Part 6
“Marygold is well, and sings away as merrily as he did in your own room at home. Aunt Annie wanted to put him in the conservatory with the other birds, but grandmamma said, no: he must hang in the bow-window of her own sitting-room; for since she could not have you, she must have something which belonged to you about her. So there he swings and sings, reminding us constantly of our Maggie and Bessie so far away.
“As for Frankie, he is as mischievous and roguish as ever, and pretty saucy into the bargain. He seems very much afraid that grandmamma will think she is to take his mamma’s place altogether; and every morning when he comes down to breakfast, enters the room with,--
“‘Damma, I’ll stay wis oo, and mind oo des dis one more day. Den I do back my mamma’s house and mind her.’
“If grandmamma tells him to do or not to do any thing, he says: ‘Yes, I’ll mind oo dis once; but oo’re not my mamma.’
“‘But she is my mamma, and I make all little boys mind her,’ I said to him this morning.
“He looked gravely at me for a moment, and then said, ‘Den be a dood boy ouself, and den I will see ’bout it.’
“The rogue gave us a good fright yesterday. I was writing letters in the library, when he came in, and asked if he might stay with me. I gave him leave, provided he was quiet; and for a wonder, he was so; standing for some time looking out of the window, till he saw a poor drunken man go by, when he turned to me and said,--
“‘When tipseys walk, they run.’
“After that he came down, and I gave him the great book of animals you know so well, with which he amused himself for some time, telling the animals about the ‘poor tipseys.’ He was very sweet and good, and being much engaged with my letters, I did not pay much attention to him. But, after a time, I looked around to see if he was in mischief, and he was nowhere to be seen.
“The book lay open on the floor, and one or two toys beside it, but no Frankie. The door stood open, and thinking he must have slipped out, I went in search of him. He was not to be found. Grandmamma, your two aunts, and all the servants were soon alarmed, and joined in the search, but all in vain; and we were just about sending to mamma’s house, to see if he had run away there, when Aunt Bessie saw a little fat hand peeping out of the almost closed door of one of the bookcases. She ran and pulled it open, and there lay our lost boy, fast asleep. He had crept in among the papers and pamphlets, and, drawing the door nearly to, had fallen asleep without meaning to, in his quiet nook. He woke to find us all looking at him, and was very angry at himself for going to sleep; exclaiming, ‘I des b’lieve I went to seep, and I tates no more naps in de daytime. I ’samed of myself.’
“Harry and Fred are going to write to you, so I will leave them to speak for themselves. We are all well here, and last evening had the great pleasure of reading the letters you and Bessie wrote to the Colonel and Mrs. Rush, and which they kindly brought around to us.
“Write to me soon, and tell all your adventures to your affectionate uncle,
“RUTHVEN STANTON.”
Harry’s letter to Bessie came next, and ran thus:--
“PRECIOUS PET PRINCESS,--It seems to me as if it were two months instead of two weeks since you went away, and I can’t tell you how I want to see you. But it is all right, for I know you are having first-rate times, and dear mamma is getting ever so much good. We’re not having such a bad time either, though it’s not like having you all home. Uncle Ruthven is a first-rate fellow to stay with, I can tell you, and when we have finished our lessons, he always has some fun on hand for us. So we don’t have time to feel very lonely. But I am glad for your sakes that you and Mag were not left behind, for you would have felt worse about it than Fred and I do.
“Last Saturday we all went to Riverside, we boys on our ponies, of course, and had a famous day. Uncle John has a new boat, and he and Uncle Ruthven rowed us across the river,--they let Fred and me take an oar by turns, too,--and we went up the Palisades. Isn’t there a splendid view up there, though? You can see ever and ever so far. There were lots of Bob Whites about, and we heard them all round us, and we came upon two fellows with dogs and guns hunting them. I hope they didn’t have much luck, the old rascals!
“Haven’t we had a time this afternoon? I don’t know just how it happened, but I think Master Marygold must have opened the door of his cage himself,--for we have seen him pecking away at the catch several times lately; and Uncle Ruthven, only this morning, told Jane to twist a piece of wire round it when she cleaned the cage. But Jane forgot it, and so this afternoon Frankie came running in saying, ‘Marydold’s few away;’ and sure enough the cage was empty and no Marygold to be seen. But after awhile we heard a saucy ‘cheep,’ and there, on the top of grandpapa’s picture, sat my gentleman as independent as you please; and, before we had time to shut the window, out he flew into the yard. Weren’t we in a way though, thinking what you and Maggie would say to come home and find him lost. He hopped around for a while, flying off every time any one went near him, and at last flew clear away over the neighbors’ gardens, and we gave him up for lost.
