Marian McAlpine was setting the breakfast-table for the Raymonds, when Lulu came into the room looking bright and fresh in one of the new dresses her father had directed to be made for such excursions as that proposed for the day.
“Good-morning,” she said, in a pleasant, sprightly tone.
Marion returned the salutation, and Lulu went on, “We are going to visit the mine today, and papa sent me to ask if you would like to go with us.”
“Thank you, Miss; it’s very kind in your father and yourself to invite me, and I should be blithe to go if mother could spare me; but I’m afraid she can’t. Good help is very scarce about here, and we have to do a great deal of the cooking and other work ourselves.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lulu; “I’d like very much to have you go, for my own sake as well as yours, for there will be no lady in the party, and no girl but me, if you don’t go.”
“But you’ll not mind that, with such a kind, tender father as yours,” Marian said, a little tremulously, and with a wistful glance into Lulu’s bright, happy face.
“No, I’d not mind going to the world’s end with papa, and nobody else,” returned Lulu, her cheeks flushing and her eyes shining with joy and filial love. “But how did you find out what a dear, kind father I have?”
“Surely, Miss, just the way he looks at you (as if to his mind there was nothing else so sweet and fair in all the world) is enough to tell the tale to any one but the dullest of the dull.”
The girl sighed involuntarily as she spoke, and turned away—busying herself at the china closet—to hide her emotion.
“And you have none, I suppose? Oh, I am so sorry for you!” Lulu said, in a gentle, pitying tone.
Marian turned toward her a pale, set face, opened her lips to speak, but closed them again as her mother entered the room.
“Good-day, lassie, you look bright and blithe as the morning,” Mrs. McAlpine said, addressing Lulu, with a smile that was sadder than tears; and the little girl noticed that her face was paler than on the previous day, her countenance fuller of grief and woe, though she was evidently striving to be cheerful.
“Did you find your bed comfortable last night?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, ma’am; but I had hardly touched it before I went fast asleep, and I never moved, I believe, till the sun was up.”
“It must have seemed a short night to you. Sound sleep is a very great blessing,” responded the lady. Then asked, “And what are your plans for the day? I fear you will find little to interest you in this small town.”
“Papa is going to take us to look at the mine,” said Lulu, “and we would be pleased to take your daughter with us, if you can spare her.”
“Certainly; Marian gets few holidays, and I would be glad to have her go. Tell your papa I thank him for the invitation, and she will be ready in good season.”
Marian’s eyes sparkled, and her face wore a glad, eager look for a moment: then it changed and she said, “No, mother, I can’t go and leave you everything to do.”
“There is not so much to-day, lass, not more than I can easily do myself,” returned the mother kindly, “and I shall enjoy hearing your report when you get back.”
Thus kindly urged, Marian gladly accepted the invitation. Few of what young folks are wont to call “good times” came into her life, and a visit to the mine had never been one of them.
They set out shortly after breakfast, the party consisting of Captain Raymond with his children and Marian, Mr. Austin and Albert, and Mr. Short, who acted as guide.
The two girls walked together, but Lulu managed to keep very near her father. That pleased him, both as an evidence of her ardent affection and because, knowing so little what sort of companion Marian would prove, he wanted to be near enough to overhear their talk, that he might be able to judge what influence she was likely to exert over his child. Mindful of the declaration of Holy Writ that “evil communications corrupt good manners,” he was very careful in regard to the choice of his children’s associates. Poverty, if not united to viciousness or vulgarity, was considered no ground of objection, while wealth, fine dress, or fine manners could not atone for lack of moral purity and refinement.
Marian’s appearance and manners had pleased him, and nothing that he saw or heard during the walk had any tendency to lower her in his estimation. It was a pleasant walk, much of the way being shaded by forest trees, and a refreshing breeze tempering the heat of the weather. The girls were almost sorry when it came to an end.
But they found much to interest them in and around the mine. When they had seen all that was to be seen and were about to return to the town, Mr. Short proposed their doing so by a different route from that by which they had come. It was a little longer, he said, circling around among the hills, but would give them some fine views and an opportunity to gather a variety of beautiful wild-flowers.
