CHAPTER I.

"It is shocking--positively shocking!"

The five Misses Middleton crowded about the window, if ladies so punctilious, so precise, so ceremonious as were the five Misses Middleton could be said to crowd.

"See her now, running as fast as any one of those boys," said Miss Middleton the eldest.

"And without her hat!" said Miss Joanna, settling her spectacles.

"And her hair streaming!" added Miss Dorcas, as she clutched her knitting-needles.

"And--and--I hardly like to say it, but, my dear sisters, do you notice how she--well, how she thrusts out her feet?" murmured Miss Melissa, with a look of embarrassment.

"But how happy she looks!" said Miss Thomasine, though in so low a voice that it almost seemed as if she must be hoping that her sisters would not hear her. But they did, and immediately they turned upon her in a body.

"Thomasine, I am astonished! In the first place, you cannot possibly tell whether she looks happy or not, and in the second place--" But no one ever heard what came in the second place, for Miss Middleton's sentence was broken short by an exclamation of added horror from her four sisters.

"Oh, she has fallen down!"

A profound silence while they all looked.

"There, she is up again! Oh, my dear sisters, she is going to start again! What shall we do with her, and why did this come upon us?"

The four elder Misses Middleton sank again into their chairs. Miss Thomasine remained at the window until the subject of their remarks had disappeared among the trees at the farther end of the lawn. Then she too resumed her seat.

"Something must be done," said Miss Joanna, for at least the eleventh time that morning.

The five Misses Middleton lived in Alden, in a large old-fashioned house on the outskirts of the town. Here their grandfather had bought an extensive tract of land and had built a stately mansion in the days when rooms were made of spacious breadth and depth and ceilings were lofty. The town at that time was busy and bustling enough. A large number of the inhabitants were seafaring men, and not only commanded their ships, but owned them too, and foreign vessels touching at the port brought much stir of life and commerce, now long since passed away.

Old Captain Middleton sailed many a voyage in his own good ships, and brought home not only plenty of money, but treasures from China and Japan, and even from India. Among other things there was a quaintly shaped yellow porcelain bowl decorated with odd Oriental colors, which was made in China. It was not large, but its texture and workmanship were exquisite, and it was said that there was no other like it in America. In fact, there was but one other in the world, and that was in the possession of a rich mandarin of Peking. This bowl had been presented by old Captain Middleton to his daughter-in-law upon his son's marriage, and it now belonged to their five daughters. It was always to remain in the family, and it was known as the Middleton bowl.

Times had changed in Alden, as the saying is, and it was no longer a commercial town, but a sleepy, slow-going place as far as business was concerned. Its present inhabitants, however, most of whose ancestors had lived there for generations, endeavored to keep up with modern life and thought. There were reading-clubs and intellectual societies of all sorts for the serious-minded, and balls, assemblies, and teas for the more frivolous, but the five Misses Middleton were beyond it all. Behind the massive stone walls which surrounded their grandfather's acres, now their own, they lived in seclusion, as remote from outside life and outside ideas as though they dwelt in some lonely castle in an enchanted wood.

To be sure, they had frequent callers, for they were greatly respected by their fellow-townspeople, and these calls were returned after the proper interval of time had elapsed.

Into this quiet household of five maiden ladies was suddenly precipitated a twelve-year-old niece. Their only brother, Theodore by name, who was very much younger than themselves, had early in life left the quiet old home in Alden, and gone to one of the large cities, where he married and became a prosperous business man. Circumstances now obliged him to go to South America for six or eight months, and rather than subject their only daughter Theodora to the dangers of the climate, Mr. and Mrs. Middleton had asked her aunts to take charge of her until their return.

The five aunts were somewhat aghast at this proposition. Since Miss Thomasine had given up her dolls and packed them tenderly away in the attic many, many years ago, childhood was unknown to them, for Theodora's home was far away, and she had never visited them before.

However, it was a girl--a boy would have been absolutely impossible--and next to Theodore she was their nearest of kin. And Mrs. Middleton herself had suggested a means of relief should her daughter prove to be too much care for them.

