The three carriages conveying the large party from the old manor house rolled on through the familiar woods, so often traversed by the young people of the household in going to and fro between Mondreer and Greenbushes.
In the foremost carriage rode Mr. and Mrs. Force, Wynnette and Elva.
In the second, Odalite and Le.
In the third, Dickon and Gipsy, the valet and lady’s maid, in charge of all the lighter luggage.
Joshua, the dog, raced on before in the highest state of ecstasy, but occasionally raced back again, as if to be sure that his large family were following him safely without disappearing in the woods to the right or the left.
Mr. Force knew perfectly well that that dog was going to give him more trouble and embarrassment on land and sea than all his party twice told; that it would be the unfailing cause of rows and rumpuses, on trains and boats, and that might end in Joshua being cast off, or lost, or killed.
But what could he do?
Talk of your henpecked husband, indeed! He is not half so common, or half so helpless, as your chickpecked father.
Wynnette had promised Joshua that he should never be left behind again, and she said that it would be base to deceive and betray a poor dog. Wynnette said the dog must come, and he came.
When they came in sight of Chincapin Creek little Elva put her head out of the window and gazed, and continued to gaze, fondly, if silently, on the spot so full of pleasant, childish memories, until they had crossed the bridge, and left the place behind. Then, with a little, involuntary sigh, she drew in her head and sat back in her seat.
Wynnette mocked her.
“Why don’t you say, ‘Adieu, blest scenes of my innocent infancy! Virtue and simplicity,’ and so on and so on!”
“Oh, Wynnette! How can you?” exclaimed Elva, almost in tears.
“I can’t! I never could! It isn’t in my line! But why don’t you?” mocked the girl, raising her black eyebrows.
They reached the station in full time, and had twenty minutes to wait. Mr. Force had engaged a whole compartment for his party by telegraph the day before.
In the waiting room they found all the Grandieres, all the Elks, and little Rosemary Hedge, with her luggage.
There followed an animating scene—a little laughing, more crying and much talking.
Mrs. Hedge implored Mrs. Force to be a mother to her fatherless child, and to bring her back safe and well at the end of the year.
Mrs. Force promised all that a woman could, under the circumstances.
And Roland Bayard, who sat beside little Rosemary holding her hand in his, spoke up and said:
“Dear Mrs. Hedge, don’t grieve about the little maiden. If, at any time, you should be pining to have her back, you can let me know and I will just run over and fetch her.”
There was something very comforting in this promise, because Mrs. Hedge knew that Roland Bayard meant what he said; and very cheering in the manner in which he put it—“Just run over and fetch her!” Why, it sounded like such a mere trifle to cross the ocean, in these days of steam. But Roland was still talking.
“And, Rosemary, if you get homesick before our friends are ready to return, write to me, darling, and I’ll come and fetch you back.”
“Oh, Mr. Bayard! you don’t know how you have consoled me!” said Mrs. Hedge, wiping her eyes.
“I will write to you every week, Roland. And I will keep a journal for you, and send it in monthly parts, so that you may seem to be traveling with us! Oh, how I wish you were!” sighed Rosemary.
“Do you, darling? Well, perhaps you may see me sooner than you expect,” replied Roland, mysteriously.
“Oh! oh! will you be coming over? Does the Kitty ever go to England?”
“I don’t know, dear; but if the Kitty don’t, there will be one or two other little craft crossing—perhaps. Let us live in hope.”
While Rosemary and Roland chatted together, Mrs. Hedge turned to Mrs. Force, saying:
“Oh, you happy woman! You are going to Europe with all you love at your side—husband, children and nephew! While I stay home, widowed, practically childless and alone! Talk of the compensations of life! There is no compensation in mine.”
“‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness!’” murmured Elfrida Force to herself.
“Mother! Mother! I won’t go! I won’t leave you!” cried Rosemary, jumping up and throwing herself into the widow’s arms.
“Hush, my child, hush! I wish you to go, and you must do so. It is for your own profit and instruction,” replied Mrs. Hedge.
“Then, my own dear mother, won’t you just think that I have only gone back to school in Washington, and that I shall be home as usual to spend the Christmas holidays? Mr. Force expects to bring us all home in December.”
“Yes, yes, I shall be comforted, child,” replied the widow, and she held her daughter on her lap, against her bosom, with Rosemary’s arms clasped around her neck, until they heard the sound of the approaching train.
The train never stopped longer than three minutes at this station.
All arose to bid their last good-bys.
Among the rest, Joshua came out from behind Wynnette’s skirts, and shook himself, and very nearly shook the building. All alert was he to see that his eccentric family did not escape him again.
“Gracious goodness, Mr. Force! Here is that dog followed you all the way from Mondreer! What’s to be done with him? Shall I take him home? Will he follow me?” inquired Sam Grandiere, eager to be useful.
“He is to go abroad with us,” groaned the squire, who was hastily shaking hands right and left with the friends who had come to see him and his family off.
“But will they allow——”
There was no time to finish his question, for—
“Good-by, Sam,” said Wynnette, holding out her hand. “Remember the advice I gave you about taking a course at Charlotte Hall College.”
“I will, Wynnette, I will!” earnestly answered the young fellow, with tears brimming in his honest blue eyes.
“You will write to me as often as you can, and I will answer every one of your letters. And—listen here, Sam,” she added, in a whisper that the long-legged boy had to stoop to catch, “I won’t marry a royal duke if I can resist the temptation! Good-by.”
The whole party hurried out of the building to the platform, where the train had just stopped, with its puffing and blowing engine.
