THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE LITTLE FOLKS OF REDBOW. BT MARY A. DENISON, AUTHOR OF " A NOBLE SISTER," " MILL AGENT," "OUT OF PRISON," AC. BOSTON: HENRY A. YOUNG & CO., 26 SCHOOL STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by HENRY A. YOUNG &. CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. TZ7 CONTENTS. Chapter. Page. L SHOP 5 II. THE SMALL HOUSEKEEPER 17 III. A LITTLE TIFF 27 IV. RIBBONS 33 V. A HOME-KING ;-. 42 VI. "THERE'S GIRLS ENOUGH" 54 VII. HEROIC PHIL 62 VIII. COFFEE AND CURRY 81 IX. CAD ANTICIPATES 97 X. LINDA'S OPINIONS 104 XL WHAT Ross WANTED Ill XII. COMING SHADOWS 129 XIIL THE NEWS 134 XIV. A TALK ABOUT IT.... .. 143 622806 4 Contents. Chapter. Page. XV. BREAD AND HONEY 151 XVI. LEAVING HOME 161 XVII. REDBOW 171 XVIII. CAD'S NEW PLAYHOUSE 179 XIX. OUT IN THE FARM-YARD 185 XX. MOTHER PEIMROSE AND CROQUET 191 XXI. FATHER'S SURPRISE 209 XXII. PLAYING BIDDY 215 XXIII. PONIES AND SPONGE-CAKE 223 XXIV. COUNTRY PLEASURES 233 XXV. DRESS-MAKING, AND ITS TRIALS 241 XXVI. WHAT CAME OF PHIL'S SWIMMING 252 XXVII. WHAT'S IN A GARRET 272 XXVIII. SPORTS AT REDBOW... .. 284 XXIX. HOME-MADE 299 XXX. A LEAF FROM CAD'S HOUSEKEEPING 304 XXXL EVENINGS AT HOME 316 XXXII. A. BREATH FROM THE CITY 326 XXXIII. BlTTEB AND SWEET 333 XXXIV. AN UNCLOUDED HOLIDAY..., .. 349 THE LITTLE FOLKS OF REDBOW. CHAPTER I. SHOP. " Cottons and cambrics all farewell, And muslins too adieu." T do remind me of my own coun- try so much, miss," said Barton, wiping a stray tear that had found its way down the rosy outline of her cheek, as the chimes of the dainty little church near by rang merrily to and fro on their musical errand. How the sound rang out on the clear frosty air! Up the gamut and down again, now clanging a sweet monotony of thirds, and anon 6 The Little Folks of Redbow. breaking out into "Hear," or "Dundee," or some other blessed old-time tune. The sun shone brightly in the wintry sky. Sleigh bells tinkled from the street below. A long vista of muffled up pedestrians was visi- ble from the nursery windows, their cheeks bitten scarlet by the sharp, clear air. Pretty St. Mary's crowned the view. Its shining windows and glistening brown stone portals, its spire so stately and tapering, where in the bell tower red lights gleamed on Christmas nights, were all pictures of beauty to the Win- field children, in whose nursery sat Mistress Barton, listening to the chimes. "It's like 'Bow Bells ' at home, miss, and the churches in the Strand. There's many bells in London, dear, and they're always ring- ing. It gives me a sort of a lonesomeness sometimes, miss, to hear them, for one can't help remembering the places they've been happy in." " I hope you may be happy with us, nurse," said Kate Winfield, gently. "Charley is a Shop. 7 dear baby, and mamma " she paused a mo- ment, her red lips looking ready to break out into smiles, while a lovely light suffused her face "well, she is just mamma, you know. You can't help loving her dearly; everybody does ;" and having given vent to this fine little outburst of loving praise, Kate settled down to her book again. The sweet bells chimed on. A warm glow of soft red light filled the nursery. It was a large room, extending the whole length of the house. A carpet of richest hues and small mixed figures covered the floor, so bright and warm it was, that it seemed of itself almost sufficient furnishing. Nurse Barton rose, rolled up her knitting, and went out at the same moment that Fanny, the second sister, entered, and following her, Cad, the youngest of the trio. Fanny walked up to the window. Cad established herself in her favorite fashion. " Kate, can't you open shop ?" asked Fanny- " I'm dreadfully shabby in my morning gowns. 8 The Little Folks of Redbow. I must have a dress, and I'm going to choose green this time, with orange trimmings." " Shop is not to be opened again this month," Kate answered, without raising her eyes from her book. " Mother said so. Be- sides. I don't really think you need a new dress." "Indeed, I do," persisted Fanny; "you know I wear out my clothes faster than any of you ; perhaps it's my irritable disposition pricking outside ; any way, I'm shabby. I say it's wrong of mamma to shut up shop. I mean to coax her ; the shop is full. What's the use of having things if you don't use them ? I've torn the ruffle off my blue, almost half-way round and " "Mend it," said Kate. " I can't, it's such a queerness of a tear just over the hem. And, besides, I want a green with an orange stripe." "Yellow and green!" A mellow, laughing voice this, the property of a merry little girl, seated in the middle of Shop. 9 the room on a heap of scarlet cushions. She made a lovely picture as the wintry sun lighted up her pretty, trim little figure, fair-flowing hair, and dainty dress. " What an odd one our Fan is," she added, another musical laugh rippling from her rosy lips. "And what if I am odd?" Fanny responded sharply, her cheeks reddening. "I'm able to be, I hope. I'll have what I want, and say what I wish, I guess, whether other folks approve or not. I'm not little Miss Plausible, like you, or Propriety, like Kate. You are always saying something to aggravate me, you two. I'll have green and yellow, or black ,and blue, if I like ;" and a few tears, born of her hot temper, stood in her eyes. Kate was now roused sufficiently to put her book aside. Her sweeter nature made her capable of arbitration in these small household quarrels. "Now, Fanny, you're in a passion,"'she said, coming forward all the length of a sunbeam. io The Little Folks of Redbow. "Cad, you do say cross things, dear; what's the harm of green and yellow, don't butter- cups grow close to clover leaves ?" Fanny still stood, pouting. Cad was look- ing at her with an amused, provoking smile. " Did you ever see such a temper ?" queried the small mother of many dolls, putting the last stitch in a tiny blue sack. " Ugly, hateful, provoking thing !" muttered Fanny. " You and Phil are always trying to break my heart. I wonder what boys were made for or younger sisters, either ? I won- der O! " She sprang forward, the red flag of anger disappearing, dashed across the room, and held out her arms as Barton came in, arrayed in a prim little English cap and a dimity apron. Barton carried Prince Charlie. You can't fancy what Charlie was like, unless you have just such an angel in your own household. In the first place, as Fanny enthusiastically said, and no one gainsaid her, Charlie was a " perfect beauty." The grand, Shop. 1 1 princely little head, with its wealth of silken curls, the milk-white forehead, shy, wondering brown eyes, moods of sudden mirth or serious- ness, glances that challenged the soul's truth, dimples, coaxing kisses, haughty little nods, as saying, " You have my royal permission to go on ;" unexpected quivering of coral lips, caress- ing fingers, worldless disdains, amateur con- cessions, everything lovely and winning, ador- able and wonderful, that makes up the regal individuality of a baby, little Charlie was. It was not susprising, therefore, that Fanny held out her arms, from which the fetters of selfishness fell without noise ; no wonder that ill-temper vanished from her brow, and left her eyes shining, as the little fellow turned from his new nurse with a smile. " It's my turn to hold him to-day, nurse," cried Fanny. " Kate had him yesterday and Cad the day before. Come, prince out of fairy land, most beautiful of baby brothers." " Now, miss," said prosaic Barton, " is your hands quite clean?" 1 2 The Little Folks of Redbow. Fanny drew indignantly back. If looks were swords, nurse would have been sorely hurt. " I should hope I was old enough to keep my hands clean always," she exclaimed, with vehement emphasis. "I wonder what you think of us ?" " Lawk, miss !" ejaculated Barton, and stood there red and sheepish. " You see they was untidy in the last place to that degree 'twas hard work to find a clean spot on 'em. I des- say it's all right, miss, so don't be out o* temper with me." " I'm not out of temper," muttered Fanny, still resentful, as finally she took Charlie in her arms. "We don't call it out of temper; it isn't polite," sad Cad, soberly; "it isn't out of any thing it's only in tantrums. Besides, we are very particular to keep ourselves spick-spandy clean; mamma don't allow any dirt round; does she, Petkin?" Petkin was the doll whom long usage and a much enduring China face, proof against all Shop. 1 3 accidents and repeated washings, had endeared to her young mother, and on whom she was trying the pretty blue sack just completed. Her world in miniature was a happy world to this busy, loving little heart. Cad was the incarnation of capable motherhood. She had so many babies, that, like the old woman that lived in a shoe, she was sorely perplexed sometimes where to bestow them. Her favorites were easily numbered, how- ever. Chief of these was Petkin, a gift from a friend in the far South, who bore her scrub- bings or kisses with the same serene and smiling countenance. Magnificent Maud came next. She had first seen the light in a showy London bazar. Sordid calico was quite un- known to this fastidious young creature, whose silk dress shone with silver lace and spangles. Miss Maud did duty on exhibition. Cad never tired of admiring her long pale hair, bright- ened by a top-knot of delicate rose pink ribbon, that formed a pretty contrast to the flaxen curls; her exquisite idle hands, in one of which 1 4 The Little Folks of Redbow. dangled a tiny handkerchief of real Honiton, thus proving her title to fine ladyship. When this favorite had just begun to pall a little on Cad's honest liking, came French Felice, a present from an uncle travelling abroad. It had been sent directly from Paris, with the letter that follows, cunningly folded in its well-gloved little hand: "My Dear Little Cad If you were only with your old uncle, he would take you through some of these Paris shops, where miracles of ingenuity are for sale. " I wish I could show you this beautiful rose, a marvel of coloring and delicacy. While admiring it, as I am sure you would, suddenly you would find in your hand a unique little smelling bottle; yet nobody would question that you held a rose, and a freshly cut one too. Here are verbenas of such dewy fresh- ness that you can hardly persuade yourself they are not real. I would put on your hand a spider with diamond eyes all over its little Shop. 1 5 body; it is even made to crawl; but I think I shall not buy it for a brooch for my little lady. Here is a gold thimble that, on the pressure of a concealed spring, sends out a tiny fountain of perfumed water. Here is a fan that can be transformed into a pafasol. Butterflies and black beetles are gifted with the power of locomotion; and how do you like Felice? She opens and shuts her eyes, smiles comically, and comes not empty handed to her future mamma. Good-by, excellent little house- keeper, and don't forget UNCLE JACK." Felice came, accompanied by a superb wardrobe. Morning robes, beautiful enough to set many a human belle wondering fine French dressing gowns, complete dresses of moire silk, with ridiculously long trains, and numberless other vanities, conspicuous among which were two pairs of gaiter boots, perfect in make and finish, a pink parasol, daintily lined and fringed, a set of ermine furs, and a gold watch, and bracelets. 1 6 TJie Little Folks of Redbow. What wonder that sober little Cad grew wild with joy when these beautiful presents arrived? It was quite enough to turn her head for the time, as similar vanities bewilder older and wiser people than she. Her little heart was bound up in dolls always had been. Cad had just crossed the boundary of her ninth year, and she was small of her age. From her infancy she had been easy to man- age. Her heart was always large and loving, and her natural disposition good. Her sister Fanny was eleven, and fancied herself quite a woman. Her reign was by no means a quiet one; she made fewer friends than Cad, and was easily thrown off her balance. People were always afraid of " putting her out," and nobody dared to be candid with her but she who was now " mamma, you know." Kate "rare Kate," her father called her, and you can guess what she was to him had just turned fifteen. She was a spirit of glad- ness, of unselfishness; and an angel in the house. Of the boys, more anon. CHAPTER II. THE SMAl_l_ HOUSEKEEPER. "Unsullied beauty, sound, unbroken youth, Patient of labor, with a little pleased, Health ever blooming: unambitious toil." HE lot of these little folks had been cast in a pleasant place. Home was beautiful, and its surroundings and associations were of the best. No room could be pleasanter in all the wide range of happy households than the nursery. A delicate azure tracery of vines over a white ground covered the walls, and heightened the effect of the many charming pictures hung lavishly about the room. There were tables, and lounges, and minia- ture chairs; closets and nooks for toys, bas- kets for work, and happy inventions of all 2 17 1 8 The Little Folks of Redbow. kinds for indoor exercise. The windows, broad and deep, were hung with blue and fawn, and the curtains were swung on rings, so that a child could easily manage them. Out of this cheerful home nest, where brooded so many happy, loving hearts, opened three little bed-rooms, one for each of the girls. Nurse Barton slept in the main apart- ment, and her bed and baby's crib were hid by a large crimson screen. And the mother, the crowning glory of this charming group, what shall I say of her? " Dear Miss Willis," as the children had always called her, had been their governess before she became their second mamma. There was no consternation, and but little surprise in the pleasant household among the girls when they knew what change was contemplated. Only Cad, sobbing as if her little heart would break, ran to her governess, crying, " I'm sure I shall love you dearly ; but who will teach us all our lessons?" The Small Housekeeper. 19 At the answer, Cad's tears were changed to smiles. " Everything is to go on in the old way, dear, till papa sees fit to send you to school." So everything did go on in the old way, and a charming way it was. They were glad to have the happy privilege of calling her "mamma," and they decided in council, in Kate's bedroom, the morning after the wed- ding all under their night-caps to love her dearly, entering into solemn league never to fret or torment her. The picture of their own dear mother still remained upon the walls in the nursery, the sitting-room, the grand parlors; and they talked as freely of her to their new mamma, as when she was still their governess. I said only of the girls that none rebelled at this change. The boys were not so consider- ate. But, as Fanny often said, what can we expect of boys ? Ross, sixteen, and at college, took it into his wise young head to act the injured son for 2O The Little Folks of Redbow. awhile, but a two months' vacation at home cured him of his folly, made him, as he often said, " hers obediently." Phil, one year older than Fanny, was a rough, good-hearted, unfor- tunate fellow, very hard to manage, and a great trial to the whole household. For a time he resented the sweet authority of his new mamma, and made her very uncomfort- able, but since Prince Charlie had come, Phil had grown a trifle more gentle. And now that I have introduced you to the family of my little folks, six merry hearts in all, I shall go on with the story, for I am sure it is the story you want, so we return to Fanny and the baby. Fanny appeared at her best when she was petting the baby. No bad humors then the frowns were mustered out, and the dimples had it all their own way. "Isn't he perfectly lovely? Cad, however can you play with those silly dolls when there is this charming live cherub to hug and kiss ? I'm sure I don't see," she cried, pulling the The Small Housekeeper. 21 silken curls of finest floss, which, the moment her fingers left it, twisted into tiny gold rings again. "O, I love him just the same," said Cad, coolly, "only you see it's your day, not mine. And then I must teach Petkin to be tidy, so I'm picking up all the threads and bits from the carpet. Besides, I've such a pile of clothes to wash before dinner," she added, with comi- cal pathos; "children do make such dirt!" Barton was knitting a pair of small red stockings. Her rosy English face and tidy dress made her a companionable person, even if now and then she dropped her h's. She looked up as Cad spoke. "Shan't I wash 'em for you, miss?" she asked. " Dear me, no, nurse. I never put out my washingj" and Cad gathered from a chair near by, a miscellaneous collection of night gowns and petticoats, and aprons, and dolls' hoods and sacks. " I never put my washing out," she repeated, 22 The Little Folks of Redbow. with a prim little air of importance, while Fanny, hugging the baby, laughed at her "childishness." " Perhaps you haven't noticed my summer kitchen, nurse ?" and Cad paused on her way out with her bundle. " No, miss, I 'aven't," nurse responded. "Then suppose you come out on the balcony and look at it," said Cad, transferring her bundle to her shoulder. Nurse, with an amused expression on her pink and white face, followed the small lady to what she called the balcony. It was a sort of roofed-in gallery, over which a glorious climbing rose bush sent its long sprays, and through whose trellis clusters of lovely roses peeped, in the summer season. At one end of this place a frame had been built, one-half of which opened like a door. The floor of this portion of the balcony was covered with a layer of zinc, and that again by a neat little gray oil-cloth. All around this queer enclosure were hung various kitchen The Small Housekeeper. 23 utensils. On nails, pans and kettles were suspended, and the shelves were filled with various useful articles. In the middle of the floor stood a cast-iron cooking stove, about a foot in diameter, the tiny funnel carefully run through a partition that was tinned, as a protection against heat. At the side of the wash-room, as Cad called it, stood a low, substantial table, on which lay, carefully rolled up, an ironing blanket. A shelf above that held the flat irons and their iron stands. " Well, I never !" ejaculated Barton, in tones of genuine astonishment; "I never did see a little lady fixed up like this before, even in London." "No, indeed; this is my place," said Cad, airing her self-esteem sufficiently; "it's useful, you know. If I was a grown lady I would have a spl-^-did kitchen." " O, indeed, you're very right, miss, for one as likes housework." "That's me/' said Cad, gravely. "Under 24 The Little Folks of Redbow. this board are my wash tubs see ?" she lifted the board. " Dear me ! quite perfect," sighed the nurse. "Does Miss Fanny ever work in 'ere with you ?" " Fanny ! not she ; her taste runs differently, you see ; in clothes, and dress, and fixing up. She thinks more of company and having good times. I'm afraid she'd been spoilt," she ad- ded, with a curious gravity, " if Charlie hadn't come. Now I'm domestic." Barton suppressed a smile, but went on ad- miring the arrangements, knitting as fast as she talked; indeed, neither sight-seeing nor conversation ever interfered with her nimble fingers. " Did you always go as nurse ?" asked Cad, going busily around her little domain. "Dear me, miss," replied Barton, a shadow falling to her honest face, "I kept my own house once when my William was alive." "And was it a large house?" "It was only three bits of rooms, miss, at The Small Housekeeper. 25 the side of a little black church, which the chimes up here do so remind me of, miss. William, he was verger there, and looked for all the world as grand as the minister himself, for he were fine looking, were my William and I made his gown myself. I was real proud of him," she added, mournfully. Now Cad did not like to ask what a verger was ; it would never do to show herself more ignorant than Barton, so, like some older per- sons, she " beat about the bush" as they say. "Did your husband have any thing to do in the pulpit, Barton?" " Lawk, no, miss, only to clean and cover it. He did show the people in of a Sunday, and it was my pride to see him in his black gown and his long rod in his 'and. It were a dim, little old church, Miss, and a dingy; and I was pew opener, and many a bit of silver I got from the gentle folks. We was very 'appy," she added. Cad had for the present only a sympathetic understanding of the matters nurse talked 26 T/te Little Folks of Redbow. about She saw that her eyes were full of tears, and gathered from her tender manner that she must have been very fond of William, and William very fond of her. She even tried to imagine how the three bits of rooms looked, but found, as Barton went on, her heart full of old time memories, that they were not all like her ideal of a home, that they were dingy, and curtainless, one window looking upon a dreary court and the other upon a little yard " stuck full of old graves, deary." "And you see it were well enough for the likes of us, miss, and we was just going on sweetly, till William took it into his 'ead as 'ow America were the place for a young man to push his footing and he did push 'em that 'ard, miss, that he earned six feet of the soil and my poor baby lays aside him, miss. It's not a bad country, to be sure," she went on, with quivering lips; "but I fancy sometimes I'd like poor William to be sleeping where the shadows of the old ivied wall might fall on his grave, miss." CHAPTER III. A LITTLE TIFF. " Then to be good is to be happy ; angels Are happier than mankind, because they're better." HOWE. EANWHILE, Prince Charlie had gone to sleep. Fanny pulled the scarlet cushions in a gorgeous heap, and laid the beautiful babe upon them, his rings of yellow hair glistening like an aureola about the perfect head. She sat there delighting her eyes with the fair picture. "If I could only paint it!" she said to her- self. "I never saw anything prettier in the Academy rooms. Look, Kate!" "Yes what is it?" queried Kate, absently. "What a book-worm you are! What are you reading?" persisted Fanny. 27 28 The Little Folks of Redbow. "A story," said Kate, beginning to frown. "You are careless, Miss Kate; what would mamma say if she saw your work draggling all over the floor ? Don't you know / should have to put my work away before I began to read?" Kate shrugged her shoulders, and the frown grew more decided. "What is the story, Kate?" " No matter, Fanny ; go on with your play, and don't trouble me. You wouldn't under- stand." "O, wouldn't I? Well, Miss Wisdom, you think yourself quite a woman, I suppose. I'm not so much younger than you. Miss Propri- ety, get up and put your work away." " I wish you'd go out of the nursery, Fanny Winfield," Kate said, reddening, and talking very fast. "When you have a mind to be, you're the greatest torment I know." Fanny was inwardly in ecstasy in these lit- tle soul battles, while her mind was forming and her judgment immature, whenever she A Little Tiff. 29 roused in her elder sister what Cad called "improper tempers." " Who's hateful now ?" she queried. " Don't talk to me, Kate Winfield, about m% badness, after speaking in that fashion." "You know you are an awful torment," said poor Kate, in an unsteady voice, her ears tingling at her sister's speech; but the book had suddenly lost its absorbing interest Kate was trying very earnestly, with her mother's aid and the help of the dear Lord, to conquer herself. She knew that she was quick-tempered and impatient, and presently regretted her late impatience. So, quietly putting aside her book, she folded up her work, while Fanny looked on, rather crest-fallen, placed it neatly away in the basket appropri- ated to it, and then going softly forward, knelt down and kissed the baby on his fair flushed cheek. " No wonder we all love him so," she said, softly, and her face seemed like an illumina- tion. 30 The Little Folks of Redbow. " Kate, I didn't mean to hurt you," blurted Fanny. "And I didn't mean to make such speeches, I suppose," laughed the elder sister; "at least I always feel afterwards as if I hadn't meant to. I wonder if it isn't almost time for mamma to come home." At that moment the door opened, and Cad's "angel" looked in. Cad's angel was "mother," and never was face more welcome. Fanny forgot even Prince Charlie, as the clear, sweet eyes met hers, so alight with trust, confidence and maternal love. "Where is my baby?" asked Mrs. Winfield; and Kate moved aside, revealing the sleeping child. " Isn't he lovely?" asked worshipful Fanny. " Charming, asleep or awake," was the response of the gratified mother, as she stood looking down upon him, her lovely face rip- pling into smiles. "Well, girls, what have you been doing in my absence? Give an account of yourselves." A Little Tiff. 31 " I have finished my work, mamma; I won- der if it is nice enough to suit your critical eyes?" said Kate, laughing, as she brought forward her work-basket. "Perfect!" her mother responded, with an approving nod. "And how do you get on, Fanny ?" " I've been taking care of the baby," said Fanny, with heightened color. "One week at a pillow case! O, Fanny!" "I can't be sewing forever!" cried Fanny, pettishly, irritated that her jnother had no praise for her. Mrs. Winfield looked grave. " My dear, I don't want you to be sewing forever," she said, in her low, sweet voice; "you know that." Fanny plucked at her sleeve, and made a mental apology. Gentleness quite subdued this poor little girl, who was so often a victim to her own hot temper. Her lips trembled. " I did mean to have it finished," she said, humbly. " I'll try to do it to-morrow." 32 The Little Folks of Redbow. Her eyes met those of Cad's " angel," and saw a smile there. She was conquered, and springing to her feet, flew with outstretched arms to her mother, who was quite ready to offer the kiss of peace. " I shall never, never be good," she half sobbed. " O, yes, you will, my darling; remember it is only one step at a time. Every right reso* lution makes you so much stronger. Only have patience with yourself. Here comes nurse, and the clock says four. We must be ready for papa in an hour. He wants his little folks to be punctual, you know." So the nurse took Prince Charlie, whose happy little face beamed smiles upon all, and the girls scampered toward the little bed- rooms, which were also their dressing-rooms, to get on fresh aprons, and make themselves neat and pretty before the dinner bell rang. CHAPTER IV. RIBBONS. " Alas ! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love." RIGHT sunshine had come again, and Fanny, in a very good humor, looked over the little stock of rib- bons folded away in the drawer. She had chosen her favorite color, and her face was in the water, when a tiny tap came at the door. "Who's there?" cried Fanny, vigorously applying the towel, a little angry at the inter- ruption. "If it's you, nurse, I don't want any help." "It's me!" piped Cad's decisive little voice. "Well, what do you want?" 3 33 34 The Little Folks of Redbow. " Open the door, please." "What a bother you are!" and Fanny reluc- tantly unfastened the door. " It's so queer to lock yourself in," said Cad, as she composedly entered the room; just like State's prison. / never do. I only wanted to know what ribbons you were going to wear." "You provoking little thing! Was that all? and papa nearly here. Why blue, of course." "Now, that's too bad; / wanted to wear blue to-day." " Well, you can, if you wish; of course no one is going to prevent you," said Fanny, moving the door impatiently for Cad to be gone. " No, I can't ; of course I can't, or shan't if you do. You know mamma never likes us to wear the same colors. You've worn blue for three days; I think you might change." "But I won't!" said Fanny, sturdily; "I'm oldest." " Step by step," thought Fanny to herself, as her mother's words echoed along the corridors Ribbons. 35 of her heart ; but the little demon of selfish- ness was uppermost ; she had taken her stand on the blue, and it would never do to yield to Cad. The child's disappointed face stung her a little, but she had not yet learned the divine grace of giving up. " I won't wear any ribbon then," said Cad with energy, turning away crestfallen. "O dear, I think you are a most disobliging sister. I wish " she put her hands to her lips, and marched out of the room. "What do you wish?" called Fanny; but Cad had disappeared. " I do wonder what she wished ?" mused Fanny, her cheeks glowing. " Dear me, I hope she didn't wish I was dead. What would mamma say to such a wicked tem- per ? Cad is capable of being very naughty, though she is such a steady little thing. What / a dreadful awful thing to wish her sister dead if she did, and I'm afraid that was just what she said in her heart." All this time she had been braiding her 36 The Little Folks of Redbow. glossy brown hair. Very pretty it was, darker than Cad's, with just a dash of gold making it lustrous. After it was in order, she turned to her bureau, and again opened the top drawer. " Cad's things never looked like that," she said, with a self-approving smile, and indeed the small receptable was quite a picture. Every thing was in beautiful order; there were boxes for ribbons, for handkerchiefs, for all the various little articles of the toilet sym- metry and delicacy of detail everywhere. Opening her ribbon box, it disclosed a little rainbow of colors blue, pink, crimson, orange, purple. All these silken treasures were carefully folded away. "To be sure she might wear some other color just as well as not; pink for instance, was always becoming; but she had said blue, and blue it should be, even if it was Cad's favorite color, and Cad should break her heart over it. It would never do to yield; Cad would presume upon it, and bother her at all times and seasons." Her brow grew wrinkled Ribbons. 37 as she stood there, perplexed and undecided. Why not go to her sister's door and say, " Cad, wear the blue if you like ? I'll give up." Once her hand was on the lock, but that perverse little spirit that is no respecter of persons, but dwells alike in the hearts of young and old, triumphed, as it too often does, and gave Fanny one chance the less for happiness. " I don't care," was her defiant ejaculation, when the pretty ribbon, after a series of patient efforts to let itself be tied, snuggled down into an irreproachable bow and knot. " I told Cad I should wear it, and I will. I wonder what she will wear?" Her glance into the mirror as she finished gave her no pleasure. She began to sing, seeing it wanted some time to the dinner hour yet; but the effort was a spiritless one, so she went into the nursery. Her room was be- tween Cad's and Kate's. Presently Cad came smiling out of Kate's room. Fanny's heart misgave her. 38 The Little Folks of Redbtnu. "What have you been in there for, Cad?" she asked, following her sister. " Nothing you care for," said Cad, a little saucily. Presently Kate came out. Fanny took up a book, and pretended to read, but curiosity, a little imp that never yet knew how to lie dormant, got the better of her indifference. " What did Cad want in your room, Kate ?" she asked. " She wanted me to do something for her." " Did you lend her a ribbon ?" " Why, no," replied Kate, gravely; "she has ribbons enough of her own." " Just as if she should be humored in every thing!" muttered Fanny. " Cad is a generous little thing," said Kate. Fanny winced. "Then I suppose she told you about the ribbon." " She was crying a little, dear, and I asked her," said Kate, cautiously. " I'm sure it was natural ; she didn't mean to tattle." Ribbons. 39 " I don't see why two of us can't wear one color if we like," said Fanny, pettishly. " If it don't please mamma, I think that is reason enough." " Well, then, Cad's ' angel' is very arbitrary," responded Fanny, hotly. "O, Fanny!" " Other children wear what they please." " Buf perhaps mamma's rule, if carried out, would make us more self-sacrificing." Fanny's cheeks turned crimson. " I'm not going to change now, at any rate," she said, in a low voice; "there isn't time; besides, I'm the oldest, and have a right to wear blue straight along, if I like." " In love preferring others to yourself," said Kate, and Fanny knew what she meant; it was her mother's favorite saying. She turned away, quite convinced, but unwilling to say so. Suddenly she remembered an act of self-denial Cad had practised in her behalf only the week before. A friend had sent the three girls three pretty 4O The Little Folks of Redbow. aprons as presents. Fanny's was buff, elabo- rately braided with blue. Kate's white, edged with scarlet; and Cad's white, embroidered in black. This last was undeniably the most beautiful of the three, and so Mrs. Winfield decided. Fanny looked at it longingly, but said nothing, and Cad took the apron to her room in high glee. But Fanny's longing face haunted her, and the little creature was never so happy as when she gave pleasure to others. That night, when Fanny went to her room, she found a neat parcel on her table, on which lay the following note: "Dear Sister Fanny I much rather you would have the black and white. It is rather too old for me, I guess. I told mother, and she was quite willing. Don't say a word, but only hand me the buff and blue one to-morrow. It is all my own doing, and I rather you would have it I like the buff and blue. "Your lovingr CAD." Ribbons. 41 Fanny's cheeks grew hotter as she remem- bered this nice, sisterly little note. She felt like pulling off the blue ribbon, which was hateful to her now, but just then the dinner- bell ranf. CHAPTER V. A H O M E-K. I N G. " There is on earth no blessing like affection, It soothes, it hallows, elevates, subdues." ANNY'S first glance at the dinner- table was towards Cad, after all were seated and a blessing had been asked. To her consternation, Cad wore a lovely blue bow, all striped with white satin. Where in the world had the child managed to find it? thought Fanny. She had never seen it before. Cad bridled a little, and looked conscious and triumphant. Such very little things make people happy or miserable; such very little things awaken perversities and jealousies. A miner's lamp 42 A PIome-King. 43 holds a very small flame, and yet many an explosion has been caused by its tiny wick. All through the dinner-hour, though her favorite dishes graced the table, Fanny could think of nothing but that wonderfully pretty blue and white ribbon. Once she noticed a comical side-glance pass between Cad and Kate, and the mouthful of golden salmon almost choked her. " Hateful things !" she said to herself. " I should like to know what the secret is. They just mean to make me feel bad. I wish I had worn any thing but blue; I never shall like it again." She did not once wish she had pleasantly yielded to Cad, and so saved herself some mortification. Fanny's attention was soon diverted, how- ever, by something her father was telling Mrs. Winfield in relation to a little West Indian cousin ; but still Cad's top-knot, as she sarcas- tically called it, predominated, and she only half-heard. 