went rapidly over the contents of tiie little trunk, shakinjj; out with unceremonious hand Caroline's poor plain dresses whicii had never before looked so few and plain ; she made no connnents, even her (|uestions were very few. "There is not nuich to ask about, after all," she said. Caroline could not be sure what she meant. "Please stand, my dear, and let me measure you; J think that will be sulllcient without your »>ointliiii«j: at all all iit its influence kept Caroline awake long after her head was resting on its pillow. Uppermost among her thoughts was the question, What would Dorothy have said if she had told her that she did not pray at all ? *'0f course I say the Lord's Prayer," said the poor girl, turning her pillow, which had already been warmed by her flushed cheek; "but that isn't praying. It never sounds like her prayer ; it just seems to be saying over words. She is a Christian, and so are Ben, and mamma, and even little Daisy ; O, dear me ! " And the day 3nded in a grent burst of tears. There was another thing which troubled Caroline. All this long wonderful day she had seen nothing of Dorothy's mother, heard nothing concerning her. It seemed very strange, and, to tell the simple truth, Caroline was afraid of her. i 1 CHAPTER XVI. BORROWED TROUBLE. * A BROAD beam of sunshine awoke Caro- -^-^ line the next morning. She opened her eyes suddenly, and hiy for some minutes before she could decide where she was. No sunshine had ever succeeded in getting into the little hall bedroom which had been hers while at Mrs. Brinker's. "Oh!" she said at last, aloud. The word wns partly a confession of the fact that she re- nRMnl)ered who and where she was, and partly an exclamation over the contents of the large arm-chair near her bed. She stared at them for a few minutes, then s})rang out of bed and be- gan an investigation. The clotliing which she had taken off the night before and arranged in a neat group as her mother had taught her, had entirely disappeared; in its place was a new 225 226 BORROWED TROVBLE. suit, c'oniplolo oven to tlu* lonji; blnck stockings, very soft and fine, wliioli liun«»; over Ww back of tlic cliair. It was also plainly to bo nndcrstood why one of Caroline's slioes had <2;one down town with Mrs. Packard the ni«2;ht before; here were two shoes tliat had never belonued to her before, bnt which looked sO exactly the shape of her foot that it was hiirdly possible they were not intended for her. "• Tliey are too Irs. Packard said, turning coldly away. ''We are not in the habit of disturbing Dr. Forsytlic in this house if we can help it. He has very little time to himself as it is ; but if the matter is important enough, you might ring the receptiou- room bell, and Thomas will see." How hopelessly formidable this sounded! Caroline felt as though she could never do it in the world, and yet was at that moment exceed- ingly sure she could not go down to breakfast in what seemed to her borrowed plumage. She turned away in despair and walked toward the sunny window just as another knock, lighter than 3Irs. Packard's, sounded on her door. It was Mrs. Packard who opened the door and let in Dorothy. "Good-morning," said the low sweet voice. " (), Care line ! how very pretty you look. Papa will like that dress, I think. How nicely you r BORROWED TROUBLE. ".I ft m fitted her, Mrs. Packard ; I do not see how you could ! *' " I am glad somebody appreciates it," said Mrs. Packard, somewhat stiffly, and she stooped and kissed Dorothy as she spoke. If Caroline had not been so full of distress over her own imaginary troubles she would have seen that the good woman had tried hard to please, and was hurt and disappointed over this way of receiving her work. But the poor gin could think only of herself at that moment. *' O, Dorothy ! " she said, her face and voice full of distress, "do you think it w^ould be pos- sible for me to see your father just a moment before breakfast? I would not hinder him but a minute, and indeed I nmst see him before I can go downstairs." "Of course," said Dorothy promptly ; "papa always sees people who need him. Are you sick, Caroline? Oh! I hope you are not sick. I will ring my little bell which papa always answer! himself when he can, and you can come to my room and see him ; will that do ? If you want to speak to him quite alone I will stay here and wait for you." ItOliJiO WED THOUHLE. 233 Slio liinuMl as hIu? spoke und went townni {\w little vvliit<' knob on the wall, while Mrn. Puek- urd, without more words, left tJie room. In a very few minutes Dr. Forsythe's quick knock was heard at the door. It was Dorothy who answered it. *' Papa," she said, returning his kiss, " it is Caroline ; she needs to see you." Then she vanished, leaving Caroline alone with the doctor. **I wanted to see you," she began, in confu- sion, *'to ask, or — I mean, to say that I do not think I can be dressed as you meant; I think Mrs. Packard must have made a mistake." " Does not the dress suit you ? " His voice was very kind, yet Caroline felt thai she was not making herself in the least understood. " It is beautiful ! " she said desperately ; *' too beautiful, and that is the trouble. I am afraid my mother would not like it ; and I do not if she doesn't. We are poor and cannot afford such clothes; but we have always worn our own clothes, I mean the ones we earned, and I" — She came to another abrupt pause. Was she not appearing as an ungrateful, ill- mannerec; little girl? How could she put her ,iivB 234 BORnOWEB TROUBLE. trouble into words and make Dr. Forsythe understand ? But a li<»lit liad broken over his face ; he began to understand. '' Let us sit down and see about this," lie said, drawing a ehair for Caroline and one for him- self. " You are afraid your mother would con- sider you too much dressed for the work which you have to do. Is tliat the idea? I thouglit so. Sui)pose we consider it carefully. Your mother has placed you in my care for the winter, to do certain work for me, and to be guided by my judgment. In return I am to furnish you with board and clothing. Now your clothing, though I have no doubt it was entirel}^ suited to the place you filled a home, is not, in Mrs. Packard's estinjation, suitable for your place here. Besides, it was of course wearing out, as clothes have a way of doing. In all such matters we of this houseiiold have a habit of deferring to Mrs. Packard's judgment* because she understands the points, and because it is her duty to attend to them. I gave her general directions, and the amount of money which she judged, after carefully estimating the liOlUtOWED TliOUliLE. 235 prol)jil>lo price of thiiiirs, would l.c onou«r|i. Jt Kcoim-d ji vory ivnsonal.lt; sum to mo, and siie lias not a[ lied for more money, but on the contrary has assured me that she has some left. Therefore I jud-e that she has done her work well, and if the dress suits you everything is as it should he. " Vour feeling in regard to your mother's opinion does you credit, if you did not nnder- stand that 1 was to furnish the clothes for this season, and l.e the one to determine their gen- eral lltness for the place which you are to fdl. That being the case, it is my taste, you under- stand, which ought to govern yours, and even Iiers. As to the question of 'other people's clothes,' which I think troubled you a little, you arc mistaken; the clothes are yours, and fairly earned, or are to be. I consider the services which you are to give me in return fairly war- rant the expenditures which I have made, other- wise I should not have made them ; so it is purely a business transaction. But suppose it were otherwise, and I had chosen to make you a gift. I hope and believe that you are going to cultivate a nature whicli is fine enough to re" if r T^ 2.10 // on now K I) Til or n i k. coivc ^il'ts from your friciKls I'ven when they tjikc the form of useful jirtieh's wliieh you need. Any other spirit than tluit is ii false one, and has its root not in self-i'espeet, but in pride." Dr. Forsythe's tones had been kindness itself, and there was a pleasant smile on his face as ho looked at the red-cheeked girl before him, but she felt exceedingly ashamed. *'I have been very foolish, I am afraid," she said at last, in a low voice. Under the power of his calm kind words her outburst seemed to herp .If extremely silly. "No," he said gently, "not itionally foolish ; you have only a mistaken sense of in- dependence, I think. You will probably hear a great deal about that word, and you cannot begin too early to learn that there is a false pride sometimes named independence, which has no right whatever to the name. But I think we understand each other now ; you did quite right to come to me with your troubles ; if you will always show such prompt good sense in getting rid of them, we shall do nicely. Now if everything is straight, we will get Dorothy and cfo to breakfast." nniiiio WKi) ruouiiLE. 237 At the fiid of one of the loiijr |,allH whh u pier glass in wliich our younjr woman could view herself from head to foot. It was when she was ready for elmreh that she stopped be- fore it and took a survey. She was certainly a very different looking girl from that short- waisted, short-skirted one who had looked at herself but the day before. Her heavy sack of rough cloth, trimmed with large buttons, and her trim little hat with a nodding plume were not only unlike anything she had ever worn, but were finer than Fanny Kedwin had ever appeared in, though her mother spent more money than some people thought was wise upon her daughter's dress. Moreover, Caroline was softly smoothing her first pair of kid gloves while she looked and thought. Dr. Forsythe had said that everything was straight between them, but it was not true. Caroline's dithcul- ties, though not of the same shade as they had been an hour before, were still perplexing enough. Why should she have such pretty things, and Daisy, her own little sister, go so plainly dressed? Why should lien have to wear his shabby overcoat, outgrown even last winter, 'U aiiKMWllKai SB i 23b BORRO WE D 7720 UBLE. while she was in a plush-trimmed coat of beau- tiful shape and fit? How could anything be right? However, one question had been settled for her. Plainly, she had hurt the feelings of M''8. Packard, and as that lady, in a neat black dress and wrap, passed down the hall just then with head erect and a cold look in her eyes, Caroline shyly addressed her. " If you please, Mrs. Packard, I like my dress and hat and everytling very much ; they are beautiful, and I think you must have had a great deal of trouble to get them. I thank you very much." "I'm sure I'm glad if you like them," Mrs. Packard said, still somewhat stiffly. ' ' I thought this morning that I had made a big mistake, somehow, and nothing was right." Caroline had much ado to keep the tears from sh.owing in her eyes ; it was very trying to find that nobody quite understood her. "Oh! it wasn't that there was any mistake of that kind," she hurried to say. " I don't know how to ex- plain what I mean ; but my brother Be; < has to wear his old overcoat that he has outgrown, and Daisy hasn't had a new dress in a long while, and mother wears" — here Caroline's voice for- #■ BORROWED TROUBLE. 