CHAPTER XI.

Christmas morning dawned cloudy and very cold, but it had stopped snowing, and after a while the sun came out and turned the country into a radiant, dazzling spectacle.

The Franklins were to have a party during the holidays, and it had been planned for the following Tuesday--New-Year's eve.

"If we had only arranged to have it earlier we might have escaped that horrid Branson," said Cynthia, regretfully, the day after Christmas. "Now, of course, he will come with the Morgans, and, worse still, we shall have to be polite to him in our own house."

"I should hope so," said Edith. "You were rude enough to him at the picnic, and I do think good manners are so attractive. I am going to cultivate them as much as possible. No one will ever like you unless you are polite, Cynthia."

"I seem to have plenty of friends," returned her sister, composedly, "and I don't really care to have Bronson like me. In fact, I would rather prefer that he shouldn't. I wouldn't consider it much of a compliment to be liked by a--a--_creature_ like that!"

It would be impossible to convey an idea of the contempt in Cynthia's voice as she said this.

"And if you are going to have such lovely manners, I should think it would be just as well to begin at home," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't suppose you will like it, but really, Edith, sometimes it does seem as if you just tried to hurt mamma's feelings. I know I ought not to say this, perhaps, for you think I am only a younger sister, I suppose, and haven't any right to lecture you; but when I remember how nice you really are, I can't bear to have you act so. If you only would try to like her, instead of trying not to like her! There, don't cry, dear; I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

And Cynthia threw her arms around her sister and kissed her.

"You have hurt them," said Edith, with a sob, "but I deserve it. I don't know what has gotten into me since the Gordons came. I _can't_ like her being here. Oh, Cynthia, you don't know how I feel sometimes! I wish I didn't have such bad, wicked thoughts."

"Do you really try to get over it, Edith?"

"No-o, not very hard," she faltered. "I can't forgive her for coming and taking my place, and--and--I don't want to forgive her. There, I know you will think I am bad and horrible and everything else, but I can't help it."

And, rising abruptly, she left the room.

"Poor old Edith!" sighed Cynthia, compassionately. "She will come round some time; she can't help it."

* * * * *

On New-Year's eve was to be the Franklins' party.

"Edith, we must have it very original and unique, something quite different from anything we have ever had in our lives," said Cynthia, a few days before.

"How can we? There's nothing new."

"Yes, there is, right in my head. I have an idea."

"What in the world is it?"

"Well, I'll tell you," and she proceeded to unfold it.

It proved to be a good one, and with Mrs. Franklin's help it was carried into effect. The suggestion was to have a "character" party, but to enact the parts without dressing especially for them. A list was made of persons well known in history or fiction, and from this list Mrs. Franklin chose those she considered the best, and wrote against each name that of some girl or boy in Brenton. This she did without telling her daughters how she had apportioned the parts, that they might be as ignorant as their guests about one another's characters.

"It is a truly Bostonese party," said Mrs. Franklin, laughing, when they talked it over. "There is an intellectual flavor to it that you wouldn't find far away from 'the Hub,' but it is a capital idea, nevertheless, Cynthia."

When the list was duly made Mrs. Franklin drove about Brenton to the various girls and boys who were expected, and invited them for Tuesday evening, explaining to them at the same time what they were to do.

It was an old-fashioned tea-party, and the guests began to arrive at six o'clock. There were twenty in all, and they came hurrying in out of the cold, and up-stairs to remove their heavy wraps, the girls tripping down again in their dainty evening dresses, while the boys stood about the doorways in rather an aimless fashion, wondering what they were expected to do at such a very peculiar tea-party as this seemed to be.

It added to the mystery that each was given a card with his or her name prettily printed upon it, and a little pencil attached.

"I never heard of anything like it, don't you know," drawled Bronson. "I'll be hanged if I know what to talk about."

After supper, which was very jolly and effectually broke the ice, Mr. Franklin made a little speech.