44 The Little Folks of Redbow. Mr. Winfield often took his children into his confidence. He never neglected them because they were children, never thought they were too young to trust, never left them wholly to the guardianship of their mother. He was a wise, strong, faithful, affectionate father. All their little wants interested him; their griefs were not too trivial to enlist his warm sympathies. The children looked up to him with an affectionate reverence, which made him seem a king among them. His blue eyes, broad, clear brow, red lips, and the glowing smile so full of the heart's sunshine, won for him lavish praise in that little circle, an intense love and admiration which kings might envy. " I wonder what shops were bought out to-day;" he said, as they rose from the table- " I saw a certain charming lady driving home, smothered in bundles." " Not quite so bad as that," laughed his wife. " I have only bought new suits for the chil- dren." A Home-King. 45 " You didn't buy me a suit though it was only the girls;" said Phil, with the shadow of a sneer on his spirited face. " I go and get my measure taken, and every thing comes home, made." " I wouldn't give one of my girls for two of you, my man," said Mr. Winfield. Phil's boyish assumption of superiority was very disagreeable to him. The boy was always derogating from the sisterly element, making it appear weak, and also something to be ashamed of. " Our Phil must learn to treat his sisters with respect;" he often said to his wife. "It will be the boy's salvation, rough little cub. that he is." Phil felt the reproof that his father's words conveyed, and sheepishly hung his head. Pro- tected by a social life that was calculated to bring out all his best energies, he yet held aloof from " tke girls," and lost something of the refining process which his rough nature needed. He had been a sort of a little Pariah 46 The Little Folks of Redbow. from his infancy. Having been sent to a school far from home after his mother's death, three years among kindred spirits had nearly caused the ruin of his finer impulses. His father saw and regretted the mischief that had been wrought, and decided that his edu- cation should henceforth be carried on at home. Phil rebelled stoutly for some time, but Mrs. Winfield, "angel" as she assuredly was to him, brought all her noble talents to bear upon his reformation. Not that the boy was in any way really vicious, but rough, uneasy, and utterly lacking in veneration for the sweeter proprieties of home-life. He had made sufficient progress, however, to cause his father to feel more hopeful of his future. The boy was a bright, handsome, though almost incorrigibly awkward and bashful fel- low, of a temperament easy to be misunder- stood, and very sullen under %ttack, though readily following the voice of kindness. His father early labelled him a curiosity, and A Home-King. 47 willingly gave him into the skilful hands of his wife. The boy skulked off as the rest of the chil- dren followed their parents into the sitting- room, where the purchases were laid out for inspection. It was a pleasant sight to see Mr. Winfield looking them over, and comparing notes with his wife as to the becomingness of color and texture. "Pure and beautiful," he said, holding up a pale blue silk pattern. "I hope my Kate will think of that every time she puts it on, and let the inner temple correspond with the outer decoration. "And here is white for our little Cad spotless as the snow, and transparent as her thoughts and motives ought to be," he added, making her quite a little princess as he threw the voluminous folds over her curly head. "This for Fanny," he continued. "What color do you call it. O, maize like pale, beaten gold, cool and lustrous. My dear, do you study their dispositions so accurately as 48 The Little Folks of Redbow. to match them with color? Fanny will be like an ear in the silk, and shine in her good deeds, I hope." " Come girls," he added, in a hearty voice, as he watched them delightedly admiring the fabrics, "away with your fineries, after thank- ing mamma for her nice gifts. Bring in Prince Charlie ; turn the gas higher, and let us have music with light. The Winfield sitting-room was the admira- tion of all who saw it. Its situation was in the west wing, and eight lofty windows let in the light from roof to floor. Cad sometimes called it the Cathedral room. All sorts of cosy easy-chairs abounded. Great ottomans, heaped with cushions, stood at convenient distances, a crystal chandelier hung suspend- ed from the centre of the ceiling, each burner the fac-simile of a wax candle. The curtains were gray and crimson. There was an upright piano, there were recesses filled with books, A great round table stood in the corner, which the children designated as their study, A Home-King. 49 and where, daily, Mrs. Winfield heard them recite. Globes and maps and pictures were all in appropriate niches but the busiest, prettiest, most cheerful spot of all, was at the central table, drawn up in front of the fire of blazing sea-coal; the table around which all gathered, with its wide cloth of crimson, and the great Turkish rug at their feet, where Grim, the family cat, sat and surveyed them one by one, purring her satisfaction, or else held her sleepy head between her paws, giving now and then a blink for assent, when she considered that her opinion was called for. The floor was of polished inlaid wood, brightened here and there by exquisite rugs and circular mats; altogether, it was just the room for children to be happy in. Barton brought in the baby, and after a kiss all round, and no end of hugs, as Cad said, he was snuggled down by Grim, who allowed his little fat hands to disarrange the niceties of her pretty fur- toilette, and sang to herself as if she liked it. 4 5o The Little Folks of Redbow. Phil went over to the globes, partly because they were always a source of delight to him, partly because he liked to be out of the way, and occupy himself with vain wishing, that there was another grown boy to keep him in countenance. Mr. Winfield stretched himself upon a lounge, " to take it easy," as he said, and get the cobwebs pulled out of his tired brain. Fire- light and gas-light flooded the whole room, which was already full of crimson flushes. " This is my kingdom, my paradise," he mentally ejaculated, as his eyes wandered about the beautiful space, and his soul drank in the music of the sweet ballad Kate was singing. "I wonder" and a shadow fell on his brow, but no one heard the sigh that came with it " if any other place in all this world would ever seem like it?" As if in answer to his unexpressed thought, his wife spoke up : "The parlor at Redbow is very much like this room." A Home- King. 51 "Ah! out in the wilderness. I should hardly think it possible," he said. " Not quite so spacious, or beautifully fur- nished; indeed, it is a plain room, and there are fewer windows. But on the south, there's a noble bay window, and on the west, two nearly as high as these. The chief beauty of the room, however, is an oval of plate-glass, larger than our parlor mirror, let into the wall, giving one of the most splendid views of forest scenery, of rocks and leaping cascades, that ever the blue heavens shone upon." Mr. Winfield smiled at his wife's enthusi- asm, noting with all a lover's admiration the glow which made her sweet face so lovely. " The name is a pleasant one," he said. " Redbow yes, as pleasant as the mountain is grand," she responded ; " but the house is smaller than this, and it looks a little forbid- ding from the outside, because, being built of unhewn brown stone it is rough and full of projections ; but the place is lovely with ivy, the first root of which was brought from 52 The Little Folks of RedbffW. Lincolnshire by an old founder of the family. Indeed, there are very many less comfortable homes than dear old Redbow would make." It was curious that she should have thought of the charming old place at that particular moment, for she seldom spoke of it. It was her own property, and had been settled on her since her marriage, by a distant relative, who had now been dead a year. The place was in a county-town some fifty miles from the city in which the Winfields resided, and she had not seen it since her childhood. " We will go and pay it a visit some time, dear," said her husband, quietly. "And I am sure you will wish to take instant possession of it," laughed his wife. " I foresee that you will fall in love instantly with grand old Redbow. I never thought it would be mine, but I am glad;" and a sweet smile parted her lips. " In case of any misfortune" the words had not passed his lips when her smile faded, and she looked anxiously toward him. A Home-King^ 53 "I was only thinking," he said, with a smile so bright that the cloud through which she had regarded him vanished at once. An hour passed swiftly; music, games, and now and then a little romping, gave the chil- dren plenty to do. Barton, in the back-ground, was crooning the baby to sleep with the fag end of an old English ballad; Phil sat curled up in his remote corner, studying Alaska, his chin on his hands, and his eyes partially closing in spite of himself. CHAPTER VI. "THERE'S GIRL.3 ENOUGH." " And I tell ye a story, a story so merry, Concerning the abbot of Canterbury." ERE, my chits," said Mr. Winfield, suddenly rousing himself from the reverie into which he had fallen, " what say you to a story, a genu- ine, live, true story?" Another moment and a merry audience had gathered round him, all breathless and flushed with play. All but Phil, and he was fast asleep. So was Prince Charlie, and nurse had just set another row of crimson stitches; the baby's basket-cradle stood at her feet. Mr. Winfield smiled at the expectant group ; perhaps no one noticed that the smile was a sad one. 54 There's Girls Enough. 55 "Once upon a time" he began; every eye was fixed upon him; the girls drew long breaths "once upon a time a young man went out into the world to seek his fortune." They looked at each other, every happy face bright. Nobody could tell a story quite equal to papa. " The young man was handsome, ardent, daring and ambitious. In a far off country where frost was never seen, where all the year round flowers bloom and fruits ripen, and palm trees whisper to the stars, their nearest relations, he found a post of duty. When he left his own home, there was great sorrow there. The old father and mother wept to think they might never see their son any more. They never did. Five years passed and they were gone laid to rest in the old church yard of their native town. The news that they were dead made the young man sor- rowful, but his lot was cast in that far off coun- try ; his business prospered, he had married a gentle, beautiful lady, and was content to stay. 56 The Little Folks of Redbow. " Lovely children were given him, and they made his home more charming still but alas, they died, one after the other, before their little lips had learned to speak his name. One child, however, survived her infancy, but when this dear little girl was nearly seven years old, a great misfortune hap- pened to her her mother died." "Wasn't that dreadful?" murmured Cad, whose arms embraced an imaginary doll, and whose eyes and lips in their droll sympathetic working had been a sight to see. "Yes, it was very dreadful, because this young man was so far away from all his kindred, and surrounded by strange, clannish, and uncongenial associates. The poor little child had none but native servants, and her little wants were but rudely cared for." " How long ago did all this happen, papa?" asked Kate. "Two years, dear that is, it is two years now since the child's mother died." "Why, uncle Harry's wife died two years There s Girls Enough. 57 ago in India !" and up went Fanny's hand in her eagerness, as if craving permission to speak during lesson-hours. They all laughed at this, and Fanny's eyes began to look very curious. "Fanny is right," said Mr. Winfield, gently; " she has guessed my story" "I thought it was little cousin Rosalind;" said Kate. " Linda, her papa calls her in his letters," responded Cad, with a grave nod towards Kate. " Yes, girls, it was of your cousin Linda and her father, that I have been telling you. I received a letter from my brother Harry to-day. Linda, the little girl, is on her way to America." "On the great ocean this minute!" said Cad, with solemn -eyes. " O papa, is she coming here ?" There was a long pause. Mr. Winfield was looking thoughtfully at the fire ; nurse, in her interest, had dropped three red stitches. 58 The Little Folks of Redbow. "That is as mamma says," was the reply. All eyes were turned to Mrs. Winfield. Cad fell down by the side of her " angel," and her great pathetic eyes were so imploring, that the mother could not forbear laughing. "When mamma smiles, she means yes;" said Cad, and in her mind the matter was settled. She hugged her mother's knees a little, and then sprang up to see what her father had to say. " Of course she will come," they all said together. " Not too fast, children," continued Mr. * Winfield. " Remember this poor little girl may not prove to be the most agreeable of companions. She has been left to the care of ignorant servants, petted, thwarted, and punished by turns. Possibly she is spoiled. Harry hints as much, and describes her as being a little dark firebrand, wilful and pas- sionate. She might keep us in hot water. Her father writes me that I am at liberty to place her in a good boarding-school: but, There 's Girls Enough. 59 poor little motherless wean! it would seem hard to do that." "O, papa, it would be downright cruel!" said impulsive Fanny. " I think Fanny is right," said Mrs. Winfield in her sweet, low voice. " Mamma, you are just an angel !" exclaimed Cad, with enthusiasm, and tripping on the rug as she flew to kiss her, fell plump into her arms, to the amusement of the whole company. " What says Kate ?" queried her father, when they were quiet again. "I hope mamma will decide to take her; besides," she added after a thoughtful pause, "she might be a wholesome discipline." There was another outburst of merriment at this sage speech, so loud that it waked Phil up, and that young savage chose to fancy that he was the cause of the general mirth. "It's all girls know;" he said wrathfully. " I suppose you think I've been asleep. I hain't ; I heard every word." 60 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Come now, what have we been talking about?" asked Cad, going towards him. "It's Dives and Lazarus, I bet;" said Phil, sleepily. "You girls are such fools!" This reached his father's ear. " Phil," he said sternly, " if I did not make due allowance for your long nap, and conse- quent stupidity, I should punish you for that speech. You must take it back, sir." Phil put on his hardest face. " They're always laughing at a fellow," he muttered. "Take it back, sir," repeated his father, rising. " Yes, sir," said Phil, a little scared, retreat- ing into his corner, where he protested in dumb show, and scowled in silent indignation. Cad, always pitiful, crept round to his side and told him the news, which quite scared away his temper. The boy's face was a study, as he exclaimed: "Another girl!" and he turned the globe rapidly, till he found India. " There's where There's Girls Enough. 61 she was ; why couldn't she stay there ? It's a great deal nicer place than this. Folks ride on elephants. I wouldn't a come, but" and his face lighted up " maybe she'll be drowned." "You dreadful boy!" gasped Cad. " I shouldn't cry," retorted Phil, twirling the globe; "there's girls enough." "And boys are just as wicked as they can be," said Cad ; " I'm glad I haven't got a boy in all my family. "Girls make 'em so," was Phil's senten- tious reply. "Your family! what's dolls?" with a sneer. The controversy was broken in upon just here, and the little folks sent off for the night. CHAPTER VII. HEROIC PHIL.. Aromatic plants bestow No spicy fragrance while they grow; But crushed, or trodden to the ground, Diffuse their balmy sweets around." N discussing affairs of state, men and children are somewhat alike; they are both liable to be carried away with enthusiastic impulses, and rate the prospective benefits much higher than their merits warrant. So in the little state convention held in the nursery that night, for the children were allowed a reasonable amount of time in which to talk over matters, the girls were nearly wild with anticipation. " I am sure it will be splendid !" cried Fanny. 62 Heroic Phil. 63 "Its just like going to have a grand Christ- mas present," said Cad; "though to be sure, we know what it will be." "We must be very kind to her," said Kate, seriouslyC "Of course she can't help liking such a home as this; but then every thing will be so new to her." " Snow and ice instead of oranges, for' instance," said Fanny. "The square looked like a frosted plum-cake this morning. O, girls, wont she be a curiosity to us ? I won- der if she will bring presents, and of course there'll be no end of splendid dresses ; uncle Harry is rich, you know enormously rich I have heard ; and stuffs from India are always costly and beautiful." Cad had begun to undress Petkin, enliven- ing the occupation by a little serious talk to that passive young lady, who was supposed to be too sleepy to hold her eyes open. "My darling," she said in an undertone, "you mustn't mind what your Aunt Fanny says about dress. Don't give your little mind 64 The Little Folks of Rcdbow. up to vanity and fine clothes, or else I shall make you wear calico to the end of your life. I won't have pride and nonsense." Kate was putting things in place. It was her duty to make the nursery thoroughly presentable before she went to bed. " I suppose she will bring fine clothes," she said quietly; "but I don't care for that. We all dress well enough; what I want, is to find her pleasant and attractive, but I'm afraid she will be very selfish and hard to please." "Do you hear that, Petkin ?" murmured Cad, tying the doll's nightcap strings, ""self- ishness is abominable." "There, now you're going back on her," cried Fanny, in answer to Kate's remark. "I go back on her!" said Kate, laughing; "why I shall do my very best to make her happy, and even if she should be very disa- greeable, I shall remember that she's a poor little orphan girl. Just think what a set we were till dear dear Miss Willis came." "Odd enough that sounds;" said Fanny. Heroic Phil. 65 "I remember," piped Cad; "you and Kate used to fight awful." " Yes, we were savages almost," murmured Kate. " I 'spose I was as bad as any of you," said Cad, sagely tucking Petkin snugly away in her four-post bedstead with its miniature quilt and ruffled pillows. Then looking intently .into dolly's staring eyes with motherly sym- pathy, she whispered dolly's prayers. Fanny always laughed at that, but it was one of Cad's soberest duties. " If cousin Linda comes, Cad, she will make a raid among your dolls." " She shall have them all," said Cad in a generous outburst; "at least, I'll give her her choice ;" she added, after a moment of medi- tation " provided she don't pick out the very best. And I'm going to ask mamma to let her sleep with me ; my bed's the biggest, and I shall so love to dress and take care of her." " Well, I rather think your older sisters ought to have that privilege," said Fanny. 66 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Privilege!" exclaimed Kate: "I should call it an infliction." " Kate is surely going back on her," said Fanny with tears in her eyes. " Going back," was Phil's favorite expression. " How foolishly you talk, Fanny. I was only thinking that you two youngsters will soon tire of the ' privilege' and turn her over to me." " She may be drowning this very moment !" said Cad with a scared face. " I shut my eyes and saw a great ship all on fire, like that in the picture down stairs; and O, dear me, she may never come here at all!" " I advise you to keep your eyes open,'* laughed Kate, "and see I have put every thing to rights and you had better go to bed, both of you." " One would think you had the control of this family," said Fanny, pertly; but she kissed her sisters and went into her own little room. The moon, large and yellow, brightened every object visible, so that there Heroic Phil. 67 was no need of any other lights. Fanny, while taking off her blue ribbon, suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to ask Cad about the blue and white bow; so she ran out softly and knocked at Cad's door. The little girl lifted her head from the pillow as Fanny, shining white in the moonlight, stood at the foot of her bed. " I say, Cad," whispered Fanny, "where did you get your blue and white ribbon?" "O, that's a secret, I guess," replied Cad; her rosy face suddenly disappearing in the pillow. Fanny stood there, perplexed and pro- voked. Cad peeped out, and something in the irresolute face conquered her. " It partly came off of cigar-boxes," she said, laughing. "Cad!" " It's a fact. You know Phil gets them to make houses of I mean the boxes and they throw in a handful of ribbons sometimes. He gave them to Kate, and she contrived them, 68 The Little Folks of Redbow. and sewed them together. Weren't they lovely?" and Cad sat up in bed, her eyes shining. "I mean to make some," said Fanny. " I don't think you ought to," said Cad, pathetically, her countenance falling. "Well, I won't," responded Fanny. " Come and kiss me." Fanny kissed her. "Hug me." Fanny hugged her very hard. "There! now we'll never speak cross to each other again, will we?" " I guess not," said Fanny with some hesi- tation. "Now, go right to bed;" and Cad's face disappeared. " I am going but Cad " "Well;" whispered the child. "You know when you came out of my room you said you wished now what did you wish?" " What did I wish !" murmured Cad, reflec- Heroic Phil. 69 tively looking at the moon. "Let me think. O, it was tnvfid, Fanny. I wished I hadn't such a mean, ungenerous sister there! I did, honest wasn't it terrible?" Fanny was silent. "Are you angry with me?" "No, dear." " I'm awful sorry." "Don't say awful, Cad." " Sure enough, what a word ! and I never allow my Petkin to talk slang. Good-night, Fanny." Fanny went to her own room feeling great relief that Cad's wish had been no worse. "It was ugly in me, though," she murmured, blushing at the recollection. "I don't believe I shall ever like blue so well again." At that moment the neighboring church bells rang with a loud, quick clang. The engines rattled along the streets, and there were hoarse cries from boys and firemen. Fanny had a gj-eat dread of fire ; she sprang from the bed ; surely that lurid light, making 70 The Little Folks of Redbow. every object crimson, was not the moon. The fire must be very near perhaps their own beautiful house was in danger. There were voices in the nursery. "Barton!" she cried. " Barton ! come here, quick !" The door opened, and there stood Kate in -her night dress. In the red reflection of the fire she looked like a spirit. The bells grew wilder; hoarse shouts sounded from the street. "Fanny, it looks as if the world was all ablaze," said Kate. "O, where is father?" cried Fanny in a paroxysm of terror. "Only hear them call papa !" " He has gone out. He sent a servant up to tell us to be quiet, and that there was no danger yet." "What shall we do, Kate?" cried Fanny, wringing her hands. " The very air is hot ; I can hardly breathe. I know the fire has reached us; see the sparks! I'm going to pack my best things up." Heroic Phil. 71 Presently Cad came in, bewildered and rubbing her eyes. "What is it?" she cried. "What makes things so red ? It's a fire ! O, Kate, we shall be burned up. Fanny, what are you doing ?" "I'm going to turn every thing out into sheets," said Fanny, tugging desperately at the bureau drawers. "There you stand, and never offer to help." " Hadn't you better dress yourself first ?" asked Kate, half laughing. "I'm not afraid. Papa will let us know in plenty of time ; he said so." " I don't care," retorted Fanny. " I'm not going to have the roof on fire over our heads before I begin to save things." By this time the bed and floor were strewed with dresses, ribbons, laces, and a great plaid coverlet had been called into requisition, at whose stubborn corners she was pulling as if her life depended upon the exercise. " I guess I'll get my dolls together," cried Cad, bursting into tears. " The cooking-stove 72 The Little Folks of Redbow. must go, I suppose, and all the kitchen furni- ture; but Maud and Felice, and poor old Petkin, I can't lose them." "Cad," said Kate quietly, "can't you believe papa ? It seems Fanny wont, but I think you and I ought to." Fanny paused a moment with puzzled face. She remembered what unbounded faith she had always professed in her father. " Miss," said nurse, knocking at the door some moments afterward, "your pa sent me to say that there's no danger now. The fire took itself another way it's most out, too." Down fell the corners of the coverlet. " Now you've got everything to put back," said Cad, laughing. " I might have known," muttered impetuous Fanny, and bit her lip. . " You should have had more faith in papa," said grave Kate. " But never mind I'll help you." "And we'll never tell, will we?" queried Cad, roguishly. Heroic Phil. 73 "I don't want any help," Fanny retorted, and her face said so plainly " please go out," that both girls left her. When they had gone, she could have cried for very shame. There was at least an hour's hard work before her. " It serves me just right," she muttered, disconsolately. " I might have known papa's first thought is always for us. -Next time I'll believe." There had, however, been some cause for fear. Mr. Winfield was at first seriously alarmed, and had been back and forth during the progress of the fire, several times. Phil, who had not thought of sleep' when the alarm first sounded, was on his feet and at the window in a twinkling. He ached to be on the street; he threw up the sash and shouted himself nearly hoarse. Finally, for- getting all considerations of loyalty and obe- dience, his boy-nature triumphed. Hastily slipping on his clothes, he found his way down stairs without being noticed, ran out 74 The Little Folks of Redbow. of the house, and was soon amidst the throng of noisy, toiling firemen. An hour after that Mr. Winfield returned. An object met his eyes that startled him, begrimed, covered with water and dirt, and crouching up against the door. "Who are you?" he asked, thinking the creature some victim of the fire, shelterless and beggared. A face was lifted up in the clear moonlight, and a hoarse voice said: "It's me, father!" Mr. Winfield stood for a moment like one petrified; he could scarcely believe the evi- dence of his senses. He dared not trust himself to speak, for he was very angry; he only opened the door and motioned the culprit in. There, under the glare of the gas, stood Philip, dirty, torn, disgraced, and as his father thought, defiant. "You young rascal!" said Mr. Winfield, deliberately, " is there no honor in you ? Do you mean to grow up a rebellious, bad man ? Heroic Phil. 75 Go to your room. To-morrow I shall punish you severely. See here, sir; you are not to leave your chamber till I release you. Do you hear me?" "Yes, sir," said Phil, doggedly, and went creeping up stairs. There he divested himself of his soiled clothes, and plunged his face and hands in water. And now one might see that the poor red hands were waled with red and livid stripes. There was a crimson patch on his forehead; his hair was singed, and he crept into bed smarting from head to foot, and once there, he turned his face to the pillow and wept for very anguish. The next day his food was sent up to him, and the next. At the close of the second day, however, Mr. Winfield was startled by the call of a stranger, who asked for Phil. " I have been looking for the boy ever since the fire," he said, "and this morning, one of the hose company directed me here." Mr. Winfield's heart throbbed painfully. 76 The Little Folks of Redbow. What escapade of his poor wild boy was now to be brought to light? " He has already been punished severely," he said. " Punished ! punished ?" The man started from his seat. "Why sir, I have come to offer him one hundred dollars for his bravery." It was Mr. Winfield's turn to be astounded. " Really, sir, I don't understand what you allude to, at all. The boy left my house on the night of the fire ; he knew it was against my orders. He came home a scarecrow, wet and draggled, and I sent him to his room, and have kept him there." " Poor little fellow then he did not tell you ?" " He told me nothing, sir." The man smiled. "He's a splendid little man," he said, "and you have reason to be proud of him. When my house was on fire, and my family safely out, my little lame daughter, an invalid from her birth, cried bitterly because her pet canary Heroic Phil. 77 was left in the flames. It seems your boy stood near and heard her cries. I offered one hundred dollars to any fireman who would rescue the little creature. " But mark you, before I had offered this reward, your son, if I am not mistaken in my information, had plunged into the house, gone its entire length, secured the cage, dashed out of a back building, gone round by an alley, and given the bird in charge of some person in a neighboring street. My little girl was wild with joy at the restoration of her favorite. I don't know but its loss in so frightful a manner might have caused her death. As it is, Dick is singing in his cage to-day, and I owe this pleasure to your brave little son. The fire destroyed the house I lived in, but beyond that has not injured me, and I have come to give this money to the boy who risked his life without promise of fee or reward." Mr. Winfield listened to this story in ex- treme surprise. He thought of that night and the sorry appearance of Phil; he thought of 78 The Little Folks of Redbow. his heavy hand on the boy's shoulder; his stern words, Phil's uncomplaining submission his lonely vigils in his own room, suffering, perhaps, from wounds, bruises and burns. Barton was just then passing the door. " Tell master Philip I wish to see him," he said. The two men waited in silence till the boy came down, and entered the room with a downcast face. The spot on his forehead had blistered and was much discolored; he hid his hands awkwardly. His bright face was clouded and his features discomposed. "My son!" said Mr. Winfield, an unwonted tenderness in his tones. Phil drew a long breath and his lip quivered, but his eye grew brighter. Mr. Winfield was unmanned; he could not trust his voice, but nodded to the stranger. "I have come to reward you, my boy, for your gallant behavior on the night of the fire, in saving my poor little girl's pet bird from the flames." Heroic Phil. 79 The blood rushed all over Phil's face; his lips worked, he looked askance at his father, and then his head fell on his bosom. "Was that your deed, my son?" his father asked. "I yes sir I went into the house, and I I got the cage down ; 'twas pretty hot," said Phil, in a low voice. The two men looked at each other. There were tears of joy in Mr. Winfield's eyes. Although the act of disobedience in itself was wrong, yet the brave, disinterested deed of his boy ennobled him, and gave the father hope, when all had been so reprehensible before. It had been a silent heroism, and proved a certain, positive grandeur in the boy's character, underlying his rudeness and rashness. "I have one hundred dollars here for you, my boy," said the stranger. Phil shook his head. " I'd rather not take it, sir," he said sturdily. " I wouldn't like to have money for it" 8o The Little Folks of Redbow. "But it will be a great disappointment to my sick little girl, who asks me about it every day; and she is such an invalid that she must be gratified." Under the circumstances, it seemed almost impossible to refuse the reward, and then for the rest of that day Phil had enough of hero- worship, for the story was told from garret to cellar. Phil's hands, poor boy, were dressed and kissed most tenderly by Cad's "angel," tears rolling down her cheeks as she per- formed her task. " My dear boy," she said, " after this, I shall always think the best of you. Don't tell me you hate girls, when the tears of that poor little lame creature made you such a hero. You are a great deal better and tenderer than you know, my dear." The rest of the week was given to Phil, and wherever he went he was an object of admiration, and some way, it even got into the papers. CHAPTER VIII. COFFEE AND CURRY. A tiny lady, yet so old, She talked of diamond? and gold, Of fashions new and follies old." T was still holiday and high carnival at the Winfield mansion. Kate and Fanny had been busy ornamenting the nursery. Pine-boughs and ever- greens smiled out sunnily from every nook and corner. Baskets, vases, tables and mantels were full of verdure. These, with flowers from the small, well kept conservatory, made the room alive with blooms. On the day with which our chapter opens, Fanny had taken great pains with her toilet, as the fluttering ribbons from neck, head and arms proclaimed. Cad had bestowed hours 6 81 82 The Little Folks of Redbow. of patient labor upon her household treasures. Her dolls had been newly dressed ; her little house of four rooms, swept and garnished ; the kitchen shone, and nurse declared, admir- ingly, that "a more perfect little born 'ousewife she had never seen." Fanny had been somewhat remiss in her devoirs to Prince Charlie, his dimpled fingers and her ribbons were better apart. Kate sat in the study, reading a letter from her brother Ross, part of which ran as follows: "I wish my father had not set his heart on making me a lawyer. I have no liking what- ever for the profession. I hate the city and I dislike the law. Still, I will endeavor not to disappoint him. If he should ask me point blank what I think of the profession, my answer would be in accordance with my preju- dices. How goes shop now-a-days? We used to have such jolly times! I think I was as much of a girl as any of you. Frankly, I had rather be among girls any day, than these rude fellows. Coffee and Curry. 83 "By the by, Phil is a success, isn't he? That little newspaper article about him pleased the boys vastly. 'What!' they asked, 'was it your brother?' That boy will be an honor to the family; he will be the lawyer, while I shall keep a grocery, or run a farm. How is practi- cal little Cad ? One of my chums told me a little story concerning her. It was Bill Rau- leigh; good fellow! you'd like him. It seems old Mr. Rauleigh, Bill's father, was very eccentric, and for years imagined that he had given up all belief in immortality. So once upon a time he planted a small lettuce-bed, and as the young plants peeped above ground they read as follows: "'GOD IS NOWHERE.' "It appears that father and he often held debates upon the matter. Cad was a little thing then, some six years old, reading in short syllables, and quite proud of the pro- gress she made. "So one day papa carried her into his neighbor's garden it was when papa was in 84 The Little Folks of Redbow. the country and presently they heard the child clapping her hands in great glee. '"I can read it all, papa," cried Cad; 'look, O! how pretty! It says, " ' God is now here.' " ' No, no/ said the old man ; ' look again, child. It reads, " ' God is nowhere.' '"But hear me spell it,' quoth confident Cad: '" G-o-d God, i-s is, n-o-w now, h-e-r-e here' "Poor old man! Cad's logic quite overcame him. And it had such an effect upon him that he carefully pointed it just as the child had read it, and gave up his infidel notions ever after." Kate remembered the story; she had once heard her father tell it. "Good little Cad," she murmured. Kate was very fond and proud of Ross. He had always been her hero. It hurt her a little to feel that he was so unambitious, and she sometimes scolded him for his prosaic notions. Coffee and Curry. 85 Her mother came in. "What time will they be here, do you think ?" asked Kate. " They," meant her father and little Rosa- lind, the Indian cousin. " He said five-twenty. I have just sent the carriage for them." " Have you seen the nursery ?" " Yes, dear ; it is as bright as a garden in June. When the gas is on, it will be a bower fit for the fairies." " But don't you dread her coming, just a little?" " No, dear, not with you for an aid-de-camp, I hope we shall make a happy home for the motherless child." Kate's cheek flushed, she was proud to be of service to her mother. The girls had gathered together in the sit- ting-room and were listening intently for car- riage wheels. Dinner had been delayed, but now the servants were busy in the dining- room beyond, and the clock pointed to a half hour after six. 86 The Little Folks of Redbow. Phil was but mortal, and sometimes pre- sumed upon his sudden popularity. He came into the room and proceeded in his usual fashion to jar upon the harmony of the little group so expectantly waiting. First he turned a chair upon Fanny's toes and then tweaked her ribbons. Fanny in her anger chased him, in order to inflict chastisement upon his ears. In the race he pulled a chair from Cad, and threw down Kate's music stand. " If there's any thing more horrid than a boy!" cried Fanny, as he sheltered himself behind the furniture. " It's a girl," finished Phil, beginning a clog-dance, in imitation of the street Arabs. " Phil, you know this is no place to dance in ; can't you be decent ?" queried Kate, after restoring her music stand to its upright posi- tion. " It seems as if you try to make your- self the pest of the house, sometimes." "Hollo! St. Catharine!" shouted Phil, never more delighted than when he drew sparks from her; "here's the angel of the household Coffee and Curry. 87 down on me. Don't get mad, Kate, you know I'm a 'wholesome discipline.'" Kate's resolution gave way at this, and the old spirit asserted itself. Irritated by Phil, who continued his uncouth dance and snapped his fingers at her derisively, she caught him by the arm and shook him with all her strength. The boy flung her off, with a word such as none of that little group had ever heard from household lips, and then ran, flushed and frightened, out of the room. The girls looked at each other with blanched faces. Kate's was whitest of them all. She had been the cause of that dreadful sin ; her loss of temper had provoked him to an open defiance of God's law. For a long time there was utter silence. " O dear, dear," said Cad, at last, with quiv- ering lips, "what shall we do?" " HE heard it," responded Fanny in an awe-struck tone, involuntarily glancing up- wards. " I seem to hear it all over the room," said 88 The Little Folks of Redbow. Cad, tearfully. " I guess it poisoned the very air." " He never meant to do it ; it must have come before he thought," murmured Fanny. "What would papa do to him?" " Papa ought to know it," said Kate shrink- ingly; "and I was some to blame, though he did try me terribly;" she added, tears in her eyes. "Shall you tell father?" asked Fanny. "I don't believe Phil belongs to us," said Cad, with quivering lips. "You didn't say that when he did such a noble action," Kate responded, the shadows falling more thickly upon her. She acknow- ledged to herself that she had been very angry when she shook him; that she was eager to hurt him in some way, and the boy's retort was only the result of the old law like creating like. He had seen the hate in her eyes, and up leaped the bad word to his lips. Mrs. Winfield came smilingly in and turned on the gas. Coffee and Curry. 89 "The carriage is coming," she said, and away they all rushed to the windows, Kate giving them a sign, somehow, that Phil's mishap was not to be mentioned just now. Nearer and nearer came the sound of wheels. The carriage stopped, eager eyes looked out on the street, and then there was the pause of expectation. Presently Mr. Winfield led in a little girl. She looked about her with great, frightened eyes. What an atom she was, and so oddly dressed, all in black. " Children, welcome your little cousin," said Mr. Winfield cheerily. " She is tired and lonesome, and I shouldn't wonder if a little hungry." To Kate had been assigned the duty of caring for the stranger's immediate wants. She led the passive child up stairs to the nursery, where the dinner was to be sent for that day. Kate, as she led her into the beautiful room, smiled at sight of the decorations in honor of 9O The Little Folks of Redbow. such an atom. She helped her off with her hat and cloak and furs. " I am going to stay with you here, and we shall take dinner alone, as you are so tired." " Thank you, I am not in the least tired," said the child, and in such a grand little womanish way, that Kate was taken quite aback, and stood staring at her. " Queen of the Lilliputs," she thought, as little miss Linda seated herself with the greatest com- placency, and the trouble and wonder seemed to fade out of her eyes. " Why didn't the other children come up ?" she asked in the same level tone. "The other children!" Kate felt her dignity oozing out at her finger ends. Did the mite take her for a child ? " Mamma thought you needed rest," she answered, quite subdued in voice and manner. "What curious windows!" continued miss Linda, looking round the room; "what a very queer place altogether! I think papa's bun- galow was a good deal nicer." Coffee and Curry. 91 "Weren't you very sorry to leave your papa?" queried Kate. "Rather it made me cry a little," was the reluctant confession. "If I could have brought Murdg with me he was so clever! but he was papa's interpreter of Hindostanee. He couldn't spare him. This is a very cold country;" and she shivered a little. "I am sorry you are cold." "O, I'm not cold here, thanks." "We shall all try to make you feel at home," ventured Kate, quite astounded at the child's self-possession. "I liked the captain and the ship. I didn't want to come here," said Linda. "I don't know any one I didn't want to come; but papa would would " She stopped; some passionate feeling seemed to choke her, and dropping her face in her tiny hands, she began to cry and sob. Kate was conquered at once. Her whole heart went out in pity. She was on her knees in a moment. 