“Wake, slumberer! morning’s golden hours
Are speeding fast away;
The sun has waked the opening flowers,
To greet the new-born day.”
—EPES SARGENT.
ELSIE stirred in her sleep, half dreamily conscious that it was near her usual hour for rising; then some one bent over her and a kiss on the lips awoke her fully.
“Papa!” she cried softly, looking up into his face with her now wide-open beautiful eyes, then putting her arm round his neck she drew him down closer and returned his caress, with a whispered “Good-morning, my own dear papa.”
“Good-morning, my darling,” he said; “do you feel well and bright and as if a gallop before breakfast with your father would be enjoyable?”
“Oh, yes, yes, indeed, papa!” she cried, starting up, with a face full of delight.
“Well, then, get up at once; let Aunt Chloe dress you in your riding-habit, and give you a glass of good rich milk, and we will go. Annis seems to be still sleeping. Don’t make any noise to disturb her, and after breakfast you and she can take a short drive in the phaeton.”
“I wish mamma was going with us,” Elsie said, as her father assisted her to mount her pony.
“It would be very pleasant to have her company,” he answered, “but she prefers another nap, having lost sleep during the night by the babe’s wakefulness.”
“Annis is getting another nap, too,” Elsie remarked. “I peeped in at her just before I left my rooms.”
“Ah! then I hope she will not miss you.”
“Oh, let us have a brisk ride, won’t you, papa?” she asked as they passed out of the grounds into the highway.
“I see no objection,” he returned, smiling indulgently upon her; and away they flew.
Elsie had not been long gone when Annis awoke. She lay still for a little thinking. She remembered that to-day she was to begin lessons with her Cousin Horace, and the prospect was not altogether pleasant; she feared he would think her a dull scholar and not so far advanced in her studies as she ought to be.
Then it occurred to her that it was time to get up. The fire had been attended to and the room was very pleasantly warm. She threw back the covers and stepped out upon the thick soft carpet.
“Ah, is you gettin’ up, honey?” asked Aunt Chloe, peering in at the half-open door. “Ise done dressin’ my chile, and now I kin help you ef yous willin’.”
“Thank you, auntie, I’d be very glad to have you do up my hair and hook my dress. But where is Elsie? It is so quiet in there that I thought she was still asleep.”
“Yah, yah!” laughed the old nurse. “Miss Elsie, she’s done gone ridin’ wid Massa Horace.”
“Why, dear me! I must be shamefully late!” exclaimed Annis in dismay, and beginning her toilet in great haste.
“No, missy, yous’ got plenty time, dey’s early; dat’s all.”
Much relieved by the assurance, Annis went on with her dressing rather more leisurely.
She had finished, and was sitting in an easy chair beside the fire, reading her Bible, when Elsie returned from her gallop, and came in holding up the skirt of her habit with one hand and carrying in the other a little gold-mounted riding-whip. She was radiant with health and happiness, her eyes shining and a lovely color in her cheeks.
“Good morning, Annis dear,” she said, running to her cousin with an offered kiss. “Please excuse me for leaving you, but you seemed to be having a very nice nap, and papa wanted me to take a short ride with him before breakfast.”
“I don’t see any call for excuse,” returned Annis, with perfect good humor. “I’m glad you went; for I’m sure it has done you good,” she added, gazing admiringly into the sweet, bright face. “How beautiful you are, Elsie!”
“Ah, don’t flatter me and make me vain,” Elsie said with sudden gravity. “But you are reading and I am interrupting you.”
“I can finish while you change your dress,” said Annis.
“And have my morning reading with papa,” added Elsie, hurrying into her dressing-room. “Please, mammy, make me ready for breakfast as fast as you can, or I shall not have much time with papa,” she said to Aunt Chloe, who was there in waiting with a pretty morning dress and sash laid out in readiness.
“Yes, honey darlin’, Ise hab you ready in less dan no time,” she responded, beginning to remove the riding hat and habit as she spoke.
Her toilet complete, Elsie hastened, Bible in hand, to her father’s study. She found him seated with his Bible open before him.
“I hope I have not kept you waiting long, papa,” she said, taking her accustomed seat upon his knee.
“No, daughter, you have been very prompt,” he replied, tenderly enfolding her with his arm. “Your ride has not wearied you?”
“Oh, no, sir. I am not tired at all.”
They read a few verses, talked together of the truth taught in them, then knelt while Mr. Dinsmore offered a short prayer. After that she resumed her seat upon his knee until the call to breakfast.
“You have not forgotten that lessons are to be begun again to-day?” he said interrogatively, taking the small white hands in his and softly patting and stroking them as he spoke.
“No, sir, and I intend to try to be very industrious, to make up for lost time.”
“That is right, and I don’t expect to hear a word of grumbling over the Latin lesson.”
“Papa,” she exclaimed energetically, “if you do I ought to be punished!”
“In what way?” he asked with unmoved gravity, though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
“Ah, that of course would be for you to decide, papa,” she said, giving him a hug and kiss.
“Well, I advise you not to give me the opportunity. Have you thought what you would like to send as Christmas gifts to your cousins at Pleasant Plains?”
“No, sir.”
“Better talk it over with mamma.”
“And you, papa. I do think you always know better how to please with presents than anybody else.”
“Oh, my child,” he said, laughing, “if I swallowed all your loving flattery, what a conceited creature I should become! Perhaps you can, in talking with Mildred and Annis, get an idea of what would best please the others. Ah! there is the call to breakfast;” and gently putting her off his knee, he rose, took her hand in his, and led her to the breakfast-room.
As soon as the meal and family worship were over, the little girls had their drive. Annis enjoyed it exceedingly, and Elsie nearly as much.
By the time they had returned and taken off their wraps the hour for study had arrived.