“Grandmamma put his cage outside, hoping he would grow homesick and come back. And sure enough; for she was taking a nap in her bow-window about sunset, when she was waked by a ‘cheep, cheep,’ and there was Marygold hopping about on her work-table, and asking pardon for his naughtiness as plainly as any bird could. She brought his cage, and in he popped, glad enough to be at home. So he’s all safe once more, and his cage made secure, so he can’t try that dodge again.
“You know Colonel Rush has taken a house at Newport for the summer, and he wants us all to come there when we get through with our other wanderings. Won’t it be jolly? Then you know we are to spend October at dear, old Chalecoo; so you will have change enough for one six months. What travelled young ladies you and Maggie will be!
“I think I have written the most correct and proper letter in the world, and hope your dear little highness will not find any ‘unproper impressions,’ as you once said when Fred used some slang word; and that it will altogether suit your notions. Lots of love and kisses to all from
“Your loving brother,
“HARRY.”
Here is Fred’s letter to Maggie.
“DEAR OLD MIDGET,--Don’t I wish you were here that I might give you a good squeeze and hear you call out, ‘O Fred! you are cur-r-rushing me!’ I’ll play the bear in the matter of hugs, when I do get you back,--that is certain. By the way, there’s a mean chap leading a poor, old, black bear about the streets here, making him dance, and scrape a fiddle, and other jigs of that kind. It is not a bit of fun to see the poor, poky, old thing perform, and he must have been beaten ever so much before he could be taught. You can see that by the way he is frightened when his master lifts his stick. It’s a mean shame, so it is. Don’t you say so, Mag?
“What jolly times you are having! so are we for the matter of that. Uncle Ruthven is a regular brick,--though I always knew that,--and so are grandmamma and the colonel, and all the rest. School breaks up the twentieth of June, and then, hurrah! for the country. Uncle John has invited Tom Norris to go with us to Riverside, and stay all the time that we stay. First-rate in him, wasn’t it? Tom is the jolliest good boy I ever saw: you never catch him in the least thing that isn’t just up to the right, and yet he’s the best company and merriest fellow in the world. He keeps me out of a heap of mischief, many a time, dear, old chap! that’s so, I know. Dear, old, steady-going Hal! he often wonders at my tantrums, I know; but he’s good too, and it is awful hard work to keep out of scrapes in school when you’ve a quick temper like mine, and not too much thought. I’ll tell you a secret, Mag: I believe it has helped me a good deal to see you and Queen Bess take so much pains to cure yourselves of those two very faults,--you, with your carelessness, and Bessie, with her passionate temper. I thought it was a shame if you two little girls did it, that a great fellow like me shouldn’t. And for that reason I’m going to let you tell dear mamma some thing that will make her dear eyes dance. Mr. Peters called me to him this morning,--and I thought for sure I must be in some row, though I didn’t see what,--and he said he wanted to tell me that no boy in the school had improved in character, or taken so much pains with his faults, as I had during the last year. I don’t want to be puffed up, but didn’t I feel some pumpkins; but I could most have cried that mamma wasn’t home for me to tell the good news to. However, when I went home, there sat grandmamma, the dear, precious, old soul, so sweet and good and loving; so I just pitched into her and gave her the news, and a tight squeeze into the bargain. She was as pleased as could be, but then she isn’t mamma; so just you tell the darling mother, and bid her shut her eyes, and do you give her a good choke for me, just as I do, Ducky-Daddles! and see if she don’t gasp out, ‘Oh, my dear boy!’ and you write it to me, Mag. And tell papa, Mr. Peters told me if I turned out such a man as my father,--a true Christian, a perfect gentleman, and a thorough scholar,--no one could ask more for me. I never expect to be all that, but it’s something to have one’s father spoken of that way, and, Mag, do you believe, I just bawled. And old Peters--I’ll never call him that again if I remember, only it comes so handy--asked me to go of a little errand for him. I knew that it was just that he knew I didn’t want to go back to the school-room with red eyes, and I was all right again before I came back. He’s a jolly old soul, if he is strict. But I just tell you, you and her royal highness can take some of the credit to yourselves; for I know you have helped me without meaning it. And Uncle Ruthven is as pleased as any thing, and he said he had seen it himself, and he had meant to give me a handsome pony for taking pains with myself; but as papa had given me one when he gave Hal a watch just before you went away, he would let me say what the present should be.
“And so, Midget, I told him I should like him to give you and Bess the pony between you; and he said I had better take a couple of days to think it over, and he would give me leave to change my mind. I suppose he thinks I’ll slink out of it; but I shan’t, so you two may just count on a pony of your own. I guess there’ll be a side-saddle too, for Uncle Ruth don’t do things by halves. I’m awfully sleepy, and anybody but you would be tired of this long letter.
“Your loving brother,
“FREDERICK TALBOT BRADFORD, ESQ.”