92 The Little Folks of Redbow. "My poor little cousin!" Something in her sweet, sympathetic voice, touched the child. She stopped her sobs for a moment, and took one long, breathless look at Kate's face. Then Kate opened her arms, and the sad little waif crept into them and cried more quietly upon her shoulder. Presently the dinner was brought up, and daintily arranged on a little round table. Kate coaxed the child towards it. " You must eat some chicken," she said, "and a bit of salad. You don't know how good mamma's salads are." "I should prefer curry, chicken and iced sherry;" responded Linda, with a return to her old stateliness. " The captain always had curry for me." "May be we will have curry to-morrow," said Kate, half laughing; "to-night we will make chicken do without. As for wine, papa never allows us to taste of that. Would a little nice tea do, instead?" Kate was quite startled at the mite's demand for iced sherry. Coffee and Curry. 93 "I don't wish any tea," said Linda; "papa always let me drink coffee." " Coffee and curry, and iced sherry," thought Kate; " no wonder the child is such a mite." "We never have coffee," said Kate, de- murely. "I don't care for any dinner, then," said Linda; but Kate coaxed her a little, and she ate a small portion of the chicken. Meantime Fanny and Cad were longing to get to the nursery. Mrs. Winfield thought it best for their cousin to come down stairs. Instead of that, Kate surprised them with the information that Miss Linda had asked to be taken directly to bed, and was then asleep. "In my bed!" said Cad, exultingly; "then I shall see her the first thing in the morning, before any of you. I'm going to give her Felice." The generous little girl had fought a hard battle with herself before consent had been obtained to this act of self-denial. Felice was the very choicest of all her possessions, but 94 The Little Folks of Redbow. the sacrifice was made, and she was quite happy over it. Phil sat crouching behind the globes. Kate's face burned as she met his eye. He was very humble now. In the solitude of his own room he had been playing mumble- peg, but the charms of his favorite pleasure had yielded to remorse. His solid, ebony- handled knife seemed to regard him with a grim sarcasm, as it laid open blade upon its back." The paper on the wall resolved itself into a legion of accusing faces. Conscience tortured him, and a series of desperate somer- saults did not mend the matter. Over and over again a still small voice kept repeating, "Swear not at all." "I didn't mean to," he muttered; "it just popped out itself and pshaw! who cares? Kate '11 tell papa, I 'spose, and I shall get soli- tary confinement number two. Ugh! girls!" and the spite and the twist in his face would have done no dishonor to a Comanche chief, ready for the war-path. Coffee and Curry. 95 Poor Phil proved his descent from Adam, who said, "The woman tempted me." Well for him that he came to the conclusion at last, that he had done a mean, contemptible thing. Kate's loving heart went out to the boy, and she wanted to give him some word of condolence. "I say," he muttered, as she managed to place herself in proximity to him, "are you going to tell on me?" " Not unless you say I may; but papa ought to know," said Kate, gently. "I don't believe you will feel quite right till you tell him. Just tell him the whole, if you say any thing; don't spare me." Phil twirled the globes, a bright red spot in either cheek. He knew his father would be just, perhaps generous. Kate was not sur- prised to be telgraphed to, later in the even- ing, by master Phil. "I'm going to do it," he whispered. "Tell father!" 96 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Yes; if I don't, I shall run away." "O, Phil!" cried Kate, shrinkingly. "Yes," said Phil, soberly. "I've got a hun- dred dollars. Wouldn't there be jolly times, though? I think I should make for India." " Phil, I won't hear you talk so ; what can you mean?" "And by and by I'd be sending you pre- sents ; India shawls, and camels and elephants, you know; and I'd be a roojah, or whatever they" call 'em, and wear palanquins and nan- keens, and a hat with a feather in it, and own a thousand slaves" he paused suddenly, and broke into a laugh at Kate's anxious face. "A fellow can make girls believe any- thing," he said. "I say, I'm coming down on you, though." "You may say just what you please about me," Kate responded. "And that's nothing." CHAPTER IX. CAD ANTICIPATES. "And childish indignation Proves many a throbbing smart." S for Cad, she could not go to sleep for thinking of the little stranger at her side. "She's small, and not a bit pretty. I wonder what her eyes are like! but her hair is beautiful," soliloquized motherly Cad. " There's a moon, and it's as bright as morn- ing;" so Cad jumped out of bed to take a look at the little shapeless things hanging over the chair. On the bureau she found a plain black vel- vet ribbon, in the midst of which shone a small white stone of exceeding brilliancy. "I wonder if she wears that bit of glass?" 7 ^ 97 98 The Little Folks of Redbow. queried Cad, contemptuously, as she jumped into bed again. "Poor thing, I know mamma wont want her to wear that hideous black. If she hasn't got any clothes made, I'll let her have some of mine; my crimson alpacca, it's too small for me." The little girl looked upon her cousin in much the same light that she did upon her big dolls, and fairly revelled in the anticipated delight of dressing and undressing her, and trying the effects of various colors upon her. At last she fell asleep, and on waking in the morning was surprised and a little annoyed to find her room-mate sitting up in bed, evi- dently taking an inventory of her new com- panion ; a curious, intense expression, dark- ening her sallow, tiny face. Cad smiled a good morning. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, some- what daunted at her cousin's continued stare. " No I didn't sleep at all. The bed rocks up and down, like the ship; don't you feel it? Are you one of the children?" Cad Anticipates. 99 " Yes, I'm Cad," was the response. "My bed's the biggest, so they let you sleep with me. What makes you think it rocks?" " It's the ship, I fancy. Did you ever go to sea? It's splendid! They tied me to the mast once, because it stormed and I wouldn't go below. We had plenty of fun; once they tossed me in a blanket just a little, you know; and once they sold me. The captain bought me for lots of rupees, and then he gave me all the money. I've a box of bon bons in my trunk, they're delicious. I'd rather be at sea than here O, a great deal !" " Do you want me to help you dress ?" asked Cad. " I dress myself, thanks," said Linda, with a great assumption of womanliness. " I had an English mamma, and she taught me to take care of myself when I was five years old, though I had an Ayah of my own. She said people were lazy who let themselves be dressed. And after mamma died, I always sat at table when papa had the officers to ioo The Little Folks of Redbow. dinner, and behaved like a perfect lady," she added with self-complacency. Cad's face was hid in the pillow. This odd young person made her laugh. " I can't get used to this place," continued Linda. " I almost wish papa had let me stay in India. There were lots of mamma's rela- tions wanted me in England. I I'm home- sick," and she began to whimper a little. " Wait 'till you see our playthings and my kitchen-stove," said Cad, " and drive out with us, and go to the exhibitions and concerts. Papa always takes us somewhere once a week. I'm sure you'll be very happy with us, and come a little closer, I always want to whisper it you'll find our mamma just an. angel ! She'll love you just as she loves us, and you'll love her, because you can't help it. We'll keep house together, splendid ! I can do every thing ; bake, wash, iron and clean up. There ! that's the bell, and we must get up, to be in time for prayers. Do you wear that bit of velvet round your neck ?" Cad Anticipates. 101 " O, that is my diamond !" exclaimed Linda. " Mamma had it fixed so as to fasten or^ velvet. I only wear it when I am dressed grandly. My clothes haven't come there's three great boxes and I haven't a single morning-apron what shall I wear?" " Won't one of mine do ?" and Cad eagerly drew out half a dozen from their nest. " Dear me those thick, . coarse things !" exclaimed the child with a wry face. " They feel almost like pongee, such as the servants wear." Cad flushed. "We call it nice enough for us," she res- ponded in her spirited little voice. "Then they don't make such fine stuff as they do in India. Please put my diamond away, I only wear it in full dress." "Full dress," thought Cad; "she's a cut down woman." " Is it a real diamond ?" she asked, as she stowed it in one of her boxes. " Perhaps mamma had better take care of it, if it is; IO2 The Little Folks of Redbow. diamonds are worth a great deal of money. I heard papa say he gave two hundred dollars for just a little one." " I don't know what it cost," said Linda, with supreme disdain; "papa never cared what things cost." "Do you like babies?" asked Cad. "No; I hate 'em." Cad was horrified. Her cheeks reddened scarlet, and what Kate called the "Winfield temper" blazed for a moment in her soft eyes. "Then you ought not to see our Prince Charlie, for he is a baby. You won't want to play with dolls, and I've got oceans from England, Paris, and all over the world. Don't like babies!" and little Cad felt her throat swell as with a sense of being unjustly treated by one whom she wished to befriend. Linda was not so much to be blamed. She had seen only the little naked barba- rians, loud-voiced and swart, who cried round the Asiatic servants at home. She had never Cad Anticipates. 103 touched the fair, peachy cheeks, or felt the pressure of sweet velvet lips of her own kin. Indeed she had known but few of the gentler influences of home, even during her mother's life, for fashionable society claimed all her mother's time. CHAPTER X. LINDA'S OPINIONS. " I do not like you, Doctor Fell, The reason why, I cannot tell." OR the first day, Linda was left very much alone, but she chose to remain with the girls, and her great eyes allowed nothing to escape her. She noted, child as she was, the nicety and beauty of the household. The white crystals of the hardened snow were objects of constant delight. The great trees in front of the dwelling, drip- ping with frozen pendants ; the many-colored sleighs and the merry music of the bells about the necks of the horses ; the brown spires of St. Mary's and its silver-toned chimes; the "white rose-leaves" falling over the world as the slow flakes came sailing down, some- 104 Linda's Opinions. 105 times, for the day was cloudy ; above all, the sweet, reposeful, love-shadowed face of Cad's "angel," all these opened a new world to her, a world of action as well as sentiment, a world that was to rouse and stimulate her deadened energies. After breakfast a formal announcement was made that there would be no lessons for the rest of the week. Books and slates were locked up with great glee. Cad called Linda to see her extinguish earth, sky and ocean, as she drew the linen covers over the globes, and then a dance without music was impro- vised for the occasion. Linda had chained Cad to her with rivets of steel, by declaring that had she known babies could be as beau- tiful as Prince Charlie, she should have loved them with all her heart. Even Phil seemed to be on his best beha- vior. He had confessed his error, and been heartily forgiven, henceforth mumblepeg was divested of its satire, and the wall-paper regarded him benignantly. io6 The Little Folks of Redbow. Phil declared himself at first quite disgusted with his little cousin, and gave it as his delib- erate opinion, cautiously expressed, however, that she looked like a shark. She, on her part, avoided him, much as a kitten avoids a rough dog ; it was not in Phil's nature to be gentle. " I like your sisters," she said confidentially to Cad, " and your mother is a lady but that boy is very rude and teasing." " O well, you know boys always are that is, boys like our Phil. You see he hasn't been with us a great while, and I suspect he got his bad manners at school. But didn't you admire papa? is uncle Harry like him?" "Handsomer!" said Linda, promptly. "O no, that's impossible," returned Cad, after a pause of astonishment. " I do not believe there's a handsomer man in all the world than our papa." " Except mine," said Linda, sturdily, " be- cause his hair curls and his whiskers are long." Linda 's Opinions. 107 " I don't think much of whiskers," defiant Cad responded; "whiskers don't make men handsome cats have whiskers." There was no response to this somewhat ungenerous speech. That was a day however to be long remem- bered. Cad's kitchen was in full operation, and every one of her twenty odd dolls came out of their nooks and drawers, and shelves and corners. They were all placed in a row on one of the lounges, and Linda's great eyes shone with delight. " Now," said Cad, a little self-reproachful on account of the whiskers, "you may have any doll you want ; one, you know, only one, because I gave you Felice." Linda walked silently back and forth. She was a long time making up her mind. One young lady in Turkish costume pleased her color-loving eye; she hesitated before a Greek, dressed in lovely robes of oriental finish, with a satin turban lightly resting on black, flow- ing tresses. There was Maude, dressed in io8 The Little Folks of Redbow. sober silk, and Nanny in a morning-wrapper of the latest fashion. Petkin was still asleep in the four-poster; Cad would have lost a finger sooner than her precious Petkin, the eldest and the dearest. It was a great relief when Linda made her choice at last, and selected the Turkish beauty. There were Marys, and Sallys, and Pollys, quite beneath miss Linda's notice, but very dear to the heart of this little ruler of dolls. Some were dreadfully maimed and disfig- ured; perpetual eruptions, broken limbs and equivocal eyes were handy in the sickly season. In cases of measles and chicken-pox, the scarred faces came out in full force. Cad in her unwearied and beautiful motherhood treated them with special tenderness. This one she had entrusted to a careless nurse, and another had her poor nose broken in a fall from the perambulator. Another, Cad gravely asserted, lost her eyes by an attack of inflam- mable rheumatism, and the eyeless doll was Linda's Opinions. 109 recompensed for her blindness by a series of ardent hugs. " I don't see how you can like them, when they're so ugly," said Linda, making wry faces. "But that's not their fault, poor dears," replied sympathetic Cad. "What would we do if our mammas didn't like us, if our noses were broken ?" The argument was irrestible. "This one," pointing to an armless body, whose head always reclined on one shoulder or the other through inability of backbone, "I had when I was a bit of a baby. My own mamma made it for me, and I suppose it was very beautiful once, but I cherish it, you see, although it has got consumption so ter- ribly that I may be called to part with it any moment. This frock was mine, and I wore it when I was six weeks old; I keep a shawl wrapped round it, to hide its poor arms." "But it hasn't any arms," said Linda. Cad gave a wistful look. 1 1 o T/ie Little Folks of Redbow. "We'll make-believe we don't notice that," she said softly, and her face lighted up with a smile that seemed to come from heaven. On the whole, that was a delightful day. Fanny was very gracious to the little stranger, and Barton won her heart by telling her stories of London, the city where her mother was born. Cad cooked a small dinner in her famous stove, and had her best tea-set out. Even Phil forgot to be ungracious, and only said he hated girls once during the day, and that was occasioned by his breaking Cad's milk pitcher, over the fragments of which a few natural tears were shed. They were engaged in merry games after dinner, when suddenly Cad gave a great cry of delight. CHAPTER XL WHAT ROSS WANTED. " The cold, heartless city, with its forms And dull routine ; its artificial manners, And arbitrary rules." HE door-bell sounded simultaneous with her cry, and Cad had flown out into the hall. "I knew it was him!" she exult- ingly exclaimed, as she came in with her brother Ross, who carried a bouquet of hot- house flowers in one hand and a travelling bag in the other. "And only think, he's come to our vacation !" "Well, puss, wait till I get my traps down;" said Ross, giving his bag to the grinning ser- vant. " There ! now I'm ready to be made a spectacle o" in 112 The Little Folks of Redbow. He certainly did make a very pleasant spec- tacle, as he stood on the threshold of the brilliantly lighted room ; tall, dark-eyed, and smiling, the very picture of stalwart young America preparing for its sterner march into the realms of manhood. Then came kisses and exclamations of endearment. Ross marched up to Cad's "angel." " I brought this all the way from the Pro- fessor's conservatory," he said, giving her the flowers, pleased at her pride of him and evident delight at his thoughtfulness. "That's our biggest brother," whispered ' Cad to wondering Linda. " How many are there of you !" said the child, whose interest was beginning to twine about something beside herself. "O, a great many, and we are all together now." Mr. Winfield had risen from the sofa. Ross was standing beside him telling the news. The college-buildings were under repair, so there was a vacation of several weeks. Mr. What Ross Wanted. 113 Winfield put his arm over the young fellow's shoulder, Ross's hand slid round his father's waist. This little act, trifling as it was, revealed to the observer that complete confi- dence between father and son which does not always exist in such relationship. After this, Ross was claimed successively by the sisters, and such merry by-plays as there were, such secrets told, such confidences in- voked ! Linda gladened Cad's heart, so that it broke out into kisses and a hug, by a declaration that Ross was the handsomest boy she had ever seen; and Ross took very kindly to his sly little cousin. She hung on his words and treasured his smiles. "Won't we have grand times, now?" mur- mured Fanny, wondering secretly if her rib- bons were equal to the occasion. After a while Kate and Ross sat down in a corner, to have an old-fashioned chat. Then Kate must sing one of the dear old songs, and it really seemed as if the very atmosphere grew rose-colored, and shining wings flitting U4 Tfo Little Folks of Redbow. past, left their radiance upon every gentle face. Cad undertook to teach Linda a new tidy- stitch, the bright gayly colored wools running over bands and dresses. Fanny and Phil played battledore, and Prince Charlie crowed in Hebrew or Chaldaic, I am not certain which. "I tell you what, it refreshes a fellow to get home once in a while," said Ross, march- ing back and forth with his mannish step. " I don't believe any of our boys have such a royal place as this to go to. Crow away little prince, I don't wonder;" and baby in another moment was perched upon his shoul- der and danced to its heart's content. A week of unalloyed happiness followed. Flowers strewed the path of these youthful, untried hearts. Ross carried the house by storm. It was he who planned amusements, fetes, surprises. The carriage was at his command. " It never could be put to a better use," said Mr. Win- What Ross Wanted. 115 field, as the happy faces passed him and he sighed again ; was it from very fulness of content, or was there in his heart an unde- fined sadness, a fear that this almost perfect happiness was soon to be rudely broken in upon ? Whatever the reason, it was certain that some foreboding possessed his mind. This kind of gay life suited Linda. She blossomed out into a gay little lady, parading all her new dresses, and was very indignant with her aunt Winfield because she interdicted the wearing of the most expensive, and the gaudiest colors. Linda had an astonishing wardrobe. She would have turned Cad's head, if that little busy bee's brain had been capable of such an atrocity. Poor Fanny sighed over the India mulls and painted mus- lins, and gossamer silks. She privately in- formed her mother that she thought Linda quite too young for such finery. Mrs. Win- field thought so too, but being judicious, she waited till she was sure of Linda's love before she counselled her. 1 1 6 The Little Folks of Redbow. Ross never tired of the nursery, big fellow as he was. He liked to see the little ones busy at their play. "Kate, open shop for me," he said, one morning. " Shop" was a small room over the nursery. Mr. Winfield had once been paid an old debt in dry goods, calicoes, cottons, braids, hosiery, linen, towelling, &c., which filled the shelves. Drawers underneath were furnished with spool-cotton, yarn, buttons, needles, &c., making a regular shop on a small scale. Whenever Mrs. Winfield wished for mate- rial to make up for domestic purposes, Kate was sent to open shop. A nominal price was allowed for every article; she measured, gave change, and became in fact a practical shop- keeper. In a few months it would be Fanny's turn to superintend this little establishment. The money was kept in a small safe, and used partly as a charity fund. FaYiny was assistant book-keeper, and even little Cad assisted in taking account of stock. What Ross Wanted. 117 "There's a shop-keeping instinct in me," laughed Ross, looking round the shelves as they reached the shop. " I shall have to give up law I shall indeed, and I told papa so yesterday." "And what did he say?" " Didn't seem to mind it much said if I had no fancy for it, it would be useless to go in for it; what an uncommonly sensible man that dear father of ours is! I tell you what, Kate," he added, swinging himself up to the counter, "I should like to be a first- rate farmer. I always had a fancy, you know, for fussing over a garden, and that's the calling for me. I'm studying chemistry now, and that's a firstrate help to a fellow. Good farmers .need such knowledge; in fact the better read a man is, the better farmer he is. I did'nt like the city, it's full of misery and wretchedness; give me the country, Kate, with you to help manage a fellow." " Dear me, how nice it would be," Kate dreamily murmured; "an old-fashioned house 1 1 8 The Little Folks of Redbow. in the country, a dairy, cows, hens and chick- ens beautiful fields all shining with corn and wheat fruit-orchards I don't wonder at any one for wanting to be a farmer but then," she added thoughtfully, "there's a great deal of dirty work about it." " Not half as dirty as the law," said Ross, making a wry face. " One may get his hands or his linen soiled, but that's better than an ugly smutch on your conscience. I shouldn't like to hang a man by my special pleading, if he deserved it ever so much, or let a rascal go unwhipt of justice for the payment of an enormous fee. No, sir," he added, warming up, " I can't be a lawyer; I've no .call to be a clergyman, and drugs I despise." " You and I might live on a little farm to- gether," said Kate, who mentally saw herself mistress of a fine, cool dairy, without in the least comprehending what its practical duties were likely to be. " If father would only take a place in the country, somewhere, and give up business !" What Ross Wanted. 119 " I wish he would," echoed Kate. " I don't think he looks quite well of late. I'm sure I see mamma watching him anxiously some- times." " He's the best father that ever a fellow had, I know that," cried Ross with great warmth. Dusk was stealing into the little shop a golden, lingering dusk, for the western sky hung thick with the richly tinted clouds of sunset. Kate and her brother went down into the nursery, where Linda was patiently un- dressing Felice, under the supervision of Cad, and Fanny was knitting some little fancy article for the toilet. At length the week of play had come to an end. Sunday, filled in with pleasant duties and rare enjoyments, had closed, and the next sunrise would usher in the more prosaic cares of school-life. On the Saturday preceding, Cad put the finishing touches to her household labors. Nurse Barton had kindly polished the stove for her ; the carpet had been shaken, the tins 1 20 The Little Folks of RedboW. made to shine like bits of silver, and the whole kitchen was renovated. It had been a novel thing to Linda, this playing at work, but she succeeded very well and did great credit to her patient little teacher. The business of scrubbing and scouring was lightened by her amusing sto- ries of home, and even Ross lingered to lis- ten to her merry descriptions of the water- bearers, the " men-washerwomen," as she gravely called them, the cooks who got up dinners on the streets, the turbaned coolies, the ayahs, the swinging hammocks, the noon- day siestas, and the grand dinners her father gave to the officers and state dignitaries. " She's rather a nice little thing," Ross said to Fanny, "and seems to have plenty of money." "Yes, uncle Harry is very rich, and she brought money with her. At first she wanted to buy every thing she saw, and papa had to limit her; she is not as ravenous now," Kate added, laughing. What Ross Wanted. 121 Study was not pleasant to Linda. She never had liked books, she said, and forth- with began to assert her resolute will. She developed a capacity for mischief, and kept the study in a state of chronic unrest, making laughable pictures on her porcelain slate, and distorting her droll little countenance till she threw Phil and Cad into convulsions of sup- pressed laughter. Mrs. Winfield turned her over to Ross, but she rebelled worse than before. One day Cad and she were sent up stairs for some wilful misdemeanor. Cad felt her- self disgraced, and retorted upon Linda. "To think," she said with a sob, "you should come all the way from India to make me wicked!" " Let's have a real good time, and not care," retorted Linda. " But I do care, when I make my mamma unhappy," moaned Cad. Linda sat silent for a moment, her little features working drolly. 122 The Little Folks of Red bow. "Truly and truly I can't help it," she said. " I guess Vishnu must be in me. He used to get in Burdg, dreadfully he was papa's interpreter you know." " Who is Vishnu ?" queried Cad. Linda put on a mysterious air. "A dreadful god, who makes Hindoo peo- ple do awful things. I've got him in me as sure as you're alive. Burdg used to wear him, and he was made out of ivory." Cad drew back shrinkingly. "Then I'm afraid of you, and I wish you'd staid in India," she cried. Upon that Linda's face grew dark. " I fancy Vishnu is very angry with you," she said, scowling, "and he just wants to make me slap you." She sprang towards Cad, who in trying to avoid her fell down, and Linda, to whom passion lent strength, dealt her a series of blows that might have done irrepara- ble mischief if nurse Barton, attracted by the noise, had not rushed in at that moment and separated them. Then poor Linda, so long What Ross Wan fed. 123 untutored that she knew no self-restraint, threw herself upon the nurse with shrieks and contortions. Cad ran frightened down stairs to report the matter. " Linda looked as if she was dying," she said ; " her lips were all covered with foam, and she could scarcely breathe." The girls were left in Ross's care, and Mrs. Winfield hurried up stairs, to find the poor child in convulsions, and Barton so frightened that she could not speak. A week's illness followed, during which Cad moved round like a shadow, more mis- erable than she had ever been before. She was sometimes allowed to sit with the little invalid, but try hard as she would, she could not forget the wild gestures, the fearful name of Vishnu, the dilated eyes and foam-specked lips of her angry little cousin. Linda herself seemed thoroughly ashamed of her misconduct, but excused herself by saying that papa never would let anybody contradict her. 124 The Little Folks of Redbow. " But don't you know it's dreadfully wicked to show such temper?" queried Cad. " If people don't want me to show such temper, then they must let me have my own way," said Linda, complacently. " But we don't always allow little folks to have their own way in this house," said Mrs. Winfield, as entering the room she heard the child's speech; and then she sat down in the darkened chamber and talked to her as she did to Cad and Fanny. The child was silent, her great dark eyes roving from object to object, and her fingers separating mechanically a string of amber beads with which she had been amusing herself. Cad had been sent down stairs. " I'm sure Linda, you don't wish us to banish you to a house full of strangers, where the rules are strict and the punish- ments severe, rather than try and conquer this passionate temper of yours." " Papa wants me to stay here," said Linda. " Not unless we wish it, my dear. If you What Ross Wanted. 125 are unwilling to do as we ask you, and make us all unhappy, we are at liberty to send you to school. Sometimes when people grow up with undisciplined tempers they commit great crimes, and people call them insane. They are insane when they give themselves up to such passions." "But Cad was angry too." "Cad was angry, no doubt; all my little girls forget themselves at times, and say and do what is wrong; but then they are taught to chain down that quick, fiery creature that springs up in their hearts; and they know that when they do wicked things, and say imper- tinent ones, they will never be restored to favor till they are thoroughly sorry, and say so too." "Was Cad sorry, for that time?*' "Very sorry. She has told me so many times, with many tears. Indeed, I was afraid my poor little Cad would be sick too, she mourned so about it." Linda's fingers had let the beads fall, and 126 The Little Folks of Redbow. were tracing the pattern of the quilt. She had heard something evidently quite new to her experience. That little window in her soul from which the curtain had never been lifted before, began to let in the light She traced and thought, and thought and traced. The defiant spirit died hard. "I wish I was back in Irfdia, with my own papa," she half sobbed, with quivering lips. "But you are not back in India, my little one, and you are with people who will love you dearly, if you will only let them. In this house, you see, dear, the grown folks know more than the children, and they are accus- tomed to being obeyed. There can be no order and beauty unless certain rules are followed, and the little folks abide by them. During study hours, they must try to learn; if they are disobedient, they must be punished." "Are you going to punish me?" quivered Linda. " Don't you think you are already punished quite enough*? Here you have been lying in What Ross Wanted. 127 a dark room, with aching temples, while the other children have taken their walks and drives, and been happy down stairs. Do you think you need any more punishment, my poor little darling?" " Yes, I do," sobbed Linda, breaking down, the cords of her throat and temples swelling with her grief; "I deserve to be sent right off to some horrid boarding-school. O dear, I didn't know that it was so wicked. I'll try to be a better girl, if you will only keep me here." Mrs. Winfield gathered the trembling little creature up in her loving arms, and rained kisses upon the wet eyes and flushed cheeks. This was what she had longed for, but almost despaired of hearing, and it warmed her heart to the very core. For a long time she sat there, talking in the sweet low voice of love, till Linda, her little dark face spiritualized, her eyes soft and shining, felt as if she had passed into a new condition, that henceforth she should try to obey, because love required it. 128 The Little Folks of Red bow. Her little heart had been lifted for the first time to the dear Lord and Redeemer of little children, and Linda's spiritual life was beginning. Mrs. Winfield went into the nursery. Cad was there. " Go in and try to make little Linda happy," said 'her mother. CHAPTER XII. COMING SHADOWS. " And in misfortune's dreary hour, Or fortune's prosperous gale, 'Twill have a holy, cheering power, There's no such word a.sfail." ROPPED up by pillows, Linda was sitting on the bed when Cad came in beaming, her arms overflowing with dolls. In all directions their placid, painted faces peeped out, some at her throat, some at the back of her elbows, and some their heads, reversing the natural order of things, where their feet should have been. Soon Cad's boxes were spread out and her budget of finery arranged. "You don't like dolls much, do you?" queried Cad. 9 129 130 The Little Folks of Redbow. "I was thinking," said Linda, her tones subdued, "Petkin is homely, isn't she; but she's good. Now these finely dressed dolls have everything they want, but you can't wash their faces with a real wash-rag; I suppose they get in a fearful passion, sometimes." "O no never!" said Cad, shaking her head decisively. "Well, I wish they would; I wish they'd get in a raging, tearing passion well just so I could see myself," she added, humbly. " I suppose they might" responded Cad, thoughtfully, looking at the matter in a new light. " I suppose if I began to shake them, and push and scold them but no, that would be bad temper in me. Still, they might be unreasonable and get angry for nothing, as we do sometimes, you know." "As we always do." "No, not always; mamma says it is quite natural that we should want our own way sometimes, only we. can't see as far as she ( can what would be good for us, and it must Coming Shadows. 131 be a real disappointment to us. That's why she teaches us to bear it patiently, and don't scold. And her saying that, and feeling bad for us, makes it a good deal easier to give up. Don't you see ?" Linda thought she did. " Isn't your mamma elegant?" she cried; Cad bent down and kissed the dark little face. In that most eloquent way she ex- pressed her thanks. It was perfect rapture to hear her mother praised. There came a fearful rap at the door, and then an avalanche of oranges as its was opened, and picture books, and a roll of candy. " That's like boys !" said Cad, as Phil gave a whoop, Indian fashion, and was out of sight. Phil means all these for you; but what a queer way of doing it!" And this was Linda's lesson. She went down stairs a few days afterwards, determined to be good; but she found out what older people than she are sometimes a long time 132 The Little Folks of Redbow. learning, that it was only a step at a time, and not a sudden spring into reformation. And now something occurred that robbed home of much of its beauty. The children met as usual in the general play-room, but the father was often absent. To be sure, Ross threw his slender proportions on the great lounge, after his father's fashion, but nobody felt that he filled his father's place. They missed the hearty laugh, the cheery, grown- up voice. Mrs. Winfield wore an anxious expression. What did it mean? what could be going to happen? Kate and Ross had many private little talks about it, as they worked over their new aquarium. See-weed and shells, and pure white sand formed the basis of this novel home for fishes, and Ross had built quite a marine castle of bits of coral and stone. "' No, I really don't understand why papa should be absent so much," said Ross. " You see I put these pieces of looking-glass in the back of the case, to enlarge the view. Do Coming Shadows. 133 you remember what uncle wrote us about the great Paris aquarium, where the light was arranged so as to fall over large mirrors inserted as panels, and one seemed to look out into the caverns under the sea. They gave the effect of space. There! now we'll get some of those gelatinous fish, rose-colored, that look so like lovely flowers some gold fish, and they, with the tadpoles and the crab, will make our collection one not to be despised, I can tell you." "There's trouble somewhere," said Kate, after assenting to her brother's speech, " for I heard father say that he should hate most of all to give up the house, but for the sake of his creditors he supposed it must be done." "Why, Kate!" exclaimed Ross, his work losing all its interest, " does it mean that father is going to fail, I wonder? That would be dreadful!" " " I'm afraid it does," replied Kate. CHAPTER XIII. THE NEWS. "A country lad is my degree, And few there are that ken me 0." AM not going back to college, that's settled," said Ross on the following day. "Are you sorry?" asked Kate, who seemed a shade older and quieter. Cad and Linda were as busy as they could be in the kitchen; Fanny had gone out to walk with nurse and the baby. "Sorry! what a question; why, if it wasn't for one thing and another, I should be per- fectly^ happy. I'm sorry for father; but he don't consider himself badly off, he says, since he finds that he can pay every cent on the dollar." ' 134 The News. 135 " But it seems such a dreadful thing to be poor, such a dreadful thing to fail ! We never have been poor, you know." " That's nonsense," said Ross, with more energy than grace. "Nobody is poor who is strong and willing to work ; that's the way I look at it. One of our boys at college lost a fortune he never had; I mean his uncle had made him his heir, and was supposed to be a very rich man, but he died insolvent. You'd have thought Ned it was Ned Barker had lost every friend and every prospect in life. He went about like a whipped puppy, ears down. There wasn't a fellow in the school didn't despise him; yQu should have heard him talk of his damaged prospects, after he had been drinking pretty freely. What kind of a fellow is that to get through the world ? I'd throw down books and go shovel, if I was actually afraid of poverty." Kate listened, and her spirits began to rise. " On the whole, it's not a bad thing to be dependent on your muscle," continued Ross, 136 The Little Folks of Redbow. planting his feet more firmly, and throwing back his handsome head. " A spade is better than dumb-bells ; carting gravel is quite as wholesome as lifting twice one's weight." " Do you suppose every thing will have to be sold ?" queried Kate, as she sewed her long white seam. It is curious how one bright face will brighten another. Kate was quite eager to make the best of circumstances now. Shouldn't wonder," was Ross's reply. "Where shall we go?" "It's not decided yet. My vote, if it is worth counting, shall be put in for the coun- try. I'm after a bit of land to farm, you see ; to study my profession." " Suppose we should have to do without servants ?" "Well, suppose we do with fewer?" said Ross. "We can dispense with John, though wont the old fellow take it hard ? Fan can play nurse. She likes Prince Charlie enough to tend him from morning till night, though when it comes to "have to," it sometimes The News. 137 makes a difference. Don't worry, Kate; it won't take papa long to get his head above water again ; and it wasn't his fault that he failed, it's all the other firm's. I don't believe father has ever set his heart on riches; he's too much of a Christian for that." Cad's voice sounded in a little nursery roundelay. "The dear little girl!" exclaimed Ross; "she must have silver wings, somewhere always so contented with humble duties. If Cad were only older, she'd be chief cook and bottle-washer, and enjoy it too, I thoroughly believe." "What will be done with Linda?" asked Kate, anxiously. Ross looked grave. "She may have to be sent to boarding- school." " I don't believe mamma will let her go," said Kate, sagely; "it would be a pity; she is just forming her mind, you know." Ross laughed. 