“Oh, then, do please let us go that way, papa!” exclaimed Lulu, looking up at him with a very bright, eager face.
“If it suits the wishes of all the party, we will,” he answered in an indulgent tone. “What do you say to it, Mr. Austin?”
“That it suits my inclination exactly,” returned the English gentleman.
“Mine also,” added Albert, as the captain looked inquiringly at him.
“And it’s just what I’d like, too, papa,” said Max.
“And I offer my services as guide,” said Mr. Short.
“Then the question is settled in the affirmative,” Captain Raymond said. “Mr. Short, will you lead the way?”
It was just dinner-time when they reached home, the girls bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked and with hands full of flowers.
“Are you tired, daughter?” the captain asked, as Lulu was taking off her hat.
“Oh no, indeed, papa! not a bit,” she answered. “What a delightful morning we have had! Now what are we going to do this afternoon?”
“The first thing is to eat your dinner,” he said, smiling and pinching her cheek, then stooping to give her a hearty kiss.
“Yes, sir; I feel ready to do it justice,” she returned, putting her hand into his, that he might lead her to the table.
“I too,” said Max, following them, “I don’t know when I’ve been so hungry.”
The captain had asked the blessing, and Marian began passing the plate of bread, when a voice, apparently that of a boy speaking from the garden, said, “Please, Miss, gimme a piece. I’m awful hungry! Didn’t have a mouthful o’ anything to eat to-day.”
Marian started in surprise, then went toward the window, saying, “A beggar. We don’t often have them about here. Why,” glancing out, “where is he?”
A loud barking, that seemed to come from round the corner of the house, then a shrill cry, “Oh, oh, call him off! he’s got me by the leg! he—he’ll tear me to pieces!”
“Towser, Towser!” called Marian, putting her head out of the window, “let him go, I tell you! Come here, sir! come here, and let that fellow alone!”
Then she rushed out to the porch to look for the boy and dog, but was back again in a moment all breathless with bewilderment and exertion.
“I can’t find either of them,” she panted, “and where they could go so quickly I canna conjecture.”
Lulu was casting mirthful glances at Max, but he avoided her eye and went on with his dinner as if much too hungry to think of anything else.
“Both boys and dogs can move very rapidly sometimes,” remarked the captain, in reply to the girl. “But don’t be alarmed, Miss Marian, I dare say the beggar has come to no worse harm than a fright sufficient to send him off to get a meal elsewhere. And now, if you please, will you replenish the bread plate? Max is emptying it very fast.”
“Oh, yes, sir, and I hope you will excuse me for neglecting my business,” she answered smilingly, taking up the plate and leaving the room.
“Now, Max, own up that that was you,” said Lulu laughing.
“That what was?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Do you mean to insinuate that I’m either a beggar or a dog?”
“No,” laughed Lulu merrily, “but you needn’t pretend ignorance; you know well enough what I mean. Well, I shan’t let Marian into the secret if I can help it; for I hope we’ll have some more fun out of it. Papa, it was right good in you not to explain.”
“Was it?” he asked.
But Marian’s entrance with a fresh supply of bread put an end to talk on that subject for the time.
“Papa,” said Lulu, “you haven’t told me yet what we are going to do this afternoon.”
“How would you like to try the pony Mr. Short has engaged for your use while here?” he asked in return.
“Oh, very much, if you will go with me!”
“I shall most certainly not allow you to go without me,” he answered with a tender, loving look into the bright eyes she had lifted to his.
“You couldn’t trust her alone, could you, papa?” Max said teasingly.
“No, nor with you, nor you alone,” answered his father with sportive look and tone.
“There now, Maxie, don’t you wish you’d kept quiet?” laughed Lulu. “You see papa doesn’t consider you so very much older or wiser than I am.”
“I don’t hope I’ll ever be too old or wise to be the better and happier of papa’s company,” Max answered, bestowing upon his father a look of deepest respect and affection.
“I’m glad to hear that, my boy,” the captain responded, his eyes shining with pleasure.
“Well, then, I think we are all satisfied that the arrangement is for the three of us to ride out together.”
