[Illustration: THE STAIRCASE WINDOW. Candace settled herself for a long, comfortable reading beforebreakfast. PAGE 65. ] A LITTLE COUNTRY GIRL. BY SUSAN COOLIDGE, AUTHOR OF "THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN, " "WHAT KATY DID, " "A GUERNSEY LILY, " ETC. * * * * * BOSTON: ROBERTS BROTHERS. 1895. _Copyright, 1885_, BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. University Press: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. CONTENTS. Chapter Page I. ON THE "EOLUS" 7 II. THE FIRST EVENING 33 III. A WALK ON THE CLIFFS 61 IV. THE MANUAL OF PERFECT GENTILITY 90 V. DOWN TO BEAVER TAIL 118 VI. A TALK ABOUT SHYNESS 149 VII. TWO PICNICS 175 VIII. BRIC-A-BRAC 204 IX. PERPLEXED 229 X. A WORD FITLY SPOKEN 248 XI. FIVE AND ONE MAKE SIX 265 A LITTLE COUNTRY GIRL. CHAPTER I. ON THE "EOLUS. " IT was on one of the cool, brilliant days which early June brings to theNarragansett country, that the steamer "Eolus" pushed out from WickfordPier on her afternoon trip to Newport. The sky was of a beautifultranslucent blue; the sunshine had a silvery rather than a goldenradiance. A sea-wind blew up the Western Passage, so cool as to make thepassengers on the upper deck glad to draw their wraps about them. Thelow line of the mainland beyond Conanicut and down to Beaver Tailglittered with a sort of clear-cut radiance, and seemed lifted a littleabove the water. Candace Arden heard the Captain say that he judged, from the look of things, that there was going to be a change of weatherbefore long. Captain Peleg King was a great favorite on his line of travel. He had apleasant, shrewd face, grizzled hair, a spare, active figure; and heseemed to notice every one of his passengers and to take an interest inthem. "Going down to Newport, Miss?" he said to Candace, after giving her oneor two quick looks. The question was superfluous, for the "Eolus" went nowhere else exceptto Newport; but it was well-meant, for the Captain thought that Candaceseemed lonely and ill at ease, and he wished to cheer her. "Yes, sir, " she answered, shyly. "Your folks there for the summer?" he went on. "No, sir; I'm going to stay with my cousin Mrs. Gray. " "Mrs. Courtenay Gray you mean, I guess. Well, it's queer, but I sort erthought that you favored her a little. She's down early this year. Ifetched her and the family across on my evening trip more'n two weeksago. Mrs. Gray's a mighty nice lady; I'm always pleased when she comesaboard. Wouldn't you like to take a seat in the wheel-house, Miss? Thewind's blowing pretty fresh. " Candace was not aware that this was a distinguishing attention which theCaptain did not pay everybody, and which she owed partly to herconnection with Mrs. Gray and partly to her solitary look, which hadtouched Captain Peleg's benevolent heart. He had a girl of his own "overto Wickford, " who was about the same age; and it made him "kind oftender" toward other girls who didn't seem to have any one to look afterthem. But the wind _was_ fresh, and it was pleasant to be spoken to andnoticed by some one on this, the first long journey of her short life;so she thankfully accepted the Captain's invitation, and let him escorther along the deck, and assist her to mount the two steps which led intothe wheel-house. It was rather a pleasant-looking place in which she found herself. Threesides of the little enclosure were lined with windows, through which thegreen shores, which seemed to be rapidly drifting past them, could beseen. The fourth side was filled with a long cushioned bench. In themiddle of the glassed front was the big brass wheel, shining with polishand friction, and revolving artistically in the hands of its steersman, who kept his eye fixed alternately on the water and on his compass. There seemed to be no regulation against speaking to this "man at thewheel, " or if there were, it was not strictly regarded; for two youngladies, who were already ensconced in one corner of the long seat, wereplying him with all manner of questions. They were rather pretty girls of that hard modern type which carries theair of knowing everything worth the knowing, having a right toeverything worth the having, and being fully determined to claim thatright to its fullest extent. As Candace entered, they favored her withone rapid, scrutinizing glance that took in every detail of her apparel, from the goat-skin boots which were too large for her feet to the roundhat whose every bow bore witness to a country milliner, and after thatthey noticed her no more. She, for her part, only too glad to be left unnoticed, looked shyly outof the corners of her eyes at them. They seemed to her inexpressiblystylish; for their tailor-made suits, though almost as plain as her owndress and jacket of blue alpaca, had that perfect fit and finish whichmakes the simplest dress seem all that can be desired. There was aknowing look to each little detail, from the slender silver bangleswhich appeared beneath the loose wrinkled wrists of their very longgloves to the tortoise-shell pins with which their hats were fastened tothe tightly braided hair coiled low down on the nape of the neck. Candace's hair fell in curls to her waist. She had always worn it so, and no one had ever thought anything about it; but now, all in a moment, she felt that it was wrong and improper. "Been up to New York, Miss Joy?" said the Captain. "No; only as far as the Junction, to meet a friend, " replied theprettier of the two girls. "Why weren't you on the boat this morning, Captain?" "I was on the boat. I never miss a trip, except sometimes the night onein the summer-time, when the sleeping-train is a running. I