Elsie took out her books, showed Annis her lessons for the day, and seating themselves side by side, they conned their tasks together.
They were about equally advanced in their studies and could work together to advantage, as Mr. Dinsmore discovered on hearing the recitations and examining Annis as to her acquirements.
“Papa,” said Elsie, “I think it very nice and enjoyable to have company in studying and reciting, and I guess I shall learn all the faster for it.”
“I hope so, daughter, but I do not like that use of the word guess—in the sense of expect, think, suppose, presume, conjecture, believe. Don’t use it in that way again.”
“I’m afraid she has learned it from me, Cousin Horace,” Annis said ingenuously. “It’s a bad habit of mine that father and mother both dislike. I have tried to break myself of it, and I mean to try harder after this.”
“I’ll try to remember not to use it any more, papa,” said Elsie. “But please tell me is it quite incorrect or only inelegant?”
“It is quite incorrect when one guesses about things well known; it is only inelegant when used in the sense of conjecture, divine, surmise, suppose, believe, think concerning something we do not know; any one of these words seems to me preferable. The use of guess in those senses is often spoken of as an Americanism, but unjustly, as it has been so used by Milton, Locke, Shakespeare, and other prominent English writers.”
“I am glad to know that,” said Annis. “Cousin Horace, I think I shall like you as a tutor very much indeed.”
“You don’t guess so?” he returned with a smile. “Well, what do you say to taking a riding lesson now?”
“Oh, that I should like it greatly; if it will not trouble you or take too much of your time.”
“No; I can spare time for that, and also for a walk with my two pupils,” he said, laying a hand caressingly on Elsie’s head as she stood at his side. “How soon can you be ready?”
“Oh, directly, papa,” was Elsie’s answer. Annis’s, “In two minutes, cousin,” and they ran gayly from the room.
“I haven’t seen Milly since breakfast!” exclaimed Annis, tripping along by Mr. Dinsmore’s side. “I wonder if she went into the city to shop?”
“No,” he answered, “she and my wife were returning their calls this morning. I was invited to accompany them, and should have enjoyed doing so had not business detained me at home.”
“O papa, what a pity!” said Elsie. “Couldn’t you have heard our lessons this afternoon?”
“That would have been possible, but not best, I thought; beside, I had other matters, connected with the work on the plantation, claiming my attention. Is Mildred wanting to go to the city to shop, Annis?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the little girl, her whole face lighting up with pleasure; “we are going to make up a Christmas box for the folks at home, and Milly says it must start soon to get there in time; the journey is so long, you know. We bought some things in Philadelphia, but hadn’t time to buy all we wanted.”
“May I ask what sort of things they were?” he queried in a playful tone.
“Oh, yes, indeed, Cousin Horace. We bought gloves, handkerchiefs, ribbons and laces for mother and the girls, neckties and handkerchiefs for the boys and father, and some beautiful coral and gold armlets for little Stuart Ormsby—Zillah’s baby, you know—and some lovely fine white material for dresses for him; and beautiful needlework to trim them with.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Mr. Dinsmore said; “and I should be very glad to learn of some other things you and Mildred think would please them, for Elsie and I must beg leave to have a share in this pleasant business. Must we not, daughter?”
“Oh, yes, indeed,” she cried with enthusiasm; “it will be a very great pleasure! I want to remember each one with some nice gift.”
“You are both very kind,” Annis answered with a pleased look. “We all think at home there never were such kind relations as our Dinsmore uncle and cousins.”
“My father is the soul of generosity,” Mr. Dinsmore remarked. “But those to whom God has entrusted such abundant means as he has to Elsie and myself, so that giving does not involve much, if any self-denial, do not deserve any great amount of credit for it; especially when they find it the most enjoyable way of using their money.”
Walk and riding lesson over, they returned to the house.
It was time to dress for dinner. That attended to, the little girls sought the ladies in Mrs. Dinsmore’s boudoir, where they sat in dinner dress but busied with their fancy work.
The gentlemen were there too, chatting with their wives and fondling their baby boys.
The moment little Horace caught sight of his sister he held out his arms to her with a crow of delight, for he was already very fond of her.
Hastening to her father’s side, “O papa!” she said in her most coaxing tones, “mayn’t I take him?”
“Sit down in that low chair, and I will put him on your lap,” he answered.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” she said, gladly complying with the condition.
“Well, Annis,” said the doctor, “I hear you are in a fair way to become an accomplished horsewoman.”
“In as fair a way as having the best of teachers can make me.”
“And a good little pony to learn on,” added Elsie.
“Yes, indeed,” assented Annis. “Mildred,” turning to her sister, “you didn’t go shopping to-day?”
“No, we thought best to pay our calls first, and that took all the morning. We hope, though, to shop to-morrow.”
“Cousin Horace, will you allow your pupils to have a share in the shopping?” asked Annis half laughingly, turning to Mr. Dinsmore as she spoke.
“If the lessons have first been recited correctly,” he replied. “Mildred, will you allow me a share in that shopping?”
“Your company is always agreeable, Cousin Horace.”
“But he means more than that,” Annis said gleefully; “he and Elsie want to buy things for our box too.”
“And so you told them about it? though I begged you not to do so,” Mildred returned, reproachfully.
“You are not to blame her,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore, “it was no fault of hers. I wormed it out of her. But I don’t see, Milly, why you should wish to deprive us of the pleasure of taking part in such work?”
“Just because you and Elsie are both too generous, and must have plenty of other uses for your money.”
“My dear little lady,” he answered smilingly, “are not we the best judges of that?”
“Come, Milly, be generous and don’t try to keep your pleasure all to yourself,” her husband said, standing by her side and looking down at her with laughing, admiring eyes.
“I trust you don’t really think I need that admonition, my dear,” she responded, lifting to his face eyes brimful of confiding affection.