1 38 The Little Folks of Redbaw. "I wonder what shape it will take? I sup- pose uncle Harry could set father up again, but he'll never know it, not from papa. I don't think he'd let himself be helped." "Does papa know we know it?" "I suppose so; he hasn't tried to keep it a secret." At that moment Mrs. Winfield came into the nursery. Kate watched her anxiously, but she wore the same cheerful countenance, only her face was a shade paler. She busied herself for a moment, flitting from table to closet in the sunshine, then exchanging a pleasant word with Ross, she went out again. Ross went and stood opposite the pictured face of his own mother. "I was thinking," he said, as Kate's eye caught his, "how happy our own sweet mother must be, if some one has told her in her beautiful home how well her place is filled. Kate, isn't she a darling, that mother of our's? Some women at the prospect of leaving such The News. 139 a home as this, would go round as glum and sour especially if she wasn't our own mother." Kate's eyes shone through tears. "Indeed she is a darling/' she murmured, and the words came from a full heart "That evening Mr. Winfield returned early. All the family were expectant and anxious, even Phil looked grave. Cad and Linda sat apart from the rest, both very busy over the pattern of a new dress for Petkin. Cad had bought the calico that afternoon at the shop. " Well, children, I suppose you have heard the news," said Mr. Winfield, as the elder ones drew up in a circle near him. Their faces answered him. "You don't look very unhappy." They all broke into smiles. "Thank God for that and thank God that it will not touch my honor," he said, much moved ; " that makes me a happy man. But, children, we shall be obliged to give 140 The Little Folks of Redbow. up some of the luxuries to which we have been accustomed." " We are all ready to do that," said Ross. "Thank you, my boy, and how about college? Your mother and myself think that with the exercise of strict economy, we can still take you through the remaining two years." " If it's all the same to you, sir," said the boy, reddening a little, " I had rather leave college, and do my part towards helping support the family." Mr. Winfield's lip trembled. "Isn't he splendid?" thought Kate, sur- veying her hero with kindling eyes. " Just as you say, my boy," his father replied, recovering his self-possession. "As long as you have a distaste for the profession I should have chosen for you, you can do as you choose about going back. Now your mother has something to say." They all turned towards her. Cad was already at her feet, having brought cushion- The News. 141 work and all, to nestle near her " angel," as she often called her mother, "You have heard, dears, that I have a little home of my own," she said in a soft, clear voice, " in the western part of the state. It is a stone house, quite pleasantly situated on rising land, and surrounded by delightful scenery. It stands at the base of a mountain, from which it takes its name. We call it Redbow." "How beautiful!" cried Cad. "Dear me, I must tell Petkin about it. I hope there are no Indians there." " No, darling, the Indians by whom it is supposed the mountain was named, are all gone, long ago." " Away off in the country," said Cad, in disappointed tones; stretches of lovely fields i'jid no shop-windows with ribbons in them presenting themselves to her vision. " Yes, dear, quite in the country, you must make up your mind to that miles from any other farm." 142 The Little Folks of Redbow. " Father, you are welcome to my hundred dollars," said Phil, in a hoarse whisper, when he had reached a proximity from where he could be heard; and his father's smile, as he looked down upon him, was worth more to the boy than a good many hundred dollars. Phil sidled away, red as a turkey in the face, but with a strange happiness in his heart. "I say, is there any place for fishing?" he asked, as he neared Mrs. Winfield again. "A grand old river, full of trout," replied his mother, smiling. "Then hurrah for trout! and my new patent fly. Three cheers for Redbow I'm glad we're poor!" A general laugh sent Phil behind the globes. CHAPTER XIV. A TALK ABOUT I Ti 11 Let not one look of Fortune cast you down, She were not Fortune if she did not frown." RE we going into the country ?" whispered Linda, who had watched proceedings thus far with curious eyes. "Yes, indeed; won't it be el-e-gant? We can carry our dolls into the woods and dress them. I'll have my kitchen under a big shady tree. Aint you glad?" "I guess so," said Linda, with some hesi- tation. "The house is not as spacious as this one," said Mrs. Winfield, resuming the subject, "but there are two or three quite large rooms. 143 144 The Little Folks of Redbow. It was left by my great-aunt just as it stands, very plain and old-fashioned in its furnishing. But satin chairs and fine upholstery are not necessary to our happiness," she added, with a smile. "I should think not," Ross responded. "What do we care for our fine drawing-room across the hall? Even company always brings up in this nice old place ; nobody'll miss the extra touches." "Then we can turn Redbow parlor into a sitting-room, and enjoy it," said Mrs. Win- field. "I dare say we shall like it quite as well as this, after a while." "Let's have the nursery out-doors," pro- posed Cad, "then there'll be lots of room." "And a general nursery, as aunt Chlce says, when winter comes," said Ross, when the laugh at Cad's expense had subsided. "It's a dear old rocky, woodsey, breezy, comfortable place,' continued the mother, "and that's all it is. When I was a child, I was never so happy as at Redbow. I can A Talk About It. 145 smell its old oven, full of baked sweet pears, now." "Then there must be fruit," said, Kate. " Plenty, of all kinds. There's a wilderness of red currants, and a hedge-fence of white ones. Then there are raspberries, strawber- ries, blackberries and dewberries, all in their season. Better pears, apples and peaches, never grew besides grapes of every variety." "I don't see but what you propose to transport us to paradise," laughed Mr. Win- field. "Plenty of land, I suppose," said Ross. "Only forty acres nearly ten cultivated." Ross pressed his lips together, and his eyes sparkled. To him all the pleasures of life were compressed into that one word, farming. " Cows and pigs, and that sort of thing," said Cad. " Cows, certainly, I hope," said her mother, "The persons who hire the place at present, own all the stock." 10 146 The Little Folks of Redbow. "We'll buy it all," said Cad. "There's plenty of money in the shop." Cad meant their shop up stairs. "Our best way will be to decide upon what furniture to send up," said Mr. Win- field. "Tomorrow is the first of May; the sale will take place on the tenth. I don't care about staying till the red flag is hung from the window." "Dear me, if we are to go so soon, what shall I do?" said Cad, in a perplexed voice. "Petkin must have her new dress finished, and several of the others need new suits." "How about Linda?" asked Mr. Winfield, in a lower voice. " I don't know that we should compel her to share our altered for- tunes. Perhaps I ought to find her a good boarding-school." "O, papa! don't, don't!" cried a little voice sharpened by terror. It was Linda. She had never called him "papa" before, and this little lapse touched his heart. A Talk About It. 147 "Then you will go into the wilderness with us, birdie ?" "Yes, indeed, anywhere; don't send me away. I should break my heart without Cad. And papa would say so; he wants me to learn to be good." Another moment and she was folded in the motherly arms of Mrs. Winfield. "I couldn't have let you go, birdie," she said. "There, there don't cry," as Linda hid her wet eyes on her bosom ; " it is all decided, and our little girl is to stay with us." Next came the choice of furniture; each child had the privilege of selecting some portion. Ross wanted the sitting-room tables and desks, and the handsome red easy chairs in the parlor. Kate chose the piano, music racks and stool, and might she petition for their pretty nursery carpet? The carpet was vetoed, reluctantly, by Mr. Winfield. He didn't believe in carpets, and never had. Fanny suggested the shop, and that was considered sensible. 1 48 The Little Folks of Redbow. " What will we do for dress-makers ?" she asked aside, ruefully. " Import two or three dozen," said "Ross. "We can make all our own dresses," said Kate. " Just as I do for my babies," echoed Cad, cutting away on her small lap-board. "Well, little folks, any thing else?" asked papa, after a pause. " All the books," said Ross. "The best of them," said his father. , "We must manage it to take our nurse, I think," said Mrs. Winfield. "The good soul says she will go on less wages because she is so much attached to the children. I believe the only thing she regrets leaving behind, is St. Mary's and its chimes." " Reminds her of hold Hengland," muttered Ross. "As to other servants, we must wait awhile. There are two nice old people on the place, who have lived there rent-free for years. Mar- tha Primrose used to be a smart woman." A Talk About It. 149 " I'll wash and iron all the little things," said Cad, confidently. " Poor child," laughed her mother, " you don't know what you bargain for. All the little things, means the largest and most res- ponsible part of the work. We must spare your willing little fingers yet awhile." " Ross," said Mr. Winfield, coming out of a reverie, " I appoint you teacher and tutor in chief, till we get settled. It won't do to have our little folks running wild, and mother has her hands full -enough at present." " I'll take the responsibility," replied Ross, squaring his shoulders. " Where's Phil, all this time ?" queried Kate. " Fast asleep behind the western hemis- phere," replied Fanny. "I think he ought to live in the country and go to roost with the chickens." No one would have thought, looking round that brilliant room, with its busts, pictures, and plants, and cheerful fire and sunny faces; 150 The Little Folks of Redbow. listening to the merriment of happy voices, the merry laugh, the steady tones that mis- fortune had overtaken them, and that this princely home would soon be no longer a shelter and a temple for them. Mr. Winfield alone was thoughtful. It was no light thing to break away from these charming associations after thirty years of unbroken prosperity; but at the same time he had learned not to set his heart on riches, and though cast down, he was not discouraged. He was still a young man, comparatively, and the world was all before him. Meantime the children indulged in the most pleasing anticipations. Mamma was besieged with questions as to the position, surround- ings and possibilties of Redbow. Every room, nook and corner were accurately described ; its paths, its garden, its walks, its roads. CHAPTER XV. BREAD AND HONEY. " The daily labors of the bee Awake my soul to industry ; Who can observe the careful ant, And not provide for future want?" ULL of business was Cad's little head. How she should pack her cooking-stove and all the utensils, how she should secure her dolls and her games, and where she should put them when she reached Redbow, sadly perplexed her busy little faculties. " For you see, Linda, there's no dear old nursery at Redbow, and what shall I do for places to put things?" "May-be there's a shed," Linda. " But my things are too nice for a shed," 152 The Little Folks of Redbow. responded Cad. "Why, Felice would catch her death in such a place ; besides, she's been used to elegance all her life." "You might keep her in the parlor, shut up in a closet," said Linda, who, although Felice had become her property, always seemed to consider that Cad was best entitled to the ownership. "Would you have me break her heart?" "She hasn't got any heart," said practical Linda. "What! my Felice? No heart! and come from Paris?" cried Cad, aghast. "You don't know dolls as well as I do, or you'd never say that" " How can she have a heart, if she's stuffed full of saw-dust?" " That's only bones and muscles and blood- vessels," retorted Cad. " The heart is some- thing entirely different; do you suppose I could love children without hearts? I guess you'd better not talk of things you don't understand," she added sagely, dismissing Bread and Honey. 153 the subject; as many a more able philosopher does, when the questions get too difficult. Fanny was busy with her beloved fancy work. She had designed a new pattern for a tidy, and was very proud of it. Kate looked over it admiringly. "You have such taste!" she said; "what a beautiful stitch!" " Yes, I suppose I shall have plenty of time for this sort of thing at Redbow hateful place !" answered Fanny. " Why, Fanny dear !" Kate exclaimed, sur- prised at her sister's tone, "I thought you liked it." "Like it! It gives me the chills whenever I think of it. We shall be so lonesome!" *y.;vered Fanny, ready to cry. "And then think what dowdies we shall grow to be, just like all country people, making our dresses, and bonnets, and wearing hen fea- thers, perhaps, instead of real ostrich!" "How absurd!" Kate exclaimed, laughing. " You don't care anything contents you," i '5 4 TJie Little Folks of Redbow. said Fanny impatiently; " but I'm different like our drives, and to see folks. I hate to leave my friends, and of course the girls I know will never come to Redbow. I'm afraid of the long, lonely winters, when the snow is piled up outside. I shall miss the sights and the shop-windows, and going out to buy things, and meeting acquaintances, and going to parties there'll be an end of all that." " But there are the woods, the hills, the flowers, the rivers what do we want of 1 acquaintances ? Won't it be more delight- ful to find wild flowers and botanize, than to buy stupid ribbons though to be sure ribbons are very good in their place, and when we want fresh ones we can get them somehow. Even in winter there'll be no end of fun, and sleigh rides plenty of ponds for skating and we have our nice skating dresses. Only think of the fruit, and the clear air in summer, and all out-doors, as Cad says, to enjoy ourselves in ?" Fanny still looked rueful. She was more Bread and Honey. 155 worldly than Kate, and clung to the -city and ribbons. She could not help it that her inclinations were different, that they tended towards excitement and variety ; she was not really to blame that she had no enthusiastic love for the country, but it was clearly her duty to try and bear with fortitude the changes imposed upon her. Meantime cheerful, sunshiny Cad, gave a good-night confidential talk to all her dolls, telling them that they were soon to go to a new home Linda sitting by, quite willing, in the joy of her heart that she was not to be sent away, to believe that they had ears that could hear, and eyes that could see. " You just belong to us now," said Cad, kissing Linda and giving her a hug; "and you won't mind being poor a bit, will you?" " Not one bit," replied Linda, who had no more idea of what poverty could be, than the canary that cradled its head under its feathers in the cage in the nursery window. " I guess you'd even eat bread without 156 The Little Folks of Redbow. butter, and stay with us, if we couldn't get any butter." " Yes," replied Linda, complacently, " I'd quite as lief have honey;" and the two little girls went very lovingly arm in arm to their bedroom. Fanny could not sleep that night, thinking over the strange events of the few past days. To her fertile imagination it seemed as if they had been suddenly stripped of all that could make life desirable. She could not, like Linda, fancy even honey taking the place of butter. As for ribbons, they were, doubt- less, things of the past, but she should keep and cherish her little store for the sake of old times. It was easier to feel reconciled when talking with Kate. When alone by herself, a look into the future appalled her, it was so dark. She wondered if Kate was asleep, and getting up, stole to the door. There was a dim light in the nursery; nurse Barton was kneeling down at the end of the Bread and Honey. 157 room at her prayers. She looked up and called: - "Who's there?" "It's only I, nurse," said Fanny. "I'm going to speak to Kate." "Dear laws! if I didn't think it was a real spook, miss !" said the nurse, to Fanny's great amusement. She went to Kate's door and stole softly in. Kate was prepared for her coming, having heard her voice. She, too, had been lying awake, watching the moon and think- ing. "Kate, are you asleep?" whispered Fanny. "No; I'm wide awake," said Kate. "Are you nervous?" "-Not a bit." "I am, so I came in here to have a talk." "We ought both to be asleep by this time," said conscientious Kate. "I know it, but if one can't, how can one?" Kate laughed. "Sure enough," she said. 158 The Little Folks of Redbow. "I'll just sit here a moment in your old rocking-chair. How beautiful the moon is !" "Yes, I was just thinking how lovely Red- bow must look !" " Redbow ! I haven't even tried to think how it looks. I tell you, though, it's a coarse old country house, with low ceilings and plas- tered walls. O dear, how I shall miss every thing nice! It makes my heart ache; who will there be to associate with?" "I was in hopes you had got over those doleful fancies," said Kate. " No, they keep coming, like so many crows. Only think, Kate, no carriage actually, no carriage and we have been used to that all our lives. It seems to me papa had no busi- ness to fail." " O ! Fanny poor papa ! when it was not his fault, either." Fanny did not answer. She threw her arms over her knees, and back-locked her fingers, a way girls have, so that she cut a queer figure in the bright moonlight, with her Bread, and Honey. 159 sad face and long white robe. Kate smiled as she looked at her, saying to herself, " Fanny wouldn't like to have her picture taken now." " Everybody will cut us," pursued poor Fanny, dolefully. " You know that's what they call it, when folks don't notice you." " But we shan't see them, Fanny dear, and who cares?" "I do," murmured the disconsolate. "I don't want to grow up a great overgrown country girl, with my hands all knuckles, and my face all freckles. I like to be graceful and nice and lady-like," she added, the tears coming to her eyes. " Redbow sounds just like a dreadful savage place, full of pigs and cows and mud. I do wish somebody would adopt me, and keep me here." " Little Miss Nightcap," said a laughing voice, "hadn't you better go to bed?" Fanny sprang up with a cry. There stood her mother. Fanny wanted the floor to open just then, she was so overwhelmed with the fear that 1 60 The Little Folks of Redbow. Mrs. Winfield had heard her miserable com- plaining. "I came up to see if you were all comfort- able," said her mother, out of whose voice the laugh had not yet gone, "and finding one bed empty, I was alarmed. Are these moon- light excursions frequent, Kate ?" "No, indeed, mamma; only Fanny was nervous, and she takes me as an anodyne sometimes," said Kate, laughing. "Do you object to it very much?" " It is not good as a habit," said Mrs. Win- field; "the best way is to get every thing off your mind before bed-time, and after that, think of all the mercies the good God has given us." Kate crept off to bed like a culprit. CHAPTER XVI. LEAVING HOME. " To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art." NOISY German family had been living at Redbow, and when they left the premises, mother Primrose was heartily glad of it Though very respectable people, as the phrase goes, they were coarse and boisterous, and even the women and children drank beer and smoked. Fortunately, they had taken good care of the house, though Mrs. Primrose went round with the women and the men who had been sent to scour and whitewash, her bright little eyes marking every spot. She was heartily glad they were gone, I 11 161 1 62 The Little Folks of Redbow. have said, but more than delighted that the Winfields were coming. "It will be as it was in the old time," she said to herself, over and over again; "there will be a lady in Redbow." Mrs. Primrose was a little woman, and a cheerful one. Her apple-round, wrinkled old face, knew how to shine and smile, as heart- somely as a girl of sixteen. She wore the quaintest and daintiest high-crowned caps, as stiff and white as clapping and starch could make them, and an old-fashioned dimity 'ker- chief, in the form of a triangle, over her still plump shoulders. Father Primrose was a trifle slower, and a trifle stouter. It took him longer to get round than it did his wife, but then he was ten years older, and at seventy a man don't like to be hurried. Both of the Primroses were good- natured easy-going people, given to pets and petting, but they petted each other most of all. A dozen times a day mother Primrose would say: Leaving Home. 163 "Father, hadn't you better sit down and rest a little ?" or, " take a bite and a sup, my dear?" Or, father Primrose woudl say:- " Mother, be kerful of your steps ; take it easy, mother, take it easy." He was saying that just now, as mother Primrose, her cap-strings flying, went over the house with her quick tripping walk. "Yes, father, but things must be done before night, and that great hamper to be unloaded. Mr. Winfield isn't an infidel, if we can judge by the provisions he's sent for his family. Laws ! there's chickens, and ham, and tongue, and tea and sugar, and everything to be put away, and the table to be set. I suppose they'll bring the furniter with 'em; the letter said so." " They can't git much more furniter in here, I should judge," said father Primrose, leisurely seating himself in the dining-room, as mother Primrose laid the tea-table. "Won't you have a bite and a sup, father?" 1 64 The Little Folks of Redbow. asked Mrs. Primrose, evening the corners of the cloth. " No, thankee, wife, I ain't a hankering arter vittles now. I'm thinking, if old Miss Lotty was alive, she'd be glad to see the change." " Dear, dear, wouldn't she?" returned his bustling wife, "and the sweetest thing were Miss Lotty's niece, as I remember. Depend upon it, she's growed into a full-blown lady. I can see her now, dear little creeter, her ways that demure and sober she seemed like a little woman then, for the poor little thing hadn't no children to play with. Miss Lotty was old-maidish and partickler in her ways, didn't know how to do for children, but the sweet child didn't seem to need no playthings, though I'd cut her out corn-stalk popguns, myself. She'd be as happy with an apron full o' flowers, or a kitten, or a chicken, as some with a houseful o' toys. She was allays a happy creeter, and I guess she's a happy creeter to this day." Leaving Home. 165 " Well, well, we shall hev children enough here now, to suit you, dame," said father Primrose. "Bless 'em," murmured mother Primrose softly. "Do you hear that, mother Primrose?" The good woman dropped a saucer. "The old clock a striking?" "No, the whistle, the car-whistle, a good two mile off." " Yes, I do, now your ears allays was quicker than mine. Going down to the cor- ner ? You'll have a bite and a sup first, wont you, father?" "Well, well, I don't care some cheese and doughnuts." " And a cup o' tea," said the dame, tripping away. Take it easy, mother, take it easy," the .old man called after her. Meantime the little depot at Campbell's Grove, as the place was named, presented a scene of unusual excitement A few coun- 1 66 The Little Folks of Redbow. try men and maidens, who had come down to see the train off, gazed with round-eyed amazement at the great bales and boxes that quite filled the area in the rear of the little wooden station. O how fragrant the air was with resinous gums and the odor of the pine-trees! The birds twittered from all their leafy palaces, the squirrels ran up and down the trunks of great, sleepy looking trees. Green and gold beetles came out into the warm sunshine. Prince Charlie slept very sweetly in nurse Barton's arms, Mrs. Winfield and Kate were talking together. Phil stood apart, with his thumbs in his vest-pocket, hugging an enor- mous fishing-rod. Phil was speculating on the possibilities of trout for supper. Cad and Linda wandered about in the cool, green grass, keeping the depot in sight, and oh-ing and ah-ing at every stick and shrub. Ross was with his father, looking over the parcels as the train steamed off. Fanny alone seemed weary and dispirited. Leaving Home. 167 " O, Fanny," cried Cad in jubilant tones, " here's the sweetest little thing ! O, do come and see." Fanny hastened to see, shuddered, and ran back to nurse Barton's side. It was a toad, but seen through happy eyes, the little creature was quite beautiful. " Isn't it dfc-licious?" cried Cad; " is it any thing like India?" "O, no; the trees are taller; they are full of flowers, too." " Do you see that nice dark place there ?" asked Cad. " Only suppose uncle Harry should pop out right upon us." " And stay with us," cried Linda, " at Redbow, and bring thousands and thousands of rupees." " And f/-e-gant shawls and dresses for you and me." " Yes, and diamonds, and a great white elephant, with gold fringe on his saddle." " Did you ever ride on an elephant?" asked Cad. 1 68 The Little Folks of Redbow. " Yes, indeed." "A true elephant?" "True as true can be; papa was in the saddle, and I was in papa's lap. It was like being on a mountain no, like ship-sailing, but I liked it." "Come, children," called papa, as a large wagon drove up, "we must pack close, this is our carriage." "Isn't it fun?" cried Cad, as they drove by the sweet-scented hayfields and wild-rose hedges. "I wouldn't go back to the city again if I could, would you, Fanny?" Fanny looked down, and twisted her parasol. " Never mind "Fan," said Ross, " we'll send for some of our stylish acquaintances to come out and pay us a visit" Poor Fanny! Ross had blundered, as boys will, and the tears began to flow. Mrs. Win- field called the attention of the little party away from her to some tall elm-trees, under which several cows were standing. Leaving Home. 169 "What a picture!" cried Ross; "I'd like to roll in that grass." " You'll have plenty to roll in before you get through, my boy," said Mr. Winfield, who had been unwontedly silent. "I wonder if we shall know Redbow?" queried Kate. "O jolly! there's a river!" shouted Phil, pulling at his fishing-rod. " Let me get out, can't I get out?" "No, Phil, we shall be home soon," said Mrs. Winfield, looking about her with happy smiles. "I remember the road; we have only to turn that corner, and, as the tourists say, Redbow will burst upon your view, in all its magnificence." They were going up hill now. At their left, a little village seemed to hang from the cliffs below, enveloped in a soft, golden haze. Grand old Redbow, a veritable mountain, such as the children had never seen before, raised its serene brow against the deep, rich blue of the heavens. At their right rose terrace after 1 70 The Little Folks of Redbow. terrace of well cultivated land a sinuous ribbon of a river flowing through" the deep sea-green of distant fields. A cry of delight, echoed even by Fanny, whose eyes were still wet, sounded on the quiet air. "Redbow is beautiful!" exclaimed Ross, standing up. "Hurrah! I'm glad. There's a real lawn in front, shaded by such splendid old trees. We'll make an Eden of it, father." They had turned the corner, Redbow still before them, and there stood the gray old house, with its deep porch, old-fashioned, low- arched windows, its flowering vines and cool, dark interior. There were flower beds every- where, and crocusses bursting into bloom in rows of golden light. A side porch, a tower at the west corner, a great, solid, roomy bay window, made the house exceedingly attrac- tive. "It stands just as I remember it," said Mrs. Winfield in a low voice, "and the orchards are as beautiful as ever." CHAPTER XVII. R E D B O W. " The trees are full of crimson buds, The woods are full of birds, And the waters flow to music, Like a tune with pleasant words." ELL, I never did ! why Miss Alice, how do you do?" It was worth something, Kate thought, to be welcomed by that peach-cheeked old lady, who stood smiling just inside the porch. "And that's your baby your baby, that used to be a baby here, yourself! Well, I never did ! But welcome to Redbow, sweet hearts, one and all. I've been getting ready ever since yesterday." " I don't see that you are altered any, Mrs. 171 172 The Little Fojks of Redbow. Primrose," said Mrs. Winfield, tears of joy in her gentle eyes. " Well, I don't know; father he calls me 'sweet sixteen,' sometimes. The fact is, I ain't going to grow any older'n I can help, ' bless you, deary. Nothin' troubles me but the jints, and that's rheumatiz. But come right in. What a lovely family ! Well, your lines is fallen, in pleasant places, I should think. And that's your husband, seein' to things out there what a fine, handsome gen- tleman, to be sure. I should say you ought to be a happy woman." "I am a happy woman, Mrs. Primrose," said Mrs. Winfield, following the cheerful old lady into the dining-room. Nurse Barton had already stowed the baby on a lounge, and the children were helping each other off with their travelling gear, as Mrs. Primrose called it. That fine old lady fell in love with the whole family, at once. Cad and Linda were the sweetest little fairies; Fanny a ladyish Redbow. 173 sort of child, and Kate was quite beyond praise. Dinner was ready, as Mrs. Winfield had expected. She knew Mrs. Primrose of old. The dining-room was not as spacious as the one they had been accustomed to, but it was a pleasant, cosy place, and the crimson light of a crackling wood-fire made it quite as beautiful. It was a great pleasure to see Mrs. Primrose, with her handsome cap and genial manners, handing the dishes around, instead of solemn, ponderous John. After dinner, Kate and Fanny prepared for a tour of inspection over the premises. The wide, cool hall that divided the parlor from the dining-room could not have been pleas- anter. It had a delightful outlook on gar- den and sloping fields, and old Redbow. The parlor was spacious, extending the whole length of the house. It seemed rather shabby to girls fresh from a home filled with luxuries, with its faded carpet and plain, upright fur- niture, placed primly against the wall. 1 74 T/te Little Folks of Redbow. "It's not one bit like our dear old room, though," said Fanny, choking a little. "Not with this poor furniture; but remem- ber how much we have brought with us, and what a home-look it will give. See this splendid great bay-window, Fanny dear; why it's a little room by itself. And there's the great oval, mamma told us about that grand window, covered by that horrid curtain; what taste! O, Fanny, this view is perfectly sub- lime! How can you sigh for the city, after that ?" Kate had not exaggerated in the least, the view was really sublime. There had been a shower the night before, and all the rocks glistened in brown and amber, while the shelving snow, still melting in the crevices, was oddly veined with green and yellow. In the distance the swollen, winding river, went goldenly in and out along its marshy borders. On the right, stretched a forest, its sombre depth crowned with a younger, livelier growth Redbow. 175 of green, and silvered by ragged fringes of mist slowly rolling away. To the left, hemmed in by softly undu- lating hills, and steaming with vapor that in the sunlight took on a thousand hues, were sloping fields, level meadows, and picturesque upland rich with pastures, over which faint pink shadows wavered and fell. Right before them rose old Redbow, rare old mountain, full of deep chasms, that seemed to have been splashed with mighty masses of crimson and amber, down which the arbutus trailed; full of ledges and gorges, and awful steps that none but a giant could mount. Here and there dripped water white as foam, and its bald face seemed graven with a thousand mys- teries. It stood there like a king of the ages, hoary with the grand inscriptions of time. "Did you ever see any thing like that?" asked Kate, drawing a deep breath. "It's all very splendid, of course," said, or rather sighed Fanny; "but some way I can't feel as interested as I ought to. Well," she 176 The Little Folks of Redbow. added, a moment after, "mother says it is possible to overcome, so, I suppose I must overcome my regrets for the blessed old home." " Of course, we all miss that, dear ; still, I don't believe but you will be as happy as a kitten in a week. You know how kittens fret in strange places, but give them plenty of milk, and stroke them the right way," she added, laughingly, smoothing Fanny's bright hair, "and they get wonted to their new quar- ters; so will you, dear. Come, let's go up stairs." They ran up the winding stairway, which was of itself a picture of quaint oaken carving, and came upon a wide landing that had more the appearance of a room than a hall. It was hung with curious pictures, whose frames were brown with age. The windows at either end were set deep in the heavy walls, leaving wide, low seats for loungers. In one corner a stuffed white owl looked unutterable wisdom from his rustic perch. A pair of antlers curved grace- Redbow. 177 ful outlines over each door, and the same glorious outlook on old Redbow satisfied the beauty-loving senses. " I feel just as if I could live here forever!" cried Kate, in rapturous tones. "Mother's room," with its neat furniture and snowy bed-linen came first ; then two cosy little nests, light, bright and comfortable, with long wardrobes of fragrant cedar let into the walls, and cosy niches, and mediaeval windows and tasteful surroundings. The rooms opposite were set aside for study, guest-chamber and nursery, and that was the extent of the household accommodations. I must not forget the long, low, ceiled garret, running the whole length of the house, that had never been finished, and that for nearly a century had been the receptacle for broken furniture, old-chests, and all the rubbish that, accumulating with years, seems to some sen- sitive minds too precious to be destroyed utterly. By the time they had quite finished, Fanny 12 1 78 The Little Folks of Redbow. had become more reconciled to her new quar- ters, especially when Prince Charlie, in one of his rare moods of fretfulness, consented to be soothed by no hand but her's. "Suppose," whispered Kate, with a grave face, "that instead of losing our dear old home we had lost him." Fanny said nothing, but held the beautiful child with a firmer clasp. * "Yes, or it might have been papa. I will try and be contented." CHAPTER XVIIi. CAD'3 NEW PLAYHOUSE. " Miss Moppet had her little house, Of rooms that counted four ; Miss Moppet swept her little house, And then she washed the floor." S may be supposed, the younger scions of the Winfield house, Cad and Linda, were by no means idle, as soon as they had been given liberty to peep about. "Wherever I shall have my play-house," Cad cried in despair, " I'm sure I cannot tell." They explored the barnyard, and left it quite impressed with the idea that pig-pens were not genteel appurtenances. Not so with the cows, however, with two of which they fell desperately in love, as, slowly ruminating in an adjoining pasture, they looked with 179 180 The Little Folks of Red bow. their calm, large eyes, the very ideal of milky motherhood. Every breath of air smelt of wild roots and vines, sweet clover, honey- suckles and hedge-roses, and hundreds of homely little blooms of color. They knelt down in the tall grass, and let its cool thin waves sweep over their faces, they gathered armfuls of curious blossoms, and then threw them aside for new wonders. At last they found their way into the empty barn, still redolent of last year's treasures. A wonderful white hen resented their boisterous incoming, while her brood of downy chicks sped for shelter under her feather-roof, at the sound. "Don't it smell delicious here?" said Linda, "and how slippery the floor is! Let's slide." Sliding proved to be hard work. It was pleasanter to stand where the long, slant sun- beams goldened the great space with tiny motes, resplendent as diamonds, swimming in their light, and watch the strange reflection on each other's face. Cad's New Playhouse. 181 Presently they espied a staircase. " I wonder what there is up there ?" queried Linda. " Let's go and see." " No ;" Linda shrank away. " I'm afraid." "Afraid of what?" " I don't know," whispered the child, turn- ing her little brown face aside. "None but wicked people ever need to be afraid," said Cad, solemnly; "you have heard me say that repeatedly to Petkin. Petkin goes everywhere in the dark." "Petkin hasn't got eyes; and besides, you go with her," retorted matter-of-fact Linda. " It's no use for you to say that Petkin's got no eyes," said Linda, seating herself on the third step ; " because she always sees with my eyes ; and besides, I can go with you up these stairs; now what do you say? Your Ayah, or whatever she called herself, ought to be ashamed of telling you stories about Vishnu and the bogies; and now you're in a Christian family, you ought to be ashamed to be afraid 1 82 The Little Folks of Redbow. of them. Don't you know the dear Lord, who loves little children, is above all, and watches every step you take? Ol my goodness, there's an awful big spider coming right down on my head!" and Cad's moralizing was thrown to the winds until both had reached the door, and stood panting and laughing. Ca'd was quite ashamed of her fright in a moment, however, and with a long stick bravely attacked his spidership, and then as bravely mounted the stairs. "O, Linda," she cried, "come up; I see the sun through the keyhole. You needn't be a bit afraid, its light and pleasant here." Linda ran up, still trembling a little. It was light and pleasant, now that Cad held the door open. "A real room a charming room, with a chair, and a little old lounge, and a table, and a bit of rag-carpet and O, Linda a stove ! Won't we be made up now for housekeep- ing? I'll ask mamma to let me bring all my playthings here. Won't the children be Cad's New Playhouse. 