239 sook her. At the remembrance of that clear mother's much worn )>lack dress and old- fashioned shawl, there came such a himp in Caroline's throat as refused the passage of another word. There was no need for more words; at last Mrs. Packard understood. "Bless your dear heart!" she said, in a hearty, friendly voice; "don't you go to spoil- ing your eyes and making yourself miserable over such kinds of questions. It is just this way : you and I have to go to church and sit in Dr. Forsythe'l pew and be counted as part of his family, and we have to look so that folks won't stare at us and think we aren't respect- able. What y, a and I call fine, folks of Uiat kind think is only being decent, and things have to fit in where they are put. The Doctor un- derstands this, and plans accordingly, and what we have to do is to fit where we are put. Bless you! your clothes didn't cost half as much as you think, I daresay. The right c lor and shape have a great deal to do with such thir.gs, fcnd Dr. Forsythe's pocket-bock doesn't know anything is out of it. He carries a different Hi m 240 nORRO WED TRO UBLE. II pocket-book from what you and I do, I can tell you that." Caroline at once had a vision of a little paper pocket-book faded and worn, and with exactly fifteen cents in it — all the money she had in the world — and she could not help laughing at the thought of Dr. Forsythe being obliged to use it. I if ;« I Mil - i; bU er 'y in at to CHAPTER XVII. LEARNING. rriHAT wonderful Sunday which stood out -*- forever in Caroline Bryant's life history as a marked day, was nroving toward sunset when she received a summons which set her heart to fluttering. Dorothy had left her but a little while before, with the information that she always spent that hour with papa when he did not have to go out to see some sick per- son; and she had spent the time in looking" carefully over the Sunday-school lesson, be- cause Dorothy had said that papa would read it at family worship and talk a little bit about it, and ask some questions. Caroline had a terror of being asked a question which she could not answer, and resolved when she heard this to take the first leisure minute for study. ms. She was just puzzling over a verse which m 341 242 LEARNING. ».i' she (lid not in the least iinclorstand, Avhen Doro- tiiy knocked at her door. "Papa says we may go and see nuunnia a few minutes," she said, her face a«2;low with pleasure. '* She lias not been so well to-day, and has not seen even me, but to-night she feels better, and has sent word that she wants to see you too. AVill you come right away, please ? " Caroline arose at once, but if it had been possible for her to think of an excuse for not going she would certainly have given it. Her limbs trembled so she could hardly walk, and she half-thought that Dorothy must hear her heart beat. She could not ex- plain why she had such a fear of Mrs. Forsythe, but it had been growing on her all day. How- ever, she followed Dorothy and her father down the long hall to another part of the house. Dorothy was clinging to her father's hand and talking to him, so Caroline's silence was not noticed. The door opened very softly, and the new-comer found herself in a larger room than she had seen before. Dorothy turned at once toward the bed in the alcove, with a glad little murmur, and bent her head over the pillows. Despite her nervous tremor Caroline's beauty* f Li'Liiixiyo. 243 I loving oyos could not help taking in, wl.ilo she waited, some of the delights of that room. The carpet was so thick and soft that no sound of footfall, however heavy, could possibly be heard on it, and the pattern suggested a lovely sunset. The most exc/uisite order prevailed everywhere ; it did not look in the least like a siek room, to Caroline's eyes, at least. Everything was ele- gant ; the easy-chairs seemed almost like beds themselves, and drawn near the bay window was a couch large and billowy, piled high with cushions. There were plants in the southern window, and flowers in the vo^es, and a wood fire in the grate. ''It is the hardest room to describe I ever saw," wrote Caroline to Ben, in the next letter. "Everything is in it that ought to be, and everything i« in its place a^d looks as though it always staid there, and yet there is not a bit of stiffness such as there was when Mrs. Ked- win put her parlor in what she called 'complete order.'" She had turned quite away from the bed, partly to still her own nervous excitement, and partly because of an innate sense of delicacy N'i 244 LEAH XING. : I I I 1 I about watching Dorothy's greeting to her mother, and was apparently studying the roses in the vase, when Dr. Forsythe spoke to her. **Come here, Caroline, and make the ac- quaintance of Dorothy's mother." She made her way across the room as best she could, and stood with glowing cheeks beside the bed. A delicate hand, almost as white as the frills of the white woollen wrapper, was held out to her, and a gentle voice said, "It is quite time I knew Caroline ; she has stolen my Dorothy's heart." What a low, sweet voice she had ! and the touch of her hand on Caroline's Avas warm and tender. Caroline, frightened as she was, could not help answering the pleasant smile on the lady's face with one of her own. Mrs. For- sythe held her hand and went on talking to her husband about the services of the day, about the Sunday-school and who had taken the Bible class, quite as though she had been in the habit of attending, though it was years since she had been in church. Presently she said to Caroline, still in the same low- toned voice : " Do you know we are very thankful to your mother for sparing you LEARN IN a. 2 Jr. to help our little .eheved." Was Jesus thinkin«j that thoujilit about her at that moment? I am not sure but just then the first real desire to l)c a Cln'istian that she ever felt in her Ufe eaiue to Ciuoline Bryant. She had often feebly wished for a few moments that she were one, as one might wish for the moon perhaps, but to-night she said in her heart: "It must be good to have him for a real friend, and know that you love him and are pleasing him. Oh ! why am I not one of his friends?" New things, or at least things which were new to Caroline, were very common in Dr. For- sythe's house. The next one whicli interested her deeply she found in the kitchen. None of her duties lay in that direction, and it happened that she had been in the house for several weeks before she had done more than pass through it. One morning she was sent to the cook with a message from Mrs. Packard, and stopped in astonishment near the door to listen to a pecu- liar rumbling noise. "What in the world cao ^TA('rrrxEs and xews. 201 that bo?" slio Hjild to hersolf. " Sometl.!..cr njust Iw vvioiiir witli tlio Hteam pipes. J won- der if r ouoiit to go somewhere aud try to find out? Why, the noise comes from the kitchen. The cook must be there." The noise ceased as suddenly as it had come, and no harm appeared to have resulted. Caro- line pushed open tiie kitchen door, and found not only the cook, but Nancy, the dining-room girl, standing beside a large shining box and watching with apparent satisfaction a stream of soapsuds falling out from a faucet under- neath. Inside the box were rows and rows of dishes : platters, vegetable dishes, cups, saucers, glasses, spoons ; in short, everything which had a little while ago been on the well-filled breakfast table was arranged in orderly rows within that box. Each group of dishes seemed to have rooms of their own. The saucers fitted into neat little wire shelves which apparently had been made to receive them; the cups looked down on them from wire shelves above, while quite down below was another division alto- gether, where the pLites and other heavy dishes had it all their own way. ii;. Ijli 'J(i'2 MAUIIISKS ASU X/'J\rS. ': ( ' Nancy laugliod merrily ovor the puz/.I*'d look on Caroline's face. Tlie two had been good friends since the evenina; Caroline had oirered to finish setting the table, and let Nancy go out on {in errand which she was ea^^er to do. " Did you n(^ver see anything like this be- fore ? " she asked. As she spoke she dashed a pailful of water over the dishes, which Caroline knew from the steam that arose must have been very hot. She gave an involuntary start toward the cut ^lass pitcher, and said : " Why^ Nancy, you will break tlie glasses ! " " 0, no, I won't ' " said Nancy, in perfect unconcern ; " they have been tempered in the first water, and will bear it pretty near to boiling. Now they have been washed, and I am going to rinse them of!'." Down went the cover, and, grasping the liandle, Nancy turned it vigorously. The surprising noise was ac- counted for. Only a few turns, and again she opened tlie faucet, let the water flow out, and dashed still another pailful over the steaming dishes. " There ! " she said, with a triumphant air, as she raised the cover once more, " now dry ; MAClJiSJu^s AND yElWS. 2(13 you nre hot cnoiiirli to do it in ji iimry, nnd my nioniiiiir'.s work is (lone in short ohUt. Wouldn't ynu like to wash and rinse and dry dishes as quick :is that if you had tiieui to do?" "I never saw anytliiuL^ like it in my life," said Caroline, in intense admiration, 'Mior heard of anythino; like it. Do you always wash the dishes that wayr" ''Three times a day," said \anoy trium- phantly, '^a j.y;> .xews. 265 t U^ing away (nni\ home on lliat day of all others ! But liard upon the sigli came a smile, for she already knew several pretty secrets for Christmas. That afternoon, as she and Dorothy camo fwm school, Dr. Forsythe opened the door of his reception-room and invited them in. It was after ollice hours, and lie was alone. ^^Ilere is 51 letter for you," he sai ! " said Caroline, almost ^asp- in<»; llie words. Xo tlioiih'asure. "O, Dr. Forsythe!" siie beoiin, -I ilon't know how — 1 cannot tell what to say, nor how to say it " — lie interrupted her with a genial laugh. '^ Never mind, you have said it, or your eyes have for y(ju ; it is a very con- venient thing sometimes to have eyes that talk. Very well, we will consider it settled, then, that the carriage goes on Wednesday to meet your friends. I hope it will be a pleasant day, and that you will have a good time, and be able to show them every possible attention ; help them to feel at home in the city, and help them to realize that you feel at home. As for Dorothy, here, she likes new people, and I feel sure it will give h'n- great delight to assist in entertain- ing them.." And then Dr. Forsythe, who had spent more time than lie often had to bestow upon them, hastened away. Never was a brighter day than Wednesday ; the sun seemed to be doing what it could to celebrate the coming of Fanny and Rufus Ked- win to Philadelphia. If tlie truth must l)e told, however, these two young peoi)Ie away from 274 ENTEIiTAL\L\a LUMP A N Y. fff homo for tlio first timo woiv tlio IcuhI ]»it in the world homosick. Tlic cousins were oldor tliau tiii'nisi'lvc's, and on this partieuhir altcMiioon had an cnga^jjcnnent vviiicii it was inii)Ossihle to avoid, so thoy said, and had left Fanny and Kutus to the care of their aunt. She, good woman, was doing tlie best to entertain tiiem, calling the baby to her aid. But the two, who were accustomed to a great deal of exercise in the open air, as the (hiy wore along found it very dismal to be sitting in a small, dark room — at least, it seemed dark to tlieni — looking out on a narrow street where nothing of very special interest was going on. Fanny turned from the window at last with a long-drawn sigh, and said aloud: "J wish we could see Caroline this afternoon ; don't you, Rufus?" "Who is Caroline?" questioned the aunt, and an explanation followed. "A servant girl, eh?" she said, with lifted eyebrows; "I don't know ; 1 am afraid it >Yill be lather difficult to plan — your seeing her. Pi'(»pU' do not like to have their servants receive company, you know. It isn't Jijway^ ppiivenjejit;. Besides, P . Yq\'- J \ ' KNTEllTA I.\L\a COM I' A XY 275 ;is c y our sytlio livos !i lohii WMV from lu'iv. W iiiothcr williiio- to U-aw yon ^o Hhtc?" Fnmiy linstciicd to keep up tlu' tliunitvor the family. Motlici- didn't know: she said wo must ^ret Cai'oiiuu's packaoe to lior, and that we nuist rcMnonihor we were noiglibars at home ; and really we would truly like to see her. She is a good girl." "Oh! I have iiu doubt of it; but — her cir- cumstances are di'ifereut froii yours. However, we will ask your uncle about it, and bring it to pass if we can. If we cannot plan so as to make it convenient for you to go there we can send the package, so that will be all right. Don't worry about it." Kufus had taken no part in this conversation, for the reason that he was engaged in watching the movements of a splendid span of horses that were apparently picking their way through the narrow and muddy street ; the driver, Kufus thought, was as fine a looking gentleman as he had seen in the city. To his great surprise, and of course delight, the horses were reined in before his uncle's door, and he turned with marked excitement to his aunt. 27i; ENTEli l\ 1 IS I.