don't alwayscome over in that. Let me see, how did I come to miss you to-day?" "Oh, I sat in the ladies' cabin all the way, not on deck. But I didn'tsee you when we landed. " "Well, I don't know how it happened, I'm sure. Are your folks down forthe season?" "Yes: that is, mamma and I and my brother are here; my married sisterwon't come till next month. " Then she turned to her friend, but withoutlowering her voice. "You can't think how dull it's been, Ethel: no men, no dinners; nothinggoing on as yet. The Casino is only just opened, and people haven'tbegun to go there. We tried to get up a tennis match, but there weren'tenough good players to make it worth while. There's absolutely nothing. Mrs. Courtenay Gray had a girls' lunch on Tuesday; but that is all, andthat didn't count for much. " "That's Georgie Gray's mother, isn't it? Is she there?" "Oh, yes, --she and Gertrude, all the Grays. They're as nice anddelightful as can be, of course, but somehow they're so literary andquiet, and Mrs. Gray is awfully particular about the girls. She makesthem keep on with studying all summer, and she's so exclusive, --shewon't let them visit half the new people. " "Gracious! why not?" "Oh, I don't know, --she says they're not good form, and all that; butI'm sure she knows queer people enough herself. There is that tiresomeold Miss Gisborne down in Washington Street, --the girls are forevergoing there; and I've seen them myself ever so many times coming out ofthe Hares', --and _they_ take boarders!" "Fancy! How extraordinary! Oh, there are the frigates!" For the "Eolus, " leaving the wooded, wall-like bank of Gould's Islandbehind, and rounding a point, had now reached the small curving bay tothe eastward of Coasters' Harbor, where lay the training-ships, the "NewHampshire" and the "Minnesota. " It was a beautiful sight, --the two greatwar-vessels at anchor, with their tall tapering spars and flying flagsreflected in the water on which they floated. Lines of glinting whiteflashed along the decks; for it was "wash-day, " and the men's clotheswere drying in the sun. Two or three barges were disembarking visitorsat the gangway ladders, and beyond them a sail-boat was waiting its turnto do the same. On the pier a file of blue-uniformed boys were marchingwith measured tread. The sound of their feet came across the distancelike the regular beat of a machine. A girl in a row-boat was justpushing out from the farther beach, above which rose a stone housecovered with vines. "That's Miss Isherwood, " said one of the young ladies. "She's a splendidrower, and Tom says she swims as well as he does. " The whole scene was like enchantment to Candace, who had lived all herlife among the hills of Connecticut, and had never till that day seenthe ocean. She was much too shy to ask questions, but she sat like onein a dream, taking in with wide-open eyes all the details of thecharming view, --the shores, broken by red-roofed villas and cottagesrising from clouds of leafy greenery; the Torpedo Island with its tallflag-staff and floating banner over the dwelling of the Commandant; FortAdams, whose steep glacis seemed powdered with snow just then from themultitude of daisies in bloom upon them; the light-houses; the softrises of hill; and beyond, the shimmering heave of the open sea. Cat-boats and yachts flitted past in the fair wind like largewhite-winged moths; row-boats filled with pleasure-parties dipped theiroars in the wake of the "Eolus;" steam-launches with screeching whistleswere putting into their docks, among old boat-houses and warehouses, painted dull-red, or turned of a blackish gray by years of exposure toweather. Behind rose Newport, with the graceful spire of Trinity Churchand the long bulk of the Ocean House surmounting the quaint buildings onthe lower hill. The boat was heading toward a wharf, black withcarriages, which were evidently drawn up to wait the arrival of the"Eolus. " "There's Mrs. Gray's team now, Miss, " said the sharp-eyed Captain; "comedown for you, I reckon. " The two girls glanced at her and then at each other. They shrugged theirshoulders, and Candace heard one of them whisper, -- "Did you ever?" and the reply, "No; but after all, we didn't sayanything very bad, and who would have dreamed that a hat like that hadanything to do with the Grays?" She felt herself blush painfully. The hat was a new one of brown strawtrimmed with dark blue ribbon. She had felt rather proud of it when itcame home from the milliner's the day before, and had considered thelittle blue pompon with which Miss Wilson, who was authority in mattersof fashion in North Tolland, had enriched the middle bow, as amasterpiece of decoration. Alas! the apple of knowledge was at her lips;already she felt herself blush at the comments of these unknown girlswhose hats were so different from her own, and was thoroughlyuncomfortable, though she could hardly have told why. Captain Peleg politely carried her bag for her across the landing-plankto where the "team, " a glossy coupé with one horse, was waiting. Hebeckoned to the smart coachman, who wore a dark green overcoat with bigmetal buttons, to draw nearer. "Here's your passenger, " he said, helping Candace into the carriage. "Good-day, Miss. I hope we'll see you again on the 'Eolus. ' All right, driver. " "Oh, thank you, " cried Candace, finding voice and forgetting shyness inher gratitude; "you've been real kind to me, Captain. " "That child's got mighty pretty eyes, " soliloquized Captain King, as hemarched down the wharf. "I wonder what relation she is to the Grays. She don't seem their sort exactly. She's been raised in the