"You are all supposed to be somebody, and no one but my wife knows which is which," he said. "The object is for each one to guess as many characters as possible from their conversation, and when you have made up your mind who some one is, you will write the name on your card, with the name of the person you are guessing about. When your card is filled with twenty-four names, which means that you have given a guess about every one here, you will hand it in. Then the prizes will be bestowed."

"Prizes!" was murmured by the girls; "how lovely!" while the boys looked relieved as the matter became clearer.

Cynthia turned to her neighbor and began to talk.

"Good-evening!" she said; "did you see anything of my broom? I forgot to bring it along. Dear me, there's a lot to be done up there," gazing towards the ceiling; "why didn't I bring it along?"

The neighbor chanced to be Dennis Morgan.

"I haven't seen your broom," he replied, "but I'm going to find out why you want it. The trouble is, I've come too soon, I think, and I can't find my way; but I can't tell you where I want to go, or you would guess me on the spot."

"Ho!" laughed Cynthia; "I know where you want to go. I think you would like a glass of water, wouldn't you? For I am sure you have burned your mouth," she added.

Then she wrote on her card: "Dennis Morgan--Man in the Moon."

"Pshaw! How did you guess me so soon? And I haven't the ghost of an idea who you are. Let me see, you want your broom. I can't imagine why you need a broom."

"Cobwebs, cobwebs everywhere," murmured Cynthia, as she turned away and listened to the conversation that was being carried on between Neal and Gertrude Morgan.

"I'm a wonderful man," said Neal. "In fact I don't know but what I'm about as great a person as you ever heard of. You can't mention my name without alluding to it."

"I don't believe you are half as great as I am," retorted Gertrude, "only I don't talk as much about it. Why, I am a queen."

"And I am a king. What kind of a queen are you?"

"I rule over a very important kingdom, and not only do I reign but I can cook, too. I am one of those very convenient people to have about that can turn their hand to almost anything, but I am chiefly celebrated for my cookery. I made something nice one hot summer day--"

"Take care, Gertrude!" cried Cynthia; "I know you." And she wrote on her card: "Gertrude Morgan--Queen of Hearts."

"Oh, come, Cynth, that's too bad!" exclaimed Neal. "I can't guess her at all, but it's because I am so taken up reading a wonderful book when I am very young, and making colored candles, and all that sort of thing."

"I thought you said you were a king!" said Gertrude.

"So I am; a terribly good sort, too."

At last Gertrude guessed him, and wrote "Alfred the Great" with his name on her card.

Neal, however, could not discover who she was, not being as well posted in "Mother Goose" as was Cynthia.

The one who was most mysterious was Edith. For a long time no one could imagine who she was.

"I have had a great many adventures," she said, as they gathered about her. "I have travelled to places that the rest of you have never been to. I have played games with a duchess, and I have taken care of a duchess's baby. A great many of my friends talk poetry. I have long light hair, and sometimes I'm tall and sometimes I'm short."

"Never short, Edith, I'm sure," said Neal. Everyone laughed, for they teased Edith about her stately height.

"I know you! I know you!" cried Cynthia, dancing with glee. "You told too much that time," and she hastily scribbled "Alice in Wonderland" on her card.

She herself, as the "Old woman who swept the cobwebs from the sky," was easily guessed, much to her own chagrin.

At last each one had written twenty-four names on his or her card, and they were given to Mrs. Franklin for inspection. Some funny mistakes were made, and as they were read out they created much merriment.

Somebody thought Yankee Doodle must be Paul Revere, because he had been spoken of as a rider; Julius Caesar and Columbus were hopelessly mixed, both having mentioned themselves as crossing the water, and it being impossible, from the description given, to distinguish between the Rubicon and the Atlantic Ocean; the Lady of the Lake and Pocahontas were confused, as they each saved a life; and every one mistook the Old Woman that lived in a Shoe for Puss in Boots, because of her persistent talk about foot-wear.