\ a COM PA N Y. '"Aunt Fiuiny, tliciv's u splendid cjirriuii^c and u mai;uilic('iit si»;iii of horses st<>p[)inLi liere, jind tlic driver is ^ctliiiu down and cominu to liie door. Who do yon snppose he wjints?" 'M)ear nie ! " said Annt Faiuiy, "I don't know. 1 wish yonr nnele was at home, lie is on business, of course. Fanny, will you take the kil)y and let nie see what it is? Hannah is always out when 1 need her most." She left the door ajar, and to lh(>ir IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) II I.I 11.25 125 I Ufi 12.0 Photographic Sdences Corporation 4 i\ <> ^^^ (^ 23 WEST MAIN STXEET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) S72-4S03 '^ !^ 278 KN TEH TA ININd COM f'A X 1 ' 1^ I if they hadn't wanted us they nee(hi't liave sent. It will be fun to see Line, anyhow." By the time their wraps were disposed of, and they were seated in state in what seemed to them a grand parlor, Caroline came. Was it Caroline? It is true that not very many weeks had passed since they had seen her, but this young girl who came eagerly forward to meet them wore such a pretty dress, and had her hair done in such a new-fashioned way, and altogether looked so much like what Fanny called "cityfied" that for a moment she was almost abashed. But there was no mistaking Caroline's greet- ing. She was unaffectedly and heartily glad to see them. She asked dozens of questions about home and mother and Daisy and Ben. *' Just to think," she said, looking at them, "that you saw my mother and all of them only the other day. O, dear! I'm afraid you make me almost homesick." "I shouldn't think you need be homesick here," said Rufus, looking around him with intense curiosity. " Say, Line, what does it all mean ? " KN TEU TA IN IN a COM PA N Y. 279 '* Wluit?" jiskod Ciiroliiu', laughing. "Why, this. IIow did you happen to ask us to come here, and send a carriage for us, and everything? 1 thought you were a — a" — Caroline interrupted him, laugiiing again. "You tiiought I worked for my living, diihi't you? Well, I do; at least they say 1 do, only it doesn't seem to me that 1 do anything at all except go to school and study and have good times." Then came Dorothy, fair and sweet in her white dress, and with her gentle, womanly ways. She fascinated Fanny at once. It was a day to be remembered forever in the annals of the Kedwin familv. From thence- forth for years they dated their experiences from "that day when w^ took dinner at Dr. Forsythe's, you know." Caroline showed them all over the beautiful house ; they went to the library, to the conservatory, to the music-room, and saw pictures and tlowers and books, and, what was more to both of them, I am afraid, than all of these, elegant furniture such as they had never seen before. Truth to tell. Dr. Forsythe would have been 20 ENTKltTA ININd CO Ml' A N Y. aslonislicd had ho known Ihut tlu»y considered everything al)ont his establisiniient nia<»;nilieent. To those aeeustonied to tiic real elegance of city life this was only a large, i)lain, p.easantly furnished, cheerful house ; but to Fanny and Itufus Kedwin it was paradise. Caroline took them to her own roon.. There tile two stared about them in astonishment over the beauty and elegance everywhere displayed. ** You don't say you have this all to your- self ! " said Fanny. *'I thought you slept with Dorothv and took care of her." " O, no indeed! Dr. Fors^'the doesn't allow any one to sleep with her ; he doesn't think it is healthful ; but the nurse sleeps very close to her, with folding doors between, and they are left open. No, I do not have any care of her at all at night; Dr. Forsj^the says I am too young to have any burden of care upon me while I ought to be sleeping." " He nuist be tip-top," said Hufus. ^' He is the best man 1 ever Lnew," said Caroline promptly. Presently came the sum- mons to dinner. The ligiit and beauty of the great dining-room, the many courses served f KN It: II l\ \L\lNi: ('()Ml\ I y r *J«I with fx(juisitc lawte jiiid 'an', csincially lie t'leount oraiKliii(>ilu.r, liushod Hufii.s and Fanny into almost utter silence. Perhaps, however, the thing that astonished them most that even- ing was the fact that the diguilled table waiter always said "Miss Caroline," and waited with as much deference to see how he could serve her as he did before the grandmother herself. After dinner came the wonderful ride through the brilliantly-lighted streets of the city, the young folks resting back luxuriously among the cushions of the carriage. " Do you often have a ride in this thing? " Rufus asked. *' Every pleasant day," said Caroline, in au unconcerned tone. "Look, Rufus! there is our school building ; that is where Dorothy and I go every morning. That's my room up there on the third floor. O, Fanny ! you don't know what a splendid school it is." " You take music lessons and all, don't you?" asked Rufus. "Yes, indeed ! Oh ! I like the music teacher ever so much. He has a quick, sharp way of speaking, and some of the girls think he is cross ; but he isn't, a bit. O, Fanny ! if you I 282 ENTEUTAINING COMPANY. aud Rufus and Ben could all be here at this school wouldn't it be luMfectly splendid? " The fact is, their younj^ hostess was in a perfect flutter of delight. What a thin<^ it had been for Dr. Forsythe lo invite them to dinner and send the carriajje for them and treat them in every way as if they were distin<2:uished een his own daughter," Caroline reflected, as she nxle back alone, having bade a cordial good- by lo her friends and promised to come and see them if she could. *'But it is a very long way," she said, ''fi\>m our house, you know, and we aye very, very busy getting ready for the holidays." She did not hear what Kufus said as be went grumblingly up his aunt's steps. *' It seems to me Line puts on a good many airs about 'we* and ' us ' and '• the holidays ' and all. The next thing you know she'll be getting stuck up, aud feel above us." ''•I don't think she seemed a bit stuck up,'* said the gentler Fanny, " and 1 had a real good time, Rufus. I'm glad she has such a nice place. Isn't Dorothy lovely V'* ENTERTAINING COMPANY. 283 \ ''She has all the nice times, she and Ren," he said, as they waited on the low white door- steps for some one to let them into the house. "I always said IJen Hryant had all tlie luck there was in the world ; some folks do have. No such nice times as Line is having ever came to you, Fanny, or ever will." This time even Famiy could not help laugh- ing a little. Certainly he had never found it necessary to envy Line Bryant before. To Caroline, sitting back among the cushions watching the many scenes of interest, and think- ing her thoughts, there came the memory of a day when she stood looking disconsolately out of the window watching a handsome carriage pass,, and said to Ben : " I believe I could step gracefully into a carriage if I had a chance. I wonder if I ever wUl have a chance?" Here she was having her ''chance," and it had not even occurred to her to notice whether she stepped gracefully into the carriage or not. She laughed a frank, glad laugh as she thought of that foolish sentence, and of how little, after all, graceful steps and matters of that kind amouuted to when one came to real livinfr. r 284 K.v'i/;/.' / M /.\7 vr; ('(>MrA.\' v. jiiid woinU'n'il ulu'tluT luT oilier divains — fan- cies that luul luTii 8() imiiierouH — if time should ever bring them to pass for her as it had the stepping into the handsome oarriaj i — would amount to as little as that did. Then she dis- missed them from her mind altogether, and gave herself up to the deliglits of the coming Christmas, and the thought of the surprises she was getting ready for mother and Daisy and Ben ; she remembered how good Dr. Forsythe was to make it possible for her to have such surprises, and altogether was glad and thank- ful and happy. ** Hey ! " called a shrill voice on the sidewalk, just as they were passing through one of the side streets to reach a main avenue ; and lean- ing forward Caroline saw a woman gesticulating eagerly, apparently to the coachman. Joseph, who seemed to have eyes on every side of him when hp drove, saw her, and promptly reined in his horses. Caroline, leaning forward, heard: "Isn't that Dr. Forsythe's carriage? I thought so. Is he inside? Look here, can't you drive right straight home and tell him my Dorrv has got hurt dreadful? He's been to a i ENTKliTAlSlSa CltMlW y y. 285 fire; it's his lojr; I (tuoss it's Itroko ; and I don't know wliat to do, and the folks don't know what to do. I can't find no doctor that knows what he is about. I'hey have just sent that little green fellow with white hair and no eyebrows from the hospital, and he don't know much, I guess. Anyhow, I'm most sure that Dr. Forsythe would come if he knew. Can't you let him know right straight o(T? " Joseph expressed his willingness to make all possible speed home and report as to tlie accident. *'You know me," said the woman, "don't you? I'm Miss Perkins, the doll-maker. Dr. Forsythe will know ; he knows just where I am, and about Dorry, and everything." *' Miss Perkins, the doll-maker! " Caroline had heard that name before. For the first time since she had been in Philadelphia it dawned upon her that she was in the city where lived the woman who had made so many of Daisy's dolls. "Miss Perkins, Doll-maker," was to be found on almost every dollie that Caroline's patient fingers had dressed. She and Daisy had often ;i 280 ENTERTAINING COMPANY. i I woudcred togcthor about her ; how she came to make dolls for a livinjx, why she made them, whether she had little dnldreu who loved to watch her at work at them ; whether she learned to lovo the dollies and think about them after- wards, and wonder who their mothers were, whether they were nicely cared for and their clothes kept neat. Here was a chance to find out. She had a *'I)orry," any way, and he was in trouble. Caroline felt almost as eager to get home as Miss Perkins had been to have them, and offered to carry the message at once to the doctor, while Joseph waited outside. CHAPTER XX. GREAT yiKSTIONS SETTLED. JJpOR a wonder tl.e doctor was in, and a: leisure. He recognized Miss Perkins name at once, and himself opened the door and called to Joseph that he might take him, in a few minutes, to her house. Turnino- to Caroline he asked: - Do you know any J.in.r about her, Caroline ? Your face looks as though some friend of yours had had an accident." " Then, very briefly, Carolide told the doll story, and explained ho^ often Daisy had wondered about Miss Perkins. '^She has no one to care for but this poor nephew of hers," the doctor explained; -but be has given her more trouble than if she had balf a dozen children of the ordinary kind. Dorry is inclined to live on the street altogether too much for his good. 287 I . fll MS (Hi EAT i^lESTIOSS sriTlKli. *' "NVoiiM yon Hl<*' to ^o down tluTt^ with ww and HOC tlu> (Inll-iiiMkcr iind licr luplicw? Vou ini«ilit poHsiMy iiinkc yourself useful. " Startled as slie was at tlu' tlioU}i;lit of a ridi^ witli Dr. Foisytlie alone, and a call upon stran- gers, she yet could not resist the telnptation. What a thin«j( it would he to tell Daisy that she had seen the doll-maker herself ! And perhaps there would be dolls scattered around, in dif- ferent staj^es of development, waiting to be deHcri])ed. On the whole, Caroline decided that it would be a wonderful ending to a wonderful day. '* Did you enjoy your visit with your friends?" was the lirst question Dr. Forsythe asked, as the carriage rolled away. *'0, >cs!" said Caroline eagerly. "Dr. Forsythe, I thank you so much. It was such ft wonderful chance to show Fanny Kedwin all sorts of things that she wouldn't have had a chance to see. And then besides " — and she came to one of her full pauses. "Yes," said the doctor encouragingly, "and then besides " — She turned toward him with a bright little aUKAT QlKsnONs SHTTLKI). '2H'.