Mr. Force showed his tickets, and the party were conducted to their car. In the confusion of a final leave-taking, then and there, between two such large parties, Joshua, who did not at all like the looks of things in general, with the long train of cars, the panting engine, the steam, the smoke, the crowd, the baggage heavers, the excitement, and the general “hullabuloo,” and who feared that he might lose sight of his family in this crash of worlds, managed to slip into the car, between Wynnette’s duster and Gipsy’s arms full of shawls, and to ensconce himself under the broad lounge in the compartment.
The last kisses were given, the last “God bless you” spoken, and the travelers were seated in their compartment not ten seconds before the train started.
“Now!” exclaimed Wynnette, triumphantly. “Have we had the least trouble with Joshua?”
“Not yet,” curtly replied her father. “Where is he?”
“Under the sofa—and Rosemary, Elva and myself, by sitting here, hide him from view.”
“Very well. Keep him quiet, if you can.”
The train was rushing on at express speed, when the conductor came along to collect the tickets. He entered their compartment. Joshua considered his appearance an unwarrantable intrusion, and told him so in a low, thunderous growl.
“What’s that?” suddenly demanded the conductor, looking around.
“Urr-rr-rr-rr,” remarked Joshua.
“It is a valuable dog of ours. I am quite willing to pay his fare,” replied Mr. Force, taking out his pocketbook.
“He can’t be allowed in the passenger car, sir,” replied the conductor.
“Not in the compartment that we have taken for our own convenience, and where he cannot possibly annoy anybody else?”
“No, sir; it is against the rules.”
“Oh, Mr. Conductor! please! please! He is such a good dog, and we love him so much! Indeed, he will not bite when he knows you don’t mean to hurt us! Please, Mr. Conductor, let him stay!” pleaded Elva.
“’Gainst the rules, miss. Very sorry.”
“Papa, tip that fellow with a V, and stop this row!—I mean, papa, pray offer this officer the consideration of a five-dollar note, and conclude this controversy.”
Of course, it was Wynnette who uttered this insolence.
“Hush, my dear, hush! This is quite inadmissible. The conductor must do his duty.”
“If he gets put off the train I’ll go, too! He’ll never find his way home!” said Wynnette.
Elva began to cry.
The conductor was in a hurry.
“If this young gentleman will bring the dog after me to the freight car, the baggage master will take charge of him for a trifle,” suggested the conductor, who was more moved to pity by Elva’s tears than to anger by Wynnette’s insolence.
“Go, Le,” said Mr. Force, opening his pocketbook and taking from it a note, which he put into the midshipman’s hands. “Give this to the man, and tell him if he will take care of the dog he shall have another at the end of this journey.”
“And introduce Joshua to the baggage master, and tell him what a cultivated and gentlemanly dog he is! And don’t you leave them together until you are sure that they are good friends! Do you hear me, Leonidas Force?”
“All right, Wynnette,” said good-humored Le, taking Joshua by the collar and trying to pull him from under the sofa.
But the dog declined to leave his retreat. He did not recognize Mr. Midshipman Force as his master.
“Bother! I shall have to take him myself. You can come with us if you like, Le; but you needn’t if you don’t,” said Wynnette. And she whistled for the dog, who immediately came out and put his gray paws upon her lap.
She arose and called him to follow her. Le and the conductor escorted her.
“I know we are going to have no end of trouble with that dog,” said Mr. Force.
“Oh, I think not, when we learn how to manage. We must always give him in charge of the baggage master at the start,” replied Mrs. Force.
Wynnette and Le were gone nearly an hour. At last they returned.
“What kept you so long? Did the dog prove intractable, or the baggage master unaccommodating?” inquired Odalite of Le.
“Not at all!” exclaimed Wynnette, answering for her companion. “That baggage man’s a good sort. He and Joshua became pals at once. He loves dogs, and dogs love him. As soon as ever I presented Joshua to him he held out his hand, and said:
“‘Hello, old pard! how are you? Shall we be pals?’ or words to that effect. And said Joshua slapped his paw into the open palm, and—
“‘It’s a whack!’ or barks to the same purpose.”
“But what kept you so long? What were you doing all that time?”
“Talking to the baggage master. I do like to talk to real men much better than to the curled and scented la-da-da things we meet in society. His name is Kirby. He came from Lancashire, England, where he has an old father living, to whom he sends a part of his wages every month. He is forty-five years old, and has been married twenty years, and has eleven children, the oldest eighteen and the youngest one. I told him we were going to Lancashire, and would take anything he might like to send to his dad.”
“But, my dear, Lancashire is a large county, and we may not be anywhere near his native place.”
“We could make a point of going there to oblige such a man as he is, papa. Think of his bringing up a large family and helping his old father, too, on such small wages as he must get. Oh, he is a downright real man. And, indeed, I have a warm place in my heart for real men.”
“That is why you like Sa——”
“Shut up, Rosemary!”
And Rosemary obeyed.
The remainder of the journey was made without disturbance.
They reached Washington about 3 P.M., dined and rested for an hour at their favorite hotel, and took the afternoon train to New York, where they arrived very late at night.
They had no more trouble with the dog, now that they knew how to manage.
Mr. Force went down to the steamer to see about the passage of the animal, and found that there was a place in the steerage of the great ship where the creature could be accommodated.
Ah, what a chickpecked father that man was!
“If they had wanted to fetch a favorite cow, I should have been obliged to bring her somehow,” he said to himself.
On the next morning Mr. Force took his family to Central Park and to the menagerie.
In the evening he took them to the opera to hear Kellogg. That was their last night in the city.