183 delighted? Petkin will go wild. It's even better than the old nursery, I think, because we can fix up and contrive things, and have it all our own way. You see, Fanny won't be here to scold, or Kate to look so womanish, as if we were little children ; and O, Linda, what washes we will get out ! My things will furnish sweetly, and Ross can make us some shelves. O, dear, dear me, I am so happy! give me one good hug, Linda ; now ain't you glad we came?" Linda confessed she was, with a little sigh ' of content, as she seated herself on the lounge " Only," she added, " I wish we could keep it a secret." "Why?" " Phil will plague us." " Perhaps we haven't been kind enough to Phil," said philosophic Cad, who in her pre- sent mood could have forgiven the whole world. "When he comes in sight, you know, we stop play, as if he was a mon- ster. Mamma says Phil is our cross, and 1 84 The Little Folks of Redbow. you know we must bear crosses bravely. Besides, I mean to just ask him to help us do something whenever he comes, and that'll send him off! And then Ross is here, and Phil isn't half so rude when he is round. Wasn't it awful, though, when he hung Pet- kin? The life was almost gone out of her precious body. But I guess he's got a good heart papa says so." A voice was heard outside, shouting their names. "It is Ross!" cried Cad. "Ross, Ross! come up here, we're housekeeping." " You shouldn't stay so long," said Ross, stopping; "mamma has been worried about you. How did we know but you had got into the river." "River!" echoed Cad, contemptuously. " Come down, quick," said Ross ; " I'm sent to take you home." So the girls shut up the room and groped their way down stairs. CHAPTER XIX. OUT IN THE FARM-YARD. " Green fields and silent glens, we come To spend this bright spring day with you." HE bustle and confusion of " fixing things" were nearly over. Ross's special pride, the bright red and gold easy-chair stood in the parlor; tables and globes were ranged in the old fashion. Occupying a niche, into which they fitted as cosily as if it had been made for them, a case of books, all the old favorites, stood on one side of the great oval window. Beneath it papa's favorite writing-desk com- fortably reposed. Opposite the book-case stood the piano, flanked by an array of music racks. On a line with that the bay-window let 1 86 The Little Folks of Redbow. in the glory of hill and dale, and the hand- some old-fashioned whatnot fitted one corner; these, with hossacks, chintz covered lounges filled with soft cushions, and straight-backed chairs, alternating with more modern seats, completed the room. The pictures which Mr. Winfield had allowed himself to bring had not yet been hung. I must not omit to mention the blazing fire of hickory-wood, that set crimson sprites at work in every part of the room, or the grave old puss, who had finally consented to domesticate herself on the rug in front of the flaming hearth. "You've taken the carpet up!" exclaimed Fanny, in a voice full of consternation, when she first entered the room. "It was so faded!" said Kate. " Papa means to have the floor painted and varnished, and then we shall put all the rirgs down," said Mrs. Winfield. "What does the room want?" queried Fanny, looking about Out in the Farm-Yard. 187 "Occupation," said Mrs. Winfield, with a bright smile. "Wait a day or two, and I'll unfold my plan. Something was just whis- pered to me." " It's mamma's little spirit-bird," whispered Cad, to Linda; "when mamma thinks nice things that nobody else would have dreamed of, she always says a little bird told her, and I call it her spirit-bird." Cad soon broached the subject of the barn playhouse, and her mother decided to grant her wish, if she found the place a good one. " I think it very- likely I shall," she said ; "particularly in summer." Phil had started for the river, under a strict charge to keep himself out of it. Ross was waiting with all the patience he could muster, for his father to get rested, tnat he might go over the farm with him, under Mrs. Primrose's guidance. The strong, red- armed girl, who had come to do the rough work, was on her way to milk the cow, and 1 88 The Little Folks of Red bow. that novel sight was participated in by all the little folks. % Even Fanny confessed herself interested in the operation, particularly as the strong girl proved incompetent, and mother Primrose took her place on the milking-stool. How the snowy streams came down, plashing the sides of the pan with great, white, foamy blotches at first, and then rounding up and growing deeper and deeper till the large pan was almost full. Linda and Cad kept the pretty brown creature quiet with handfuls of sweet dried grass. It was a picture full of beauty, softness and quiet content. Daisy stood in a small enclosure, fragrant with scented clover flowers. All down the sides of old Redbow streamed rivers of color red, green, purple and violet. The sky showed here and there through clouds of drifting gold, a blue so intense that it was almost dazzling. Out in the Farm-Yard. 189 Ross threw himself down in a little hollow, covered with white and purple wild-flowers. "God made the country, didn't he, mother?" he said, drawing a breath, heart-deep with content "and man the town. I rather think I prefer God's work." "I hope we all do," said Mrs. Winfield, softly. She seldom moralized, but there were sermons in her eyes, in her loving smiles, in her charming youthfulness, when among children. "O, mamma, and these are all God's little flowers, and this is His grass, and Redbow is His mountain," said Cad, reverently. "Yes, love, every thing belongs to Him." "Even us little girls;" then with a happy smile, "even my dearest Petkin; Ol isn't it beautiful !" Cad would emphasize. Mother Primrose gave the pail of rich, foam- ing milk to the strong girl, and then took Cad and Linda to show them her vegetable patch. There every thing was "uncommon 1 90 The Little Folks of Redbow. forrerd," as she said. Tiny beets were push- ing their way into the light, veined with crim- son from stalk to tip. "There never was such a hand for early sarce as my old man, and he allers manages to have it afore anybody else. Jest as soon as they git ripe enough, I'll send you over a good mess of 'em." CHAPTER XX. MOTH ER PRIMROSE AND CROQUETj " 0, dear is my cottage, unclouded by sorrow, And sweet is the bower my Emeline wove ; Ah, nought from the gay or the wealthy I'd borrow While blest with the smile of contentment and love." HERE was one drawback to the felicity of the little folks of Redbow. Mr. Winfield's new pursuit kept him chained to the city during all the week. He came out late on Saturday after- noon, but was obliged to return at an early hour on Monday morning. It seemed very sad, at first, to miss his daily presence; it cast a heavy shadow over the little household, and Mrs. Winfield set her wits at work to devise some remedy for their temporary home-sickness. J 9 I 192 The Little Folks of Redbow. "In order that papa's absence may seem less painful to us all," she said, one day, "let us each one give him some little memento of the week something simple, novel or useful, or even merely ornamental, that it may re- mind him of the busy little fingers planning for him while he is in the city." Instantly every sad face brightened, as if by magic. "Why, mamma, that's perfectly elegant!" exclaimed Cad, drawing out the word to its utmost length. " I do think your little spirit- bird has been flying about this morning." "Now what shall we make?" " My province is only to suggest," said Mrs. Winfield, smilingly, "yours to execute. Les- sons first, little ones. Here is Ross, ready for you." Ross seated himself with an unconscious assumption of dignity, at his father's desk. "O dear," mourned Linda, "I can't find my grammar. I wish I never could find it, almost it's an awful study anyhow." Mother Primrose and Croquet. 193 " You left it on the hay, and it's been rain- ing," said Cad, with portentous visage. Phil ran off to recover the book, and brought in a mass of pulp on the end of his fishing-rod. " Grammar-hash !" he cried so exultingly, that poor little Linda burst into tears. "I wouldn't be a girl, to cry for every- thing," said Phil, indignantly. "I've got plenty of money," Linda said defiantly, after a little pause. "I can buy another." "It isn't the money we care about, dear, it's the careless habit," said her aunt quietly. "I used to be just so when I was little," Cad gravely rejoined, shaking her head, and then reproof was impossible. Mrs. Winfield saw something out of the window, and drew her lips in tightly. " Never mind, Linda," she murmured, draw- ing the weeping child closer; "sometime you and I will have a long, comfortable talk about this matter. You'll be careful by and by, after a little training;" so she kissed the tears from 13 1 94 The Little Folks of Redbow. Linda's lashes, and sent her back to her tasks encouraged. Ross made a capital teacher, while Mrs. Winfield busied herself about the house, or with good Mrs. Primrose and the stout girl in the kitchen. He had some trouble with Phil, whose genius for caricature kept the girls laughing, and the mark-book showed grievous strokes against that young gentle- man ; but Ross was patient, and patience and faith conquer even boys. "What shall we make for papa?" asked Cad, when lessons were over, as she waylaid Fanny, who was intent on braided bib for Prince Charlie. "Do tell me; I can't think of a thing." "Don't bother me now, Cad," said Fanny impulsively. "You're not a sunshine sister, a bit," said Cad; "you ain't half moonlight. I never saw" "O, miss," said nurse Barton, coming in, "will you please read me my letter?" Mother Primrose and Croquet. 195 ''When did it come?" asked Cad, taking the missive. "Just now, miss. The man in the green cart brought it." "Is it from London?" "Yes, miss, from my sister; and I'm so hanxious." " Come up-stairs, Barton." Cad ensconced herself comfortably. It proved to be a letter from Barton's youngest sister, who was in raptures because somebody had found her a place of service in the family of a live lord. "I never expected any of us would go that 'igh," said nurse, fervently. "Do you call it high?" asked Cad. "Miss, its a honor such as never was," replied Barton, with dignity. "Why, she's among the nobility. You should see a gentle- man as is a lord," she added, her voice sink- ing, "there's nothing like it in this country." "Nothing like it in this country, when you have seen MY FATHER!" said Cad, with rising 196 The Lit Lie Folks of Redbow. ire. "I don't believe there's a man in the whole of England could compare with him." Barton grew humble instantly. "I s'pose it's the way we're brought up, miss," she said apologetically. "Did you ever see a lord?" " Well, no, miss ; I'm free to confess I never have, but my William did. Even their foot- men are all covered with gold lace. But, miss would you write a line or two for me?" Cad promised, and went her way. Linda met her at the door. "I know!" she cried, clapping her hands. "What?" " Some of papa's nicest handkerchiefs were put in one of my boxes by mistake. You work his name in one with red, and I'll work one in blue." "O, for papa!" said Cad," that will be elegant. Let's go to work, quick. It's only three days to Saturday. And, Linda," added Cad, with a serious face, "we must teach Barton her letters." Mother Primrose and Croquet. 197 Mrs. Winfield approved of the room over the barn. All the playthings had been un- packed and put in place. Every part of the sunny, homely room had been thoroughly cleaned. Cotton curtains hung at the win- dows, and Cad was in her glory. The doll's four-poster and various cribs were snugly domiciled. Rugs made of. gay colored rags contrasted finely with the freshly scoured boards, and over all the sunshine poured in unstinted measure. Cad and Linda had their respective rock- ing chairs and tables. Near each of the little girls sat a basket, filled with useful imple- ments; scissors, cottons, wools in bright colors, and every thing necessary for the little busy fingers, while fashioning the varied outfits for their numerous doll children. Cad's tea and dinner-sets were neatly ranged on appropriate shelves. Ross had fitted an old cabinet with glass doors. This had been filled from day to day with curiosities, found in the woods or down by the river; veined 198 The Little Folks of Redbow. pebbles, strange formations of rock. This the girls looked over, dusted and arranged, and catalogued all the new ones weekly. "It was just like real housekeeping," Cad said proudly, and the busy little bee would have set up an independent life, if the higher powers had allowed her to. It was pleasant to see her making tea with a "truly "fire in the stove, while Linda was sweeping away imaginary dirt. Then after the dishes were washed the two girls sat down at the window, to work a monogram in the handkerchiefs that were to be presented as love-tokens to papa. How their little tongues flew! Cad, ab- sorbed in Petkin's welfare, touched the tip of the cradle-rocker now and then, to keep her asleep, the wide open blue eyes never for a moment dispelling the sweet illusion that the "baby" was enjoying a refreshing slumber. Suddenly Linda looked up. " There's Fanny coming here, ever so fast. What can she want?" Mother Primrose and Croquet. 199 "May-be papa has come home," Cad res- ponded. Fanny made her appearance, breathless. " Your servant, ladies," she said, dropping a courtesy after Barton's fashion; "we are to go to mother Primrose's to take tea." " O, then she's got something nice," cried Cad; "the very first in a hot-bed; she told me when they were ripe we should all come; won't it be delicious? Must we come now?" " No, not till three, it's not two yet. You are only to put on white aprons, these dresses will do. When it's time, I'll ring the dinner- bell." " Dear me, I must have a clock," said Cad. " There's an old clock in the garret," said Fanny, turning on the threshold. " O, Fanny, do you think it would go?" " Yes every time you shake it," laughed Fanny. "I'll ask mamma to let me have it." " You had better go rummaging in the garret," Fanny added; "there's no end of 2OO The Little Folks of Redbow. old-fashioned lumber up there, enough to furnish half-a-dozen such rooms as this." Cad's face grew radiant. Stores of won- derful plenishing came up before her vision. She caught her breath for very delight. " It will be a sort of Robinson Crusoe work, won't it, Linda; what do you suppose we shall find?" " Herbs and newspapers, and mouldy old clothes," cried Fanny from the foot of the stairs. " When you hear the bell ring, chil- dren, mind and come," she added. " She always calls us children," said Cad, trying to frown. " I should think she might, see we are grown ladies, when she looks at our families." " And the cooking stove," suggested Linda. " Fanny always was unjust," was Cad's rejoinder. Just then the bell rang, and they put up work hurriedly. Linda overturned the cradle, but was in such haste that she left Petkin lying on its Mother Primrose and Croquet. 201 nose, saying nothing to Cad, who was half- way down stairs. Besides that she forgot to lock the door worse, she left it open an inch or so, much against her conscience. In a trice, clean aprons and bright ribbons made the little folks presentable, and nurse Barton drew the carriage as far as the cot- tage porch, where, under the Virginia creeper, stood mother Primrose. Her snow-white cap, kerchief and apron, made her a picture amid the cool green vines and scarlet flowers. A large, low-ceiled room first met the view, in the centre of which stood a folded screen. An immense fire-place, filled with branches of spruce, occupied almost the entire end of the apartment. In front of this a huge hearth, tiled in blue and white, that told the story of Joseph and his brethren. Rush-bottomed chairs, two antique chests of drawers, a spa- cious round table, and an oaken settle, made up the inventory of the simple furniture. Cad sniffed strawberries. "How sweet it does smell!" she whispered to Linda. 2O2 The Little Folks of Redbow. So it did. A cleaner soul than mother Primrose never lived within the shadow of old Redbow. Every pane of glass in the little diamond-patterned lattice shone like a newly cut diamond. "How beautifully white your floor is!" said Kate, admiringly. "Two scrubbings a week, dear, for thirty years," said the old lady, significantly. "Our floor must be scrubbed twice a week," said Cad, confidentially, to Linda. Adjoining this living-room, or parlor, as she liked to call it in the summer time, was the cosiest of cosy little kitchens, where a small oven did duty once a week. The third room on the ground floor held a spotless bed, hung with dimity curtains, besides a few long cherished treasures in the form of sea-shells, coral branches, books, and a mighty baize- covered Bible, with iron clasps. Outside, the fine lawn, stretching to the meadows that nestled at Redbow's foot, and covered with short, thick grass, slept perpe- Mother Primrose and Croquet. 203 tually under the shadow of great branching oaks full two hundred years old. " O, what a lovely place for croquet !" cried Kate. "Cro-what?" said a positive and somewhat sharp voice, and old father Primrose came round the corner. Kate explained the then new game. "Odds ends!" said father Primrose; "that's a new notion of the city folks, isn't it ? They don't have enow to do, so they fangle up things and put queer names to 'em. Well, well, any- thing to please the youngsters. I was young myself once, though I had to hoe, instead of crow what d'ye call it? But then I was allays jolly; wasn't I, old lady?" "That's just so," laughed mother Primrose, brightly; "father allays was jolly. It used to worry the church-folks a good deal; but says I, when Amos laughs, he ain't a scolding." " Vicy versy, old lady," put in father Prim- rose. " No, it aint vicy, for he's allays laughing, 204 The Little Folks of Redbow. and laughing keeps folks young," she added wisely. " But deary me, there's the clock strikin' four, and tea to be got!" " Take it easy, mother, take it easy," cried her careful help-meet "That there brother o' yourn is a master hand for farming," said the old man to Kate, who stood near him. "There ain't a many as I can say is born to it; some of the farmers as I know is a thriftless lot enough, jest livin from hand to mouth. I didn't begin till late, myself, but I allays had a genus for it. You see I was Miss Lotty's head-man, in her time, and hed to see to too many things to give my own likings a lift; but when she was took, and left the wife and me this bit cottage and the land hereabouts, God bless her, I found, forty odd year though I were, that I had a takin to the ground, which made it nateral as life for me to coax things outen it. You see I never considered that I was too old to larn, and consequence is, I've got some idees on the subject, right fresh out o' trees and things, Mother Primrose and Croquet. 205 that helps me a good deal, and helps other folks, too, I reckon. And so I and that brother o' yourn has hed some little chats together now and then, and I ken see he's got the root o' the matter in him. He'll make that place o' yours blossom like the rose, when he gits experience. It's a good sight better to work things yourself, than go shares; and there's money in Redbow acres, I tell him. He's a wise one for a young one, he is." Kate flushed with delight to hear her brother so praised. " It don't do no hurt for a farmer to be col- lege-larned either; a gentleman farmer, as I look at it, is a man that no dirt wont harm. Laming is like the big middle wheel of a machine, it sets all the little wheels to going." Fanny moved about, knitting on the little bib as she walked. She was forced to the conclusion that Redbow was a magnificent mountain, as she watched the gold and dun shadows roll down its mighty sides, while 206 The Little Folks of Redbow. the shifting clouds sailed like white majestic ships overhead. It was so calmly grand. The birds flew in and out of its hollows ; warm mosses slept up there in the darkling crevices ; the rain made mimic rivers on its ledges, that tum- bled over in miniature waterfalls. Trees snuggled in many a cleft of the rock ; the cups of tiny flowers caught dew drops up there; the winds told their hollow secrets in its caves. Thunder had shaken the solid ground beneath it, lightning had riven many a noble oak; old Redbow laughed at both. There it stood, defying the storm, and gath- ering worlds of wealth in the sunshine. "What can be inside?" thought Fanny. Ross and Phil came over at tea-time. " I guess there's something " "Phil, hold your tongue!" shouted Ross. "What is it?" urged Fanny. " I'd tell for a sixpence. Ross thinks he's some," said Phil, wrathfully and just then came a call to tea, and such a tea ! Cream as Mother Primrose and Croquet. 207 yellow as gold, in the sweetest, quaintest little silver pitcher, and peaches as luscious as they could be for last year's fruit, rimmed with scarlet. Honey like amber, biscuits like snow- flakes for lightness and whiteness; what a feast it was ! Mother Primrose said to her- self that she had never seen such pretty behavior and delicate manners in little folks before. And then the strawberries preserves! After tea, when they were all on the lawn, Phil and Ross brought from some place of hiding a long box, and lo! to their delighted eyes displayed a set of croquet. Cries of delight, and "Where did you get it?" sounded on all sides. "Papa was in the secret," said Ross. "We found a little old carpenter down by the river old Joe Bangs he's got a little mill there, and he made it to order." Mrs. Primrose appeared at the door, towel in hand. "Take it easy, mother, take it easy," said father Primrose. 208 The Little Folks of Redbow. "What is that thing?" queried Mrs. Prim- rose, peering at ball and mallet. "That's crochay," replied the old man. "Croquet," spoke up Fanny. "Some sort of O K," laughed farmer Prim- rose. For an hour the old lawn was alive with laughter and shouting, and running, and when the happy little folks left their game, Ross and Fanny were the victors. "I say," said Cad, slyly pulling at her sister's sleeve, " there's no fun in the country." "It's good enough for croquet," was miss Fanny's stately reply. Nurse was to come for them, so the little folks sat on the old porch and told stories, and guessed conundrums, till the rising moon silvered the stately crown of Redbow. Mother Primrose talked of dear little miss Alice, and then they went inside the little cottage, beautiful with the sweet glamour of cleanliness, and made ready for home. CHAPTER XXL FATHER'S SURPRISE. "In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, They tell in a garland their lives and cares, Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystical language bears." F ye'll let me, I'll take the little ladies down." So said the. sturdy farmer, who was to go for Mr. Winfield down to Campbell's Station. " O, mother, say yes !" and with so many anxious eyes looking into hers, mother said Yes, and away they scampered after wraps. Would Phil go? No, he was for trout fishing. " Who wants to go with girls," he muttered to himself, as he turned away. 14 209 2 1 o The Little Folks of Redbow. Into the old creaking wagon, guiltless of paint, they scrambled, and the two powerful farm-horses started. "It was so much better," Cad said, "to sit and laugh and talk, and do just as they pleased, and have no prim coachman, with funeral dignity, asking which way he should go now." The farmer was almost as jolly as father Primrose, and when they found themselves at the depot too early for the train, he showed them where they might find black- berries in the fall, and led them to a patch of ferns that made Kate's eyes dance. When the train did come, one would have thought the handsome man, surrounded by the little ladies, had just returned from a tour in Europe, they made such a time over him. When they drove up to the porch in the sweet sunset glow, all Redbow seemed to welcome them. Prince Charlie jumped into his father's arms with a wild whoop Ross called it. There were exclamations of de- light, and kisses all round, but when papa Father's Surprise. 211 was allowed to enter the family sitting-room, then indeed there was a genuine surprise. Mr. Winfield stood rooted upon the thresh- old; then he went forward, and in the midst* of the shouts of his little folks, stood still again. "We all helped, didn't we?" cried Cad. " It took us such a time !" "And we made a fernery of the aquarium," said Kate; "the poor little fishes would die." " Well, / confess, you have surprised and delighted me," said Mr. Winfield. And this was the sight that met his eyes. The great oval window encased in a broad, thick frame of evergreen the pictures, that he supposed were still in boxes waiting his coming, all hung, and over each were lovely wreaths of oak leaves, pine cones and mosses. Home-made brackets in beautiful designs, backed with black velvet, against which the small statues of Parian marble were delicately outlined, stood in every recess. The bay-window was transformed into a 212 The Little Folks of Redbow. lovely bower of hanging baskets, climbing vines, and flowers in pots. Ivy ran over the doors and windows. The whiteness of the floor was relieved by black and scarlet rugs, and beautiful bouquets stood in every available space. The sofas had been dressed in new bright chintz, the soft rays of the set- ting sun threw a bewitching glory over all, and the room was a picture, with all those bright faces about it. " Perfectly paradisaical!" said papa, settling himself into the great arm-chair. " This is a home worth having. I feel like a monarch taking possession of his little kingdom. What fairies you are! How did you manage to get up all this splendor?" " Ross and the carpenter went into the woods and took up the vines whole!" vol- unteered Cad, " and set them in the pots, and we all helped to put the moss on." That was a happy Saturday evening. Mr. Winfield was delighted with his gifts of remembrance; the dear old songs were sung. Father's Surprise. 213 Prince Charlie, as usual, endured the petting of the whole family with undiminished good nature. Ross gave an account of his work, and there was but one drawback Phil came home wet to the skin and minus his shoes. He gave a confused account of himself; said he left his shoes on the bank to " go in," and could not find them when he came out. "But haven't I, time and again, expressly forbidden you to swim or bathe in that river?" his father asked, sternly. Phil hung his head. "Having abused my confidence, sir," his father added, " I forbid you to fish in or go near the river for a month." But Phil did not speak. His proud little lip quivered for a moment, and his father dis- missed him. Mrs. Winfield pleaded for an abatement of the sentence, but his father was resolute. "Phil has been such a good little fellow, so long!" said his mother. " He must learn to obey as implicitly when 214 The Little Folks of Redbow. out of my sight as when I am by ; else, away from home as I am most of the time, he will become dishonest as well as disobedient." And so Phil was in disgrace. CHAPTER XXII. PLAYING Bl DDY. " In every rank, or great or small, "lie industry supports us all." ATHER PRIMROSE, with Ross, had staked out next year's straw- berry bed, and made arrangements for a future greenhouse. "I intend to grow fruit for the city mar- kets," he said proudly to his father. "And reely, wife, the method of him," said father Primrose, drinking his noon tumbler of milk. " I never see any thing beat him for brains. He's as cute as any surveyor ; he's that rare genus, a born farmer, that young un, and I can't tell him much. The way he catches an idee is cur'us. 'O, I see,' ses he, 215 2 1 6 TJie Little Folks of Redboiv. 'I see;' and goes and tells how the thing can be done from root to branch. Tell you what mother, he'll make old Redbow shine, one o' these days." Mother Primrose went up to the "big" house a few hours every day. It was she who initiated Kate into the mysteries of making sponge-cake, and of sundry other delicacies. Nothing suited Kate better than to don the cooking apron, tie on a bit of muslin over the pretty curls, and dabble in flour and eggs. Fanny had a wonderful genius for finding eggs, mother Primrose said. All hidden nests were revealed to her, and the good mother biddies seemed instinctively to feel that they must do their best when she was round. Per- haps ribbons were as precious to Fanny as ever, but she was certainly developing new excellencies of character. She took charge of the pretty sitting-room; the flowers she picked over, added to or changed, and as she was a particular little body, not a grain of dust escaped her quick glance. Playing Biddy. 217 Cad and Linda had all they could do to keep their little house over the barn in a neat condition. It was great fun to see them, in dresses suited to the occupation, scouring away on bended knees at the white pine floor, or polishing the stove and cooking untensils. These plebeian tastes, as Fanny called them, Mrs. Winfield encouraged. Fanny went with a horrified face to her mamma, after rinding them thus employed one day. " My dear, it is the best exercise in the world, for them," said that judicious woman. "It was recommended for me when I was a little girl with a weak chest, and I often scrubbed up small rooms and halls. I know just what a pleasure it is, when done for play, so I shall let them make Biddies of themselves as often as they are inclined. It won't do to allow you little folks to run all to brains." "But, 'mamma, uncle Harry is very rich in India, and Linda had servants for every thing; she didn't even wash her own face. Would her papa like it?" 2 1 8 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Her papa has given her in our charge, my dear, and I presume he wishes her to grow into healthful, happy, well developed woman- hood. You remember what a sallow little creature she was when she first came here, only six months ago, and how she mourned for the candies and pernicious delicacies she had been so long accustomed to. Look at her now. Her cheeks have lost that unhealthy yellow tinge, and are getting quite rosy. Suppose we had allowed her indulgence in her unwholesome whims! I don't believe her father would have thanked me. She eats three meals a day, with a healthy appetite, and enjoys herself in useful as well as pleasant recreation. If she wants to mop floors, or even scour them, it wont do her any harm." "But don't you believe Cad will have just such common tastes all the days of her life ?" Mrs. Winfield laughed, as she answered : "Cad will learn the difference between work and play soon enough; I have no fear for her, dear little happy housekeeper. I do Playing Biddy. 219 think, however, that her tastes will always be in that direction, and whatever reverses may happen to her in after life, she will always be self-reliant, and able to work." Ross came in that minute, a letter post- marked India, in his hand. It was nearly three months since they had heard from uncle Harry. Ross had been down to the village post-office, two miles off; the letter had been lying there over a week. "Some of the clerks in your father's old store must have sent it here," said Mrs. Win- field. "Suppose you call Linda?" Linda came, her eyes shining, her hair blown about by the wind, her hat in her hand. " Ross says there's a letter from papa." " Yes, dear, and how nice to think you have improved so much that you can read it your- self," said Mrs. Winfield. "It's pretty hard," she said. "But you can do it." "O, yes, I'll try;" and down sat Linda, patiently to decipher a rather bad hand. 220 The Little Folks of Redbow. As Linda opened the letter, something fluttered to the floor. "It must be money," said Linda, as Mrs. Winfield picked the paper up. "Yes, dear, a large sum for a little girl; your papa has sent you an order on his banker for three hundred dollars. He must think his little girl needs a great many dresses and nice things." "But I don't," said Linda eagerly; "I've plenty of dresses, even for parties, if I went to them. Three hundred dollars! O, I must go and tell Cad!" " The letter first, dear and see, you are trembling with excitement, that won't do." It's a short letter," said Linda, trying to compose herself. " MY DEAR LITTLE GIRL: I have written to your uncle in another letter. I send this money for yourself. Don't forget that papa loves his little daughter, and thinks of her. I have something of importance to tell you: Playing Biddy. 221 you have a new mamma, a very sweet and good lady, and I hope that some time you will see her, and that you and she will love each other very much. Both she and I agree in thinking that you had better remain with your aunt." " O," cried the child, with a deep drawn breath, "I am so glad of that! wouldn't it be queer to be introduced to my mamma? But I love you so dearly, I hope papa will let me stay till I am a great, grown lady." " I hope so too, dear," said Mrs. Winfield, returning her kiss. Linda sat down again to her letter. " You are to do exactly what you please with your money." " O," interpolated Linda again, " I do want a pony, and so does Cad. Yes, we must have ponies may we? You know there's a nice little pony-chaise in the carriage-house, and Ross said he could mend it. Then Cad and I would enjoy ourselves. Don't you think the money would buy two dear little ponies?" 222 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Finish your letter, love; we'll see what papa says about the ponies." " And now good by, little daughter, with a hundred kisses. Your old Ayah wishes to be remembered to you. She is still in the house, with two of her own little brown babies, and very useful to your new mamma. A great deal of love to all, and be sure to write me a long letter, and tell me every thing about your studies, and all your dear cousins. "Your devoted and affectionate father, etc., etc." CHAPTER XXIII. PONIES AND SPONGE-CAKE " I would plant rich seed, to blossom in mj? manhood, and bear fruit when I am old." O her aunt, Linda gave the note, and hurried breathlessly back to the barn playhouse. "O, Cad! Cad! what do you think came in my letter? Ponies, ponies! Petkin ought to get well of the measles right off, and Felice must stop coughing." " Ponies in a letter !" exclaimed Cad, who had swathed Petkin in blankets, and had been industriously improvising quite a sick-room atmosphere, in the shape of bottles and baths and pill-boxes. 223 224 TJie Little Folks of Red bow. I mean, the money came to buy them; we're going to have a pony apiece." "A pony apiece!" screamed Cad, clapping her hands " O ! that is altogether too ele- gant !" " That is, you know, I hope we are," con- tinued Linda, rather sobered at Cad's raptur- ous exclamations. " Do you mean a truly pony ?" queried Cad, who sometimes used this rather infantile expression, a reminiscence of the days when she was little. "Yes, if aunt and uncle both say yes; be- cause you see papa has sent me three hundred dollars ; what do you think of that ?" She paused a moment to note the effect of her speech in Cad's dilating eyes "And I am to spend it just as I please, every cent of it." " O, oh ! my goodness !" emphasized Cad, and then paused with unspeakable interjec- tions written all over her face. Her next move was to catch up quiet, much suffering Petkin, and hug it with passionate Ponies and Sponge- Cake. 225 warmth, covering its stolid shining face with kisses. "We are all well, now, darling," she cried; "at least the sickness has taken a favorable turn don't you think it has, Linda? I do believe the doctor will say she ought to ride out." "Yes, indeed ; it will do her more good than all this nasty medicine especially on ponies. I guess I'll put the bottles away, and the pills too. They will keep against another sudden attack of any thing else, you know." "Bilious fever," suggested Cad. "Don't you see the ponies, saddled and bridled, standing down at the door?" cried Linda, clasping her hands fervently. " O, Cad," tak'ing on a penitential tone, " I don't know as we deserve so much happiness." "But we haven't got 'em yet," said Cad; "may-be papa won't see fit." " O, yes he will ; and what do you think guess what has papa got?" " A white elephant ?" queried Cad. 226 The Little Folks of Redbow. " O, dear, no ; better than that." "I never could guess conundrums or any thing," said Cad, suddenly anxious. " It isn't a conundrum at all, its a new mamma !" "For you?" " For me !" " She'll want you !" cried Cad in great alarm, catching hold of Linda; "you can't go, I cant let you go." " No, she wont want me I should hope not!" said Linda; "papa says I'm to stay here. What do you think of that ?" "It's better than the ponies," said Cad, "supposing we should get them. O, I was so frightened?" " Let's go over to the house and tell the girls," said Linda; and putting their dolls carefully away, quite cured of measles and whooping-cough, they hurried to Redbow mansion. There they found Kate in the sitting-room, showing, with no little pride, a golden loaf Ponies and Sponge-Cake. 227 of sponge-cake. Mother Primrose had fol- lowed her, and the sweet, genial old face, that reminded one of dried rose leaves a little crumpled, beamed all over with plea- sure. " Every mite, Mrs. Winfield," she was saying, " every mite she did with her own blessed little hands. Says I, ' I won't even look, deary, for I've that confidence in you;' and I didn't. It's every whit as good as her silver-cake, and as nice as I could do it myself. It's every thing to git a good bake. Scorch it a hair's breadth, your labor's lost. I want just the gold all-overish color, or I want nothing. It's just the way with some folks, mam, they seem mixed right, but some- how they git streaked in the baking." " It is very beautiful, Kate," said Mrs. Winfield; "a perfect success we won't cut it till papa comes home." Kate, flushed and happy, turned away with her treasure. Mrs. Primrose lingered. 