} I^mirh, Mi.d u Mush on Ium- Uwo. u j .^^...^ ,^„,^^ M'«it<' Low to ,,„. (Ih. ^ lu.si.Ks.' I .loM-t |,„o.v wl.ctlHM- it w:,s ni(.. in „„., „, „,„^ ,^^ ^^.^,, ^^ iiHK' ;.|M(| that tlM;v siMMiM srr wl.at a p.vtty '•"<>'" I liaut if you honestly want to be there is nri 292 GREAT QUESTIONS SETTLED. reason in the world why you should not become one before you leave this carriage to-night." Caroline looked her surprise. " 1 thought Christians had to be very different from other people ? " "A Christian," said the doctor, ''is one who takes the l^ord Jesus Christ for his pattern, and tries to think and speak and act as he would have him. Now you can see that it rests with you to decide whether you desire to do this, a7]d intend to do it. Sometimes people have a passing wish to become Christians, but it is not strong enough to stay with them and rule their lives. The}' do not come to a posi- tive decision. They think, and hoi)e, and say ' Perhaps ' to-day, and to-morrow forget all about it ; and the next day think a little again, but fail to bring themselves to that one j)oint where the soul says, with all the power that is in it, 'I will.' Just as soon as j^ou reach that point, my dear Caroline, you become a Christian." But Caroline still looked bewildered. "Do not people have to have their hearts changed?" she asked timidly. GREAT qVKSTIONS SKfTLED. 293 '' rndeod they do ; hut that is the Lord's part ; we have nothinjr to do with it. What he has given to ns is to decide. Let me see if I can not make it pinin by illustration. Von know wlien I asked you to come and stay with us at our house, and care for Dorothy, and be a lielper to us all, you thought about it a great deal, and was doubtful. ()„o hour you felt as if you would come, and the next hour as if you would not for anything ; and I, meantime, did not know what your decision was, could not plan for you in any waj. But there came a moment when the thing was settled, when you said to me, Twill come, Dr. Forsythe, and do the best I can.' Do you not see that there was one moment when the question was unsettled, and the next it was settled, so far as you were concerned, and for that matter so far as I was concerned? for the moment 1 received your answer I knew how to arrange. ''The illustration is faulty, for our Father in Heaven knows what our decision will be. Nevertheless, from our side it is plain enough. He has seen fit to give this part of the matter to US; We must come to a conclusion- We ¥ t I . . i I Ml 't\ 294 GREAT QUESTIONS SETTLED. must decide, and once for all, tliat as for us we arc resolved to take Jesus Christ for our pattern and s^.rve liini as well as we can. The question is, is C'arol'ny IJryant resolved to do this? Does she mean to decide it to-ni«»ht?" Silence for a minute, then Caroline's voice, low but firm, "'I want to. Dr. Forsythe." He turned his kind gray eyes ui)on her and smiled. "The question is, will you? " he said. "Arc you so sure you want to that you are willing to bow your head now and here, and say : ^ Jesus Christ, I have decided to take tliee for my pat- tern, to try to serve thee in all that J say or do or think. Wilt thou take me from this moment and make nie thine own ? ' "I do not mean, of course, that you must use just those words, Imt that is the thought which you will express. Are you willing to do this? " It required a struggle to answer. Caro- line felt that she was willing to say the words, l)ut to say them before Dr. Forsythe was another matter. She hesitated and looked up at him almost pitifully, with eyes full of tears. But he had no fui'tlicr word to speak, and sim- ply wait\;d. Suddenly she came to a tixed re- '• nUEAT QUKSTIONS SETTLED. 295 solve. She wnnted to be a Christian, she meaut to be one ; if tliis was tlie way she would do it. What if she did bhnider and slammer and get tlie words all mixed up? Dr. Forsythe would not care, and surely Jesus Christ would not, if she really meant them with her heart. Down went her head int(. her hands, and a tremulous, yt very distinct voice murnmred : "Jesus Christ, J want to be thine own ; I want to serve thee ; I want to speak and act and think just what thou wouldst have me ; and if thou wilt take me, 1 ,vill beufin to serve thee now." Instantly Dr. Forsythe's voice took up the story: '^ Lord Jesus, thou hast heard the words of this thy young- servant; take her from this moment for thine own forever, and help her in all ways to honor the Saviour to whom she be- lono-s. This thou hast promised, and this we believe thou wilt perform. Amen." Just as the last word was spoken the carriage drew up before a little nouse, and the doctor, springing out, gave his hand to Caroline. She followed him up the steps, and while he waited for his ling to l)e answered, wiped the tears from her eyes. i I hi ^ 29<; GREAT (QUESTIONS StJTTLED. Dorry's case was soon disposed of. ''It is a broken lej?, without auy doubt," said Dr. Forsytlie clu'crily, " but we will have him com- fortable in a few days, and in a few weeks as well as ever ; and in the meantimi he will be out of mischief ; " this last spoken in lower toues to the loug-suft'erinj^ aunt, Miss Perkins. '' Yes," she said, with a little quivering attempt at a smile, "I thought of that if he gets along all nice and right it will be a good thing for him, maybe. It might teach him a lesson, y(ju know. lie was where he hadn't ought to have been, or it wouldn't have hap- pened. Dorry don't mean to do wr<^ng. Doctor ; it is just kind of mischief ; he is so brimful of mischief — that's what is the matter." " It will do him good to rest from »t a little while," said the doctor, drawing on his gloves, "and in the meantime the young people will have to look after him a little. My friend Caroline, here, will come and cheer him up, I fancy, once in a while — eh, Caroline?" *^if I can." 'J j^ •.CKv^ %.-\.^ , J.. ^ I^VWSV*. '^^ ft«A V^«.A«^'V< ^ She had held the lamp for * which the doctor • UliEAT QUESTIONS .SETTLED. 297 called, the gas .lot being iu the right place to tJirow light where it was needefl, and had natehed with hated breath, the swift, skillful «iij,'ers as they eared for the injured limb, and had felt very sorry for the pale-faced Ijoy. Caroline liked boys — was used to boys. Ihid uot Ben and she been companions always? She thought of several things she might do to cheer Dorry, so the smile was free and glad with which she answered the doctor's question. ''Bless your heart ! " said Miss Perkins, pat- ting her lovingly on the shoulder; '^it would be worth a fortune to my Dorry if some nice young folks like you would take a little notice of him; he is that fond of company that he don't know what to do with himself. It isn't any wonder that he loves to be in the streets when he ought to be at home ; you see there's nobody but me to keep him company. If you will come and see him once in a while I'll never forget it of you, never." Christmas morning was as bright as though it had been a May day instead of December. With the first gray streaks of dawn Caroline 298 GREAT QUESTIONS SETTLED t ,■ f awakened, and lay still in very gladness to think over it all. It would not do to be lonely or sad to-day, even though she was far away from home. This was to be a rare Christmas Day, to be remembered in all her after years ; the first time she could think of herself as certainly a Christian. The days in which she had been indifferent to this matter were past; the days in which she had been troubled in her con- science about the subject, and angry with her- self iind angry with others were past ; the dayj in which she said, with timid voice, "I hope," *' I think," were past. Since the evening when she took that never- to-be-forgotten ride with Dr. Forsythe, and bowed her head in the carriage and gave her- self away to Jesus, there had been in her heart a glad solemn feeling that she belonged to him. '* 1 am a servant of Jesus Christ." She said the words often to herself, almost startled at first, but rejoicing in them. She said the words again this Christmas morning aloud steadily, with a glad ring in her voice. How glad mother would be, and Daisy and Ben. She Glii:AT l^VEsTioys SETVLKIJ. 2!M» faad written to them tl.e .story. She knew it would make their Christmas hright. Then there were other lovely experiences connected with this ,lay. Snch a wonderful box as she ha.l sent, addressed to her mother • or rather box s, for there were several of then,.' I" tlie first place, the great "Pictorial, T.i- abridged Dictionary," which had long been the •lesire of Ben's heart, had actually gone to him l)y express. A letter of his which in an unguarded mo- ...ent she had given Dorothy to read, had made ".eiition of this desire in such a comical way that Dorothy had questioned ami cross-ques- tione,l, and by degrees had gotten the whole story. Then a few days before Christmas she had announced her determination. "I a.n going to send a Christmas present to Ben. I like him very much, and am moSt sure he would like me; and I like the dictionary, too. It is so interesting to find new words m it. I am going to send him the Pictorial Kdition, with red-lettered edges and all. Papa «aid I might if I wanted to, and I want to ever so much, you needn't say a word, Caroline, • ii i H it l I' nno GREAT (iVKSTlONS sKTTLKn. I am just pleased to do it ; that's the reason 1 am doiiifj it. Won't it be fun? " So the dictionary liad rise. Mannna and I will each send him one. Who will join us?" To Caroline's uiuitterable surprise even the stately grandmother smilingly consented to be one of the number, and of course Dorothy was delighted with the scheme. So instead of one, went live beautiful new neckties, and five fine handkerchiefs to Hen. Caroline laughed over them as she lay in bed and thought it all out that morning. How sur- prised Hen would be, and how nice it was that he could have them to go with his new suit ; for Hen had an entire new suit, "spick and span." Only a few days before he had written her about it, after this fashion : " If Rufus Kedwin were at home he would say I was in luck. What do you tliink? I have a new gray suit, coat, vest and pantaloons, and they fit me to a T. Where did I get them? GREAT QUESTIONS SETTLED. rW)3 ThPrff.y hnriKH h tnln. r.a.t Tuf.flny niffht f staid Iftfo, over «o lato, at thn omco. Thero was s.m.,o .-xtra .opvin^ t.. he •Iniio, which wan needed in a hnrrv. so I offored io .tav and I'Hp. I sent a little chap lo tell mother, h„ she w<.uldn't he f'eare.l, and pitched in. It was between eleven an.l twelve .••.lock when I started for home. As I turned the corner bv IVterson's-the ch.thin^ store, you know- I saw a hriKlit I'jriit. I thought to myself that somelmdv must !).