“Oh, happy you! who, blest with present bliss,
See not with fatal prescience future tears,
Nor the dear moment of enjoyment miss
Through gloomy discontent or sullen fears.”
—MRS. TIGHE.
MORNING broke bright and clear. The little girls took a short drive before breakfast and a longer one soon after; the attractions of the ponies and phaeton quite eclipsing for the time those of dolls and baby-house.
Annis was taken to the stables to see Elsie’s other two ponies—very pretty creatures of larger size than the Shetlands—and a number of fine riding and carriage horses belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore. She was pleased with the sight and eager to learn to ride.
“I never was on horseback,” she said, “or ponyback either,” she added laughingly; “but I’ve always wanted to learn; more than ever since I saw you on your pony the other day, Elsie. It seemed so easy and so nice for you to ride him.”
Mr. Dinsmore, who was with them, offered to teach her, and to give the first lesson that afternoon.
“Thank you, Cousin Horace, I’ll be very glad to have you do so,” she said; “but you’ll be pretty sure to find me very awkward, and will have many a laugh at my expense, I dare say.”
“I hope we shall not show ourselves so rude as that,” returned Mr. Dinsmore pleasantly; “or be so unreasonable as to expect good horsemanship from you at the start. Elsie had been riding for several years when I first took her in hand, yet I found there were some things relating to the art that I could teach her.”
“And papa is such a nice teacher, Annis,” Elsie said, looking up at him with loving admiration; “he never calls you stupid and never gets the least bit out of patience, no matter how dull or awkward you are.”
“Elsie makes a good trumpeter, and without any instruction in that line,” was Mr. Dinsmore’s laughing comment on her remark.
The little girls had driven to the stables and the pretty phaeton stood before the door with the ponies still attached.
“Papa,” said Elsie, “I have taken Annis all round the grounds twice, may we go outside now?”
“Yes, if you will accept of my escort, but not otherwise.”
“Oh, we’ll be only too glad, papa!” was Elsie’s eager rejoinder; and turning to a servant, Mr. Dinsmore bade him saddle a horse for him to ride.
They drove several miles, Mr. Dinsmore keeping by the side of the phaeton all the way and making himself extremely pleasant and entertaining.
When they came in sight of the house again a carriage stood before the front entrance.
“Ah! I thought we should have callers from Roselands to-day,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore.
“And from Ion too, papa,” said Elsie as a second carriage came into view.
“Yes, I see. Mrs. Travilla must be here; for her son never comes in that when alone.”
The Ion carriage had arrived first. It was more than an hour now since Mildred had been summoned to the drawing-room to meet the elderly lady she had learned to love so dearly in her former visit to this region of country.
They met in a close, tender embrace, followed by a long talk seated side by side and hand in hand on a sofa; while Rose entertained Mr. Travilla on the farther side of the spacious apartment.
Then Dr. Landreth came in from a walk, was greeted as an old friend, and the babies were brought from the nursery to be duly admired and caressed.
These last were still engrossing the attention of their elders when Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, from Roselands, and Miss Adelaide were announced.
Mrs. Dinsmore, as richly and gayly dressed as of yore, but looking still more faded and worn, especially in contrast to the fresh young beauty of her daughter, greeted Mildred with languid affection, nodded to the other occupants of the room, and sank into the depths of an easy-chair as if completely exhausted by the unusual exertion.
Mr. Dinsmore’s greeting was warm and hearty. “Glad, very glad to see you, Milly, my dear. Young and fresh still—as why shouldn’t you be?—but growing more like your mother; and that’s the highest compliment I could pay you or any one.”
“Yes,” sneered the lady in the easy-chair, “Mr. Dinsmore has an eye for the charms of every woman except his wife.”
But no one heeded or seemed to hear the remark.
Mildred had taken the hand of the younger lady, saying, as she gazed with affectionate admiration into the blooming face, “And this is Adelaide? You were but a child when I saw you last—eight years ago.”
“And now I am very nearly as old as my Sister Rose, who is already a wife and mother,” was the smiling rejoinder.
“Rose must have married very young,” said Mildred, looking admiringly at her cousin’s wife.
“My mother thought so,” said Rose playfully, “and for Adelaide’s sake I shall not deny it.”
At this moment her husband came in with the two little girls; fresh greetings had to be exchanged and Annis introduced to those present who had never seen her before.