Cynthia had made a greater number of correct guesses than any one, but as she was one of the hostesses she could not, of course, claim a prize, so it fell to Tony Bronson, who was next on the list. Cynthia turned away to hide the grimace which she could not repress when the dear little clock in a red-leather case was given to him as first prize.

Kitty Morgan, Gertrude's cousin, was awarded the "booby" prize, for having made the poorest guesses--a dainty little pin, which, she said, quite repaid her for her stupidity; while one of the Brenton girls, whose list was next best to Bronson's, received a pretty silver-framed calendar as "Consolation."

It made a merry evening, and after the game was over they danced and played other games until it was time to go home. It was eleven o'clock when the last sleigh drove away.

"Only an hour to midnight," said Cynthia; "can't we sit up and see the old year out? Do, papa, let us! We never have, and it must be such fun. We couldn't go to sleep, anyhow, after such an exciting evening."

Mr. Franklin consented, and they sat about the fire discussing the success of the game and the girls and boys who had been there, one or two of whom remained for the night at Oakleigh.

Neal and Cynthia were alone for a few moments. They had gone out into the hall to see the hour by the tall clock, and they found the hands pointing to ten minutes of twelve.

"Let us wait here for it to strike," said Cynthia, going to the window.

The lamp had gone out in the hall, and it was but dimly lighted from the room where the family were sitting. Outside, the moon was shining on the white fields and frozen river. The old year was dying in a flood of glory.

"I always feel so full of good resolutions on New-Year's Eve," said Cynthia, in a low voice; "I wish I could keep them all."

"So do I," returned Neal. "I am always turning over a new leaf. I must have turned over three volumes of new leaves by this time. But they don't amount to much."

"It is discouraging, isn't it? I have never said anything about it to any one before. It seems to me I am always breaking my good resolutions."

"I don't see how. First of all, it doesn't seem as if you did anything that is wrong--a girl doesn't have much chance to."

"Oh yes, she does. You don't know. And I have so many faults. There are my bureau drawers--I can't keep them neat, and my clothes would be all in tatters if it were not for Edith and mamma. And, worst of all, there is my tongue."

"Your tongue?"

"Yes. It is such fun to make fun of people and say sharp things when I don't like them--the kind of thing I am always saying to that Bronson."

Neal laughed, and then he sighed.

"You are putting me into a bad corner. If you think your faults are so tremendous, what must you think of mine? I'm a thief and a coward."

"Neal!"

"Yes, I am. I am a thief because I don't pay that money. I had no business to borrow it in the first place, and I could save it out of my allowance if I would take the trouble, but I am too lazy: and I am such a coward I won't ask Hessie for it, because I am ashamed to have your father know it. It's all a nasty business, anyway."

He looked moodily out on the snow, drumming his fingers on the window-pane.

"Neal," said Cynthia, softly touching his arm with her hand as she spoke, "let's turn over one more new leaf. I will look out for my tongue and my bureau drawers, and you will tell mamma everything and start fresh. Will you, Neal? Promise!"

Before he answered the clock began to strike.

"Happy New-Year! Happy New-Year!" was heard from the parlor. "Neal and Cynthia, where are you? Come in here, that we may all be together when the clock stops striking."

So the old year died, and Neal had not given the required promise.

One day, shortly before he returned to St. Asaph's, he said to his sister,

"Hessie, if I had been of age I think I would have tried to break the will of grandmother's."

"Oh, Neal dear, don't say that! What do you mean?"

"Well, it isn't that I mind your having the money; you have always been a brick about keeping me supplied; but the trouble is, I need more than you give me."

"Neal, I am afraid you are spending too much," said Mrs. Franklin, looking at him anxiously. "Are you in debt again? You know I would love to give you all I have, but your guardians and the trustees of the estate and John all think that you have a very large allowance for a school-boy, and it would not be a good plan to let you have any more."

"Bother them all!" exclaimed Neal, seizing the poker and giving the fire an angry thrust. A shower of sparks flew out, but he let one burn a hole in the rug without noticing. "I'm tired of being tied to your apron-string. I've a good mind to cut loose altogether."