■ sick to bo lif,'hteJ up like that so late; hut the more I looked the more the h^rht w<.rried me. It didn't seem like a lamp; It would "»re up, an.l then die down. I thouKht perhaps there was a •ire m the ^rate. At last I conclu.hd to .ross the road and iMvesti-ate, and it was a lucky thiuK I did. There was a (ire Ml the ^rrate which had been covered when the folks went to '"'•I; l)ut it had crept around, somehow, to the woodwork nobody seems to know exactly how; and the Ion- and short .'f It IS that the tireboanl and everything near it that was burn- able was abh./.e. Wdl. I ma.le a rumpus, of course; rani; the l»ell,and knocked and yelled all at once. Mr. Peters.m and the clerks came flurryinfr down, and we had a ^reat tin)c. I .li'ln't Kt't home until two o'clock, and mother was be^innin^r to be frightened. As go.»d fortune would have it, Mr. Peter- son was pleased to think that I saved his house; and between you and me I guess I did, for there was nobodv stirring anv- where around, and they said the building would have been in a blaze in a very few n.inutes more. Well, ma'am, what did Mr. Peter8<,n do but send for n.e the next morning, invite me into the l)ack room, and fit me out t.. as nice a suit as ever a fellow had in his life, overcoat and all! Did vou ever hear the like of that? I don't suppose he knew how much I needed It, or rather how much mother needed it. I got along with the old oh.thes better than she did, I verily believe. Of course I was glad enough to get them, but mother was so glad. Line that she cried." ' And theu Line had cried over this letter, and ^Hughed over it, too, and laughed again thifj If 304 GREAT QUESTIONS SETTLED. ^ I morning, to think how pleased Ben would be with the neckties and handkerchiefs, to go with the new suit. *'And the dictionary," she said aloud, ''oh! that dictionary. Won't it be just too splendid for anything ? " ■ be ith h! lid CHAPTER XXI. *' MERRY CIIRIST3IAS." JgUT, after all, the gift which had gone care- fully Loxed to her mother, Caroline be- l'*>ved would l)e the crowning delight of this Clnistnias Day. That had been such a surprise tl'nt even now it almost took away her breath jnst to think of it. She had been in the sewing- loom one day getting some directions from that good woman about Daisy's dress -for to tell the truth siie proved to be a most helpful prac- tical adviser about that dress. Mrs. Packard was sewing busily on the machine, and Caro- line, watching her, thought, as she had a hun- dred times before: -If mother only had a sewing machine ! " But this thought she kept to herself, u j, ^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^^^.^^ ^^^^ .^ the corner? " was the only thing she said aloud. "Yes," said Mrs. Packard, reaching the end 305 f ! i i s 1 1 306 " MERRY CHRIS TMA S. " of her seam and stopping to cut the thread, "it is ; and it is a inacliine that I don't hke a bit, either. That is, 1 don't know anything about it, and don't want to. When I first came here the woman wlio had been sewing for these folks got that machine ready, and ])ragged it up, and thought of course I was going to sew on it. It was new-fangled in every way to me, and I didn't like it at all. I worried and bothered over it for a day or two, and then Dr. Forsythe came in and asked how I liked it, and I told the truth, as I generally do ; and that very day he sent up the kind of machine I was used to, and told me to shove the other one into a cor- ner and let it go. He said a woman who had to do all the sewing for an entire family ought at least to have the comfort of sewing on the kind of machine she was used to and liked. There aren't many men like Dr. Forsythe in this world, my dear." Caroline heartily assented to this truth, then went over and examined the discarded machine. "Why, it is just the kind my mother likes best ! " she said, with a little squeal of delight which ended in a sigh. "MERRY CflRLSTMAS.^' 307 Watchful Mr«. Packard, wl,o liad become a good friend to Caroline, heard the sigi,. u n^^, your mother sew on a machine?" slie asked " No, ma'am," said Caroline, with a slight laugh, "not very often. When «,,„ „oo.\o Mrs. Hamn,o„,l's to sew, aud to one or two other places where they have machines, she <1oos ; and this is the kind they have, an.l she likes ,t ever so much ; but at home she sews by hand." "^ " My land!" said M.-S. Packard, .'I should thmk that would be hani work. She can't ac- complish very much sewing, it appears to me " "She does," said Caroline firmly, -accom- plish ever so much sewing. She sews hard ail wmter long; makes dresses and shirts and underclothing, and all sorts of things for peo- ple, taking every stitcli by hand." "For the land's sake! " said Mrs. Packard, " what in the world does she do it for ? Nobody does that any more." Caroline laughed a little sorrowfully. " She rtoes it jnst as we do a good n.any things, Mrs. Packard, because she has to; she hasn't any machine of her own, and we children haven't i^ i' ! i f I I >- < 308 ''MERRY CHRISTMAS." got old enough yet to buy her one ; but we are going to some day. That is the first thing Ben and I are going to do." Mrs. Packard kept her own counsel, and Caroline went away unaware that she had said anything of special interest to anybody. Neither did she connect this conversation with the question which Dr. Forsythe asked her one day. How did her mother employ her time in the winter? Did she use a sewing ma- chine ? What sort of a sewing machine w^ould she use if she could have her choice? He ended by presenting the machine which stood unused in the corner to Caroline, with full per- mission to do with it what she pleased. Of course he knew what she would please to do, and himself planned that the machine should be sent to the Rooms to be put in thorough order, properly packed and forwarded to Mrs. Bryant. Had there ever been a Christmas Day like this for her daughter Caroline ? That young lady purposely refrained from turning herself in bed to take a look at certain packages which she felt pretty sure were piled on her chair or table, her object being to have the delights of "MERRY CHRISTMAS." 809 the day last just as long as possible. First, she must give her thoughts to mother and Ben and Daisy. Ob ! I omitted to say that six new .lollies carefully dressed, and with their elaborate ward- robes paeked in a trunk, had also been for- warded to Daisy. These were for the store, of course. Perhaps it is not necessary to tell you how heartily Dorothy entered into those plans, and how very helpful her box of silks and laees as well as her skillfU little fingers, had been in the work. Dr. Forsythe had arranged that instead of a family gathering in the mother's room to receive the Christmas morning gifts, each person should have his «r hers in their own room. Dorothy bad demurred a little at this, and Caroline had wondered over it, until the doctor had told her m a grave aside his reasons. "There is less nervous strain and excitement about the matter planned in that way," he said "If our little girl receives her presents when quite alone and all is quiet around her, she will have opportunity togetover the first excitement • and excitement is something which we mm :i 310 MEIi R V Cnii TS TM. 1 N. " jJluMnl her .Muuinst, you ktiow. It is hccomlnj; jiK'ivasinLcly lnii)<>rtjwit that wo sliould do so." At last Caroliiu' siJivo a Ki)rii)ut her dress, she would not look at a siiiijle i»;ift. " I know I have some (hinirs tliere," she said, with a laugh, and resolutely turning her back to the chair, "but J hope 1 have self-control enough to let tliom alone until the proper minute." The "proper minute" came at last, and Caroline found her })owers of self-control taxed to their utmost. Every gift there was a sur- prise. She dived first into a medium-sized box, and found it to be a very handsome one, silk lined, from the stately grandmother; a glove and handkerchief box, with six pairs of gloves, and one dozen fine hemstitched handkerchiefs, with her initials carefully worked in the corners. What a wonderful gift to come to Caroline Hryant ! Six pairs of gloves at once, for a girl who had gone even to church many a time l)are-handed, because her gloves were so shabl >y she was not willing to wear them. "MEIiliY ClfJilSTMAS.'* an Then eamo a Inroo box, so large that slic C'ouKl hut wonder what it eoukl contain. A ^•iird hiy on the top, addressed in a delicate I'and: -For my Caroline, with Mrs. For- sythe's dear love." The little scineal with which Caroline discov- ered the contents was (,uickly suppressed, lest Dorothy should hear. A new dress, soft, fine and beautiful; in color a very dark maroon, beautifully made and beautifully trimmed. To one sleeve was pinned a paper which said, again in Mrs. Forsythe's writing; '^To be put on early on Christmas morning, and worn through the day." The doctor's gift was a Bible. How elegant it was Caroline did not know. She only knew the covers were soft, the paper was as thin al- most as a cobweb, yet seemed very strong ; and while it was small enough in size to be conven- iently carried to church and Sunday-school, it contained so many other things besides the Bible that her amazement was very great over the thought that so much could be put into so small a space, and yet have the print so clear and beautiful. u jt i.^d as much in it as the I t !I " I! ;■ I 812 " MEKR V C/riilSTMA S. " ' large family liiblt! at liome — (Irandmother's, you know," wrote Caroline to her mother, "yet that is as much as ten times larger than this." Her full name in gold letters gleamed from the back. Instinctively she had left Dorothy's little package to the last. "It is small and sweet, like herself," she said, clasping the tiny white box, and wondering what ti'easure the fair dar- ling had bestowed upon her. This time her voice did penetrate to Dorothy's room, and made her laugh. How could it be helped? "What should lie gleaming at her from the delicate folds of cotton which surrounded it, but a tiny cliatelaine watch ticking away with all its might ! "It is such a trouble to be always looking at the schoolroom clock," said the card lying by the side of the watch ; and underneath: "For my dear, darling Caroline, from Dorothy." I am sure you will excuse Caroline for being so wildly excited that it seemed almost impos- sible to get into her new dress and be ready for breakfast. So interested was she in her own belongings, and especially in viewing herself rith »eing pos- for own rself y. J ! ■ - ii! y. ' .Vi( '» ■m I 1 i; I "MKIiliV ('/IlilSTMASr ni3 in tho jrlasH when the new dress was properly mljiisted, tlnit she well-ninrh missed the paekiijre pushed quite under her chair; and when at la'st Hlu' spied it she sto,,ped wonderin-Iy, and said Jiloud: '^What can tliat be? Tliere are ecr- tiiinly no more presents this morninjr i i ^1- most hope there are not. 1 do not see how I could bear any more." Still, she stooped and drew out a neat, square-looking packajre, done up in brown paper, and read, between excla- mations of astonishment and bewilderment, the address : -Ikmjamin F. Bryant, with Christmas greetings from Dr. Forsythe and Dorothy." What could that mean ? If any person liv- ing had had Christmas greetings from Dr. Forsythe and Dorothy it was surely Benjamin Bryant. Had she not seen them herself go off by express? While she stood staring and wondering, a slip of paper in the corner of the package caught her attention. She drew it forth and read; "To be opened by Caroline, and deliv- ered by her to Ben at her convenience." "Dear me!" she said, half-laughing, half- crying, "at my convenience. If Ben doesn't r ■ 1 if I i! i |< H- 314 •• MJ':iiii y (JiiRisTMAsr <^('t it, wluitL'Vcr it is, until I cim dt'livcr it to iiiiii, 1 mil afrnid he will have to wiiit u loii«^ tiiiic. I iiiiiHt look this inliiUtc unci bci' wliiit the (k'jir hoy has. Oh ! oh I what people they are ! " It seems a pity to have to tell you that Caro- line Bryant sat flat on the floor, new dress and all, and made her eyes red by erying for joy for the contents of that package. Behold, it was a new stenograph, of very dainty finish, packed neatly in its own leathern case I Such a present as that she was sure meant a great deal to lieu — meant more suits of clothes, and books, and comforts for mother and Daisy ; for Bcu, with such a knowledge of the stenograph as he would soon have when it was in his possession, would be able to earn his living. Dr. Forsythe had said so. "What ^vill )' ' say?" she said, meaning Ben. "I wonder if I shall write to him about it, or keep it until I go, or what I ought to do? It does not seem as though I ought to keep it from him until spring. O, Ben! you don't know what is coming to you." While she was bathing her eyes, trying to "MEIUiV CIIIiLrnfA.sr^ Mb take luvay tho mliioss whid, tlu. happy t.