"If you grow tired of her, or if she gives you any trouble, send her to boarding-school. She will be happy at Miss Ford's, where I went, and I have made every arrangement for her to go if she should be too much for you. But I am sure no one could grow tired of my Teddy!"

At first all went well. The aunts felt so sorry for poor little Theodora when she was left for the first time in her life without her parents that they vied with one another in their efforts to make her happy. Miss Thomasine unpacked her dolls and carried them carefully downstairs, smelling strongly of camphor, and seeming to blink their round, unseeing black eyes in the unaccustomed glare of day.

But Theodora only looked at them with a languid curiosity, spoke of their being so "funny and old-fashioned," and then sneezed from the fumes of the camphor, and turned away.

Miss Joanna unlocked the corner cupboard and brought out her own china tea-set, unplayed with now these fifty years. But Theodora almost laughed at the clumsy shape of the sugar-bowl, and then accidentally broke it, upon which Miss Joanna locked them all up again with an air which showed that Theodora had handled them for the last time.

Miss Melissa then produced some books, which her niece seized upon with avidity. But she soon declared that she did not care for that kind of story (they were some of Miss Edgeworth's tales), that Rosamond was a perfect goose to think the purple vase was worth having. She, Theodora, would have known better the moment she saw it. _She_ would have discovered at once that it was filled with a purple powder, and was really nothing but plain glass.

Had not her aunts any boys' stories? She liked them best. Upon which the five Misses Middleton looked at one another, and mentally held up their hands in horror and dismay. And soon, all too soon, was it discovered that the only things which really made Theodora happy were boys and boys' games and boys' books.

Miss Middleton herself, in the solemn conclave which took place upon the morning when this story opens, was courageous enough to put the matter into words.

"I verily believe," said she, "that our niece Theodora is what is called a--a tomboy!"

"Sister!" cried they all, while four pairs of hands were uplifted and then dropped into four silk laps; and Miss Middleton, having made this statement, looked distinctly relieved.

"And the worst of it," said Miss Joanna, "is that I strongly suspect we have brought it upon ourselves. In order to save ourselves the trouble of providing entertainment for Theodora, we actually suggested--one of us did--that she should be allowed to play with the Hoyt children."

Here she glanced severely at her sister Dorcas. Miss Dorcas made no reply, but she looked guilty, and dropped a stitch in her knitting.

"Dorcas forgot that they were all boys, I have no doubt," said Miss Thomasine, in her gentle voice. "We knew Ellen Hoyt when she was young, Joanna, you remember. As gentle a girl as ever lived."

"Yes," rejoined Miss Dorcas, her courage returning when she found that she had a champion. "It was natural that we should suppose her children should be quiet and gentle too. I am sure I never dreamed that they were all boys."

"It has been most disastrous," continued Miss Joanna.

"But there is one resource left," suggested Miss Melissa. "You know, sisters, what Theodore's wife said--she spoke of it herself--I am sure we should never have thought of it."

Miss Melissa had a vague, hurried manner which never failed to irritate her sister Joanna, who was brisk, and in other conditions of life would have been businesslike.

"If you mean the boarding-school plan, Melissa;" she said, "why do you not say so in plain words? For my part, I think it would be the best place for the child."

"Not if we can help it," pleaded Miss Thomasine. "She is our niece, you know, and I do not like the idea of closing our doors against her."

"Thomasine, you are so extreme in your language," said Miss Middleton. "I am sure no one dreams of closing our doors against Theodora; but if we cannot control her, I quite agree with Joanna that it would be the best place for her."

It was just at this point in the conversation that a startling clamor was heard from downstairs. The ladies were sitting in the "spare chamber" on the second floor, as they were apt to do of a morning. The noise drew nearer. It was unmistakably a cry of mingled wrath and pain, and it was accompanied by the sound of hurrying feet. Children's shoes were scuffling up the old oak staircase. It sounded as if at least a dozen pairs of feet were hurrying toward the live Misses Middleton.

The door opened with a burst, and into the room came Theodora. Blood was streaming from her nose, tears from her eyes, and in her arms she carried--was it? could it be? The five Misses Middleton looked, and looked again. Their niece was bringing into their presence a dead kitten! She was accompanied by two of her friends the Hoyt boys, but they, dismayed by the sight of a circle of five ladies, retreated into the hall, and peered through the crack of the half-open door. Still another was at the foot of the stairs, not daring to come up higher.