Elsie glanced about the room and felt a sense of relief in perceiving that Enna was not there.
Mildred noticed that while Mr. and Mrs. Travilla and Adelaide all greeted the little girl with affectionate warmth, her grandfather and his wife returned her respectful salutation, the one with cool indifference, the other with scarcely concealed aversion.
Her father saw it too; his cheek flushed, his eye flashed, and beckoning Elsie to his side, he put his arm about her, and held her there, now and then caressing her hair and cheek with his other hand while he conversed with his friends.
“Horace,” his stepmother remarked in a tone of impatience, when at length a pause in the conversation afforded an opportunity, “it is perfectly absurd!—the way you have of petting and fondling that great girl as if she were nothing but a baby!”
“Well, madam,” he returned with a slight smile, “so long as it pleases her and myself I cannot see that any one else need object. When you are tired of it, Elsie,” he added, gazing fondly down into the sweet little face now blushing rosy red and half hidden on his shoulder, “I shall stop.”
“I’m not tired! I never shall be tired of it, papa!” she answered with impulsive warmth; “but,” and her voice fell almost to a whisper, “mayn’t Annis and I run away now for a little while?”
“Yes,” he said, releasing her, and with a sign to Annis, who rose and followed with joyful alacrity, she hastened from the room.
The two were presently busied again with the dolls and their adornments, chatting and laughing gayly together as they worked.
“Annis, don’t you think I have just the nicest, kindest father in the world?” asked Elsie.
“Except mine; he is just as good and kind to me.”
“Oh, yes, of course! I forgot Uncle Stuart.”
“I don’t—” began Annis, then checked herself and began anew. “Does Cousin Horace never call Aunt Dinsmore mother?”
“No,” Elsie said, with a look that seemed to say such an idea had never before occurred to her; “she isn’t his mother.”
“Just as much as Cousin Rose is yours,” returned Annis.
“But mamma is so sweet and kind; and—”
“And Aunt Dinsmore isn’t?” laughed Annis. “I don’t think I’d want to call her mother myself or grandmother either.”
“I don’t believe she will ever let anybody call her grandma,” said Elsie.
“Cousin Adelaide’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yes, indeed! she was, oh so kind and good to me once when I was very sick and papa away! I love her best of all my aunts, Lora next.”
Just then there was a tap at the door and Adelaide came in. “Well, little ones,” she said, in a lively tone. “I have run away from the older people to see what mischief you two are at. Making doll clothes, hey? If I had my thimble here I’d help. As it is I must try to be content to look on and perhaps favor you with a valuable suggestion now and then,” she went on, taking satisfied possession of an easy-chair. “We are all going to stay for dinner, by urgent request of our host and hostess.”
“O Aunt Adie, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Elsie, “for I want you to see my new ponies and phaeton.”
“Yes, Rose told me about them. I shall expect an invitation to drive with you some day. Annis, your younger cousins—Louise, Lora, Walter, and Enna—are expecting the pleasure of calling upon you this afternoon. Lessons prevented this morning. By the way, Elsie, what has become of yours?”
“Papa has given me a holiday for the rest of this week.”
“How he pets you!”
“Yes, auntie; but am I not kept to lessons more steadily than Enna is?”
“Yes; a good deal more. I don’t think he spoils you with all his petting.”
A bell rang, and Elsie, putting down her work, said, “It’s time to dress for dinner, Annis. Aunt Adie will excuse us.”
“I’ll go with you,” Adelaide said, following them into the dressing-room. “I want to see what you have that is new and pretty, Elsie; your papa is always buying you something.”
“Yes; and tell me what to wear, auntie. Papa often does, but he didn’t to-day.”
Adelaide, going to a wardrobe, took down one beautiful dress after another, and finally selected a pale blue of some sort of silk and wool material, very soft and fine, delicately embroidered and edged with rich lace in neck and sleeves.
“There, that must be very becoming I know, though I have never seen you in it,” she said.
“Dat’s so, Miss Adelaide, my chile look mighty sweet in dat dress,” remarked Aunt Chloe, taking it from her hand and hastening to array her nursling in it, while Adelaide, opening a bureau-drawer, then a jewel-case, took from the former a handsome sash, matching the dress in color, and from the latter pearl necklace and bracelets, saying, “These will go nicely with it.”