"Don't say that!" cried Mrs. Franklin, in distress, going to him and putting her arm through his. He was taller than she, and she had to look up at him.

"If it were only you, it would be different," continued her brother; "but you see you're married now, and everything is changed."

"But John is fond of you, Neal; I know he is. But he knows all about boys, and his advice is good. Would--would five dollars help you?"

"You're a good little soul, Hessie," said Neal, looking down at her affectionately, his momentary ill-humor passing, "and I suppose it is not your fault if you can't give me any more. No, thank you; I won't take the fiver. Don't worry about me. Here comes Jack in the cutter; we're going to the village." And in a moment he was off.

The next day he went back to St. Asaph's.

The winter passed quickly after Christmas had come and gone, and all had settled down again to the regular routine of work. Mrs. Franklin could not help feeling anxious about Neal. She confided her fears to her husband, but he made light of them.

"The boy only wanted more spending-money, Hester. He is very extravagant, and you will be doing very wrongly if you supply him with more money. His allowance is too large, at any rate, for a boy of his age. Jack gets along perfectly well with just one-fifth the amount."

"But Jack is different."

"Very different, and Neal ought to be different, too. You paid his debts in the fall, which were enormous for a school-boy, and then he was free to start afresh. You will never cure him of extravagance if you keep him supplied with all the money he wants."

Mrs. Franklin was forced to acknowledge the truth of her husband's remarks. She said no more, though she was none the less worried.

Cynthia noticed that her step-mother was not as light-hearted as formerly. They were going in to Boston one Saturday morning to do some shopping together. Cynthia had decided to buy a watch with Aunt Betsey's money, and she had brought the gold pieces with her.

"I am so afraid of losing them I don't know what to do," she said. "Fifty dollars is so enormous, isn't it? Please take it in your bag, mamma; I know I shall lose it."

Mrs. Franklin smiled absently, and when she had put away the money she looked out of the window again.

"Mamma," said Cynthia, leaning towards her, "you are worried about something, aren't you? Tell me, is it Neal?"

Mrs. Franklin looked startled.

"I did not know I had such a tell-tale face," she said. "Yes, you have guessed it, Cynthia. I cannot help feeling worried about him. I have not heard from him for some time, and that makes me uneasy. But it is just fancy, and will pass off. Probably there will be a letter from him to-night."

Cynthia also had remarked on Neal's silence, and this confirmed her fears. She did not say anything more to Mrs. Franklin, however, for Neal had again made her promise to repeat nothing he had told her.

"I'll never confide in you again if you tell," he had said; so, of course, Cynthia had promised.

Her mind was busy during the remainder of the trip to Boston, and when the train glided into the station she had determined to put her thoughts into action.

"We will go to Shreve's and then to Bigelow's to look at watches," said Mrs. Franklin, as they walked across the Common. "We had better look at both places before you decide."

"I have changed my mind, mamma. I don't think I will buy a watch."

"Why, Cynthia!" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin, almost stopping short in her surprise; "you want one so much!"

"No, I don't think I do--at least not just now. Let us just go buy the clothes, and I'll keep Aunt Betsey's money a little longer."

She would give no further explanation, and her mother could not induce her even to glance at the watches in Shreve's window. No; she had decided that she did not need one.

When they reached home she took the money and went to her own room. She was standing by the window, carefully packing the coins in a little box with cotton, and about to do it up for the mail--for she knew no better way of sending the money--when she heard the sound of wheels on the drive.

Looking out, she saw one of the depot carriages approaching, and in the vehicle was Neal himself.

Full of apprehension, dreading she knew not what, Cynthia dropped the box of money and flew down stairs.

It was not vacation, it was the middle of the school-term.

Why had Neal come home?

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Begun in HARPER'S ROUND TABLE No. 817.

CORPORAL FRED.

A Story of the Riots.

BY CAPTAIN CHARLES KING, U.S.A.