-tirs '»"^' I'l'oiiJilit, tlu-iv (.una. :i .uvMtl<. (:ip '.,i i,.., »l<>o»". Sl.t) uuu\v nil speed to open it, and there stood Dr. FoiMvthe. ''Merry Christinas!" he said, intorrnpti..<. hiH' eao-er-O, I),, ro,„y,|„. | - „„„ ,.^„„.,,j,,;^ over her -Oh! I Un-ok in your new coat. And the neckties got there in time for you to wear one, didn't they? How nice that was of mother to get tl.viii out for you. O, 15en, Ben ! it's too good to be- lieve," and she reached up and kissed his brown cheeks ecstatically. "It is a high old time," said Ben, "and no mistake. I thought when my Christmas pres- ents came that Christmas had done everything it could for me, for once ; and I wondered what mother meant by giving me my presents tlic night before. You see she and Mr. Ilolde?! got this up, and didn't say anything to me until about an hour before the train started. Line, I don't know that 1 ever saw anybody in my life that clothes made such a difference in ; you are just as pretty as a picture, did you know it? What do Fanny Kedwin and Rufus ; got ''MERRY CHRISTMAS:' 31!) «.y to all this? Whore are ^hcy, by the >A.y? Will 1 he likely to see them ? " "You'll be likely to take dinner with them," said Caroline complacently. 'M)r. Forsytlie has invited Fanny and Kufus to come here to dinner at five o'clock this afternoon, lie asked "ie if J would like to have them come, and of course I would, because they seem like a bit of home; and another thing J knew they would enjoy it. They are having kind of a lonesome time at their uncle's. Their cousins are older than they; and then, I don't think Kufus and Fanny are dressed well enough to suit them, and they go otf and have good tin.es and leave those two alone with their aunt. Dr. Forsythe is going to send the carriage for them, and make everything just as pleasant as he can. "O, Ben! you must come right away. There is the bell for prayers, and 1 haven't kissed Dorothy good-morning yet. You can't think how sweet she is. Sometimes my heart just aches to have Daisy see her; they would love each other so nuich ! " "Daisy has named her dearest doll after her already," said Ben, following his sister down 320 " MERIi Y CURISTMA S. " H \ Kit • !^ i , M i the long hall, and halting her just before the dining-room door was opened to say: "Look here, Line, this is new business to me, being in a city house, you know ; you must catcii hold of my coat tail or something, if I don't do just right. 1 suppose I'll make a hundred mistakes." "No, you won't," said Caroline cheerily ; "it isn't half so dreadful as I thought it would be. You just have to be kind and pleasant, and ^Iiink about other people's comforts instead of your own, just as you always do, Ben, and then you are all right. Of course there are little things to notice at the table ; but it is easy to notice how other people do and do like them. I've gotten over some of my silliness, Ben, since I've been here." And then Caroline laughed to herself glee- fully, not over anything which had just been talked about, but over the state of mind Ben would be in if he only knew what was waiting up in her room for him at that minute. The ordeal of lireakfast was gotten through with very nicely. Caroline found herself proud of, instead of being embarrassed for the manly boy who sat erect in his chair and answered ^t MERRY CHRISTMAS: 821 promptly all questions that were put to him, not merely with a "yes, sir," and "no, sir," but volunteering little bits of interesting items connected with his journey, or with the town in which he lived. Also he showed the most re- spectful attention when the grandmother spoke, and when the meal was over and she was about to leave the room, sprang forward and opened the door for her. This was no more, it is true, than he was in the habit of doing for his own mother ; but some boys wouldn't have thought of it. Therein Ben found he had an advantage over many country boys who make their first visit to city homes ; he had been brought up to be respectful to his mother, and indeed to all persons older than himself. To his satisfaction he found that the training in this and many other small matters which he had received in his own quiet home, stood him in good stead when he came where they used what Fanny Kedwin called "cityfied ways." f : ciiAFrp:R XXII. " LUCK. CHRISTMAS DAY was one long-drawn-out delight to the young })eoi)le. The only mar to the pleasure of the oeeasion was Rufus Kedwin's ill-concealed envy, joined to the often repeated sentence, *' I never saw anything like the luck you and Line have, Ben Bryant, never! " 1 think as nnicli," Fanny would occasionally add ; but her thoughts did not dwell on the sub- ject, like her brother's. What held her to un- bounded interest was Caroline's dress. " O, Line!" she said, "what a perfectly lovely dress that is ! I never expected to see you in such an elegant rig." "I am sure 1 never expected it," answered Line, laughing. "I don't know what I have done to have these people so good to me. It 322 "LUCK." 828 "«n t anything that I have ,Ione. It i« j,„t !,«. ousc. ti„.y are all so lovely themselves they ca..'t l,el|, l,ei„g go^,, t„ „„,„_. ^^^.^^^^^^^ ^^.^^ you over see anybody so sweet as little Uorotliy ?" "And she gave you that watch, all with her own money," said faimy, feasting h,r eyes upon the dainty little creature which was drawn out for the dozenth time for exhibition. "She must have lots to spend, I suppose they all have lots of money. Ifs easy enongh to be generous when you have plenty of money to do 'vith. I'd like to give away things myself, if I ever had anything to give." "I uever eould understand," said Kufus loftily, "Why some folks should have all the u.oney and other folks all the hard work, any .^ore than I can understand why some folks have all the luck, and other folks get along the best way they can. Nobo ',' f.i h I Ji 11 paiiy all lo liiiiis«!ir, Jiiid disnuiy that Beu was to use up part of his Christmas ride. *'It is very good of you," she said eagerly; '* there isn't a boy in a hundred that would do it, or even think of it, I am sure of that. Dorry will be delighted. Ever since he got through looking at his Christmas presents he hasn't known what to do with himself, poor boy. I could go out antl get my lovely dinner started if you were here to keep him company ; but then, it is too bad for you to lose your ride, as you are here just for a few days with your sister. It isn't to be thought of for a moment." "All right," said Ben cheerily, "we won't saj'^ anything more about it. There is the car- riage, Line ; get yourself started as quick as possible. Miss Perkins, you go out and start that Christmas dinner. I am afraid it won't be ready in time. Dorry is going to be famously hungry, I know. He and I will have the jolli- est kind of a time for the next half-hour." There was no escaping Ben's cheery determi- nation to manage the programiye according to his own fancy. Even Caroline, when she saw the look in I3orry's eyes, decided that the sac- '' LUCKr 333 rifice was worth making ; and only Ruf us, as he went clown the steps, grumbled in undertone to Fanny: "Ben Bryant wouldn't be happy if he couldn't manage everything and everybody." "Well, he's a real nice manager," said Fanny, " to plan for other people and not for himself 'most always." A great deal can be said in a half-hour. Poor Dorry hadn't been so " heartened up," as Miss Perkins called it, since the accident. For one thing it was a great relief to tell somebody all about it in his own way ; a boy, who would be interested in all the particulars, and ask all the questions, and give him a chance to prove that he wasn't doing anything so very dread- fully out of the way, but was actually being a very helpful personage when the accident happened. " She thinks I ought never to go near a fire," he said, twisting his head restlessly on the pil- low. "And for that matter, that I oughtn't to cross a street when there was a horse within a mile either way, and I oughtn't to get on to a street car till it has stood five minutes stock still. The fact is, that there aren't many If 334 ''luck:' If : ■ ■ I :l things that a fellow can do, according to her notions." Ben laughed merrily. "lean guess how it is," he said in a sympathetic tone. "She is a woman, and women are not used to being out in the street where the crowds are, and they oughtn't to be. I know all about it. My father has been dead for a good many years, and I ))ave had my mother to think about and to take care of, just as you have your aunt. One of the ways I have of taking care of her, which helps her more than anything I can do, I be- lieve, yet awhile, is keeping her frora worrying, you know, by letting her understand that there are certain things I won't do. I go an eighth of a mile out of my way every day of my life, just to avoid crossing the railroad at a certain point where my mother thinks it's dangerous. It isn't, you know, any more than it is at any other point, but mother thinks so, and she can't help it ; and as I have her to take care of, why, of course I save her worrying about that. "There must be as many as a dozen things that I do, or don't do, just for the sake of sav- ing mother. She likes it, and it doesn't hurt "LUCK." 335 nie, and it's about as good a way as any to lielp along." New lessons these for Dorry ! Miss Perkins ^vill have reason to bless the hour when Ben I^iyaut gave up his ride in the handsome ear- riage, and staid to visit with her boy. So he had his aunt to look after and take care of, had he? Such an idea had never en- tered his busy, restless little brain before. That he should cease jumping off street cars when they were in motion, or running across the roads directly under horses' feet, or walk- ing down town on the railroad track, in order to help take care of his aunt, was an entirely new idea. Up to this point, if he thought any thing about it, he would have supposed that his mission in life was to worry his aunt. That is, he had imagined that if he failed to do any of these manly things he would be a baby, instead of a boy. Here was a great tall fellow, talking in a business-like way about taking care of his mother, and actually giving up his own ways, and taking extra steps and a great deal of trouble, just so she wouldn't be worried when there was nothing to be worried about. : i^ 4 ' V 33C *'LUCK." " You are a kind of a queer chap," he said, ej'ing Ben relieetively. '' Say, honor bright, ain't you different from other fellows?" Ben laughed merrily. '' I don't know about that," he said ; " I'll tell you what I do think, though, that I have better times than most folks. I don't know another boy of my age who has as downright good a time as I do. I didn't use to think so. I used to growl a good deal because I hadn't money, and couldn't go to school, and couldn't do forty other things that I wanted to. But things are changed with me. >> "I tell you what," said Dorry emphatically, ''I think you are queer. Do you really work every single evening, either for the man you are working for, or else studying at home ? " *' Every evening but Thursday," said Ben. "On Thursdays I don't do a great deal of studying ; I am later at the oflice than I am on other days, and I get home just in time to eat my supper, and dress for prayer meeting. And after we come home from prayer meeting there is almost always a letter from my sister l(j road ; then we talk it over and have good *'LUC]u" 337 times together, and I have sort of given up the idea of studying Thursday night, and have made a pleasure eveniu"- of it." "A pleasure eveniug! " repeated Dorry, al- most a coutemp.uous note in his voice; "I told you you were queer. I suppose you like to go to prayer meeting, too? " " Yes," said Ben gravely, ^' I like it; not as well as I might under some circumstances. They don't appear to me to know how to man- age a