228 The Little Folks of Redbow. "If I might be so bold," she said, "I should like to ride down to the depot, Mon- day, with Mr. Winfield. There's caliker and muslin to be got, for the sheeting is most gin out I haven't bought any to speak of for ten year." "Mother, there's shop," said Cad. "It's all in boxes." "Sure enough," said Mrs. Winfield, smiling, "I had almost forgotten shop. I'm afraid we'll have to set it up over the barn; can you spare a bit of your house?" Mother Primrose looked mystified. "If you don't care about going to the village, Mrs. Primrose," said Mrs. Winfield, " I think we can suit you. We have plenty of good muslin, and nice plain calicoes, besides cotton, needles, and an assortment of dry goods generally." "Deary me!" ejaculated Mrs. Primrose, gazing vaguely from one to the other. Mrs. Winfield explained, and the good soul was relieved. Ponies and Sponge- Cake. 229 " I'd give most anything not to go to town, I'm always phthisicky after it. Well now, du tell, ain't it comfortable to have things so." " Ross shall open the boxes," said Mrs. Winfield, " and you must take a dress as a present from me." " Well I never I'm sure you are too kind," said the grateful old lady; "and the idee is so nice ! Your children will know every thing keepin shop, and keepin house well well, you allays was a little methody." Mrs. Winfield smiled as the good old lady went out, radiant. " Mamma, she says you are perfect," spoke up Cad, "and / think you are." "Very far from it, darling," said Mrs. Win- field, her face suddenly grave. "You must be," continued Cad, with quiet emphasis. " You never get angry, as we little folks do, or careless, or lazy; do you ?" "I'm afraid, dear, I get angry oftener than you suspect," said Mrs. Winfield, an amused smile breaking over her face. 230 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Why, when where?" "I can't boast of perfection, yet awhile," said Mrs. Winfield, a little sadly "at least while I have such an ignorant girl in the kitchen. I get very impatient at times, but I should be sorry if I did not try to control my temper, looking to our dear Lord, who knows how frail the best of us must be. The trouble is not in possessing the hasty temper, my dear, but in letting it out in ugly words or unkind actions, to the injury of ourselves and those around us. When I feel that quick, uprising heat, I put my lips together this way, and simply determine that I will hold my tongue. That is the best remedy, and one you know I often advise you to try." Then ensued a silence, broken by Linda. " Well," with a long breath, " / am so glad !" "What are you glad of, dear?" "That you are just like the rest of us only better only you know how. But you are not careless, like I am." Ponies and Sponge- Cake. 231 "Don't say like I am, Linda, dear, for it is very bad taste, to say nothing of the grammar. I was careless, once, if that will comfort you." "You, mamma!" cried Cad. "O-h!" "When I was a little girl, dear, of your age." " And now you are just as neat as a new pin." " I try to be, darling." "How did you learn?" "By determining that I would never take an article from its place, unless I returned it again. Never, under any circumstances, leav- ing drawers or boxes disarranged. By keep- ing a strict watch over myself in these particu- lar matters. So, you see, care and method grew to be second nature. It would be almost impossible for me to be untidy now." " O, mamma," you are splendid !" cried Cad, with sudden enthusiasm. " I want to hug you ;" and presently Mrs. Winfield had them both about her neck. " And I think my little girls are splendid." 232 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Sometimes, mamma; not always good, like you. Now, don't you say you are not always good, because you are." "And when we get our ponies," said Linda, " we'll take you out airing every day.' A merry laugh ended the interview. CHAPTER XXIV. COUNTRY PLEASURES. " Give me the green sward with its flowers, And mirth and song and jollity. ANNY, Cad and Linda were playing with Prince Charlie on the front porch, still discussing the subject of ponies, when Cad exclaimed: " O, I see an ^/-egant carriage, and I do believe it's coming right straight here." It was coming, not straight, but in a curved line, and it certainly seemed as if it meant to stop at Redbow porch. The children went in to tell Mrs. Winfield, who quietly divested herself of her white apron, smoothed her dress, and was ready for company. It proved to be a lady who was spending 233 234 The Little Folks of Redbow. the summer two or three miles from Redbow. She had been a friend of Linda's mamma, and was glad of this opportunity of forming an acquaintance with Mrs. Winfield. At her request the children were sent for. Linda was, of course, the most noticed and caressed. " I knew your mamma when she was quite a little child, my dear," she said, " for I was born in England, and we went to the same school. I have five little girls, the eldest about the age of miss Kate here. They were promised a party on Marcia's birth-day, which comes on the twenty-seventh of this month. Marcia wished me to come over here and invite your little girls. If we send a carriage for them at noon on that day, will you let them come, Mrs. Winfield?" Kate smiled, Fanny's eyes sparkled, Cad and Linda secretly squeezed each other's hands. Mamma saw no objection. " It will be a bright moonlight evening, I Country Pleasures. 235 hope," continued the visitor, " and my horses and my driver are safe. Of course, I include your sons in the invitation I think you told me there were two. We have a fine croquet ground, and we shall endeavor to procure a band of music. The only parties we ever give are those in honor of our children's and our own birth-days, and we try to make them as interesting as possible." They shall all be ready by noon of the 2/th, Mrs. Winfield promised. Mrs. Baker, for such was the visitor's name, grew enthusiastic as she watched the shifting colors on old Redbow's sides. " I should never weary of it," she said ; " what a poet's home you have ! I must tell the children about the flowers and the vines : I really never saw anything like it; and the view from that oval window is simply perfect." When their new friend had gone, the busy little tongues chattered like the clicking of machinery. Fanny, the only discontented one, declared she had nothing fit to wear. 236 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Your sweet blue muslin," said Kate. "I tore it in the front breadth." "Your beautiful summer silk." "I spoiled it with cherry stains they'll never come out." ' Your white, tucked dress, then." " A yard too short," said Fanny, disconso- lately " and old fashioned." " Then what shall we do ?" asked Kate, a little disconsolate, turning to Mrs. WinHeld. "What will you wear, dear?" asked her mother. "My white mull, freshly done up. Won't that look nice with cherry ribbons, or some- thing?" " If Fanny thinks we can make it among us, she may have my white and blue check silk," said Mrs. Winfield. "O, mamma! that splendid thing!" cried Fanny. "But Kate is the eldest; it ought to be hers," she added, growing despondent, again. Kate wavered, she had often admired the Country Pleasures. 237 blue and white silk, but it was only for a moment. I had just as lief have the white one," she said, quietly. " I'm too dark for blue, and Fanny's complexion is just right. We will all help make it, mother." Mrs. Winfield smiled in a pleased way. She thought of a nice piece of black silk, snuggly tucked away in one of her trunks, just enough to make a stylish little overskirt with bretelles, for Kate, and it could be trim- med with rich lace from one of her now use- less dresses. This she meant to do without letting the generous girl into the secret. " You shall have the dress to take to pieces after study-hours, to-morrow," she said aloud. " Fanny must find an old gown that she likes, and rip the body. Then we can cut the silk over it," added Mrs. Winfield; "and I think it will make a really nice dress." "What shall we wear?" queried Cad, who had been talking the while in an undertone with Linda. 238 The Little Folks of Redbow. "We'll get you off in your best calicoes," laughed Mrs. Winfield. "Cad shall have one of my mulls, and then we shall be twins," said Linda. "And we'll both wear cherry ribbons," suggested Cad. "Her clothes just fit me." " But you have plenty of your own, dear," said her mother. "O, but you see, we want to be exactly alike," pleaded Linda. "And then, none of mine are so fine; why hers are just like air; you can hardly see them when you hold them up to the light. Please mayn't I, mamma?" Mrs. Winfield yielded, and it was settled. Fanny gave Kate a hearty kiss. " You are the dearest, most unselfish sister in the world," she said. "May-be if I hadn't been dark," Kate replied, " I might have been more selfish." " I wish I was dark," responded Fanny. " I truly do, as Cad says; I think brown eyes are beautiful." Country Pleasures. 239 After lessons next day and I am afraid they were not as perfect as usual the girls went up into the nursery, to rip the seams of the pretty blue silk. "How kind mother is!" said Fanny; "do you think our own mother could have been kinder?" " No, indeed, I do not," was Kate's resolute reply. "I do believe she would have been just like her. Take care and don't let the scissors slip, you'll cut the silk." "I can't be patient," said Fanny, with a jerk, making another small rent. " You must be, Fanny ; this silk is too good to spoil." "But how can I be? I tell you what, I'll get my old waist, that I'm going to cut a pattern by, and rip that. I'm not fit to do any thing carefully, I get so nervous." " Mamma wouldn't say that," replied Kate. " She would tell you to conquer yourself, even in ripping." " There's no use, Kate, not the slightest 240 The Little Folks of Redbow. there's another slip. I hold it just as even as I can, hateful old thing!" "Hateful old thing! that pretty dress! And you were so glad of it." Fanny was silent She put her lips to- gether, and went on hacking and mutilating for a few moments. Then she paused. " What an ugly, hateful disposition I must have," she said; "if things don't go just easy, I am angry right off." "It's something, dear, to be conscious of one's faults," Kate said, gently. "I just will conquer it I'm determined," said Fanny, resolutely, and she set her lips together again, this time to some purpose. It was really astonishing how, after awhile, the stubborn seams yielded. Fanny's brow grew brighter, and her talk more cheerful, smiles came to her lips. She felt that at last her good angel had triumphed. CHAPTER XXV. DRESS-MAKING, AND ITS TRIALS. " To stitch and pick out, to gather and hem, Was ever poor maiden so bothered before, I wish dresses grew like the apples, on trees, For sewing and seaming all day is a bore." HE morning of the party dawned clear, bright and beautiful. Not a cloud was in the sky, the air was laden balmily with the breath of thousands of flowers. Old Redbow broke out of the earlier mists, and flushed all over with gold and crimson, as the splendor of the risen sun enveloped him. Jewels hung from every tiny blade of grass, every tasselled ear of corn was splendid with diamonds. Mr. Winfield had given himself a brief vacation. He stood upon the front 16 241 242 The Little Folks of Red bow. porch, Prince Charlie in his arms. The little fellow seemed in fine joyous sympathy with nature. Sunlight and gorgeous color, the fresh aromatic fragrance of the pines, the lovely tinting of field and sky, were not lost even upon his baby senses. He laughed and crowed in sympathy with them, and repeated his one word of appreciation, " Pitty ! pitty !" with eyes as clear and soft as the blue sky itself. The little girls within were helping mamma to the best of their ability. Cad and Linda were rolling up fresh white napkins, and slip- ping them in their ivory rings. Fanny was giving an extra polish to the glass goblets, and the pitcher in which the warm, rich milk was poured every morning. Kate appeared at the door, a plate in her hand heaped with golden-tinted corn cakes, and finally, Mrs. Winfield came in to cut the wheaten loaf. " Mamma, Fanny says you can tell by feel- ing, when the glass is not clean; can you?" "I think I can, Cad." "Well, the only way to get it perfectly Dress- Making. 243 clean, is to wash and rinse in very hot water, isn't it?" "That is the best way, I think." " If yon think so, then it is the right way." The hum of childish talk, and little bursts of merry laughter rang out to the porch. Ross had joined his father; nurse had taken Prince Charlie. "The corn looks well, sir," said Ross. " I never saw better," his father responded. " Ross, I begin to believe, as father Primrose declares, you're a ' born farmer.' " " It does seem to come natural," said Ross, flushing, "and I am never happier than when I'm working in the soil. Once in a while I have some trouble with the hands, but father Primrose always gets me out again." " You dont regret giving up a profession then. What will you do when you see your old school-fellows shooting ahead, while you are plodding?" "I beg pardon, sir, what's to hinder me from shooting ahead ? If there isn't a great 244 The Little Folks of Red bow. deal of money to be made out of farming, it seems to me there's a great deal of happi- ness, and I'd rather be happy and healthy, than rich. Still, to one who has, as you are pleased to say I have, a decided talent for farming, I believe there is money in it a good deal, too, in the long run. All those fellows of ours, will be constantly exposed to the temptations of city life, and some I know are not proof against very slight ones, so there you see I have a decided advantage over them. I'm down on the city for young men." "I see you are," said Mr. Winfield, a plea- sant smile changing the look of deep earnest- ness he wore; "so I suppose I must let you have your 'ain' way." The breakfast-bell rang, and presently the whole family were seated at a well-ordered table. " This is some of our Kate's butter, dear," said Mrs. Winfield, passing the dish. "Kate's! You don't tell me she makes butter too." Dress-Making. 245 "She churned and made four pounds yes- terday." " Sweet as a nut," was the verdict, while Kate's cheeks burned, and her eyes sparkled. "The wonder to me is how she does so much," said Mrs. Winfield, "and keeps up with her studies." "She does that," said Ross ; "I have to work sharp to run ahead, or rather, I did." Ross had resigned his post of teacher, in favor of Mrs. Winfield. Mr. Winfield's face grew radiant. Softly to himself he murmured: "All things shall work together for good to those who love God." "My dear," he said, aside to his wife, "men sometimes condole with me since my business losses, that I have buried myself and my family in the country. It makes me pity them, for I think that I am, without exception, one of the happiest men to-day on the face of the earth. Money ! why it is dross compared to the riches I see around me. I don't know 246 The Little Folks of Redbow. that I care ever to go back to city life, do you ?" " Never," was the reply. Poor Fanny had shed many tears and lifted many crosses during her self-imposed task of cutting and making. Over and over again had seams to be unbasted, breadths ripped, bias folds widened and narrowed. That per- verse genius that dwells not within the precincts of first class modistes, and skilful workwomen, perched itself atop every new effort and caused woful failure. The dress which Fanny cut by, was a favorite one, but she had so changed under the blessed auspices of Redbow, that it was now both too short and too small for her. Then Fanny sat down, and undisciplined girl-fashion, had a good cry over it. Tears for such failures, she knew her mother con- demned, particularly angry ones, so her only course was to try and remedy the difficulty, which she did after many trials of patience, and with Kate's help. Dress-Making. 247 Time would fail me to tell of the number- less seams sewed wrong side out, that being Fanny's failing, the result of thoughtlessness. Then when the almost herculean task seemed nearly finished, behold she had stitched the skirt back foremost, gathers and plaits all reversed, and neatly fastened. " It does seem," cried Fanny, when Kate pointed out the fault, " as if I should like to sit down, and tear this horrid dress to bits. Four days have I been working over this skirt. I've a great mind to throw it in the fire." " I had rather you would throw it at me," said Kate, cheerfully. " I would rectify all mistakes." "Kate, do look cross, or something, if it isn't your trouble. It's awfully provoking, and you know it is, after all this hard work, to have it to go over again. Do you know I feel a sort of personal hatred towards this dress, as if it were something human, trying to spite me?" 248 The Little Folks of Red bow. " I dare say," said Kate; "I've felt just so many a time; but then you know, Fanny, it isn't a good spirit to cherish." "One can't be good; it's just impossible," retorted poor Fanny. "The more you try, the harder and the worse it is and I don't care." "One can conquer foolish, unreasonable feelings," said Kate. "Well, it \sn\your dress, nor your trouble," said Fant^y with some heat. " Besides, what's the use ? if you gave me ever so much sym- pathy 'twouldn't help me. One has to keep going over and over it, doing just the same wrong things to -morrow we've repented of to- day. I've conquered, I do believe, a thousand and one times. I don't like to have to." " But for all that, its keep having' to all one's life, I suppose," said Kate. " Then what's the use of being here at all, of living, any way?" pouted Fanny, "it's awful tiresome." Kate did not answer just then. Fanny Dress-Making. 249 looked tearfully up into the pure calm sky, on the shadow-chased gorges of Redbow. "What's the use of living?" echoed back on her unquiet heart. The thought of something her father had said in the morning prayers, thanking God for so many mercies that no sickness had fallen upon them that they were all in full possession of their faculties, sight, hearing, the power of speech, the will of help- fulness, the ability to love and counsel each other. She looked again in the deep of the azure above, and it seemed as if the dear Lord, whose eye pierces the inmost recesses of the heart, could see her ungrateful thoughts. The dress had fallen to the floor beside her in a glittering heap. What a beautiful color it was now, that the sun shone upon it! And how kind her mamma had been to part with it so cheerfully, to such a wilful, fretful, ungrate- ful girl. She lifted it slowly, her lip quivering; it was not so hard to conquer for the thousand and second time, as it had been for the thou- sand and first 250 The Little Folks of Red bow. With a right good will she gathered the ravelled edges of her patience, and began again. Snip, snip, went the scissors, but poor Fanny never allowed herself to be without some pet-worry. Like a great many grown people I have known, if troubles did not come, she had the faculty of improvising them. "I know I shan't have my grammar-lesson," she sighed; "I only went over it twice." "I'll read it aloud," said Kate, cheerfully; and with clear, distinct tones she performed the task. Fanny's thoughts wandered. "You ought to have had the silk," she said. "Never mind me I shall be just as happy in white muslin; do you think you understand the lesson?" " I guess so there !" and the skirt was triumphantly displayed. "Now, if that isn't right, I'll" she caught Kate's eye, hesitated, then added demurely, " I'll try again." " Bravo !" said Mrs. Winfield, as she entered the room. Dress- Making. 251 "There's some little hope for me, isn't there, mamma?" asked Fanny, timidly. " A great deal, my dear and a great im- provement, too." "It needs lace in the neck." "I'll attend to that," said her mother. So, as I said before, the wished for holiday had come at last. CHAPTER XXVI. WHAT CAME OF PHIL'S SWIMMING. "Happy the school-boy ! did he know his bliss, 'Twere ill exchanged for all the dazzling gema That gayly sparkle in ambition's eye ; His are the joys of nature." LL lessons were omitted. Not so the more important duties of Cad's housekeeping. Both Cad and Linda, little trouble-free creatures, knew they should be taken care of, like human lilies that spin not. Doll Blanche was dressed in her finest and best, in honor of the party to which she was not invited. Petkin was put in a white frock, and some of Felice's finery borrowed for the occasion. Then the room was set in thorough order, and artistically 252 What Came of Phil's Swimming. 253 arranged, when lo! like a sunbeam on the top stair, looking through the open door, white cap, white ribbon strings, white ker- chief, suggestive of immaculate purity, stood mother Primrose. "I've jest been to your ma's, to see the calikers, children, and I took a notion to come over here. I've been a wanting to come this long time. Well, bless my heart! if ever I see sech little dears for housekeeping! I kinder misgive that I should find you in heaps." " We never get in heaps, only when Phil comes here," said Cad. " He's broken the stove once, and almost killed Petkin with fright. She hasn't got over palpitation to this day; has she, Linda?" "Not once, poor little soul," echoed Linda, gravely. Mother Primrose screwed up her mouth. " It does mind me of Ben," she continued , after she had tied her cap strings in order to drive the laugh away. 254 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Who was Ben?" queried Cad. " He were miss Lotty's coachman, dear, with the habits and manners of a gentleman. Nobody knowed what was his history, for he never talked about himself, but everybody could see that he hadn't been intended at the first for a servant. Miss Lotty thought a sight of him, and this was his home ; he wouldn't sleep at the house. He was took sick here, and miss Lotty had him carried to the house, and I helped nurse him. When he died, we found a miniature set in gold, lying on his heart, poor dear, the picter of a beauti- ful lady, and miss Lotty said there had been diamonds in it; and no gentleman could a looked sweeter and nobler than he, dear soul, when he was laid out. Miss Lotty took the picter, and a letter he had left with all his instructions, and sent them to his own country in England, and that's all I know about it. Dears, if he could just see this now, how it would please him, sure. He kept the place like a pink, jest as you do. What Came of Phil's Swimming. 255 "Deary me! pots and pans and kittles cups and sarcers and things. Well deare, your ma didn't have no sech when she was a little one. I've seen her often a playing with bits of broken chancy, as contented as a little queen. Miss Lotty didn't understand chil- dren, but she loved 'em, bless her!" " Won't you sit down ?" queried Linda, bringing a chair forward. " Bless your polite little heart, no. I left father alone with the rheumatiz both knees a going. I wish he could do as he tells me to, poor soul take it easy, but pain's apt to put one out o' jint." " We'll . give you a ride when we get our horse and carriage," said Cad, gravely; "we've given up the ponies." " Given up the ponies !" said mother Prim- rose, standing in the sunshine again. " Yes, Cad and I were going to buy ponies," chimed in Linda, "but uncle said we'd better have a steady going horse and carriage." Good Mrs. Primrose thought it was all in 256 The Little Folks of Redbow. the play that the horse and carnage were imaginary. "Thankee, little ones, thankee," she said, laughing, "but I guess I should be too heavy for your horse and kerrige." Fanny came down breathless, to tell the children they were wanted. Such bustle and confusion as there was at Redbow, such exclamations and asking for things ! Nobody seemed to have quite hands and fingers enough. Mrs. Winfield decked the two little ones in their India muslins, fine as air, Cad said, not inaptly, and tied their hair with the lovely rose-colored ribbons. Then Fanny came in for inspection. She was a little nervous, and fearful that her dress did not fit well, but her anxiety was soon set at rest. "Don't my stockings wrinkle? There, if there isn't a hole in my glove! O, dear me, where did I put my handkerchief!" " It's only Fanny that ever frets," said Cad, sententiously. What Came of Phil's Swimming. 257 Fanny wheeled around with an angry frown, but checked herself admirably. She turned a little red as she answered, pleasantly, " I believe I am, Cad, that's a fact I ought to have been christened Pepperpot" "We eat that, in India," said Linda, "and don't it bite?" "Just as I do, when I'm ugly," laughed Fanny. "You're not ugly," said Linda, reflectively; "you're only " "Cross," suggested blunt Cad. " Nervous," said Mrs. Winfield, smiling. "Is nervousness a disease?" asked Fanny. "Yes, dear; but patience, taken in large quantities, will cure it." Fanny smiled; she was all right now. Per- haps she was trying to forget the number of times she had conquered herself. What was the use of counting, when she was trying in such earnest? Kate entered next, looking as fresh and sweet as a white rose. 17 258 The Little Folks of Redbow. "I thought pink would be pretty for a sash. What do you say, mamma?" Mrs. Winfield, for answer, opened a drawer in the old-fashioned bureau near her, and drew out the loveliest black silk overskirt and bre- telles, perfectly made and exquisitely trimmed. To see the faces of the little folks then, was a study. "This, for me!" cried Kate, breathless with astonishment. " O, isn't it perfect !" exclaimed Fanny, de- lighted. "Kate, you are a young lady in that; nobody would think of calling you a girl. Doesn't she look charming? I'm so glad!" " But is it really for me ?" asked Kate again, looking at her pretty reflection in the glass. "Yes, dear, it is for you; a reward of merit." "But what for? I never expected it." "Of course you didn't." "And that makes it all the nicer, don't it?" echoed Cad, dancing around her. " This is real lace, too. I never wore any thing half so beautiful before. O, mamma, What Came of Phil's Swimming. 259 how I thank you ! you are always doing something nice for us." There were tears in Kate's eyes. " I always said she was an angel !" cried Cad, and regardless of mull as 'fine as air,' she gave her mother a hearty hug. " I guess we'll all look as well as anybody," said Linda, complacently. " No matter how we look," said Cad, loftily, "if we only behave well. The times I have to tell Felice that, she is so vain !" " Of course we'll behave well," said Linda, "don't we do that at home?" It may not be amiss to observe here, for the benefit of the big as well as little folks, that company behavior is generally the transcript of home-manners. The carriage came, and Ross made his appearance on the scene. Phil had begged off, saying that he didn't want to go to a girl's party; but as fishing was interdicted, poor Phil wandered about disconsolately, finding time hanging heavily on his hands. 260 The Little Folks of Red bow. A beautiful open carriage had been sent for them. Ross sat beside the driver, and talked crops, for the driver was quite an intelligent farmer. The little girls held their parasols primly for a time, but they soon grew tired, and putting off city airs, as Cad called them, they enjoyed the fine scenery and the delicious atmosphere. At last they came in sight of extensive grounds well laid out, and surrounding a fine white mansion, on the piazza of which stood several girls in groups. " Isn't it ^/-egant?" whispered Cad. "Yes; O dear, there's a marquee!" whis- pered Linda. "Do you mean the big tent?" " Yes, papa had one in his garden when he had grand company." "What a lovely green lawn!" Fanny said to Kate; "but dear me, I'm afraid I'm nervous again. They are all strangers to us." " But they won't be, by and by." Presently the lady of the mansion came What Came of Phil's Swimming. 261 out, quite delighted to see them. They were taken to the dressing-rooms, and afterwards introduced to the daughters, the eldest, Mar- cia, being near Kate's age. How often the expressive word "^/-egant" escaped Cad's lips, I am unable to say, but certain it is, the enjoyment of that afternoon was absolutely perfect. The games were various and delightful. All were allowed to help themselves to the fruit which grew in abundance and within reach. There was music indoor and out, and as soon as it was dark the grounds were brilliantly lighted, and supper served on long tables under the illu- minated marquee. "I never had so delightful a time in my life," said Kate to Marcia Baker, as they wan- dered in the moonlight on the borders of a tiny sheet of water, where a fountain threw its fairy-like spray at their feet. Kate found in Marcia a kindred spirit, and Kate was a girl after Marcia's own heart. " I am glad you have enjoyed yourself, but 262 The Little Folks of Redbow. mamma has been telling us what a beautiful home you have, right under the mountain. She quite fell in love with it" " Yes, we have a pleasant home," replied Kate, her heart swelling at thought of all its sweet domestic comforts. "Our house is smaller than this; this is more like the city home we used to have before papa " Her cheeks tingled, but she had gone too far, and was too honest to retract " before papa failed," she added, resolutely. " But you wouldn't wish to go back to the city again! We are going to make a trial of this place for one year. Won't we have grand times in winter, though; better than parties or concerts, / think." " I wish you would tell sister Fanny so," said Kate. "Don't she like Redbow?" "Not as well as the city." They turned and saw Fanny with her arm around Nelly Baker's waist Nelly Baker's arm was around hers. What Came of Phil's Swimming. 263 "If she is talking with Nelly, she is hearing all about it," said Marcia, laughing " Nelly is even more in love with the country than I am. Papa is . the only one who has doubts. If he could get a good teacher here, he says he should know just what to do." " Mamma is our teacher," said Kate proudly. " How pleasant that must be ! We have a governess, and she is good, but so prim and old-fashioned." " You will certainly come over to Redbow and see us?" said Kate. "Just as soon as possible. Mamma is so pleased to think you are near us; she often talks about it." As the little folks of Redbow rode home that night, under the silvery beams of the moon, that sent its troops of sprites into every hedge and under every tree, to make the shadows dance and the leaves glisten, they voted that never in the palmiest days of their city experience had they enjoyed themselves so much. 264 The Little Folks of Red bow. Arrived at Redbow, it was all the mother could do to get them to their bed-rooms. Then each ran back for a kiss, and to thank her for contributing so much to their pleasure; and I doubt if she was not a little happier than they. Meantime, while they had been enjoying themselves at the party, Phil had wandered about, playing now with Boze, the great Prim- rose farm dog, now having a chat with the good-natured old man himself. Then Mrs. Winfield made him some of his favorite cake for supper, after which he joined in a frolic with Prince Charlie, and then went early to bed. "It seems too bad to keep him so long from the river," said his mother, after he had left the room ; "the poor little fellow does enjoy his fishing-sport so much. I am afraid you are a little too hard on Phil." " He must learn to be obedient," said Mr. Winfield, laying down his book. " There are certain traits in his character, that, without What Came of Phil's Swimming. 265 sedulous watching, will be sure to crop out into the vices that destroy so many half-grown boys." "I differ with you a little," said his wife, gently; "I think Phil has very noble traits underlying his very faults, even. You know I have him under my eye, and can more leisurely read him." Mr. Winfield moved uneasily. "Perhaps you are right, my dear; but I am afraid to relax my discipline. Phil must not fish this month at all events. He must have a lesson that will stand by him." The outer door-bell rang, and the old mill carpenter, as he was called, came in, on busi- ness. " How's that boy o' yourn ?" asked the old man, after other matters had been attended to. "Which boy?" asked Mr. Winfield; "you know I have two sons." " Yes, yes, now I member ; there's two of 'em ; the tall un, and the little un. Well, 'twas the little un as fished our Jem out o' the 266 The Little Folks of Redbow. river. The youngster'd been gone a while, and had toddled down to the east side, by the bend, when his ma missed him. I felt despitly sorry bout them shoes, but Rove, my little dog, got 'em day after, an' he has a habit o' hidin things, but bless you, they was just spiled. I calc'late you'll hev to take them outen my pay for work." Mr. Winfield caught his wife's eye, and grew red. " I don't quite understand," he said. " The boy came home without his shoes, and con- fessed that he had gone in swimming." " Well, yes," said the old farmer with a grim smile, "sh'd think he did; went swimming down the crick for that little wollopog, or he'd been a gone Jemmy, that's sartain. His mother, that's my darter, took on terrible, even after the baby was brought to her, safn well; an' she'll never forgit that boy o' yourn, you bet!" It was homely language, but it stirred the father's heart within him as it had never been What Came of Phil's Swimming. 267 stirred before. Mrs. Winfield silently arose and hurried from the room. Direct to Phil's chamber she bent her steps, and .found him placidly watching the moon, with his arms thrown over his head and his hands clasped. With her eyes blurred with tears, she bent over and kissed him. Boy fashion he blurted out, "What's that for?" " For that brave, brave deed of yours, you naughty boy," she said, chokingly. "Why didn't you tell papa that you saved little Jemmy, down at the old mill ? And here you have been punished all this time for nothing." " Well, didn't he ask me if I went in swim- ming? So I did," he added, with a boyish chuckle. "You are my brave, noble boy!" said his mother, one or two tears falling on his hand. "And I am sure your father thinks so too. But you should have told the whole." " Someway I couldn't," said Phil, pulling at the counterpane. "Who told you?" 268 The Little Folks of Redbow. "The old carpenter himself." " Did he bring home my shoes ?" asked Phil, eagerly. "No, dear; he said they were spoiled. Suppose you tell me all about it." "It isn't any thing to tell," said Phil, reluct- antly. " I was fishing, you know, and had caught three pike, big fellows! That little Jemmy had been fooling round with the dog, and I didn't pay much attention to him. But I'd just bated my hook, when I heard some- body screaming like mad, and the carpenter's daughter was outside the red cottage, crying 'murder!' and that Jemmy was drowned. Well you see, just then I caught sight of his white head, bobbing opposite the bend ; so I off with my things I tell you I never did get 'em off quite so quick before -and in I went. It was straighter to swim from there than go round the bend, you know." Mrs. Winfield nodded yes to his intelligent glance. "I thought I never should reach him; it What Came of Phil's Swimming. 269 even seemed as if the water pushed me back; but I did. If I didn't ketch him by that tow head of his!" Phil chuckled again "and then I made for the bank." Phil looked at the moon for a moment. "Twasn't any thing; a dog could have done it," he added. "But a dog didn't do it; it was our Phil, who saved a dear little girl's canary once from roasting alive." " Wouldn't it have made a jolly little roast, though ?" It was a touch of boy-nature, and Mrs. Winfield smiled. "What did the child's mother say?" " She couldn't say much," returned PJiil, with a wry face, "but she kissed me;" and Phil wiped his lips "took advantage of a fellow, when he was down. She screamed enough when she had got him in the house, though. Now what did she do that for?" "The danger all came up before her, I suppose," said Mrs. Winfield. "Well, all I hope is that Jemmy won't 270 The Little Folks of Redbow. come round me while I'm fishing," was the rejoinder. "And so you see you have been unjustly punished. If we had known this, your father would have been prouder of you than ever, and you wouldn't have lost your sport." " O, I'll make that all up," said hardy Phil.- " I 'spose father thought he was doing right enough." "Good-night, Phil." " Good-night mother." Though she knew the boy loved her, her ears were seldom greeted by the word mother from his lips. She went down stairs with a full heart. The old carpenter had gone; Mr. Winfield sat in a brown study. "My dear," he said, as she entered, "that "boy of ours is a very remarkable child a re- markable child, upon my word. Strangely reticent I am not sure but I shall have to discipline him for his secretiveness," he added, laughing. What Came of Phil's Swimming. 271 Mrs. Winfield smiled, but she saw that his eyes were full of tears. "You are a better judge of boys than I am, my dear, after all," he said a moment after. " Why really, there's something very noble about that little son of mine. I won't be so rash another time." At the breakfast table on the following morning, Mr. Winfield asked Phil if he would like to go fishing. The boy turned scarlet " Next time you fish out Jemmy," added his father, "I I'll excuse you for swim- ming." The strong man could hardly speak the words, his lips quivered so. Phil kept his eyes on his breakfast the children stared, but at a sign from Mrs. Winfield, forbore to notice the boy. They knew soon enough, however, and for the second time in his life, Phil was nearly killed by kindness. CHAPTER XXVII. WHAT'S IN A GARRET 1 ? 11 The quaintest, queerest, crookedest old things, Headless and footless, without hands or wings; Sacred to cobwebs and to waspish stings." GOLDEN day in September! The sun making the atmosphere so ten- derly warm divesting it of the chill that renders the first days of fall so uncomfortable: the brown earth dry and crisp, the air filled with the perfume of dried clover, the trees crowned and crowded with ripe black burs, that yielded lightly to the touch of the slender poles in slender fingers it was, take it all together, a day to be remembered. A good-natured, easy going, rather sleepy horse, had brought the little folks of Redbow 272 What's in a Garret? 