“And Mr. Short to go along to show us the way?” queried Lulu.
“Yes; he has kindly offered to do so.”
“I do think he has the wrong name altogether,” she said laughingly, “he ought to be Mr. Long.”
“People hardly ever do get a name that fits,” remarked Max sagely; “Mr. Carpenter will be a shoemaker, like as not, or a merchant, and Mr. Shoemaker a hotel keeper, and so on.”
“Yes, that is rather apt to be the case,” assented his father, “but occasionally a man does follow the trade that fits his name; for instance, I used to know a Mr. Cobbler who made, and doubtless mended, shoes, too.”
“Max, don’t you remember the Browns that lived next door to Aunt Beulah?” asked Lulu.
“Yes; they were all very fair, and had light hair and eyes. And Tom White, who went to the same school I did, was dark-complexioned and had eyes as black as sloes.”
“Papa,” asked Lulu, “will the horses and ponies be here soon? Will we take our ride soon as we are done eating?”
“No, not quite; ‘after dinner rest awhile,’ is the rule, don’t you know? You may do that for fully half an hour while I write to your mamma.”
“Oh, mayn’t I write too? I’m not tired.”
“Certainly, if you wish to; you and Max are both at liberty to amuse yourselves during the interval before our ride. Well, what is it, daughter?” noticing a slight expression of trouble and perplexity in her speaking countenance.
“Only that sometimes I forget how to spell a word, papa, and what am I to do about it? At home you always tell me to look in the dictionary, but we haven’t any here.”
“How will your father answer for one?” he asked, with sportive look and tone.
“Oh, nicely, if you’ll let me use you,” she returned, laughing.
“I will when there’s no printed one at hand.”
“Thank you, sir; it will be a great deal less trouble than hunting for the word in a dictionary. But why don’t you let me use you always when you’re with me?”
“Because I think the spelling will be more likely to be impressed upon your memory by the trouble of having to search out the word; beside, I want my children to learn the lesson of self-help. We should never trouble others to do for us what we can do for ourselves.”
“I’ll try always to remember and act upon that, papa,” said Max. “Isn’t it the people that help themselves all they can, who are most apt to succeed in life?”
“Most assuredly, my boy,” replied the captain, as they left the table and retired to their own apartments.
“My letter is going to be to Gracie,” Max remarked as he took out his writing materials.
“Mine too,” said Lulu; “I’m going to tell her about our walk this morning, and our visit to the mine.”
“Just what I intended doing,” Max said.
“Suppose you both carry out your intentions, and then compare accounts, to see how they differ,” suggested their father. “Very likely each of you will tell something that the other will omit, and between the two letters Gracie will get a better idea of the little excursion than she could from either one alone.”
“And shall we show them to you, papa, when done?” asked Lulu.
“You may do exactly as you please in regard to that,” he answered.
All three pens were presently scratching away, the captain’s more rapidly, and with fewer pauses, than the other two. Presently he laid it down and began folding his sheet.
Then Max did the same, remarking to Lulu a trifle triumphantly, “I’m done first.”
“Why!” she exclaimed, “I haven’t finished telling about the mine, and have all the story about the walk home to tell yet.”
“Probably you are going more into detail than Max did,” their father said, “and that is just what Gracie will enjoy.”
At that instant Sandy appeared at the open door with the announcement that the horses had come and Mr. Short was waiting.
“And my letter isn’t finished!” exclaimed Lulu in dismay.
“No matter, daughter, it is not one requiring special haste, and you can finish it at your leisure, to-night or to-morrow; no, on Monday, to-morrow is Sunday,” the captain said. “Lay it in your writing-desk and put on your hat. We will not keep Mr. Short waiting any longer than necessary.”
She obeyed with cheerful alacrity, wondering aloud the while what her new pony would be like.
“Better tie that hat on tight, Lu,” Max said, in sportive tone; “he may rear and make it fall off, if he doesn’t throw you.”
“I’ll fasten it as tight as I can,” she said. “Oh, I wish I had Gracie or somebody to tie my veil for me!”