prayer meeting in the church that I go to in a way to interest young folks a great deal ; but then, I should go all the same if I didn't like it even as well as I do. I am not such a baby, I hope, as not to be able to go to a prayer meeting once a week because some of the talk they give is dull, and some of it is beyond me so I can't understand it. If I couldn't under- stand a dozen words they said, I should hope I would have sense enough to go." '' ' don't see why. What's the use in a fel- low going where he doesn't understand any thing, and doesn't enjoy it?" ''Oh! well, there are some things to enjoy, Dorry. I haven't in a good while listened to a ''I ll if ll fli h i| 330 *'LUCk:' prayer that hadn't a great deal in it for me. And I like tlie singing first rate, and the words of the liynnis I like. You see, my boy, I be- long to the family ; and it is a kind of family gathering that we have once a week. Some of the aunts and uncles and cousins I like better than others, but I have a kind of general inter- est in them all, and don't want to be away when the time comes for the family gathering. Don't you know how it would be, going out to a Christmas dinner? There might be two or three cousins that 3'ou wouldn't like very well, and maybe an uncle or so who wasn't exactly to your mind ; but after all it would be the Christmas gathering of the relations, and you wouldn't like to be counted out." *'I'd go there for the dinner," said Dorry, with a laugh. *'No, you wouldn't. If they sent you the same kind of dinner exactly, and you had to eat it on the corner of the table at home alone, you wouldn't like it half so well." "I don't know what you are talking about, anyhow," said Dorry. "A Christmas dinner and a prayer meeting are two different things." LUCK." 339 "That's so," said IJen j;ravcly; "ril ,ell you «l.at I „,ca.,, IJ„,,y. ,•„, ., servant of Jesus Cluist, aud I like to go where he is talked about, aud whe,c people gather who are iu the «a,ne service. Wc are soldiers, you see, aud "e .sour Captain. If you belong you under- «t.iud,.; and if you don't, why, you don't." Worry's head was turning restlessly on his pillow again; tie conversation was gettin. II 340 '*LUCK." stenograph is u big tiling; it is a shorthand writer, you know. AVhen you liave learned how, you can write down what a speaker says, every word of it, and take notes at the olllee, and do all sorts of work with it. I expeet to earn money with mine." "I'd like to see it," said Dorry, his face aglow with interest. "I always did like ma- chines first rate. I used to think I could make one if I had a chance. One of these days I am going to try." *' Good! "said Ben, "I understand that; T have had just such notions myself. Why wouldn't it be a good scheme for you to learn to read the stenograph while you are lying here on your back? I learned the alphabet and all about it before I ever saw a machine. My sis- ter Line saw the one that they use at Dr. For- sythe's, and she sent me a slip of paper that had most all the letters on it. That's the way I learned. If I were you I'd pitch in and learn it lying here. It would be great tv^ ; then when I go home I'll write you letters on my machine. You can read them, and nobody else can. » ^ " LVCK." .141 "All n;;l„," s...i,l ()„ny, ,vil|, „,„ro onorry timn ho l,a,l „s..,| sin,... I,.. Iu„l luv, sick, u ,',, lik.^ lliat lirst i:,u.. is a |,,„,, t,, !,,„„ v •• "Oh! it takes pluek ami pationco," said «-•". " A lUtk. ehap that hadn't „,ufh i„ him ;■"">""•' '-"■» it. lloM .ivo it up, tired o„,, before heM f..,t half-way through the alphabet; but of course jou won't." No, Itoiry woHldu't, after that speech ! Ben ftnnbled in his pocket an.l brought out a little roll of stenograph paper, such as he was pretty sure to hav^ about him. "Here," he said, "arc a couple of liible verses that Line scut me to learn to read on They are real good, because they have so many of the letters in them. The verses are written on the stenograph, you understand; and I copied them on this card from my sister Lnie's letter, and carried the card around with me m my vest pocket for weeks before I was snre of every letter. I'll leave them all with you, and day after to-morrow I'll come again tf r can, and sec how you've got along.' The carriage has come for me now, and I'll have to go." ¥ i i:|! '-i ■ II 842 ''H'ck:' *' You'll brinjTj the iniicliine with yoti when you come, won't you?**8iii(l Dorry wistfully; and receiving a hearty promise that this should be done, Ben took his departure. The verses on the card were especially calculated to teach a lesson to a boy like Dorry. These were the words : *'Be not wise in thine own eyes. Fear the Lord and depart from evil." " In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy patliA." CHAin^ER XXIir. ANOTHEU " SIDE-TKACK." T^KN'S brief Jioliday sped away. He and Rufiis and Fanny went home; scliool duties commenced again, and all things were as before. No, not quite as before. Rufus and Fanny had learned some lessons of life which they were not likely to forgot. They had discovered that a girl could be honestly earning her own living, and yet be as highly thought of by those whose opinion was worth having as though she were doing nothing. Ben had his beloved stenograph, and worked at every leisure moment with such purpose that before spring he had a triumph. At the office one afternoon he found Mr. Welborne very much annoyed. "I don't know what I'm going to do," said 343 ill! U 844 ANOTHER " SIDE-TRACK.'' w ^1 fll I ! tliat gentleman impatiently. "Here's Harris sent word that be is sick, and cannot copy these notes of his ; and there isn't a person in town, so far as I know, who can do it for him." Mr. Welborne was not talking to Ben, but to his junior partner; but Ben had turned at the first sound of Mr. Harris's name, giving a keen glance at the notes to be copied. As he suspected, they were stenograph notes. As soon as he had llnished distributing the letters which he had in his hand into their proper places he came toward ]Mr. Welborne. '•I beg your pardon," he said hesitatingly; "but if there isn't anybody else I think I could copy those notes for you." "You!" said Mr. Welborne, with a smile; "I know you are a most accommodating chap, but I am afraid these notes will be too much for you. They are on a shorthand machine." "I knov/ it," said Ben; "I have seen Mr. Harris work. I can read the stenograph." "You can! How long since? Where did vou learn? " "I learned early in the winter. My sister, who is in Philadelphia, sent me the alphabet ANOTlIEli '' SIDE-TIiACK." 345 and the Manual, and I learned how to read it before I ever saw a machine. Then at Christ- mas time I had a present cf one, and have been writing on it ever since." *'The mischief! You have! and I revei. knew anything about it. Can you take a.wi, letters at dictation ? " " I think I can, sir. Mother has dictated a great many to me for practice, and I have writ- ten them out afterwards and got every word." "Glad to hear it," said Mr. Welborne com- placently. "Harris is sick oftener than I have any patience with. The trouble is, he is sick of the business and wants to get out. Do set to work on these notes, then. They are impor- tant ones, and if you can make a fair copy, and can take dictations, I can afford to give you pleasanter employment and better pay than / liave been doing." A boy does not work industriously on a stenoj^raph for three months for nothing. The noteH were almost as easily read by Ben as though tJiey hiul been in print. By nine o'clock that evening he was able to give an excellent typewritten copy of them to the gratified lawyer. rrr 346 ANOTHER "SIDE-TRACK." h From that time business was brisk for Ben Bryant, and the work was such as delighted his heart, and in itself was no small education ; for Mr. Welborne's notes were dictated in choice P^nf^lish, and were on important sub- jects, lie made a prompt advance in Ben's wages — such a surprising advance as caused great rejoicing at home, and some grumbling on tiie part of Rufus in regard to " people who were always in luck." With Caroline the time sped away on swift wings. So busy was she with her studies, and with her loving care of Dorothy ; so ha})py and proud was she with Mrs. Forsythe's increasing interest m her and pleasure in her ministrations ; so glad was she, as the weeks Hew on, over the near prospect of home once more, that she was the only one in the household, perhaps, who did not realize Dr. Forsythe's increasing gravity, and notice the tender, almost pathetic gaze which he sometimes fixed on Dorothy's fair face. It did trouble Caroline sometimes to think that Dorothy stemed not so strong as she was in the fall. "But it is the spring days," she said to herself. "' Nobody feels as strong, ANOTHER '-SIDE-TRACK." 3(7 I suppose; at least nobody who is not real «ell. I an, «„« j f^^, ^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^ ^^^^ ^^.^^ '" my life, but of course Dorothy could net be ex|>ected to." April passed swiftly, and May followed in ■t« train, and the days of June were speeding so fast that examinations were just at the dooi" aua Caroline hu.l had Ler trunk brought fron. the storeroon,, and was beginning to put in packages preparatory to the home-goin. that I sh.all really see tnother and Ben and Daisy in a few .lays more." Then, one evening after school, Dr. Forsythe called her as she was passing his otlice door. He was alone, and as he closed the door and sat down in front of the seat to which he had ■notioned her, his kind face was graver than -I baTB sometliiug to say to you, Caroliue, ^•iiieb I have been putting off for several clays -weeks, indeed - b^^ause I feared yoa might not like t« hear it." fnroli«, st^tled, wondering, yet managed to say t*at sIh, snouid hardly think it possible ? r 348 A NOT II KB ♦' SIDE- Tit A tlu ' \m I ^ii It tliat Dr. F'orsythe could say anything that she did not like. He smiled in reply, a grave, sad smile, and then spoke hurriedly. "You cannot in the nature of things be expected to like it, and I have been in great doubt whether to speak it or not ; but I have finally resolved to make tt i etfort. I will not keep you in suspense. The plain, sad truth is, Caroline, that our little daughter is failing. AVe cannot have her with us long. It is increasingly apparent to me every day. You know we are planning for the seaside, ami ho[»e something from the sea air ; but not very much, after all, so far as she is concerned, tan you guess what I am about to say? Can 3'ou imagine how her father and mother shrink from separating her from the young friend who has been so constantly with her during this long winter, and been to her such a comfort and help? Neither she nor we can ever foiget. If you could find it in your heart, Caroline, to give up home and mother, and go to the seashore with us, I do not say it would prolong our daughter's life, but I cannot help seeing that it would make the days she ANOTHER "SIDE-TRACK/' 34Q i spends with us brighter, happier. At the same time I know it is a great thing to ask. I know what it must have been to you to have been so long away from your mother. I know, better than you may imagine I do, the sacrifice it is to give up mother. I do not ask it of you, Mrs. Forsythe does not ; glad as she woukl be to give Dorotliy tliis additional pleasure, she shrank from the thought of making the request. I have not written to your mother, of course'. It is only very lately that I decided to speak at all, and I will not now say anything to her until you have come to a decision. We must go next week ; it ought to have been sooner, but Dorothy's heart is so set upon being present at the closing exercises of the public school, that I do not like to disappoint her. I leave the matter with you to think about. Remember, Tve realize how much we ask, and we shall not feel that you have done wrong — indeed will not feel hurt at all — if you decide that you