country, Iexpect; but Mrs. Gray'll polish her up if anybody can, or I'm mistaken. Steady there--what're you about?" as a trunk came bounding andricochetting across the gangway; "this wharf ain't no skittle-ground!" Meanwhile the coupé was slowly climbing a steep side-street which led tothe Avenue. Looking forth with observant eyes, Candace noted how thehouses, which at first were of the last-century build, with hipped roofsand dormer windows like those to which she was accustomed in the oldhill village that had been her birthplace, gave way to modernized oldhouses with recent additions, and then to houses which were unmistakablynew, and exhibited all manner of queer peaks and pinnacles andprojections, shingled, painted in divers colors, and broken by windowsof oddly tinted glass. Next the carriage passed a modern church built ofpinkish-brown stone; and immediately after, the equable roll of thewheels showed that they were on a smooth macadamized road. It was, infact, though Candace did not know it, the famous Bellevue Avenue, whichin summer is the favorite drive for all fashionable persons, andthronged from end to end on every fair afternoon by all manner ofvehicles, from dainty pony-wagons to enormous mail-coaches. There were only a few carriages in sight now, though they seemed many toour little country maid. Shops were opening for the season. Men werebusy in hanging Eastern rugs and curtains up to view, and arranging inthe windows beautiful jars and plates of porcelain and pottery, glittering wares from Turkey and Damascus, carved furniture, and inlaidcabinets. Half a dozen florists exhibited masses of hot-house flowersamid a tangle of palms and tree-ferns; beyond was the announcement of an"opening" by a well-known dressmaker, whose windows were hung with morebeautiful things than Candace in her small experience had ever dreamedof before, --laces, silks, embroideries. The shops gave way to houses, each set in a court-yard gay with newlyplanted beds of flowers or foliage plants. Vines clustered everywhere;the trees, not yet fully in leaf, were like a tossing spray of delicatefresh green: a sense of hope, of expectation, of something delightfulwhich was being prepared for, seemed to be in the air. Suddenly the coupé turned in between a pair of substantial stonegate-posts, and drew up before a large square house, with piazzas on twosides, and a small but very smooth lawn, whose closely cut grass lookedlike green velvet. It was dappled with weeping-trees and evergreens, andhedged with a high wall of shrubs which shut off the view of the street. A continuous flower-bed ran all round the house close to its walls, planted full of geraniums, heliotrope, nasturtiums, mignonette, andpansies. Every window and balcony boasted its box of ferns or flowers;and in spite of the squareness of the building, and the sombregreen-gray with which it was painted, the general effect was ofcheerfulness, and shade broken by color, --an effect which is alwayspleasant. Candace had forgotten herself in the excitement of new sights andexperiences; but her shyness came back with a rush as the carriagestopped and the door was opened by a very smart French butler. "Is Mrs. Gray at home?" she asked timidly, bending forward. "Descendez, Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît. Madame est occupée pour lemoment; il y a du monde dans le salon. " Then, seeing the perplexed lookin Candace's eyes, he explained in broken English: "Mees is to get out. Madame is beesy with coompany for little while. Mees will please goup-stair. " Candace got out; the carriage drove away, and she followed the butlerinto the hall. He gave a low call at the foot of the stairs, whichbrought down a ladies'-maid with a ruffed cap perched on the back of herhead. "This way, if you please, Miss, " she said, and led Candace up thestaircase, which was a wide one with three square turns and a broadlanding, lit with a range of windows and furnished with a low cushionedseat; then came an upper hall, and she was shown into a pretty cornerroom. "If you'll please sit down and rest yourself, Miss, " said the maid, "Mrs. Gray'll be up as soon as some company she has is gone. Would youlike to have a cup of tea, Miss?" "No, thank you, " faltered Candace; and then the maid went away, shuttingthe door behind her. The room, which had no bed in it, and was, in fact, Mrs. Gray'smorning-room, was so full of curious things that Candace's first thoughtwas that it would take a week at least to see half that was in it. Thesage-green walls were thickly hung with photographs, watercolors, charcoal sketches, miniatures, bits of faience, lacquered trays anddiscs, and great shining circles of Syrian and Benares metalwork. Therewere many pieces of pottery of various sorts, set here and there, on thechimney-piece, on book-shelves, on the top of a strangely carved blackcabinet, with hinges and handles of wrought iron. In one corner stoodan Italian spinning-wheel of ebony and silver; in another an oddinstrument, whose use Candace could not guess, but which was in realitya Tyrolean zither. An escritoire, drawn near a window, was heaped withpapers and with writing appliances of all sorts, and all elegant. Therewere many little tables covered with books and baskets of crewels andsilks, and easy-chairs of every description. Every chair-back and littlestand had some quaint piece of lace-work or linen-work thrown over it. It was, in fact, one of those rooms belonging distinctly to our modernlife, for the adornment of which every part of the world is ransacked, and their products set forth in queer juxtapositions, to satisfy or toexhibit