“Oh, how lovely!” cried Annis, hurrying in from her room. “Cousin Adie, will you fasten my dress, please? I can do everything else for myself, but not that very well.”
“Yes, dear; excuse my neglect in not offering you help with your toilet,” Adelaide answered. “How pretty and becoming this peach-blossom dress is! but, like Elsie, you have a complexion which everything suits.”
“Hers is much prettier than mine, though,” was the modest rejoinder.
Adelaide thought as she glanced from one to the other, that it would be difficult to find anywhere two more attractive-looking children.
The impromptu dinner party seemed quite a grand affair to little home-bred Annis; yet, seated between Elsie and Mr. Travilla, who was a general favorite with little girls, she felt but slight embarrassment, and really enjoyed herself very much.
She and Elsie returned with the older people to the drawing-room, and were chatting together beside a front window when a carriage drove up and two very stylishly-dressed young ladies alighted, followed by a little girl and boy.
“Are they the cousins from Roselands?” Annis asked.
“Yes,” Elsie said. “Oh, I hope they won’t want to take you away from me! I heard grandpa say to Cousin Milly that of course you must all spend part of your time at Roselands.”
“I don’t want to,” whispered Annis, as the drawing-room door was thrown open and the new arrivals were announced.
The greetings and introductions over, Lora seated herself near her younger cousin and niece and opened a conversation, questioning Annis about her journey and the family at home, and expressing the hope of soon seeing her at Roselands.
Then Walter and Enna came up, looking eager and excited, and asking both together to be shown the new phaeton and ponies.
“How did you know of them?” asked Elsie.
“How shouldn’t we know when the servants are going back and forth all the time?” returned Walter. “I say, Elsie, have them harnessed up now and let me drive them. Won’t you?”
“Ask papa about it, Walter; he is the one to decide.”
“No; you ask him; he’ll maybe say no to me, but he won’t to you.”
“I don’t know,” Elsie returned with a slight smile, “he has often said it to me when he didn’t approve of my wishes; but I’ll ask him.” And she went at once to him with the request, where he sat on the other side of the room talking with Mrs. Travilla and Cousin Mildred.
“Walter has learned how to drive, and I think may be trusted if he promises to be gentle with the ponies, and not use a whip,” Mr. Dinsmore answered. “But they are yours, daughter, and you yourself shall decide whether you will lend them to him or not.”
“Thank you, papa,” she said, and went slowly back.
“Well, what did he say?” asked Walter.
“That I might decide it myself. Walter, will you promise to be kind and gentle and not touch my ponies with a whip?”
“Pshaw! what a question! But I promise. How long can I have them?”
“For half an hour, and to drive only about the grounds,” said Mr. Dinsmore, coming up to the little group. “I don’t want them tired, for I have promised to give a certain young lady a riding lesson with one of them this afternoon.”
“Half an hour! that’s no time at all!” pouted Enna.
“What difference does it make to you?” asked Mr. Dinsmore.
“Why, I’m to go with him, of course!”
“Wouldn’t it be more polite to let Annis go? Annis, you needn’t be afraid to trust to Walter’s driving.”
“Oh, no, Cousin Horace! but as I have been twice already in the phaeton, I should prefer to have Enna go this time,” Annis answered with hearty entreaty.
“They are at the door now; I ordered them some time ago, knowing that some of you would like to take a drive,” Mr. Dinsmore said.
Walter and Enna hurried from the room without waiting—the one to urge Annis to go, or the other to thank her for giving up in her favor.
When they came back they did not look as if they had enjoyed themselves greatly. Enna was pouting and Walter’s face was flushed and angry.
“I’ll not take her again,” he said aside to Elsie; “she did nothing but abuse me all the way because I wouldn’t let her drive; and three or four times she tried to jerk the reins out of my hands.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Elsie, “I’m so glad it was not I who was driving!”
“Why?”
“Because I should have had to tell papa all about it.”
“You don’t tell tales!” exclaimed Walter, with a look of surprise.
“I dislike to very much indeed!” she answered, her cheeks growing hot, “but papa has ordered me to tell him whenever Enna tries to domineer over me, and you know I have to obey him.”
“Yes, that is quite true. Horace is one of the sort that won’t let you off any way at all. It’s hard on you too; but I’ll tell you what, I’ll warn Miss Enna, and maybe it’ll make her behave herself when she’s with you.”