Maggie answered her Uncle Ruthven’s letter the very next morning in these words:--
“DEAR UNCLE RUTHVEN,--Whenever I think of the pleasure of writing to my absent friends who are away from me in distant lands I am always very thankful that I am not a quadrewped or other animal which has only legs and no arms to write with. And if it had, no brains or ideas, but only instinct which is not enough to write with. So I thank God He gave me a sencible soul which thinks, and arms and also pen, ink, and paper. And also pencils for Bessie has to print with them, and also friends which we can write to, for if I was an orfun and had no friends I would be badly of and very lonesome and my ideas of no use. So I think every one ought to be very grateful for these things (if they have them) and if they have not let them say God knows best; and I think it is the duty of the human race to make use of these things and to write long letters to all their friends, for it is such a pleasure to have letters and to answer them. And I am going to write you the longest letter I ever wrote in my life, because the Bible says, ‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye also unto them.’
“But, dear Uncle Ruthven, we have had no adventures to tell you about. I mean _real real_ adventures; except only one which was most terrible to hear and was that Bessie met a snake that was poisonous and nearly bit her, but a good dog of Mr. Powrs would not let her go on, and so she did not come in the way of the snake which was a wonderful blessing or she might have died. And then I would have been like the king Miss Ashton told us about, whose son was drowned and he never smiled again nor would I if my Bessie came to such a sad end but would be unhappy all the days of my existence and never laugh at the funniest thing that could happen. And I pray our Father in Heaven that my Bessie will not die while I am alive even to go to Heaven for I would miss her so very, very much. But I will not write any more of this most unhappy thing or else my beloved uncle you will say ‘what a sad, stupid letter Maggie has written to me,’ and I would not wish any one to take the liberty of saying such a thing about me.
“Belle’s home which is named Oakdale is a place most beautiful to behold with such large oak trees that make the most pleasant of shades and magnolias and vines of jessamine and other sweet smells most delicious to the nose. I do wish there was a nicer name to call a nose, it don’t sound nice in a letter. And such lots and heaps of rice, enough for a million dinner and breakfasts I should think but I hope I shall never be in the necessity to eat it for I hate rice. But Bessie likes it very much so I am glad it grows for her and others. And we had such fun playing with it and working too for we helped the men a great deal. Now you need not laugh Uncle Ruthven nor the boys either if you let them read this letter, for the men said we did and if you had seen the great bag we filled you would know it. It was real funny to see the rice run down the wooden gutters into the hoppers. Isn’t that a queer name?
“Papa said such a funny thing. He said he knew a hopper that would not be of much use in that mill because it always shut its mouth whenever any rice came near it, and he meant me. It made us all laugh so. The next day after to-morrow we are going to take adieu of Savannah and all the kind people we have come to know; and of Miss Adams and the doctor; and most of all of Mr. and Mrs. Norris and Lily. Lily cries about it and wants to stay with us but her parents have to stay in this place for a short time and to go home by the steamer, and I am glad and thankful such is not my fate to be seasick again. Oh! Uncle Ruthven! it is awful! and you can’t help it if you make up your mind ever so much. But we go by land which is much better than the sea to travel on and shall visit many places and see many surprising things which I shall advertise you of when I know them myself.
“Bessie and I think we never heard of any thing so kind and generous as Fred to say he wanted you to give us a pony for his present and never no never again will I say Fred teases, no not if he plages me ever so much. But I think he does not plage so much as he used to. Mamma was so pleased about him and is at this present moment writing to him. It is a very charming thing to have sencible and religious parents and I suppose also it must be so for the parents to have their children improve and be as sencible and good as is in their natures. But it is not in mine to be so good as Bessie and I despair of it for it is not in me. The other day a lady was talking to Bessie and I heard her say afterwards, ‘That child is a little angel.’ I suppose she meant _like_ an angel which would be far better for her to say as it is always best to say just what you mean but I thank her for the complement to my Bessie and think she must be a woman of sense.
“Harry wrote to Mamma and said something that hurt my feelings. He said I wrote very nice letters but they were so full of moral reflextions and centiment that he almost killed himself laughing. Now I know he didn’t almost kill himself and Miss Ashton never taught us reflextions and centiment and I don’t know what they mean and I wouldn’t do such a thing as to put them in my letters. I don’t think Harry is very kind to say that and make fun of me. But don’t you tell any one I said so for you know I tell you all my secrets dear Uncle Ruthven and maybe Harry would think I was cross.
“Please give my love to every body I know if I do love them and if I don’t my complements and most of all to all my own people. It took me two days to write all this letter which I hope will give satisfaction from your affectionate beloved
“MAGGIE.”