"Theodora, what is it?" cried Miss Middleton, while Miss Melissa shuddered and felt for her smelling-salts. She was afraid of cats, even of dead ones.

"It's a dear little kitten, Aunt Adaline, and it is dead. It will never breathe again. Oh, that horrible boy, that Andy Morse! I wish I had killed _him_ dead! But I gave him a black eye, I know I did."

"A black eye! Theodora, I insist upon knowing the cause of this uproar. And the blood! Have you been hurt?"

"Let me wash it away from your face," said Miss Thomasine; "but first, if it is possible, Theodora, I think you had better get rid of that--that cat."

"Poor little kitten! We are going to have a nice funeral to make up to it for all its sufferings. And I am not really much hurt, Aunt Tom. It's a nose-bleed, so it looks as if I were. The boy punched me right in the nose. But I kicked and scratched him well, I can tell you."

The five aunts rose to their feet as one woman. They looked at Theodora, and then they looked at one another. Finally they all sat down again.

"Give that animal to those boys in the hall to take away, and then give an account of yourself," commanded Miss Middleton.

Theodora hesitated for a moment, and then she retired to the hall, where she held a whispered conference with her waiting friends.

"As nice a box as you can find," were her last words, "and loads of flowers. Dig it pretty deep. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Again there was the sound of clattering shoes upon the stairs, and Theodora returned to her aunts. A maid was sent for, and the marks of her recent conflict were washed away, to which proceedings she submitted quietly, and then in a clean white apron she came back once more. She closed the door into the hall at her aunts' request, and opened the conversation at once.

"I'll tell you how it was," she said. "You see, I was playing 'I spy' with the Hoyts, having the best time you ever heard of; and do you know, I can run as fast as Arthur and Clem, and almost as fast as Ray! We were playing the kind of 'I spy' where you have to hide, and then run in to goal when It is not looking. Did you ever play that way, Aunt Tom?"

"No," murmured Miss Thomasine.

"Do not stop for such questions," said Miss Middleton; "and do not address your aunt so disrespectfully."

"Why, I didn't mean to be disrespectful, Aunt Adaline. I call her that because I love her, and I asked her last night, when she came to kiss me good-night, if I might call her 'Aunt Tom,'and if she would please call me 'Teddy' instead of hateful long Theodora, and she said I might, and she would. Of course I shouldn't dream of calling you 'Aunt Ad,' or Aunt Joanna 'Aunt Jo'; but Aunt Tom is different. She seems younger, and as if she might be sort of jolly if you would only let her, so that is the reason I asked her if she ever played that kind of 'I spy.' Of course I don't suppose the rest of you ever played 'I spy' at all."

And she looked about upon the group with some scorn. Teddy spoke very rapidly, so this speech did not consume much time.

"No, we never did," replied Miss Middleton, "and now we should be glad to hear the remainder of your story."

"Oh yes, I'm going to tell you. I got away from the others somehow, and I thought I'd reach goal by a shorter way if I climbed the stone wall and went by the road a little way."

"Theodora!"

"What, Aunt Joanna?"

"Surely you did not climb the stone wall?"

"Why, yes; it is as easy as anything! I'm sure you could yourself, Aunt Joanna, just in that place. You put your foot right on a stone that juts out, and if I were there to give you a boost, you would go over as easy as anything."

"Oh, my dear niece!" cried Miss Melissa; "I do hope, I really do hope that your aunt Joanna-- She could not-- I am sure--"

"Melissa," exclaimed her sister, "if you think over the matter for a moment you will realize that no power on earth could tempt me to climb the stone wall."

"I hoped not, but--"

Awed by a wrathful glance from behind Miss Joanna's spectacles, Miss Melissa subsided, and again sniffed her salts.