273 to Walnut Grove. All but nurse, whose Eng- lish feet spurned the idea of riding when one could walk. She declared, that for her part ten miles was nothing. They brought dinner in a basket tied to the baby's small carriage, home-made bread and butter, and cold roast-chicken, to say nothing of the luscious jellies, sweet milk, and brown bread. When at last, happily wearied with their frolic-labor, they packed again into the old wagon, nuts and all, and on regaining home found a great fire of pine knots blazing in the parlor, and the cat stretched before it, winking and blinking as was her wont, they felt as if the day had rounded into perfect symmetry. Ross and Phil unharnessed and led Cainty to her stable. Dainty was the name bestowed upon this useful but not graceful animal by the little girls. After many a consultation it was thought better to purchase a good family horse with Linda's money, for a horse the little girl had set her heart upon. 18 274 TJie Little Folks of Redbow. Phil often rode Dainty to water. Ross and he undertook his entire management. . The fields had given a fine yield of hay, and the barn was full. Corn had been sent to the old mill, and ground into the brightest of yellow meal. The wheat had been threshed by com- petent hands, and they were beginning at Redbow to taste and enjoy the fruits of inde- pendence. "Ross, was there a frost last night?" asked Cad, one morning, looking wistfully toward the oval window, that had broken out into forests and temples of fairy proportions. "Yes, dear; a hard frost." Cad's face grew very grave. She exchanged glances with Linda. " Why, little one ?" asked Ross, pinching her cheeks. Cad crouched nearer to the fire, as she answered : " It was a bit cold over at the barn yester- day, and mamma said we could not go there after frost came ; but its so sunny and nice !" What's in a Garret? 275 " O, the play-house, eh ! That's where the trouble is. What shall we do about it, mother ? These busy little folks musn't lose their housekeeping." Cad turned to mamma; Mrs. Winfield looked a little serious. " It will be impossible for me to give up the nursery," she said. " I wonder if we can't do something with the old garret?" Cad brightened, and drew a long breath. " Yes, it might easily be floored," said Ross; "the carpenter will leave his mill, I guess, long enough to do that. He'd do anything for Phil." "Hush up!" said Phil in a low voice. "But how shall we warm it?" asked her mother. " Put a drum in, and heat it by the nursery stove." "Yes, that will do, Ross, you/ re a capital contriver." "Ross, you are sp-1-endid!" echoed Cad, her little face as radiant as clear sunshine. 276 The Little Folks of Redbow. " We won't care for frost, now," said Linda ; "and how we have been worrying about it, haven't we, Cad?" " It just nearly made me sick," was Cad's reply. The carpenter was brought that same day, but not before the old place had been thoroughly explored, and every nook and cranny exposed to the light from the large end-windows, that good nurse volunteered to cleanse from their grime and matted cobwebs. And what a hiding-place it proved to be, to be sure! Three or four spinning-wheels, ages old, occupied a corner. One of them was quaintly and delicately carved, and had in its day been as beautiful as useful. " Please let them stay," Cad pleaded, " be- cause then we can play ' we are our grand- mothers," and have such good times spinning." Fanny found an assortment of old calashes, that when the sun first saw them had rejoiced in a green as lively as the grass they tripped over. What's in a Garret? 277 "It's a chaise-bonnet," said the children, and forthwith every one donned one, looking like so many dusky perambulators on legs. Old clocks, almost dropping to pieces ; old hoods, flecked with the cotton that had burst through; stacks of shoes, very dainty as to size; files of mouldy newspapers books of a for- gotten period the heavy-light-literature of former youthful minds ; even broken dolls of uncouth woodenliness baby carts and anti- quated little wardrobes falling to dust these were among the treasures they found. Three clocks were set going, and an old music-box dropped broken bits of harmony on being well shaken. There were tea-pots without noses, and sugar-bowls minus rims; two warming pans with crooked handles; numerous skillets lame in the legs, crouching in the dark amid spider webs and the accumu- lated dust of half a hundred years; barrels of torn paper and mutilated books filled up one end of the long garret ; also useless tables and musty smelling chests. 278 The Little Folks of Red bow. "I have found some pictures!" cried Cad. They were silhouettes of some dead and gone ancestor black, sharp-featured faces, ruffled about the neck with Queen Elizabeth frills, and encased in gilt frames, once bright and pretty; sacred mementos, it might be, of some antique beauty " We must have these framed again, I think, and hung in the parlor," said Mr. Winfield. Fanny was looking at them, quite lost in a brown study. Then she nodded her curly head, emphatically, and a strange glow suffused her face. Presently she disappeared, and in a little while returned, smiling and triumphant "Does this look like it, mamma?" she asked, holding up a fac-simile of the little black picture. " Why it is it, isn't it ? No, it is fresher and whiter why, where did you find it, my dear ?" "I made it, mamma, all myself," said Fanny, her face shining. "You made it, Fanny?" WhaCs in a Garret? 279 "Yes indeed, I did, mamma. When I was looking at these, it seemed to come to me all at once that I could do it, too. So I took my embroidery scissors, and cut it out, just as easy !" "Why Fanny!" exclaimed her mother in unfeigned astonishment. "I am really very much surprised, and pleased too, at this evi- dence of your genius." "Genius O! mother, do you think it is genius?" asked Fanny, breathlessly. " What else can it be, little daughter, if you have done it in those few moments? The outlines are as perfect as they well can be, and for you, or any one, to do it without hint or instruction, seems to me quite wonderful." "Mamma, I'll do much better than that sometime," said Fanny, proud and delighted. "Perhaps that's why I've always been so nervous," she added naively "I've needed something of this kind to do." Many more curious little mementos were unearthed during the cleaning out process, 280 The Little Folks of Redbow. and at last the boards were laid, soap and water freely applied to floor and windows, pieces of carpet laid down, and everything accomplished, in readiness for the flitting of Cad's house, dolls and their wardrobes. At last the little folks were installed, and so delighted were they with their new quarters that it was a week before they could settle down to sober, quiet enjoyment. The great garret was divided into several rooms kitchen, spare bed-room, parlor and sitting-room. The spare room contained Petkin's high-posted, a chair and a rickety table; but the crowning beauty of this room was the great flowered muslin curtain at the window, looped with red cord, and hung with a gorgeous pair of crim- son tassels. One day Fanny appeared in the garret with a mysterious manner, and face full of thought. "Cad, may I have a corner here, some- where?" she asked. "What for?" queried Cad. "O, for something. Won't you tell? and What's in a Garret? 281 might I come up here a little while every day, if I let you know ?" Cad looked serious. Linda and she had grown a little selfish in their pleasant seclu- sion. "Is it a very great secret?" asked Linda. "Yes, very," replied Fanny; "at least I think so." "Must you use our things much?" " Don't want anything but a table." "Would you, Linda?" Linda gave an acquiescing nod. "You can make-believe you hire and pay rent, you know." "Very well!" "But you had had ought to tell us what you are going to do." "Had ought!" "Well, ought to, then." " I'm going to make faces out of clay." " Is that all ?" Cad experienced an abate- ment of interest. "Pho! who couldn't?" "We couldn't, Cad," said Linda. "I am 282 The Little Folks of Redbow. sure we couldn't, but you know Fanny is a genius; mamma said so." "Well then, if she's a genius, I suppose we must let her have our spare bed-room. You're standing right in it, Fanny, and there's the table," said Cad ; " only you musn't clut- ter." "I won't clutter," said Fanny. "Nor make fun of us." "Never!" replied Fanny, biting her lips. "When are you going to begin?" "To-morrow. I shall bring some clay, some old newspapers, and a basket." "That's nasty dirt," said Cad, with a wry face. " I'll keep it very clean," said Fanny, " and you needn't mind me, but go on with your housekeeping just the same." "Very well," said Cad, pinning one side of a doll's petticoat down to her knee; "only it won't be as pleasant to have folks round." " O, we shan't mind," said Linda " only if the children cry !" What's in a Garret? 283 Not long after this conversation Fanny was busy in the spare bed-room, draping a sheet between the children and her studio, in order to ease their minds and give herself more privacy. Water and clay, and all the requi- site tools at her command, were then brought secretly up stairs, and she was soon busy over the wet clay. Mrs. Winfield saw by her altered face and manner that she had a secret, and half-guessed what it was, but said nothing, so Fanny was allowed to go her own way. It was delightful to see how completely the little girl was changing in appearance and in character. The sallow tints disappeared from her face; she smiled oftener, fretted less, lost the nervous disquiet that had made her so unlovely, and most wonderful change of all, seemed quite contented. CHAPTER XXVIII. 6PORTS AT REDBOW. " There is in life no blessing like affection, It soothes, it hallows, elevates, subdues, And bringeth down to earth its native heaven, Life has naught else that may supply its place." ARCIA BAKER and her sisters had visited at Redbow, playing croquet on the Primrose lawn, and fallen in love with everybody, from Mrs. Winfield to baby and baby's nurse. Since then, Fanny had never once been heard to mourn after the vanished pleasures of city life. She kept her secret well. Her time for work was generally early in the morn- ing, when she spent an hour upon her clay. With a patience that for her was wonderful, she moulded and remoulded. Failure did not 284 Sports at Redbow. 285 discourage her; her heart was in the work; she was bent upon surprising her father. One golden day the object of her ambition was attained. She had, with the help of a photograph, fashioned rudely, but strikingly, the face of Mr. Winfield. The expression was nearly perfect, and faults in the minor details were not sufficiently apparent to injure the work. It really was a triumph for a girl (quite unassisted, except by books) of Fanny's age. With genuine delight she contemplated her task, her heart swelling with love and satisfied ambition. She did not know the value of the gift which God had bestowed upon her, which had been slumbering so long, and awakened so suddenly. If she might please her parents and enjoy her one talent, that was all she . asked for as yet. The little bust was privately exhibited, and pronounced perfect. Ross seemed particularly delighted, and could not praise it enough. He went immediately to look over his small 286 The Little Folks of Redbow. collection of books, and brought her one, embodying a great deal of definite knowledge on the subject of Sculpture. Fanny plunged into it, and found its pages more fascinating than the best story-book she had ever read. When papa Winfield came home on Satur- day, and the little clay statuette was presented to him, he could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses. "What, our little Fanny!" he kept ex- claiming "why Fanny, are you going to be famous some day? Who taught you, child? I did not know you cared for such things." " I never knew it myself," said Fanny, modestly. " I think it all came to me, one day." " She hires a room in my house," spoke up Cad, "but she's very neat, and don't clutter." "Well, well; only don't let your little head get turned, my child; you have certainly developed an extraordinary faculty, and I suppose are to be henceforth considered the genius of the family." Sports at Redbow. 287 Among them all, no one was more delighted than Kate. Not one twinge of envy assailed her honest heart. How many kisses she had mingled with her congratulations, I dare not say. "You see now, what our coming to grand old Redbow has done," she said. " I always felt there was something wonderful in the atmosphere of this place. Who knows what inspiration may come to me; your gift was developed all at once; wait till I get mine, and maybe I'll astonish you all." "I hope you will," said Fanny. "But haven't I done so already? You mould faces and I mould jellies; one is at least as useful as the other. You will bake clay, and I'll bake cake; perhaps 1 am as happy in the kitchen as you are in the studio." Now came the long, delightful winter even- ings, when the snow-drifts softly crept up to the base of the great oval window, and even looked in on a picture of domestic beauty and household comfort. 288 The Little Folks of Redbow. Mr. Winfield now came from the city twice a week, unless detained by unusual storms, and no happier gathering ever took place about a round table, before a brilliant fire, than that which made Redbow parlor a little paradise. One evening when Mr. Winfield was absent, they had drawn up about their favorite amuse- ments, when Phil demurred at a proposed game of chess. "I'm tired of chess, and checkers and back- gammon, and all sorts of games," he said, yawning. "Couldn't we have croquet?" "If it wasn't for the chairs and tables, dear," his mother responded. "Besides, you could not put the wickets down." " The Bakers have a table game. I wish we had," said Fanny. "That costs money," said Mrs. Winfield. "Yes, fifty dollars for one like that." Ross looked up from his book. "I think we might get one up, less forty-nine." "The table?" said Kate. Sports at Redbow. 289 " Our dining-table, of course." "Yes, but we eat off that," said Cad, stitch- ing away at a small bit of dress-making. "That won't be in the way," said Ross. "I could manage it let me think." "Asia's a queer shape," said Phil, who liked the globes better than any play. " I'll go there some day to see my uncle I'd like to go all over the world." "Go with me when I'm a grown young lady," said Linda, looking up from the watch- guard she had been busy making for several days, a gift for uncle. "Then we can ride on elephants, and hunt tigers in the jungle. I expect it's great fun to kill tigers." "And suppose they kill you." "Yes, they do; one of papa's men was killed. They went to some village where the tiger had been doing lots of cruel things, and Sin- gar was torn all to pieces. I cried he was very good to me, and brought me nice fruit whenever he came to the house." "Wouldn't you like to go to England, 19 290 The Little Folks of Redbow. Master Phil?" asked nurse, who had varied her occupation so far as to substitute blue for crimson yarn. "It's a beautiful place is Lon- don, full of castles and lords and ladies, and the street-shows, and the tower, and every thing worth seeing. There's fountings in Trafalgar square, and St. Paul's churchyard full of beautiful silks and laces, and the gentry always stopping with their carriages, and buying them." "Silks in St. Paul's churchyard just hear that, mother!" exclaimed Phil, laughing. "But indeed it's true, Master Phil." "I know it is," said Linda, quietly; "mam- ma often wore a dress she bought in St. Paul's churchyard. Why it's shops." "Goodness gracious!" exclaimed Cad then blushing as she caught her mother's eye, added, "O, dear, I can't help it." "What is it what did she do?" queried Linda, puzzled at Cad's red cheeks. " O, I know it was slang." " It is the habit of some little girls to use Sports at Red bow. 291 a great many unnecessary words," said Mrs. Winfield. "I have even heard them say, 'I bet,' which is a mark of vulgarity. It pained me very much, because I think it both silly and degrading to use such words. I remem- ber yesterday, Linda 'thought she would die/ her feet were so cold, and Cad came down stairs, 'tired to death.' I cannot consent to allow such language to be used among my little folks." "Next time I'm going to say, 'I thought I should die,' I'll hold my mouth so;" and Linda suited the action to the word. Ross had come out of his reverie by this time. "I've got it!" he said in homely Saxon words; "mother, where's shop now?" " In my sitting-room," said Cad, " in boxes. It does lumber awful." " Phil, go and measure the dining-room table, please, just as it stands." Phil drew a yard measure, from his pocket of course, and went out, returning presently 292 The Little Folks of Redbow. with the information that it was exactly seven yards round. " Then, mother, seven yards of coarse cloth will do it, or at least a strip little over a quar- ter wide and seven yards long. Who is ready to sew such a strip?" "I, I!" shouted all the girls together. " Then it must not be done till to-morrow," said Mrs. Winfield. " Cad has been sewing too long already, and the evenings should be spent in recreation." " But v/hat shall we do ?" queried Cad, put- ting aside her work reluctantly. "Let's go and snow-ball," said Phil; "it's moon-light." Linda whispered in Cad's ear. Cad clapped her hands. " O, Kate, if you only would ! The Baker girls do, often." "If I only would what?" " Put your tiresome book down, and I'll whisper. The company must please excuse me." Sports at Redbow. 293 " But my book isn't tiresome." " Never mind you'll think so, I guess, after " and Cad whispered in her ear. Kate smiled. To tell the truth, her eyes, ached a little, and she was glad to comply with Cad's request. " Yes," she said, " if Ross will bring in the dining-room screen." " What torments girls are !" said Ross, laughing, but complying willingly with her request. Cad found some cards in her basket. In a few moments she and Linda had written upon them, "TICKETS FIFTY CENTS. Admit the Bearer'' Then she distributed them around the little circle. The screen was established at the farthest end of the room, near two of the study tables. Cad and Linda busily obeyed the instructions of Kate and Ross. Then Ellen was called in, chairs arranged, Phil established as curtain- 294 The Little Folks of Redbow. lifter, or in other words screen puller, while the rest ranged themselves as spectators. Just at that identical moment the door-bell rang, and who should make an appearance but mother and father Primrose. They had an errand on business, but Mrs. Winfield insisted that they should come in and enjoy the entertainment, whatever it was to be. " What a sfl/cn-did audience !" said Cad, manufacturing two more tickets. " I only want Fanny at present," said Kate from behind the screen. "Can't we all be in?" asked Cad. "No, little Miss Vanity, only one at a time, if you please," said Ross, as Fanny soon dis- appeared behind the screen. Meantime Ross had been clearing some of the brackets of their statuary and flowers, while Kate was draping the sewing-machine with much taste and a mammoth table-cloth. The great arm-chair was soon changed into a crimson tent-top, and vases of flowers and Sports at Red bow. 295 statues converted the niche into an artist's studio. On a great hassock, skilfully covered to represent a block of marble, Fanny was placed, submitting to have her face and hands smear- ed with some harmless compound, till she looked like a bust done in streaked marble. It did very well by a faint light, however. A piece of muslin was wrapped with fine grace- ful outlines about her light curls, a sheet draped her from throat to feet, a girdle of white handkerchiefs, a string of white beads Washington standing serenely on the sew- ing-machine, Fanny's right hand pressing his marble locks, and a small statue, half hidden by the tent-top aforesaid, and there was as fine a representation of the Goddess of Lib- erty as was ever given to the world on short notice. " Now don't move," whispered Kate, sur- veying her work with proud, shining eyes. " Please put shades on the lamps, mamma," and the screen was rolled aside. 296 The Little Folks of Redbow. "It is magnificent!" exclaimed Ross, while the dear old Primroses sat with strained eyes, full of wonder. "Is it a real stattoo?" queried Mrs. Prim- rose. "Perfectly real," replied Ross, while his mother sat gazing, all her soul in her eyes. Seen in the soft sweet light of the fire and the dim lamps, one could not have told that the whole design was not an exquisite creation in marble. "I think we've got more than one genius in the family," said Ross "well done Kate!" "Where did you git it?" again asked the wondering old lady. "Why, its Fanny," whispered Cad, "isn't it ^/-egant. She didn't move one bit; its just exactly like a statue^ there I saw her lips laugh a little, didn't you?" This speech put an end to the gravity of the company. Fanny was praised for her quiet pose, and Kate for her inventive genius. "Now do fix us," said Cad. Sports at Redbow. 297 " I don't know what to make of you, pus- sies," said Kate. The screen was rolled back, and Cad and Linda transformed by the aid of shawls, and strings of beads, and fringe and a red sash or two, into wandering minstrels. Cad took position with an old violin upon which Ross was practising, and Linda, her dark locks escaping from a fanciful turban, held the cover of a bandbox in lieu of a tam- bourine. The red table-cloth made their carpet, the tent-top and statuary were newly arranged, and the two little figures, one in the act of playing, the other presenting the tam- bourine for charity, were skilfully put upon the stage. Then the screen was rolled away, and everybody exclaimed at the beauty of the picture. "It looks so real!" said mother Primrose; "poor little creeters !" and she actually wiped a tear from her sympathetic old eyes. Next came little Red Riding Hood, that old, yet ever new and heart-touching repre- 298 The Little Folks of Red bow. sentation, in which the majestic dog on the hearth rug did duty as the wolf. "We will now have music by the band," cried Ross, entering into the sport with great glee; so Kate seated herself at the piano, Ross flourished the violin, Phil managed a cornet with a sheet of music artistically rolled up; Cad played the drum, and Linda clashed the carpet-scissors. Even nurse took part with the tambourine, and the audience laughed till tears rolled down their cheeks. At last the din increased past endurance. Phil's cornet cracked and grew hoarse, and the mistress of the house was compelled to enforce silence. Books and work were gathered up at last; the chairs, statuettes and flowers put back in their places, order restored, a hymn sang, a chapter read by Ross, and then the happy circle dispersed. The fire gently burned itself to ashes, and puss slept the whole night long on the rug before the hearth. CHAPTER XXIX. H O M E-M A D E. "Alas, the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay, And those who prize the paltry things More trifling still than they." OW for croquet !" exclaimed Ross, as they gathered together after lessons on the following day. The girls were soon at work. Ross had improvised a roll of cotton cloth, seven yards long, and when it was sewed together, it took the rest of the afternoon to fill it with sawdust, and make an outer casing of green flannel for it. " It looks like a great green snake," cried Cad, coiling it about. After tea they fitted it around the edge of 299 3OO The Little Folks of Redbow. the table, which had also been covered with a plain green cloth. "That's all very well, as far as it goes," said Kate, " but what shall we do for wickets and mallets, and balls?" "I have thought that all out," Ross res- ponded, and threw down a bag full of large cotton-reels. "There, girls, if you can orna- ment them some way, I'll have wickets on short notice," he said. Cad suggested crotcheting them over with red and green worsted, and forthwith they all set to work. Ross was ready with some wire as soon as they were done, which he fitted in the form of an arch into the openings in the reels, two reels to a wire, and so formed handsome and durable wickets. " Now, how are you going to fasten them ?" Kate asked. "By inserting common pins at the right dis- tances in the table, and setting the spools over them. Don't you see they go through the Home- Made. 301 underpart of the aperture, and so make them fast?" " That is capital !" exclaimed Fanny. The mallets were made with larger reels, or spools, weighted with lead at one end, a skewer of wood inserted at the centre, midway between both ends of the spools, and, presto, with Phil's largest marbles for balls, the cro- quet table was finished, and presented a very attractive appearance. It was the more enjoyable, because they had made it themselves, with but small outlay of time, and none of money. Evening after evening saw them, mallet in hand, enjoying the game with infinite gusto. Meantime Fanny's modelling went on, and she became ambitious to work in less plastic material. Ross afforded her considerable help by the books he managed to procure for her, but alas ! the little girl began to give up her usual exercise. She no longer was ready with the rest when the hour came to walk to the old mill, or to some of the romantic surround- 3O2 The .Little Folks of Redbow. ings of Redbow; to slide on the well frozen pond, or to take sides in a snowball match. She began to grow pale and languid, and to show unmistakable signs- of ill-health. It was very hard to deny her the greatest pleasure of her life, but Mrs. Winfield suc- ceeded at last in convincing her that the power would not die out because of inaction. "You shall have a few hours, twice in the week, my dear, and then try to forget it for the rest of the time," she said. "My little girl's cheek is losing its fresh, rosy color, and her step is slow. Wait till you are a few years older, and your father is able to put you under good instructors, and who knows but we may have a little lady-sculptor in Rome yet ?" "Do you really believe I shall ever go to Rome?" asked Fanny, her face growing all alight. "When papa gets better off, and you are older, and desire it, I don't doubt you will go to Rome, some time, Fanny." So the child was satisfied, and tried to take Home-Made. 303 better care of her health. About this time she began sedulously to cultivate Phil. The boy was growing rapidly, both in mental and bodily proportions. Since the girls had been at Redbow, particularly during this winter, when they engaged in out-door sports of a mere invigorating character, his estimate of girls had gone up surprisingly. Instead of making sport of them because they threw balls or stones "just like a girl," he taught them how to use their muscles and husband their strength, until at last he began to fear that they would excel him in his own privileged department. CHAPTER XXX. A LEAF FROM CAD'S HOUSEKEEPING. " No love is like a sister's love, Unselfish, free and pure, A flame that, lighted from above, Will guide but ne'er allure." FEY. NE day when Philip and Ross had just finished their snow-fort, and were choosing sides, stacks of balls ready moulded environing them on all hands, a sleigh-load of Baker girls drove up to the old porch. Brushing the light snow, just beginning to fall, from their coats and furs, they entered the house, after a keen in- spection of the forts, and the monstrous snow- man fast congealing in the middle of one of last year's flower-beds. 304 A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 305 "It was such a lovely day when we started," said Marcia, " but it began to storm before we got half-way here." "It's only a flurry, I guess," said Ross "soon be over." " How are the roads ?" asked Mrs. Winfield, as she helped them off with their bright warm rappings. "Worse, a great deal, than Jacob thought they would be. Jacob wanted us to turn back, nq only on account of the bad condition of the roads, but Salome behaved badly." " What is the matter with Salome ?" "I don't know; she stumbled twice and nearly upset us. Jacob thinks she is sick; when he comes for us he will bring old Pet, the farm horse. You see we were wild for a sleigh-ride, and to come over here. How' warm and cozy it is!" The girls very soon paired off the three youngest . following Cad and Linda to the garret play-room, while Kate and Fanny, and Marcia and her sister, remained in the parlor. 20 306 The Little Folks of Redbow. Mrs. Winfield was busy in the nursery, for Prince Charlie was not well, so the children had the large room all to themselves. Music was suggested after the girls had talked themselves tired. " Please play for us, Kate," said Marcia; "I practice three hours a day, steady, and I don't feel like playing. I do get so tired not of music, but the perpetual counting and ham- mering at the scales. How long do you practice?" ^ "Only an hour at a time," Kate replied; "once in the morning and once at night. I always like practising." " I should think so, because you don't get tired out; but the profession insists on three hours." " So did my teacher in the city, but I think mamma convinced him that I made better progress with two hours, divided between night and morning." " I'll tell mamma. She thinks everything Mrs. Winfield does is splendid," said Marcia. A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 307 Kate sat down and played a sparkling waltz. " C, what is that ?" cried Marcia, delighted. "I should like to learn that." " It's the Winfield waltz," spoke up Fanny, who was busy with a portfolio of pictures which she was showing Nelly Baker " The Winfield waltz why, what does she mean ?" asked Kate. Kate's cheeks were as red as roses. " You don't mean to say she composed it." " Yes, I do ; Kate composes waltzes as easily as sponge-cake, almost." "I never saw such girls!" exclaimed Marcia, vehemently. "Why can't we do such things? How curious Kate composes music, and Fanny makes images. What does Cad do?" " She's not developed yet," laughed Fanny. "I shouldn't wonder if she takes to physic, and becomes the family doctor." "O! Marcia, do come and see this pic- ture !" cried Nelly. What a beautiful country India must be! How could Linda ever want to leave it?" 308 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Linda couldn't help herself," said Fanny; "they send all the children away to be edu- cated when they are seven or nine years old. Papa says if they don't, they grow very indo- lent, the climate is so hot. The ladies there sleep half the time, and have servants to fan them." 'I should like that," said Nelly. " Yes, Nelly is one of the lazy sort," laughed Marcia. " Can't we go up stairs where the children are?" asked Nelly. "Just the thing!" cried Fanny, who had been trying to think of some new amusement. "Let's go very softly;" so they crept up, finger on lip. The door was as quietly opened, and the scene that met their view was exceedingly characteristic. In the middle of the room stood a table on which much enduring Petkin lay, dressed in a long white robe. Cad, on her knees, seemed overwhelmed with affliction, while all the little girls were seriously looking on, and A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 309 decorously wiping their eyes in pretended sorrow. " When did your poor child die, Mrs. Petkin ?" asked one of the little Bakers, in a voice of mixed condolence and tears. " Right away after five o' clock this morn- ing," sobbed Cad, from the depths of her apron. "Was she sick long?" queried another, with as sad an expression as the round, merry features could command. "O, she's been a dreadful sufferer," moaned Cad; "she had two cancers and consumption, and mustard plasters enough to worry her into her grave ;" and here the sobs became infectious, every face was buried in its own appropriate apron. " Why I thought it was scarlet fever," cried Linda, after a moan. " Well, she had a touch of that too ; and only yesterday she took the measles ; she's had everything !" and with a dreadful boo-hoo, Cad subsided into her apron. 3 io The Little Folks of Redbow. " Maybe she's not dead," said one of the comforters, who had been gazing now and then with intense grief at the face of the departed Miss Petkin. " O yes," retorted Cad, in a smothered voice ; she breathed her last in my own arms. Oh oh oh Petkin, what shall I do?" "She'll go distracted," said Linda, mourn- fully shaking her head. " Mrs Petkin, I would not take on so ; dear little Petkin is better off She's she's" Linda hesitated ; she could not exactly bring herself to say " in heaven," but Miss Petkin's remarkably glazed face helped her to an idea "she's gone to China." "I don't believe she's dead," spoke up one of the youthful Bakers. "Papa read about somebody who was all ready to be buried, and she wasn't dead; she was in a chance." "A what?" queried Cad, surprised, out of her handkerchief. " O, you mean a trance, I guess." "Now maybe, Mrs. Petkin, she is in a trance," said Linda. " I shouldn't wonder. A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 311 " How can I tell ?" moaned Cad, subsiding into her handkerchief again. "My poor child was deaf and dumb. She never spoke a word since she was born, never!" and Cad's sobs took new vigor. " Put a mussy plas'er on her face," said a little four-year-old, "and if she's 'live, she'll wobble I do." "There's mustard in the closet," said Cad, pathetically. "You can try it if you like. I'm too overcome." Up sprang the whole bevy of mourners, and down went the handkerchiefs. The mustard was applied with such good results that Petkin was soon hugged to her little mother's heart, quite as cheerful and smiling as ever. " I will not allow her to be sick again," said Cad decidedly ; " it's too trying to the feelings. Nina, get out the best tea-set, and give our friends something to eat. It won't be a regular meal," she added; "we've only got spring chicken, and green peas but when folks are hungry, anything is welcome." 3 1 2 The Little Folks of Redbow. Fanny and Nelly, unable longer to restrain their mirth, laughed out loud. " O, Cad, you silly little thing !" said Fanny with great emphasis, and most unwisely. "Well, I think I wouldn't be overseeing my neighbors," said Cad, crossly. Her poor lit- tle pride was wounded, and her face flushed. "What ailed poor Petkin?" queried Fanny, mockingly "which disease did she die of?" "Water on the brain," laughed Linda, join- ing in the joke. " I guess you mean water on the bran," retorted Fanny; " Petkin is stuffed full of it." " Some folks better mind their business," muttered Cad wrathfully, and a hush fell on the little company. "What doctor did you have, Mrs. Petkin?" asked ironical Fanny. This was too much even for amiable Cad. She seldom lost her temper, but when she did, it was lost, as a little girl once said, a good ways off, and hard to find again. "Miss Fanny Winfield," she said, with A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 313 blazing eyes, " I think you are mean and im- pertinent. I don't want you in my house, and if you don't go, I'll break all your heads!" The little company, not understanding the hidden meaning of this threatening speech, began to back out, uneasily. " O, Cad!" exclaimed Fanny, becoming sen- sible, "you are angry now. I didn't mean anything. Can't you take a joke?" "No, I can't;" retorted Cad; "not," she added more quietly, " in the presence of witnesses;" and the tears began to fall, and the poor little shamed, wounded bosom to heave with real sobs, while Petkin fell un- heeded to the floor. "Now I'm so sorry I've spoiled everything," said Fanny, regretfully. Her words fell on dead silence, save the sobs of the poor little mother of twenty dolls. " But then, perhaps mamma wouldn't like to have you play in that fashion?" " 1 guess," cried Cad, a queer quaver in her voice, produced by indignation and grief, "I've 314 The Little Folks of Redbow. as good a right to have my children sick and die, as anybody." "So you have, Cad, and I did wrong; come, I'm real sorry don't cry that way; what will your company think?" " I guess they'll think I haven't got a very polite sister," said Cad honestly, her indignant heat dying hard. "Then you won't kiss and make up. Well, I'm going away, Cad," Fanny replied. " Stop a minute," Cad called in a choking voice. Fanny paused on the threshold. " I'm sorry I said I'd break your heads," the little girl admitted. " O, never mind, Cad, I shouldn't blame you much if you did. They're not very hand- some, and I did wrong to tease you." Cad's sobs grew dryer. It became evidently hard work to keep angry. "I guess I was cross," she said at last; "but Petkin made me so nervous." Fanny smiled at hearing her own old reason for irritation and crossness. A Leaf from Cad's Housekeeping. 