cannot really give up mother and home this summer, and go with us. Try to think as quickly as you can, and let me hear to-morrow, if possible, what your impressions are." i 350 ANOTlIEli " SIUE-HiACKr i ' I It I 7 , 3 lil He hurried through the last sentence because somebody was ah'eady tapping at the door. With a bow and smile to Caroline he answered the summons. Poor Caroline need not have waited until the next day to give her answer. She knew before he had completed his sentence what she must decide to do. It made her heart almost stop beating to think of being all tiie long summer without seeing mother; but at Uie same instant came the terror of the thought, What if she should never see Dorothy again ! Could it be possible that her father thought that she would not live longer than this one summer? Perhaps it was not strange that the first thing this girl far away from home did, when she reached her room, was to lock the door, throw herself on the bed, bury her head in the pil- lows, and burst into a perfect passion of tears. It seemed to her that from any point of view there was enough to cry for. It was nearly an hour afterwards that she stood brushing her hair before the mirror, hav- ing bathed her eyes with the hottest water she A NO TIIKU • ' SIDE- TRA CK." 851 could enduro. In a few minutes the dinner bell would rino-, and she must go down and meet them all, and they would know she had been crying, and J)r. Forsythe would know the reason. She was sorry for that. She would not txust hersLxi to talk to him, but had re- solved to write him a little note that very night. "There is no use in waitin^," she said aloud, to see how the words would sound ; '' I am not to go home, I know I am not. It is the right way to do, mother will think, and so will Ben, and even poor little Daisy. After all they have done for me, and after the way Dorothy loves me, it would be just cruel not to give her what she wants. I know mother will think I ought to stay with her all summer. 1 may just^as well write the note to-night as to wait until to- morrow morning, because I am sure what it is right to do." Therefore the note was written in Caroline's best hand, very brief and to the point ; Dear Dr. Forsythe : "I will go with Dorothy if my mother thinks best, and 1 am almost sure she will. I will write to her to-ni.rht: and please do not think it makes me fool very badlv. I love Dorothy so much that it would be hard to be away from her " 1 1 '< ■ I U I ! 8&2 ANOTIIER " SIDE-TRACK." Matters sliajKHl thomselvos exactly as Caro- liiu' liad expected they would. The letter home was written, and the Bryant family held a solemn convci;tion over its contents. None of them was as much excited and startled as they had been over their disappointment in the fall. After the second reading of the letter they all sat quiet for some minutes ; then Mrs. ♦ Bryant said inquiringly, with a sad little smile, ''Well, children?" "Well," said Ben, heaving a long-drawn sigh, "I suppose it's the right thing to do, mother, isn't it ? That poor little Dorothy ! " "What does our Daisy say?" asked Mrs. Bryant tenderly. Daisy's face was grave ; her hands were clasped in her lap, and her eyes had a far- away, sorrowful look. " Mother," she said at last, her lips quivering, but her voice low and composed, "I love my Line, and T want her very much ; but if that little Dorothy is going to Heaven pretty soon she ought to have Line, I think, this summer. Perhaps she needs her to help her get ready." So the question was settled, and Caroline's ANOrill'Ui " SIDE-TIiACK.' 838 her trunk, instead of being packed for home, was packed for the seasi(U; witli all sorts of new and dainty summer thin-fs, such as she was sure would have driven Fanny Kedwin half- frantic with envy. And one summer day she took that long-planned journey on the cars. Not a very long journey, for the seacoast which Dr. Forsythe chose was but a few hours' ride from Philadelphia, but long enough for Caroline to realize the sharp contrast between herself as a traveler now, and eight months before. In the first place, it was a very different car which they occupied — a "drawing-room car," Dorothy called it -- with easy-chairs and sofas, and a private room at one end, where a luxu- rious bed was made up for Mrs. Forsythe. It is not my intention to tell you much about that summer at the seaside ; it was a very full, bright summer, and despite the shadow which hung low over the household, there Mere some sweet, glad days. Dorothy rallied a little under the influence of the sea breeze, and took what were for her long walks to the beach, and liked nothing better than to sit in the sand with Caroline beside her, watchful over the wraps 3A4 A NOTlIKli " SIDK TUA ( A'." ': I ll^i I ■| i jind tho sun-miilin'lla, tlinl it was \\\ cxnclly llu; ri^lit :in_ule to slijulr Iut I'loiii llu' sun's •ihuv, jind watch llic hatlicrs, as they rose fxaily ovi'i' tlic tops ol" the waves, or the nt'vor-ct'as- in.i»' tiilo as it cainc rolliiijj; in. At inlt'ivals Caroline left her and wandered aloni>' the beaeh to brinji beautiful shells, and delieate stones, pearly tinted, blue and amber. Lon;et away," lie said a's room and see the »".. Hct. There will be a lovely snuset to-ni,rht, 1 think; those clouds over there are beginnin- to reflect it already." ' " In a few moments more she was cosily settled on a couch in her mother's roon,, her l,ead rest- ing o„ the pillow beside l«.r n.other's, one hand clasped in her father's, and her face turne.l toward the glowing wst. It was a wonderful sunset - unlike tiny which Caroline Inid ever ren,en,bered before. Th,.y talked about it for a few nhnutes, called one another s attention to the lovely gold, the iilo baekgrouiKl of violet ehaa s, and the clouds took ^ving- criiusoii, with its ino- into even darker strange shapes like asdes and towers burnished uith o'old 364 AT LAST. ill '- y N ''There's a door," said Dorothy suddenly, her eyes fixed on the glory. "The door of Heaven, and it is wide open ; it looks as though there were angels standing in the door beckon- ing. Do 3'ou see them, papa? Look, niainma, look, Caroline ; angels and angels, ever so many of tiiem, right in the door and all about it. Ah ! there, they have gone, and the door is shut." She was still again. They were all very still. A strange hush seemed to have fallen upon them, broken lirst by the sound of a stilled sob, for grandmother was crying. A moment more and J)r. Forsythe arose, turned on the gas, which had l)een but a faint glinnner, and bent over J)orothy. She lay just as slie had when the twilight began; face cloi e to her mother's on the pillow, one hand clasped in hers. But Dr. Forsythe, bending low till his lips touched hers, said tremulously, "'Our dar- ling has gone in, and the door is shut." There was a sad journey back to IMiiladelphia, carrying with them the precious body whose soul went home in that t' 'Ci"^5 doors of Heaven seemed to open, and the anirels came to meet her. 11 AT LAST. 365 Tliose hiid been sad, anxious days wliich fol- lowed. iNIrs. Forsytho, shocked by the blow, which with all her preparation had at last come suddeuly, for a few days sank rapidly, and it seemed for a time as though she, too, was go- ing away. l>,ut she rallied, and tried ]»ravely to take nourishing food, and to sleep and rest, and not weai- out her heart with weeping. '' I must not go yet," she said to Caroline, with a faint smile; "it would be too hard for the doctor. He cannot spare Dorothy and me both at once. Dorothy would want me to stay and comfort him. I must try to grow strong." Once during those trying days had Dr. For- sythe paused in his busy, anxious life, to lay a kind Jiand on Caroline's shoulder, and say earn- estly : "Child, v'^,, are a comfort to us. I liardly see how we could have tlone without you. It will be a blessed memory to us always tliat you were with our little girl to the last moment — went to tJie very door with her. We can neyxj; forget i^, /Caroline. You have a blessed mother, 1 know, and no one must step in and tak^' her place; but next to her, my child, think of Dorothy's father and mother as 30G AT LAST. ;N f| your own. Voii will silwjiys be to lis Ji dear oUlor (l:iii<^liU>r. For your own sake, as well as for the sake of tiie one yon loved, we shall de- lij:;lit to i)lan for yon as if yon were indeed our veiy own." JNIrs. Forsytlic said it differently. Caroline was one eveninii; arrani!;in.i,l(...rac.kt.(l a on..f many tinu-s whni sli('NN;.sal,oMt • •.,,•! l-orhon.c, hnt (hat now she was ivally:..,.! truly n^lhin tinvc u.ilos of '"^'"•'- "owrvor, shcdid nothin- of the kind, ''•'t «Mt (Tret, with iKT , -hooks jrowin- pinker '""I I'ii'kcr, and hM.kcd stoadlly out of the win- •iow. They passed the Junction, whieh had <'^'«ised Jier so nuieh trouMe, without so nuieli as a halt. The s,n, was ...t, and the street lamps were iHMng lioht..d .,s they rolled into the station; j.t last she wa. at la.me. Outside were niother, and Ben, and Daisy, and Mr. Ilolden, and Mrs. Kedwin, and Fanny and Kufus ! She could see them, every one, even before the train stopped. She tapped (,n the window and fluttered her handkerchief, and Ben cau-ht a glimpse of it. Before slu" could make hei- way to the platform he was Ijeside her. What a home-comincr ^vas that ! "My darlino::" said Mrs. Bryant, folding, botli arms about her, and giving her such I ^, s^ o. ** IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1^^ 1.0 1.1 ■so "^* u m 2.5 2.2 12.0 11.25 III 1.4 I 1.6 ^ ^>W /I ^.^* ■^ HiotDgraphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 ■^^ ir •• 370 AT LAST. 'I' w 1:1 fi;: It lonjr, long kiHH tliat Daisy felt as thoiijih her turn were never coming. '* My darling, we liavc you Indeed ! " '* Why, Line Bryant," said Fanny Kedwin, " how you are rigged up! Dear me, I should think you were going to a party." Hut Caro- line was being smothered in Daisy's arms, hear- ing her soft, tremulous voice murnuir, " My Line," and had no ears for Fanny Kedwin. They came over that evening, Fanny and Rufus, with their mother. '^The children had to come," said Mrs. Kedwin. '* I told them they ought to stay away one night and give you a chance to visit with your folks ; but they were that crazy to see you that they couldn't give it up. My sakes, JJne ! but you have grown into a line lady, sure enough. ' Fine feathers make fine birds,* that's a fact. They have got good taste, I'll say that for them, and you arc a pretty girl, anyhow. Clothes look well on you." Caroline laughed and blushed, while Ben gravely gave it as his opinion that clothes looked pretty well on most people. "Are you going back there?" asked Fanny AT LAST. 371 iny a little later, as Caroline ol>li^ecl herself (o .o away from her another's side and sit down by the yonnjr folks for a little talk. -«-L,.,^ Ben says yon are going back there. Are you?" "Ves,"«U.lCVoli„..; '■ I n„. going u^efc ^ -Loci. T„e sci..,.,,. .., «„,.„„., education un.l gnuhmto, if I want to " "0,„,y.akes;"sai,lFan„j., ..„■„atl.K.k." "Itbi„kas.„ud.,"«aiaR„f..s. ...Say, JO., ol s, aisy. J cannot have them lie and grow yellow und creased and moth-eaten, perhaps, because my darling has gone to Heaven and will need them no more. I would a great >esides, sIh> wanted it so. 8he sent then, to Daisy herself. That was one of the messages in her letter, Caroline." Caroline had thought to tell about the letter given to the -talking machine," and to describe some of the pretty things in the trunk, and tell them how sweet Dorothy had looked in then,, but Fanny's sordid views and disagreeable ways of talking closed her lips. She felt sure that they would not understand. ' ♦ ;. i F4 M 874 AT LAST. ♦' You arc great folks for luck," said Rufus, with a sigh; "I always said so, and if this year doesu't prove it I don't know what does. To think that because that train was twenty minutes late all this should have happened ! " /■ Rufus, if this it does, twenty led ! " /