the varied tastes and pursuits of its occupants. To Candace itwas as wonderful as any museum; and while her eyes slowly travelled fromone object to another, she forgot her strangeness and was happy. Tick, tick, tick, tick, went the little French clock on the mantelpiece. Suddenly it struck her that it was a long while that she had been leftalone in this room. She glanced at the clock; it really was almost anhour. All her latent homesickness returned with fresh force. Her eyesfilled with sudden tears; in another moment she would have been actuallycrying, but just then came a quick step, a little rustle, and she hadjust time to wipe away the drops when the door opened, and Mrs. Grayhurried into the room. "My poor child, " she exclaimed, "have you been alone all this time? Itis quite too bad! I made sure that I should hear the carriage drive up, and at least run out and give you a welcome, but somehow I didn't; andpeople came so fast and thick that I couldn't get a chance to glance atthe clock. " She kissed Candace, and looked at her with a sort of softscrutiny. It was to the full as penetrating as that of the strange girlson the steamer had been; but it did not hurt like theirs. Mrs. Gray hadbeautiful, big, short-sighted blue eyes with black lashes; when shesmiled they seemed to brim with a sudden fascinating radiance. Shesmiled now, and reminded Candace somehow of a great, soft, fully openedgarden rose. "You have something of your mother's looks, Cannie, " she said. "I knewher best when she was about your age. I never saw much of her after shemarried your father and went up to live among the hills. " She sighedsoftly: there was a short pause. Then, with a sudden change of tone, shecontinued: "And all this time you have never been shown your room. Ican't think why they were so stupid. Who was it put you here, Cannie?" "It was--a lady--in a cap, " replied Candace, hesitatingly. "A lady?--cap? Oh, it must have been Elizabeth. She's my maid, --don'tmake such a mistake again, dear; you must learn to discriminate. Well, come with me now, and let me see you comfortably established. The girlsare gone on a yachting-party to the upper end of the island. It was anold engagement, made before your aunt's letter came, or they would nothave been absent when you arrived. They were very sor--" But in the very middle of the word came Frederic, the butler, with theannouncement of new visitors; and, just taking time to lead Candace downthe entry to a room whose door stood wide open, Mrs. Gray hurried away, saying rapidly: "Take off your hat, dear. Lie down for a rest, hadn'tyou better? I'll be up again presently. " "I wonder if everybody is always in a hurry in Newport?" Candacethought. She was again alone, but this time she felt no disposition to cry. Hertrunk had been brought up by somebody, and stood already in its place, with the straps unloosened. She took off her hat and jacket, unpacked alittle, and peeped out of the window to see where she was. The roomfaced the east, and across a corner of the lawn and the stable-yard shehad a glimpse of the sea, which had become intensely blue with thecoming of the later afternoon. "Oh, that is good, " she said to herself. "I shall see it all summer. "She glanced about the room with a growing sense of proprietorship whichwas pleasant. It was not a large room, but it looked cheerful, with itssimple furniture of pale-colored ash and a matted floor, over which laya couple of Persian rugs. There was a small fireplace bordered with bluetiles which matched the blue papering on the walls; and the tiles on thewashstand, and the chintz of the easy-chair and lounge, and theflower-jars on the mantelpiece were blue also. Altogether it was apretty little chamber, with which any girl might be sufficientlywell-pleased; and as Candace noticed the tiny nosegay of mignonette andtea-roses which stood on the bureau, her heart lightened with the sensethat it had been put there for _her_. Some one had thought of hercoming, and prepared for it. She brushed out her curls and washed her face and hands, but did notchange her dress. The blue alpaca was the newest she had, and she wishedto look her best on that first evening. She sat down in the window tolisten to the soft boom of the surf, which seemed to grow louder as thenight drew on, and did not hear Mrs. Gray as she came down the entry. That lady stood a moment in the half-open door, surveying her youngvisitor. "What am I to do with her?" she thought. "I want to befriend Candace'schild, but I did not quite realize, till I saw her just now, what adisadvantage she would be at among all these girls here, with theirFrench clothes and their worse than French ideas. She's not plain. There's a good deal of beauty about that shy little face of hers, andrefinement too, if only she were not so awkward. If I can once get herinto a dress that fits, and do something with that mop of curls, shewould look well enough. I wonder if she will take it kindly, or flare upand feel offended at every little suggestion. That would be terrible!