Last of all here is a little letter which Bessie wrote to her grandmamma,--
“DEAR DARLING GRANMAMMA,--Your Bessie is going to send a letter to you to tell you how I love you but I cant rite such nice leters as Maggie. Dont Maggie make nice leters and she said she would help me but I toled her I wanted to make it all myself so you would kno how much I love you. Please dear Granmamma to rite me an answer to my leter and I hope you will keep alife till we come home or if you are not dear Manma will cry and all the rest of us two. I saw a carf in a cart with all its legs tied and it mad me sorry and I wish it was mine to let it luse. Baby is so sweet and she has a new trik that is so cuning. All the time she pulls off her shoes and soks and Mamma don’t want her to so Nursey says shame shame when she does it and when baby sees any one else do it now she always calls shame and she saw a gentelman in the parlor who did not kno how to be very polite and he sat with his slipper hanging on his toe and Baby pointed her finger at him and called out very loud Oh shame shame and every boddy lafed it was so funny. Every day I am more and more glad for dear Manma feels so much better and it makes such a joy in my hart that I can’t tell it but you kno it don’t you dear Granmanma for you are her own mother and you love her just like she loves me. I am too tired to make it any longer and I love you and my solger and all my peple and I send them kisses.
“Good by dear Granmanma
“Your little pet
“BESSIE.”
VII.
_A “REAL, REAL ADVENTURE.”_
They were all in the railway train bound for ----; that is, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford, with their three little girls and nurse, Mr. Powers, Belle, and old Daphne.
Maggie, Bessie, and Belle, with their dolls, had two whole seats to themselves, one having been turned so as to face the other, and give them what Bessie called a “nice, cunning travelling-house.” Here they had established themselves in great comfort, papa and mamma being just behind; while Mr. Powers, and the two nurses with Baby, were seated on the opposite side of the car.
And here, by and by, seeing the nice play that was going on, did Miss Baby think it best to betake herself and her own doll, named Peter Bartholomew. This gentleman with the long name, which had been given to him by Fred, was made entirely of worsted, face, cap, coat, and pants, all knit of the brightest colors, and could be knocked about or thrown from any height without damage to his head or limbs. So for this reason he had come travelling with Baby Annie, as her dolls were apt to receive some hard knocks and severe falls, not altogether wholesome for more brittle materials.
But Annie was not very fond of Peter Bartholomew, and he received some pretty hard usage at her tiny hands; so that it was well he was not a gentleman of tender feelings, and was able to take thumps, hard squeezes, and scoldings with the utmost composure.
However, on this occasion she thought it wise to praise Peter Bartholomew, by way of persuading her sisters that his company, as well as her own, was desirable; and, putting her little head on one side in the most insinuating manner, she spoke thus from nurse’s lap,--
“Baby tome too. Peter tome too. Baby dood. Peter dood. Nice Peter. Oh, pitty Peter!”
“Oh! isn’t she too cunning, the darling?” said Bessie. “Let’s let her come play with us.”
“Yes, we’ll take her in our house,” said Belle.
So baby was taken into the enclosure, which Maggie had made quite complete by fastening a handkerchief from the arm of one seat to that of the other, and calling it “the door.” Nurse could have lifted baby at once into the place which was offered for her; but that would not do at all. Baby must wait till the door was untied, and she admitted in due form.
Once there, and seated in a snug corner, she behaved herself very well for a long time, watching her little sisters and Belle with grave admiration and wonder, and submitting to be played and “_pretended_” with just as they chose, only now and then insisting that they should all “tiss Peter,” a thing which she would by no means be induced to do herself.
But at last she took it into her head to look out of the window, and in order to do that she must stand upon her feet, which was not safe to let her do without some careful hand to guard her; and as she objected very decidedly to returning to the other side of the car where nurse sat, there was nothing for it but to let nurse come to her.
Now this interfered very much with the arrangements of the three little girls, who were having a grand “family” play; and not one of them was at all inclined to be so disturbed, and there was even some pouting when nurse said they must make room for her for a short time.
But Maggie, Bessie, and Belle could all understand better than Baby Annie, that in travelling one must consider the comfort and convenience of one’s fellow-passengers, as well as one’s own. Baby was very little, and not very well: they had a long day’s journey before them, and it was necessary that she should be indulged in a measure, and kept in a good humor as long as possible; and Bessie was the first to think of this.
“Now, just let me in here for a bit, my honeys,” said nurse, as Maggie stood with her hand on the pocket-handkerchief door, determined to defend her “house” as long as possible. “Baby’ll fret if I take her to the other side when she don’t like it, and that will worry your mother; besides it’s sunny there when we come out of the woods. Let her look out of your window awhile, with me to hold her, and it will soon be her sleepy time, when ye may have your place to yourselves.”
Now old nurse was by no means a small woman; and the children knew that their quarters would be very much narrowed when she should find entrance there, and she might have found it hard work to persuade them to yield without interference from their father or mother, had not Bessie bethought herself when nurse spoke of her mother.