3 1 5 " I wouldn't let her get so sick again, dear," she said soothingly. "It's much nicer to be healthy all the time." "That's a fact!" rejoined Cad, looking affec- tionately into Petkin's placid, unwinking eyes. Then a moment after, she added: "I shall tell mamma all about it; I was to blame." " No dear; I was as much to blame as you were," said Fanny, knowing that now she could kiss her sister; so the kiss of peace was the signal for a general jubilee. The old garret shook and the windows rattled, firmly as they were set, and the peals of laughter rolled down into the nursery, and even into the parlor, where Kate and Marcia were enjoying themselves. CHAPTER XXXI. EVENINGS AT HOME. "0! mirth and innocence 0, milk and water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days." HEN Fanny and Nelly Baker went down stairs, Kate was setting the table for tea, and Marcia was help- ing her. " Ellen has got the toothache, poor soul, so we're going to get tea, and say nothing to mamma." " Let me cut the bread," said Fanny. "Will you cut it straight? You know it looks badly when it's ragged, and somebody has cut our new table-cloth." "It wasn't me," said Fanny. " It wasn't me, either and so they all say," Kate made laughing reply. "It was that old 316 Evenings at Home. 317 'somebody/ who has to take the credit of all the careless things that are done, mamma says. Now Fanny, here's the glass preserve- dish. Please don't spill over the honey is on the third shelf." "How beautiful it all looks !" said Marcia, admiringly. "I often think I could make our table look better than our Hannah does." "Mamma is exceedingly particular about the table," responded Kate. "Every fork, and knife and spoon must be laid just so; and we girls have to work hard once a week, cleaning the silver. I do believe if mamma had only potatoes for dinner, she'd have the table set charmingly. If there's a speck on the glass she sends it away. She says a great deal depends upon how we do common things." " It's as good as a school to come here," said Marcia, thoughtfully. When Mrs. Winfield came down, it was in answer to the summons of the supper-bell. "We did it all, Mrs. Winfield," exclaimed Marcia, radiant "only Kate made the tea." 3i 8 The Little Folks of Redbow. "Where is Ellen?" "Sick with toothache." " Why didn't you call me, dear?" "Why should we bother you, mamma?" asked Kate; "besides, Marcia wanted to help." "Yes, I begged," responded Marcia. "Good girls! Kate always knows just what to do." Only a little word of commendation, but it made happy hearts. And the long, handsome table, how full it was? Eleven little folks, chatting and laughing, as biscuit and cake, honey and fruit disappeared. Mrs. Winfield enjoyed it; everybody enjoyed it, except Phil, who never could quite conquer his bashful- ness, and he longed to get through and out of the way of "girls." " Mrs. Winfield," said Marcia, after the table had been cleared by Ellen, whose bundled up face was better for the nap she had caught, "Jacob said he should certainly be here by seven, and it is half past, now. Is your clock right ?" Evenings at Home. 319 Mrs. Winfield said the clock was nearly always right. Another hour passed. The children were uneasy. It was snowing hard had been snowing hard all day. "I guess you'll catch it, staying so," said Phil; and then at a look from Kate, he turned on his heel and fell over the rocking chair; after which he retreated behind the globes to study Asia. Another hour passed. Marcia stood anx- iously watching at the window. " It's so strange that Jacob don't come !" The clock struck eight. Then came a knock at the door. Ross answered it. A horseman stood at the porch, white from head to foot. " I came with a message from Mrs. Baker," he said, declining to dismount and come in at the boy's request. " On their way back, one of the carriage-horses behaved badly, and Ja- cob was thrown out. Mrs. Baker sends her compliments, and is sorry she shall be obliged 320 The Little Folks of Red bow. to put Mrs. Winfield to inconvenience. But there is no way to get the children home to- night. To-morrow she will come herself for them, if the storm holds up." Ross came back with a whoop and hurrah. Most of the little folks were jubilant; Marcia was anxious. "Where can you put us all, Mrs. Winfield?" she asked. "We'll manage," she said, smiling "There are plenty of beds in the house, and I can turn Cad's play-room into a dormitory, and tuck nearly all of you up there." "O! ah!" chorused Cad and Linda, and the .little ones. " We'll tell stories all night long," whispered the younger children. " But you must sleep on the floor." "O, O! jr//r-did!" echoed Cad and Linda. "Just like camping out." "Of course, my girls will give up their rooms to their young friends, and take the loft," said Mrs. Winfield, with a smile. Evenings at Home. 321 There was a suppressed "oh-ing" this time. " We couldn't think of that," said Marcia "we must have the beds in the play-room." " Why can't we all sleep there ?" asked downright Cad, " and have a real good time." " I'm afraid, my dear, that in that case we should none of us get any sleep. No, I think you must leave the arrangement with me, and you know," with her rare smile, " there must be no appeal from mother's decision. So let us proceed to enjoy the evening. A little more wood, Ross." It was a more than usually brilliant occasion. Ross left his books and improvised a literary club. The younger branches were kept toler- ably quiet with pictures, and Phil studied the globes with desperate attempts at invisibility. Ross recited some beautiful poems, and Marcia read the "May Queen," of Tennyson, with charming effect. Nelly exhibited a new gift, and even delighted Phil, so that for the moment he forgot India. But that was not surprising, for Nelly's little song was entitled 21 322 The Little Folks of Redbow. the " Fisher Maiden," and whatever smacked of fishing, arrested Phil's attention. Then they had a round of croquet, and one gorgeous tableaux, arranged out of home materials. "It don't seem to me that we suffer for lack of amusement, even when we have company," said Mrs. Winfield, as the little folks formed a circle about her. " If we only had boys at home !" Marcia said, regretfully. "All girls and no boys, isn't half as pleasant." "We'll lend you Ross and Phil, some- time," said Fanny. "No you won't!" echoed Phil. There was a general laugh at Phil's expense. " Time doesn't hang so heavily in the country as you thought it would, Fanny?" queried her mother. "No indeed," was Fanny's prompt reply. "Still, I should like to go to the city for a visit, and see the picture galleries again ; we haven't any of them in the country;" she added, with a sort of triumph. Evenings at Home. 323 " Haven't we ?" queried Mrs. Winfield, with an arch smile. "I happen to know of several." "Here?" " Yes, here." " Well, I should like to see them." " Get up at five o' clock to-morrow morning and I will show you a picture more splendid than any city gallery ever held." " O, I understand !" said Fanny, with less confidence in her tone. "You mean the moun- tain, and other things." " Old Redbow is a picture gallery of itself!" exclaimed Ross. " It is perpetually changing. You ought to see it with the falling snow hanging like a soft shining veil over its rough edges, and when the sun shines on it, just lining all the hollows with red gold it is simply sublime." "Where does the humming-birds live?" queried Cad, looking up from the pictures. " All over the world," said Kate. " No, now I remember only in America." "Somebody brought mamma a humming- 324 The Little Folks of Redbow. bird's nest once, with three little eggs in it," said Linda. " He cut off the branch of the tree -with it, and brought the little mother and all." " Did it live ?" asked Marcia. " It lived a long time. Mamma used to feed it with honey-water. One of the dear little ones died. They were just like butter- flies, with bills." "They are here in summer," said Fanny; "I believe I'll try to make one in clay." "When our birds died," resumed Linda, " mamma had a tiny, tiny bouquet of feather- flowers made of the little feathers. We've got it at home in a glass case. They don't grow in India, I guess." "I don't think they do," said Ross; "they are a product of this great broad American land, ^vhich beats your baked country hollow. There isn't another country in all the world like this is there, mother?" "For what!" "O, for everything." Evenings at Home. 325 "That's a somewhat broad assertion, my son, isn't it?" "Broad enough for me to take my stand on it," said Ross, laughing. "You need not call India my country," Linda responded; "I'm not an Indian." " If you are, you're an American Indian,** said Cad, reflectively. " No, I just belong here," said Linda. " I'll tell you I'm a Winfieldite." "Or a Redbower," suggested Ross. "How happy you all are!" said Marcia, with a little sigh. CHAPTER XXXII. A BREATH FROM THE CITY. "Adieu the city's ceaseless hum, The haunts of sensual life adieu! Green fields and silent glens, we come To spend this bright sweet day with you." ANNY stood in the porch, on the look-out for her father. "There he comes," said Cad, "and somebody with him." "Who can it be?" " She's fashionable," said Cad, holding her head critically on one side "for just see her feathers !" " O !" Fanny's eyes sparkled " I do be- lieve it's Jessie Manning. It is, Cad, it is! She wrote me that she should come some- time." 326 A Breath from the City. 327 Kate was wild. She could hardly wait till the carriage stopped. " O, Fanny ! I'm so glad to see you, and so cold !" chattered Jessie. "Why it's just like the dear old study, isn't it?" as Kate led her in and the little folks flocked about. "There's the aquarium, and everything just the same. O, what a lovely wood-fire ! it's the first I ever saw in my life everything here is so green and delightful! And you didn't expect me a bit, did you ? I took a notion to come, though mamma said I ought to wait till summer." " Now if Marcia and Nelly had only staid over," said Fanny; "but they went home this morning. They are such delightful girls; you'd have been so pleased with them !" "What! new friends?" exclaimed Jessie, with a comical little dash of jealousy. " May- be you'd quite forgotten me." " Forgotten you ! how can you say that Jessie? No indeed; I never forget. I'm so glad you have come what splendid times we 328 The Little Folks of Redbow. shall have ! We'll make you quite a country- girl. Did you see Redbow? we have so many charming places." " No, no ; you couldn't make me a country- girl, not if you tried years. Not but what the country is pleasant, sometimes, and I suppose one could get used to it ; but what do you do without shop-windows, or seeing people, or going to places? I should die here in a month, I am sure 1 should." Fanny tried to revive old recollections, but actually failed to get up a heartache, such as the first mention of Redbow had inflicted. The two girls went in Fanny's room to- gether, nor was Jessie's praise unstinted as she watched the changing tints on old Red- bow's mighty walls of rock. " It's a lovely place, though," said Jessie ; "and if ever I could live in the country, I should want to live here. I had no idea it was so pretty. Do you ever hear the news?" " Yes, indeed," said Fanny, " and I expect you have brought me a budget." A Breath from the City. 329 " So much, that I don't know where to begin. You remember Anne Wharton, don't you ? She got the medal for composition, and nobody can speak to her since she's as vain as a peacock. Her mother gave her a splendid party the flowers alone cost a hundred dollars, and I don't dare to say what her dress cost. O! Fanny, there are such lovely styles now ; what do you do without them ?" " We manage so as not to look very ridicu- lous," laughed Fanny. " But what do you do with yourselves all through the year? You can't think how I have missed you. Everywhere I went, I wanted Fanny; and then it seemed to me you must be disappointed and suffering." "Suffering! O dear me, no," said Fanny, her face brightening ; " why I've learned more, and exercised more, and done more out here at dear old Redbow than I was going to say in all my life before." " But we've had such delightful concerts ; what do you do for such things?" 33O The Little Folks of Redbow. "We get up concerts among ourselves." "You do? you must get up one for me, then. I've brought you some beautiful crochet-patterns, and a lovely new tidy-stitch. But don't you feel queer sometimes, without any shops, or milliners, or dress-makers ?" "Some way we do without them," said Fanny, brightly. " I used to think it was very hard, but we have such fun, in cutting and making our own dresses." " Dear me ! but do you really do that ? I thought your papa brought a dress-maker from town." Fanny laughed heartily at this. " We should be obliged to keep one on the premises if we were as dependent as that," she said; "for we are wanting something cut or made about all the time. We do have a seamstress, occasionally, of course little miss Brown with a red top-knot." Miss Jessie confessed from day to day that she really began to like Redbow, but Fanny missed something in her friend's companion- A Breath from the City. 331 ship. It was so wearying to sit by the hour and listen to descriptions of dress and fashion. She was free to admit that Jessie's tastes were no longer her tastes ; that a vein of irony and gossip ran through all her lively little dis- sertations; that she always told some fault, or defect, and dwelt continually on trifling things. In the grand presence of Redbow, millinery had come to be a secondary consideration. So had ribbons. "Is it possible those were once my pleas- ures that I used to feel and talk as Jessie does ?" she asked herself. " Blessed be Red- bow!" To tell of the many pleasant games of the little folks out of doors that sunny winter- week their races over the crisp snow of the meadows their walks to the mill, where little Jemmy was duly exhibited, and the story of his "almost drowning" told over again, to Phil's abounding glory the castles they built, with mighty snow-pillars, and gothic gateways, 332 The Little Folks of Redbow. the chairs of the same icy material the slides, and trials of skating, in which the Redbow little folks came out quite ahead of Jessie the sled-races and snow-ball matches in which the girls were victors as often as the boys the chestnut and apple-roasting, the corn popped, and the corn-balls made and pets of birds and kittens, and doll-babies enjoyed, and games, charades, debating clubs, concerts and lectures organized the letters written, the lessons learned, the little keepsakes made for "father" the help busy little hands rendered " mother," to tell you of all these would take more time and space than I could occupy. CHAPTER XXXIII. BITTER AND SWEET. " Not every flower that blossoms, Diffuses sweets around, Not every scene hope gilds with light Will fair be found." MRS. HALE. HE winter days had gone, and the sweet breezes of summer made Red- bow glorious. Ross was in his glory, and ready to spoil his acres with experiments. Fortu- nately, he was willing to be advised, guided, and even controlled by father Primrose, and went to work in a sober, mechanical fashion, only allotting a small portion of ground to his more novel ideas. It was not the seed he saw as he sowed it in the long level or slanting lines, but the fruit in golden per- 333 334 The Little Folks of Red bow. fection, the ripe ear, the waving hill-sides. This hope of fruition is the romance of agri- culture, the poetry of seed-time, and whoever has it not, makes a dull and thriftless farmer. To Ross' glistening eyes strawberries hung on the as yet viewless vines, inches long, and the sweetest ever tasted by mortal palate. His three feet grape-vines covered the ten feet trellises, and were thick with luscious cataw- bas. Potatoes filled their white jackets thriftily while yet there were none, and his inch-high tomatoes made the garden radiant with their crimson ovals. Indeed the way he talked of them was sure to make one's mouth water. The kitchen garden was a picture, when perfectly planned. Even mother Primrose confessed that her " old gentleman couldn't a bettered it!" Phil worked by fits and starts, so that his aid was not worth much. He was better pleased to seat himself on some shaded knoll, the clear water at his feet, and dream about strange countries. He had his uses, however, Bitter and Sweet. 335 for he kept the family abundantly supplied with fresh fish, besides feeding all the stray dogs of the neighborhood. Fanny sometimes accompanied him, and- as the shy trout and carp seemed to vie with each other for the possession of her hook, Phil's respect for girls was raised correspondingly, and his shy- ness and awkwardness wore off. The little folks had each their flower-gar- den. Kate cultivated roses Fanny's favor- ites wffre pansies and fuschias; little Cad and Linda rejoiced in sunflowers and hollyhocks, they wanted their instalment in breadth and color. Around the house flowering shrubs grew in plentiful, profusion; lilacs, honey- suckles, verbenas, and many other blooms that waited for autumn to paint their glow- ing petals. Redbow was becoming dearer every month. Fanny, who had returned Miss Jessie's visit, came back with rejoicing. To her the city, with all its bustle, seemed tame in comparison with home. 336 The Little Folks of Redbow. "I missed the mountain so," she said when speaking of it to her mother; "my eyes fairly ached for the sight of dear old Redbow." One day Mr. Winfield took the little folks for a ride in a new direction. He pointed to an excavation on the way, about which laid piles of timber and stacks of roughhewn stone. "O, what a lovely situation !" cried Fanny, "even better than our Redbow, for you see the more picturesque views of the mountain." "Do you remember the picture by Bum- bauch, in the Art Rooms, while you were in city?" asked her father. "Yes, indeed; how I longed to take lessons from such an artist!" "He is coming here to live, with his agree- able family, and this is the site he has chosen for his studio; so your wish will be granted, for I have spoken to him about you." "O, father!" Fanny's eyes glistened; this information seemed to place the rose-leaf on the already brimming cup of her happiness. Bitter and Sweet. 337 Dainty, the quiet family horse, made many a journey as the days grew warm. Every accessible nook in the vicinity of Redbow was explored, and many a cool, fairy-like retreat chosen, where the hot summer hours might be whiled away under the shadow of a mighty oak or beech. "Suppose I were to tell you," said Mr. Winfield one day, "that some depreciated stocks of mine, which I thought utterly worth- less, had risen to an almost fabulous value? Children, if you desire it, we can return to our old city home. Does any one object?" " I do," said Mrs. Winfield, who was coax- ing Prince Charlie to take his first step. " We all do. I know we do," echoed Kate. " Every soul of us," Cad responded, with double emphasis. " Unless we could take dear old Redbow along," said Fanny, who had become an enthu- siast in mountain scenery. "Then, it seems you all prefer Redbow for some years longer," said papa. " Well, so 22 338 The Little Folks of Redbow. do I. When it is time for Master Phil to go to college, perhaps then we will try it But I think at least we might afford a handsome family carriage." "Like the Baker's!" proposed Cad. Mr. Winfield next took from his pocket two photographs which he had that day received in a letter from his brother in India. One represented the handsome bungalow, as Linda called the residence of her father, the other was the picture of her new mamma. There was other information in the pocket of his capacious coat, which he withheld from them all. Linda withdrew to a familiar nook, to study the photograph. Cad soon followed her. "Do you like it?" she whispered. " I don't know," replied the child, with quivering lips ; " I guess my own mamma was best. Mamma had such red lips and such pretty blue eyes. I wish she had never died and left me to somebody I don't even know, for a mamma." Bitter and Sweet. 339 "But you may love her, for all that," said Cad ; " this mamma is not our very first one. She died when I was ever so little ; but I don't think our very own could be better do you ?" Linda shook her head. "And you're to stay with us till you're a young lady so our mamma is the same as yours." " That's true," responded Linda with return- ing cheerfulness. Phil gave it as his private opinion, that Redbow was good enough, but what was the glorious Fourth without a city to spend it in ? Whereat all the little folks set themselves working at the problem, how they should get up sufficient and seemly amusement for that great day. Before they had arrived at any comfortable conclusion, a number of small pink notes were scattered among them, each one containing a separate invitation to " Shade Lawn," the home of the Bakers, to spend that momentous holi- day. 340 The Little Folks of Red bow. "We are to have music, and an oration," wrote Marcia, in a separate envelope, to Kate, "and dinner in the marquee, in the garden. The children of Redbow Sabbath-school are all to come dressed in white, with rosettes composed of the national colors affixed to their sashes. Games on the lawn, and plenty of sponge-cake and ice-cream ; I believe that is the programme. Won't it be fun ? Papa has spoken for quantities of fire-works, and a man is coming from the city to superintend in that particular department. Please wear white, with the national colors. Perhaps we we may have a regatta in the afternoon on the lake; it is not quite decided yet. You have no idea how nicely I can handle the oars, myself etc." After this, even Phil was reconciled to a Fourth in the country, and for days nothing else was talked of. " I wish it wasn't a whole week," said Cad, and even Kate and Fanny betrayed an unusual anxiety to hurry along the days and hours, Bitter and Sweet. 341 and, indeed, talked of little else beside the expected pleasure. " Girls, I'm afraid you count too much on tiiis fete" said Mrs. Winfield. "Why, mamma?" asked Fanny, anxiously, looking up from a pencil sketch to which she was putting the finishing touches. " It is quite natural you should all be pleased with the prospect of so much pleasure, and anticipate the day; but sometimes, after a long season of sunshine, the rain comes." " O mamma, it's scarcely fair to make us gloomy," spoke up Cad; "besides, it hardly ever rains on the Fourth of July." Mrs. Winfield smiled; that was not exactly what she meant, but as she was not given to croaking, she said nothing more. June went out in tears, and July came in with sunshine. Its more substantial herald was green peas, the first instalment of Ross' industry, and proud enough he was, as every one joined in praise of their sweetness. The third of July found nearly all the little 342 The Little Folks of Redbow. folks perched upon the cherry-tree boughs. Redbow was expected to contribute towards the Sunday-school dinner, and the Winfields donated luscious black-heart cherries and vegetables. The remainder of the day was devoted to expectation. There was no prospect of clouds or tears in the serenely blue heavens, all was peace within and beauty without the Red- bow mansion. At seven, the little folks assembled on the porch to talk over "to-morrow." Mr. Winfield sat at the open window, reading. Mrs. Win- field was putting a few last stitches in the pretty white frock which it was expected Prince Charlie would wear on this, his first Fourth of July. " There's Mr. Parker, next neighbor to the Bakers," said Ross. "I wonder what he is coming for. What a splendid rider! sits on his horse as if he was glued to him." "Probably a message from Shade Lawn," said Fanny. Bitter and Sweet. 343 " May-be we didn't send enough cherries," Cad responded, a look of consternation chang- ing her earnest little face. "Well?" queried Ross, as the man drew rein. Phil, for some unaccountable reason, sprang from the porch, and ran round to the back of the house. The man's silence was ominous. Then he spoke in a voice that was very low, but distinct : "I have bad news for you. Miss Marcia Baker was drowned in the lake, an hour or two ago." A horror of silence fell upon the little par- lor. Ross, sick and pale, backed into the house, but Mr. Winfield went out on the porch, paper in hand. " How did it happen ?" he asked, very slowly. "She was with a small party, boating on the lake. I don't know just how the accident happened. I was passing by when they were taking her to the house. They said she was quite dead. I was riding this way, and so ." 344 TJte Little Folks of Redbow. Kate crept up to her room, weeping as if her heart would break. Her mother rose to follow her, but checked herself and sat down. Fanny remained on the porch, pale and tear- less. Cad and Linda went up together to the play-room, and sat down by the west window. " I don't think I shall ever want to play with our dolls again," said Cad, in an awe- struck whisper. "Only think, how dreadful! and she was going to have such a good time to-morrow," responded Linda, with equal gravity. "And now we shan't go there of course; only, perhaps, to the funeral." Cad shuddered at the conclusion of the sentence. "Kate and she were just like sisters, weren't they ?" queried Linda. "Like twins!" emphasized Cad. ' Mustn't it be dreadfully sad at Shady Lawn? They're all crying. I shouldn't like to be Nelly Baker now, would you ?" " No ; and I'll never go out sailing. Phil is going to have a boat but I never will." Bitter and Sweet. 345 After a pause, Linda asked: "Would you tell our the children?" " I don't know ; seems as if I never wanted to play with them again. We might just tell Petkin, she's the oldest." So Petkin was taken from her bed, and gravely informed of the loss. Holding Petkin close to her neck, seemed to comfort Cad. " What an awful Fourth of July it will be to-morrow!" whispered Linda. "Don't speak of it," shuddered Cad "and don't say awful ; you know mamma don't like us to." "Not even now?" "No I guess not." "And Redbow looks just as natural." As if this was provocation beyond all endu- rance, poor Cad burst into tears. " He can't know or it," whispered Linda. " It's only rocks and stones." "Nor the sun; don't you think that saw it all?" sobbed Cad, and it will shine right on just as red and bright to-morrow." 346 The Little Folks of Redbow. Down stairs there was quiet, but none the less real sorrow. Mr. Winfield had put his paper away, and now stood at the great oval window, looking steadfastly at Redbow, whose ledges, giant steps and gorges were rained upon with gold and silver and crimson dyes. Phil had thrown himself on the porch, and was looking up solemnly into the shadowy atmosphere. The great elms lazily shook their fibrous leaves, seeming to throw fine golden filaments over the boy's bright curls, and along the sombre floor of the old porch. Ross could be seen in the distance, leaning against the moss-covered trunk of the oldest tree in the garden. Fanny held Prjnce Charlie, and was vaguely hushing him, though he had gone to sleep. Presently the tea-bell rang. Kate was missing. Fanny volunteered to find her, but Mrs. Winfield said no. Tea was partaken of in silence. Little was eaten. A cloud had suddenly spread its dark shadows over them. Bitter and Sweet. 347 As for Kate, she sat in her own room, quite inconsolable. The twilight shades crept in and twined themselves about her, and still she was immovable, her face hidden in her folded arms. Sadly she recalled Marcia's gentle ways; her silvery laugh, her loving words, her musi- cal voice. She thought of the sorrowful hush in the household from which that brilliant life had gone, and the tears fell afresh. " I never knew what trouble was before," she murmured, bitterly. It seemed to her that she could scarcely mourn more, if Fanny had been called away. At last, when it was nearly dark, a gentle knock sounded at the door. " Is it you, mamma ?" asked Kate. "Yes, dear; had you not better come down? The children feel lonely." " Presently, mamma," she forced herself to say, though her tears began to flow afresh. Then Kate struggled with herself. " They are all sorrowful," she murmured, 348 TJie Little Folks of Red bow. " why should I be so selfish ? They all loved her O! Marcia! Marcia!" Suddenly she lifted her head. Hark ! what was that jubilant sound? A sudden rush of noise, of merriment could it be? Bursts of laughter wild exultant shouts! Her heart stood almost still as she listened; the noise grew yet merrier, yet madder. CHAPTER XXXIV. AN UNCLOUDED HOLIDAY. " Out with your festival garlands, And hang your banners high !" KATE, Kate ! where are you ? We're to have the Fourth, after all we're to have the Fourth !" Quick, noisy feet were hurrying up the stairs, pellmell, as if they were tum- bling over each other. The latch lifted, and Thil burst in, head foremost. "Light a lamp, Kate, quick!" sang out Fanny. "They've just been here to tell us. Mr. Parker rode back, just as fast as he could come ; I expect he nearly flew. What do you think? It wasn't Marcia, after all; it 349 350 The Little Folks of Redbow. was another girl that fell into the lake, and in the confusion they thought it was poor Marcia; and she didn't die. What do you think of that?" " Hurrah !" chorused Phil, in his most up- roarious style "three cheers and a tiger"! Kate stood there, half-bewildered, while Fanny got a light, quite unconscious that she was laughing, while tears were running down her cheeks. A transition so sudden, from the deepest despondency to the wildest delight, was almost too much for her. Presently the family were all down stairs, holding high carnival. Ross delivered a stump speech, on which he dilated on the virtue of self-possession, in the midst of which Cad exclaimed : " What's the use, when we're all just wild, we're so happy ?" Cad had taken all her dolls into favor again and hugged two in each arm. Phil hopped around on all fours without rebuke, and if ever thankful hearts sent praises up to the An Unclouded Holiday. 351 Good Father, they of that happy group praised God that night. What if Kate's eyes were a trifle swollen the next morning, when Phil's home-made cannon roused her from pleasant dreams? It seemed as if her heart had never so swelled with joy as on that memorable Fourth of July. What a holiday it was ! brightened all over with the glory of thanksgiving. Even the baby and the baby's nurse went to Shade Lawn. At the meeting between Kate and Marcia there were a few tears shed, but they were tears of rapture. " Papa was quite offended with Mr. Parker," said Marcia, "for not ascertaining the facts before he posted off to your house. But poor man, he seemed so sorry for it, and so happy to post back again, that he quite made up for his thoughtlessness. We are not to have any boat-riding, though ; papa is very decided against it." The day was a grand success. Even the 352 The Little Folks of Redbow. oration was voted brilliant, and Kate and Marcia served the ice-cream, giving bountiful measure. The dinner was delightful, and with the fire-works the pleasure culminated. About four o'clock on the afternoon of that same day, a handsome equipage had stopped before the old porch of Redbow cottage, to the consternation of the one servant, who> when the occupants alighted, ran over to mother Primrose with the information that a couple of grand folks had come, and she didn't know what to do with them. "Do you mean it's Mr. Winfield's folks?" asked mother Primrose, sharply, for she had been roused out of a pleasant nap. " No more do I know, mum, only he has the look of it and nothing in the house but bread and butter." "Well, I guess they ain't any too grand to eat that, if it's set before em," said mother Primrose, as she followed the girl back .to Redbow "it's my butter." An Unclouded Holiday. 353 "Take it easy mother take it easy," called father Primrose from a field near by. Arrived at the cottage, mother Primrose found the "grand folks" making themselves quite at home. The lady had taken off her hat, and was gracefully reclining on one of the sumptuous lounges in the parlor. The gen- tleman stood looking from the great oval window on the magnificent scene there pre- sented. He turned around on hearing the light step of Mrs. Primrose. "I find Mr. Winfield and his family absent?" he said. "Yes, sir; he and the little folks were took to Shade Lawn that's a neighbor's, sir airly this morning; it's about a couple o' mile from here." " Think of that, Emma," and the gentleman turned to the lady on the lounge, " the nearest neighbor is two miles away." " Not quite that, sir," said mother Primrose, with a movement something like an old fash- 23 354 The Little Folks of Redbow. ioned courtesy; "I'm their nearest neighbor. But then two miles isn't much not to speak of," she added. " Folks that live in the coun- try know what neighborly means." "I believe that, Mrs." the gentleman hesitated, running his hand over his long, rippling, sunny beard. He did not know the name. " Primrose, sir," said the old lady. " If you've been travelling long, mayhap you'd like something to eat" "Exactly what I was going to say, Mrs. Primrose ; we have been riding a long way, and are both hungry." "Bless your heart, sir, I'll get you a bite and a sip right off a bite and a sip in this house are equal to pretty good fare any- where else. Please excuse me, and as soon as I've made a cup of tea, I'll come to call you." " What a pretty, queer little old lady !" said the gentleman's travelling companion, lan- guidly. " She looks as if she had stepped out An Unclouded Holiday. 355 of a bandbox ! I know I shall enjoy a cup of her tea." "lam sure you will, my dear; she puts heart into everything she does, I'll warrant. Do you know, she reminds me of those little trim landladies at Welsh Inns." " I never saw anything or anybody Welsh," laughed the lady "but she is as pretty as a picture." "They're grand folks, as you said, Hannah;" and Mrs. Primrose bustled about the kitchen, "but gentle folks too, like the Winfields themselves. Some o' their city friends, I sup- pose, though certain it's a queer day of all days to come a visiting. Them sort o' people, I've heard, always manage to come a little after they're expected; that's high fashion, I sup- pose." " I declare if I aint all in a fluster !" cried the girl. "Then git out of it as soon as you can. It's I that should be flustered, if anybody, but you see how composed I am. Stop, run over 356 The Little Folks of Redbow. to my house as quick as ever you can, and bring the covered bowl of cream you'll find it in the buttery. Then ask pa to give you that bit of chicken in the side closet; 'twon't take no time to git em up one o' my salads. There's a piece of corn-beef, that'll do for a relish, and I hope they may never have worse. I'll let em see that some folks can git up a supper onexpectedly, if they shouldn't be prepared." Nothing could look neater or sweeter, than that table, under the supervision of mother Primrose. The cloth was like frost in white- ness, and the tea deliciously tempered with the richest of cream. ^1 shouldn't care if we could have such a blooming Primrose in our home, Emma/' said the gentleman, as he sent out his cup for the third time. " She has a remarkably sweet face," his wife responded; "I wonder if she is the house- keeper. The chicken-salad is quite equal to Yohem's tiffins." An Unclouded Holiday. 357 Mother Primrose now came in with the cup of tea. " Is my brother well ?" asked the guest. "Your brother bless me!" said mother Primrose, with a great start it was well she had put the tea out of her hand. " Well now, I said you favored him; so you are his brother?" " The same at least so says the register in the old family Bible." "Dear me, deary ! which brother may you be, then?" "The brother who has been in India several years." " Laws yes, and that accounts for the dark- ness, doesn't it? Mr. Winfield is quite well, sir; likewise ever}* inmate and member of his family." "Then my little girl is also well." "And Linda is your little daughter? Bless her heart! why then she's the likeliest, heart- somest little piece of a woman that you ever did see. Well, well, to be sure; it almost 358 The Little Folks of Redbow. takes my breath away. What will the dear child say she that thinks you thousands of miles away?" "I am rather anxious to see her myself," said Harry Winfield, his voice trembling a little. " He's like our Mr. Winfield, and yet he isn't like," soliloquized Mrs. Primrose, when she had regained the kitchen. "There's not that niceness of the skin nor clearness of the complexion, but still a handsome, elegant- mannered man for all that. Well, well ; won't there be fine doin's now? This one'll carry the other one back to Indy with him, perhaps. And how delicate and languid the lady looks; she's Miss Linda's mamma. I wonder how the pretty one will like her?" " After the pleasant lunch, Mr. Harry Win- field took a stroll around the house. With every step he grew more delighted with the old p^ace. " My brother told me he had failed," he said to his wife, "but if this is the result, I An Unclouded Holiday. 359 shall be obliged to congratulate him. I think I should be content to live in just such a spot. What a charming family he must have, judg- ing by the many evidences of good taste ex- hibited on all sides. Did you ever see such a fine mountain ?" he asked, as the two stood gazing on the mighty sides of Redbow. "One might be healthy here, I should think," replied his wife. " And as health is our main pursuit at pre- sent, I'm not sure but I shall conclude to stay here awhile." " Dear heart, one can't git onhealthy here," said old mother Primrose, overhearing him. " Every peaked face in that family has grown round big and little. The little girl was so thin and sallow when she came here last fall, that I feared for her health why you wouldn't know her hardly, though she is your own child. Her cheeks is filled out, and roses in 'em both. I've been here since I come into Miss Lotty's family, going on sixteen and now I'm sixty." 360 The Little Folks of Redbow. "You are certainly a blooming proof of your assertion," said Mr. Harry Winfield. When the little folks came home that even- ing, the greatest surprise of the day was in store for them. "Who can it be?" asked Mrs. Winfield, as mother Primrose announced to them the fact of a visitor. Mr. Winfield smiled. " How are you, brother? and which is my little girl?" The moon threw its bright beams over the rugged height of old Redbow as the little folks looked on, astonished to see the two men in each other's arms. "It's my uncle Harry!" said Cad. "O, papa! papa!" and in less time than it takes me to say it, Linda was pressed to her father's heart. Then there was a hubbub to be sure, while the pleasant introductions were going on in the parlor. Ross stole out and sent up some fire-works An Unclouded Holiday. 361 that Marcia Baker had given him. Then the porch was filled with little folks and large. Old Redbow echoed their shouts, and in spite of the arduous duties of the day, which had made everybody glad to get home, the kitchen clock had struck one before the final adieus were given for the night, or rather morning. "I love her dearly," whispered Linda in Cad's ear, after they had knelt and said their prayers. "Who?" queried Cad. "Why, my new mamma." "I guess she'll be every whit as good as ours," said Cad, with great unction. My pen would fain linger on such scenes as this, but there is, happily, a limit to stories as well as to human patience, so the time has come for me to take my farewell of dear, delightful Redbow. Nor could I do so at a more auspicious moment, when Linda's little heart is overflowing with love and thanks- giving, having been told that her papa is 362 The Little Folks of Redbow. intending to remain in America, and perhaps build a splendid house somewhere in sight of Redbow. One can almost hear little Cad's expressive 'W-egant!" I am sure that sweet Kate will become a lovely, accomplished woman, and that Fanny is likely to develop rare talents as an artist. Perhaps if my dear friends, the readers, wish to hear a more extended report of how Ross flourished amidst his cornfields and potato patches, like a true king of the soil, and how Kate eventually rejoiced in her dairy, and Fanny mounted a good many steps in the ladder of fame, I may tell them some future time. Till then, one and all, Farewell. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 10m-ll, '50(2555)470 THE LIBRARY TOYKRSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000475443 8 PZ7 DU6 1