--You are listening to the surf, dear. I'm afraid it means rain to-morrow. That sound generally is a symptom of mischief. " "Is it?" said Candace; "what a pity!" "A pity about the rain?" "No--but it's such a pretty sound. " "So it is. Well, if you are ready, let us go downstairs. I expect thegirls every moment. Ah, there they are now!" The line of windows on the staircase landing commanded a view of thegate and approach, and looking through them Candace saw a village cartwith two girls on the front seat, one driving, and a third girl in therumble behind, approaching the house. A couple of young men on horsebackrode close beside the cart. One of them jumped from his horse, helpedthe young ladies out, there was a moment of laughter and chat; then, touching their hats, the riders departed, and the three girls came intothe hall. "Mamma! mammy! where are you, dear?" sang out three youthful voices. "Here I am, half-way upstairs, " replied Mrs. Gray, seating herself onthe cushioned bench of the landing. "What on earth are you doing up there? And who's that with you?" "It's your cousin Candace. Come up and be introduced. " Up they came at a run, each trying to be the first to arrive. Candacehad never known many girls, but these were of a different species fromany she had seen before. They seemed full of spirits, and conveyed theidea of being, so to speak, bursting with happiness, though I supposenot one of the three but would have resented the imputation of beinghappier than people in general are or ought to be. Georgie, the eldest, was short and round, and had her mother's blue near-sighted eyes withouther mother's beauty. Gertrude was unusually tall, and had a sort oflily-like grace; her light hair was very thick, and so fine in qualitythat it stood out like a nimbus round her pale pretty face. LittleMarian, the youngest, two years Candace's junior, was not yet insociety, but had been allowed to go to the picnic as a great favor. Herhair had a reddish tint in its chestnut, and was braided in one largeplait down her back; she had brown eyes and a capable little face whichwas full of expression. They all spoke kindly to Candace, they all kissed her, but she felt muchless at ease with them than with their mother, whose peculiarly charmingmanner seemed to invite confidence from everybody. After a few questionsand a few words of welcome, they plunged into a description of theirpicnic, --the yacht-sail, the landing, the luncheon, the generaldelightfulness of everything. "Berry Joy was not there, " remarked Georgie. "She had gone up toWickford to meet some one. By the way, she must have come down on the'Eolus' with you, Candace. Did you see her?" "There were two young ladies, " answered Candace, timidly. "Did you hear their names? Did you talk to them?" asked Gertrude. "No--yes--no--I mean the Captain called one of them Miss Joy. I didn'ttalk to them, but they knew you. " "Why, how could you tell that?" "I heard them talking about you. " "What fun! What did they say?" Candace hesitated. Her face grew crimson. "I'd rather--I don't--" shebegan. Then with a great effort, rallying her powers, she went on: "Ididn't like to sit there and hear them and not tell them that I was yourcousin; but I was too--too--frightened to speak to them, so I thought Iwould never repeat what they said, and then it wouldn't be any matter. " "Quite right, Cannie, " said Mrs. Gray, quickly. Something in the girl'slittle speech seemed to please her very much. CHAPTER II. THE FIRST EVENING. CANDACE ARDEN'S mother had not only been Mrs. Gray's cousin, but herparticular friend as well. The two girls had been brought up together, had shared their studies and secrets and girlish fun, and had scarcelyever been separated for a week, until suddenly a change came whichseparated them for all the rest of their lives. Pretty Candace Van Vliet went up to New Haven on her nineteenth birthdayto see what a college commencement was like, and at the President'sreception afterward met Henry Arden, the valedictorian of the graduatingclass, a handsome fellow just twenty-one years old. He came of plainfarming-people in the hill country of Connecticut; but he was clever, ambitious, and his manners had a natural charm, to which his four yearsof college life had added ease and the rubbing away of any little rusticawkwardness with which he might have begun. Candace thought himdelightful; he thought her more than delightful. In short, it was one ofthe sudden love-affairs with which college commencements notinfrequently end, and in the course of a few weeks they engagedthemselves to each other. Henry was to be a minister, and his theological course must be gotthrough with before they could marry. Three years the course should havetaken, but he managed to do it in a little more than two, being spurredon by his impatient desire for home and wife, and a longing, no lessurgent, to begin as soon as possible to earn his own bread and relievehis father from the burden of his support. No one knew better than hewith what pinching and saving and self-sacrifice it had been madepossible for him to get a college education and become a clergyman; whatdaily self-denials had been endured for his sake in that old yellowfarm-house on the North Tolland hills. He was the only son, the onlychild; and his father and mother were content to bear anything so longas it gave him a chance to make the most of himself. It is not an uncommon story in this New England of ours. Many and many afarm-house could tell a similar tale of thrift, hard work, and parentallove. The bare rocky acres are made to yield their uttermost, the cowsto do their full duty, the scanty apples of the "off year" are carefullyharvested, every pullet and hen is laid under contribution for the greatneed of the moment, --the getting the boys through college. It is bothbeautiful and pitiful, as all sacrifices must be; but the years ofeffort and struggle do not always end, as in the case of the Ardens, with a disappointment and a grief so bitter as to make the self-spendingseem all in vain. For the over-study of those two years proved too much for Henry Arden'shealth. It was not hard study alone; he stinted himself in food, infiring as well; he exacted