“You have two somebodies; isn’t that enough?” asked her father, stepping up behind her where she stood in front of the mirror, and tying it for her as deftly as if he had been a woman. “You will always find your father, and doubtless your brother also, ready to perform any such little service for you. As for the danger of your pony throwing you, I think you may dismiss any such fear. Mr. Short told me he had secured a safe one for you.”
“Oh, I’m glad of that, papa! I thought you wouldn’t let me try a dangerous one. And thank you for tying my veil. I’m quite ready now,” drawing on her gloves as she spoke.
“Well, captain, what do you think of them?” Mr. Short asked, with a look and tone that spoke confidence of a favorable judgment.
The captain and his children stood on the sidewalk in front of the boarding-house, ready to mount the steeds the agent had provided.
“They are far better in appearance, at least, than I had expected to see,” replied Captain Raymond pleasantly. “That horse is a Spanish Mexican, is it not?”
“Yes, sir; and what I call a grand piece of horseflesh for such work as you are likely to put them to. He’ll stand a longer, harder gallop than any other horse I ever rode.
“And those Indian ponies for the use of the young folks are hardy, strong, and well broken, and though not the handsomest steeds that ever were seen, will, I think, give good satisfaction to their riders.”
“I presume they will,” the captain said, lifting Lulu to her saddle and putting the bridle into her hands, while Max mounted his pony without assistance.
“You’ll ride beside me, won’t you, papa?” she asked, her tone expressing some slight timidity.
“Yes, dear child: so near that I can seize your pony’s bridle at any moment,” he replied. “But I think you need have no fear that he will misbehave with you on his back.”
His horse was close at hand, and with the concluding words of his sentence he vaulted into the saddle.
Away they went through the town, down the valley, passing near the mine they had visited in the morning, over the hills and far out on the grassy plains beyond.
Lulu found her pony manageable, so that soon she could partly forget him and give her attention to the country they were passing through, and the talk of her companions.
She and Max thought they would never forget that ride; it was so full of pleasure to them; the air was delightfully fresh and pure, the motion of their steeds rapid and easy, and everything they saw was interesting, if only because of its dissimilarity to whatever they had heretofore been accustomed to.
The principal topics of discourse between the two gentlemen were the natural resources of the territory and their development, the incoming tide of immigration, its character and probable influence upon the future of that region of country.
“You have some Mormon citizens?” the captain said, half in assertion, half inquiringly.
“Yes, sir; quite a good many, though they are decidedly in the minority. By the way, you Eastern folks have little idea, I take it, of the aggressive character of Mormonism, its enmity to the Federal Government, and far-reaching schemes to gain the balance of power in, not Utah alone, but as many more Territories and States as possible. Believe me, the Union has no bitterer foes, and none who need to be more vigilantly watched and guarded against.”
“I believe you,” the captain returned, with a look of grave concern; “and I think too that the Eastern people are at least beginning to awake to the danger. One object I had in view in coming out here was to see for myself the extent of the evil and the best remedy to be applied; also to decide the important question of my own duty in the matter.”
“They are mostly an ignorant set,” remarked Mr. Short; “the foreign portion know so little about our government that they believe the lying assertions of their hierarchy that it is the worst and most despotic in the world.”
“Whereas, it is the very best and freest!” exclaimed Max indignantly. “Isn’t it, papa?”
“Certainty, my boy,” returned the captain, smiling at the lad’s heat.
Mr. Short smiled too, and giving Max an approving look, remarked that he liked nothing better than to see boys full of patriotism.
“I wouldn’t be my father’s son if I didn’t love my country,” said Max.
“Like father, like son, eh?” laughed Short. “Well, it is very apt to be the case.”
“There’s a cattle ranch I must take you to see, Captain,” pointing in a southwesterly direction, where, far in the distance, might be dimly discerned a dwelling with out-buildings, and herds of cattle grazing near by. “It’s too far for us to go to-night, but some time next week, perhaps, it may suit your plans to ride out there, and I think you will find it pay to do so, as I understand you want to learn all about this region of country.”
The captain assented to the proposal, adding that he thought it was now time to turn their horses’ heads toward home.