"Again I must ask you to continue," said Miss Middleton to her niece. "I suppose you fell, which caused your nose to bleed?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't fall at all. But who do you suppose I found in the road? That horrible Andy Morse! You know he is a great big fellow--bigger than Ray Hoyt. You've seen him about, probably. And he was throwing stones at that poor dear kitten." Theodora's eyes grew big, and her words came more slowly now, and with great emphasis. "He had it tied to a stump, and he was throwing stones at it, and the last one, just as I came up, killed the kitten." She paused, and looked about for sympathy. "I suppose you all feel just as I did," she said, presently. "As if your throats were all choked up, and you couldn't speak, and your hearts were going to fly right out of your bodies, and your heads were going to burst. That is the way I felt, and I am sure you would have done just as I did. I walked right up to that boy, and before he even knew I was there, I kicked him and scratched him, and banged my fist right in his eye. 'There, Andy Morse,' I said, 'that's what you get for stoning a kitten! How do you like that?' And he banged back, and that's what made my nose bleed. Then he ran off as hard as he Could. Great coward!" she added, contemptuously. "Think of stoning a kitten and being driven off by a girl! If there were not a commandment about killing people, I should really be almost sorry I hadn't killed him. Why isn't it just as wicked to kill a cat as to kill a bad boy, Aunt Adaline?"

"I--I really cannot answer such a question, Theodora. You do not realize what you are saying, I am sure. But you have done very wrong. I scarcely know how to express my feelings at such conduct. I beg you will not do so again. It was most unladylike, to say the least."

"But he was hurting that poor kitten, Aunt Adaline! How could I help it? Don't you think I did right, Aunt Tom?" she asked, turning in despair to her favorite aunt.

Miss Thomasine hesitated beneath the glare of eight sisterly eyes while they awaited her reply. Theodora hoped for support, but she was disappointed.

"No, Teddy, I do not think you did right," said her aunt. "The boy was very cruel, I admit, and I do not wonder at your indignation; but it was not for you to inflict pain upon a fellow-creature. I think you were as cruel to the boy as he was to the cat. Besides, it was not the proper thing for a lady to do. Would your mother do such a thing?"

Theodora was silent for a moment. "I don't suppose she would," she said, presently; "and perhaps I ought not to have attacked Andy Morse the way I did. I am not sorry yet about it, though, but perhaps I will be by to-night. I will tell you if I am. And now may I go? They are waiting for me to have the funeral."

"My dear Theodora, what do you mean?" exclaimed Miss Middleton.

"Why, you know what a funeral is, Aunt Adaline, don't you? We are going to give the kitten a pleasant funeral to make up for its sad death."

"Do you think they ought?" asked Miss Middleton, looking helplessly about upon her companions.

"It sounds very shocking, and I for one do not approve," said Miss Joanna, with her customary decision.

"I do not like the idea," murmured Miss Dorcas.

"It seems--really, it seems--as if something ought to be done--to correct. But I do not know--" faltered Miss Melissa.

"Suppose I go with her to the place and see what they intend to do?" suggested Miss Thomasine.

"Do, sister!" said Miss Middleton. "It will ease my mind greatly if you will."

So Miss Thomasine went to her room, and with much deliberation dressed herself for a walk to the garden with her niece. She put on her head a large sun-hat drawn down on both sides with a broad white ribbon. This ribbon she crossed beneath her chin and tied on top of the hat, which was unadorned with other trimming. She placed upon her shoulders a black silk mantilla, and drew on her brown thread gloves, the fingers of which were very long and remained empty at the tips. Then she took her sunshade and descended the stairs, calling to her niece as she went.

The door of the great drawing-room was slowly opened, and Theodora came out. Her face was much flushed, and she held one hand concealed beneath her apron. Together they walked out the side door and down the gravelled path to the garden.

They had scarcely left the house before Miss Joanna went down to the parlor to attend to her task of dusting the foreign treasures. They were not intrusted to the house-maids, for the five sisters did it each in turn. In a few moments she returned to the spare chamber and carefully closed the door behind her.

"Sisters," she exclaimed, "look at this!"

She held up for their inspection a small piece of yellow Chinese porcelain.

"This," said she, "is all that is left of the Middleton bowl."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A LOYAL TRAITOR.

A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND ENGLAND.

BY JAMES BARNES.