every possible exertion from his mind, andsystematically neglected his body. The examinations were brilliantlypassed; he was ordained; he received a "call" to Little Upshire, thevillage nearest to North Tolland; there was a pretty wedding in the oldVan Vliet mansion on Second Avenue, at which Kate Van Vliet, herselfjust engaged to Courtenay Gray, acted as bridesmaid; and then thecousins parted. They only met once again, when Mrs. Arden came down fromthe country to see her cousin married. Henry did not come with her; hewas not very well, she explained, and she must hurry back. That was the beginning of a long wasting illness. Some spring ofvitality seemed to have been broken during those two terrible years atthe theological seminary; and though Henry Arden lived on, and even heldhis parish for several years, he was never fit for any severe study orlabor. The last three years of his life were spent in the old farm-houseat North Tolland, where his aunt Myra, a spare, sinewy, capable oldmaid, was keeping house for his father. Mrs. Arden had died soon afterher son's illness began; her heart was "kind of broken, " the neighborssaid, and perhaps it was. And little Candace and her mother lived on with the old people after thelong, sorrowful nursing was done, and another gray headstone had beenplaced beside the rest in the Arden lot in the North Tolland graveyard, having carved upon it, "Sacred to the memory of the Rev. Henry Arden, aged thirty-four. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessedbe His Holy name. " There seemed nothing else for them to do but to liveon where they were. Mrs. Gray was in China with her husband, who at thattime was the resident partner in a well-known firm of tea-importers. Aunt Van Vliet had gone to Europe after her daughter's marriage. Therewas no one to come to the aid of the drooping young widow, and carry heraway from the lonely life and the sad memories which were slowly killingher. For her child's sake she did her best to rally; but her strengthhad been severely taxed during her husband's illness, and dying waseasier than living; so she died when Candace was just eight years old, and the little girl and the two old people were left alone in the yellowfarm-house. A twelvemonth later, Grandfather Arden had a stroke of paralysis. --Don'tbe too much discouraged, dear children; this is positively the lastdeath that I shall have occasion to chronicle in this story. But itseemed necessary to show what sort of life Candace had lived, in orderto explain the sort of girl she was. --After her grandfather died, AuntMyra, aged sixty-nine, and little Cannie, aged nine, alone remained ofthe once large household; and the farm-house seemed very big and empty, and had strange echoes in all the unused corners. It was a lonely place, and a lonely life for a child. Candace had fewenjoyments, and almost no young companions. She had never been used toeither, so she did not feel the want of them as most little girls wouldhave done. Aunt Myra was kind enough, and, indeed, fond of her in adry, elderly way; but she could not turn herself into a play-mate. It isnot often that a person who is as old as sixty-nine remembers how itfeels to play. Aunt Myra approved of Cannie especially, because she was"such a quiet child;" but I think Cannie's mother would rather have hadher noisier. "She's a nice girl as I want to see, " Aunt Myra was wont to tell hercronies. "She's likely-appearing enough, --and that's better than beingtoo pretty. And she's helpful about the house for such a young cretur, and she's not a bit forth-putting or highty-tighty. I don't know how Ishould have managed if Candace had turned out the sort of girl some of'em are, --like those Buell girls, for instance, always raising Nedbecause they can't get down to Hartford or Bridgeport to shop and seethe sights and have a good time. As if good times couldn't be had tohome as well as anywhere! Why, I reckon that Miss Buell has more fussand trouble in fitting out those girls every spring of her life thanI've had with Cannie since her mother died. She never makes one mite ofdifficulty, or bothers with objections. She just puts on whatever I seefit to get her; and she likes it, and there's the end. " This was not quite as true as Aunt Myra supposed. Candace wore whateverit was ordained that she should wear, but she did not always "like" it. From her mother she inherited a certain instinct of refinement and tastewhich only needed the chance to show itself. But there was little chanceto exercise taste in the old yellow farm-house, and Candace, fromtraining and long habit, was submissive; so she accepted the inevitable, and, as her great-aunt said, "made no difficulty. " Letters came now and then from "Cousin Kate, " far away in China, andonce a little box with a carved ivory fan as fine as lace-work, a dozengay pictures on rice paper, and a scarf of watermelon-pink crape, whichsmelt of sandalwood, and was by far the most beautiful thing that Canniehad ever seen. Then, two years before our story opens, the Grays cameback to America to live; and a correspondence began between Mrs. Grayand Aunt Myra, part of which Candace heard about and part she did not. Mrs. Gray was anxious to know her cousin's child and be of use to her;but first one thing and then another delayed their meeting. The firstwinter the Grays spent at a hotel looking for a house; the second, theywere all in Florida on account of Mr. Gray's health. These difficultieswere now settled. A town house had been chosen, a Newport cottage leasedfor a term of years, and Cannie was asked for a long summer visit. It was Mrs. Gray's secret desire that this visit should lead to a sortof adoption, that Cannie should stay on with them as a fourth daughter, and share all her cousins' advantages of education and society; butbefore committing herself to such a step, she wished to see what thegirl was like. "It's so much easier to keep out of such an arrangement than to get outof it, " she told her husband. "My poor Candace was an angel, allsweetness and charm; but her child has the blood of those stiffConnecticut farmers in her. She may be like her father's people, and notin the least like her mother; she may be hopelessly stupid or vulgar orobstinate or un-improvable. We will wait and see. " This secret doubt and question was, I think, the reason why Mrs. Graywas so pleased at Cannie's little speech about Miss Joy and her friend. "That was the true, honorable feeling, " she thought to herself; "thechild is a lady by instinct. It wasn't easy for her to say it, either;she's a shy little thing. Well, if she has the instinct, the rest can beadded. It's easy enough to polish a piece of mahogany, but you may ruball day at a pine stick and not make much out of it. " As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she stole her armacross Candace's shoulders and gave them a little warm pressure; but allshe said was, -- "Dinner in twenty minutes, children. You would better run up at once andmake ready. Cannie, you and I will go to the library, --you haven't seenmy husband yet. " The library was a big, airy room, with an outlook to the sea. There werenot many books in it, only enough to fill a single low range ofbook-shelves; but the tables were covered with freshly cut magazines andpamphlet novels; there was a great file of "Punch" and other illustratedpapers, and that air of light-reading-in-abundance which seems to suit ahouse in summer-time. A little wood-fire was snapping on a pair of verybright andirons, and, June though it was, its warmth was agreeable. Beside it, in an enormous Russia-leather armchair, sat Mr. Gray, --aniron-whiskered, shrewd-looking man of the world, with a pair ofpleasant, kindly eyes, and that shining bald spot on his head whichseems characteristic of the modern business man. "Court, here is our new child, " said Mrs. Gray; "poor Candace'sdaughter, you know. " Mr. Gray understood, from his wife's tone, that she was pleased with herlittle visitor so far, and he greeted her in a very friendly fashion. "You have your mother's eyes, " he said. "I recollect her perfectly, though we only met two or three times, and that was seventeen--let mesee--nearly eighteen years ago it must have been. Her hair, too, Ishould say, " glancing at Cannie's chestnut mop; "it was very thick, Iremember, and curled naturally. " "Aunt Myra always says that my hair is the same color as mother's, "replied Candace. "It is almost exactly the same. Do you remember her at all, Cannie?"asked Mrs. Gray. "Just a little. I recollect things she used to wear, and where she usedto sit, and one or two things she said. But perhaps I don't recollectthem, but think I do because Aunt Myra told them to me. " "Is there no picture of her?" "Only a tin-type, and it isn't very good. It's almost faded out; youcan hardly see the face. " "What a pity!" "Le dîner est servi, Madame, " said the voice of Frederic at the door. "We won't wait for the girls. They will be down in a moment, " said Mrs. Gray, as she led the way to the dining-room. The sound of their feet onthe staircase was heard as she spoke; and down they ran, the elder twoin pretty dresses of thin white woollen stuff, which Candace in herunworldliness thought fine enough for a party. People in North Tolland did not dine in the modern sense of the word. They took in supplies of food at stated intervals, very much as alocomotive stops for wood and water when it cannot go on any longerwithout such replenishment; but it was a matter of business andnecessity to do so rather than of pleasure. Candace, who had sat down opposite Aunt Myra every day as long as shecould remember at the small pine table in the yellow-painted kitchen, with always the same thick iron-stone ware plates and cups, the samelittle black tray to hold the tea-things, the same good, substantial, prosaic fare, served without the least attempt at grace or decoration, had never dreamed of such a dinner as was usual at the Grays'. She saidnot a word to express her astonishment; but she glanced at the thickcluster of maiden-hair ferns which quivered in the middle of the tablefrom an oval stand of repoussé brass, at the slender glasses oftea-roses which stood on either side, at the Sèvres dishes of fruit, sweet biscuits, and dried ginger, and wondered if this were to be allthe dinner. Did fashionable people never eat anything more substantialthan grapes and crackers? She felt very hungry, and yet it seemed coarsenot to be satisfied when everything was so pretty. "Consommé, Mademoiselle?" murmured Frederic in her ear, as he placedbefore her a plate full of some clear liquid which smelt deliciously, and offered a small dish of grated cheese for her acceptance. "Oh, thank you, sir, " said Candace, wondering confusedly if cheese insoup was the correct thing. Mrs. Gray's quick ear caught the "sir. " She did not even turn her head, but she mentally added another to the hints which must be administeredto Candace as soon as she was sufficiently at home to bear them. Spanish mackerel was the next course. Candace inadvertently took up thesteel knife placed beside her plate, instead of the silver one meant foruse with fish. The result was that when the saddle of mutton was served, she had no usable knife. Mr. Gray observed her difficulty, and directedFrederic to bring a steel knife for Mademoiselle, which Frederic did, first casting a scrutinizing glance about as if in search of something;and again Candace felt that she was somehow out of the way. The climax of her discomfort came with the pretty tinted fruit platesand finger-bowls. Candace's tumbler was empty, and without particularlythinking about the matter she took a drink out of her finger-bowl, which she mistook for some sort of lemonade, from the bit of lemon whichfloated in the water. The moment after, she was conscious of her blunder. She saw Georgiedabbling her fingers in her bowl. She saw Gertrude with difficultykeeping back a smile which would flicker in her eyes, though her lipswere rigidly grave. Little Marian giggled outright, and then relapsedinto a frightened solemnity. Candace felt utterly miserable. She lookedtoward Mrs. Gray apprehensively, but that lady only gave her anencouraging smile. Mr. Gray put a bunch of hot-house grapes on herplate. She ate them without the least idea of their flavor. With thelast grape a hot tear splashed down; and the moment Mrs. Gray moved, Candace fled upstairs to her own room, where she broke down into a fitof homesick crying. How she longed for the old customary home among the hills, where nobodyminded what she did, or how she ate, or "had any manners in particular, "as she phrased it to her own mind, or thought her ignorant or awkward. And yet, on sober second thought, did she really wish so much to goback? Was it not better to stay on where she was, and learn to begraceful and low-spoken and at ease always, like her cousin Kate, if shecould, even if she had to undergo some mortification in the process?Candace was not sure. She had stopped crying, and was cooling her eyes with a wet towel whenshe heard a little tap at the door. It was Mrs. Gray herself. "Where are you, Cannie?" she said, looking about the room with hershort-sighted eyes. "You are so dark here that I cannot see you. " "I'm here by the washstand, " faltered Candace; and then, to her dismay, she began to cry again. She tried to subdue it; but a little sob, whichall her efforts could not stifle, fell upon her cousin's observant ear. "My dear child, you are crying, " she exclaimed; and in another minuteCandace, she scarcely knew how, was in Mrs. Gray's arms, they weresitting on the sofa together, and she was finishing her cry with herhead on the kindest of shoulders and an unexpected feeling of comfort ather heart. Anything so soft and tender as Cousin Kate's arms she hadnever known before; there was a perfume of motherliness about them whichto a motherless girl was wholly irresistible. Gertrude declared thatmamma always stroked people's trouble away with those hands of hers, andthat they looked just like the hands of the Virgin in Holbein's Madonna, as if they could mother the whole world. "Now, tell me, Cannie, tell me, dear child, " said Mrs. Gray, when theshower was over and the hard sobs had grown faint and far between, "whatmade you cry? Was it because you are tired and a little homesick amongus all, or were you troubled about anything? Tell me, Cannie. " "Oh, it's only because I'm so stupid and--and--countrified, " saidCandace, beginning to sob again. "I made such horrid mistakes atdinner, and Gertrude wanted to laugh, --she didn't laugh, but I saw herwant to, --and Marian did laugh, and I felt so badly. " "Marian is such a little girl that you must forgive her this once, " saidMrs. Gray, "though I am rather ashamed of her myself. I saw all your'mistakes, ' as you call them, Cannie, even one or two that you didn'tsee yourself. They were very little mistakes, dear, not worth cryingabout, --small blunders in social etiquette, which is a matter of minorimportance, --not failures in good feeling or good manners, which are ofreal consequence. They did not make anybody uncomfortable exceptyourself. " "Cousin Kate, " Candace ventured to ask, "will you tell me why there issuch a thing as etiquette? Why must everybody eat and behave and speakin the same way, and make rules about it? Is it any real use?" "That is rather a large question, and leads back to the beginning ofthings, " said Mrs. Gray, smiling. "I don't suppose I quite understandit myself, but I think I can make you understand a part of it. Iimagine, when the world was first peopled, in the strange faraway timesof which we know almost nothing except the hints we get in the Bible, that the few people there were did pretty much as they liked. Noah andhis family in the ark, for instance, probably never set any tables orhad any regular meals, but just ate when they were hungry, each one byhimself. Savage tribes do the same to this day; they seize their bone ortheir handful of meat and gnaw it in a corner, or as they walk about. This was the primitive idea of comfort. But after a time people foundthat it was less trouble to have the family food made ready at a certaintime for everybody at once, and have all come together to eat it. Perhaps at first it was served in one great pot or dish, and each onedipped in his hand or spoon. The Arabs still do this. Then, of course, the strongest and greediest got the most of everything, and it may havebeen some weak or slow person who went hungry in consequence, whoinvented the idea of separate plates and portions. " "But that is not etiquette, " objected Cannie. "People have plates andset tables everywhere now, --in this country, I mean. " "Yes, but can't you imagine a time when to have a bowl or a saucer toyourself was considered finical and 'stuck up, ' and when some roughFrank or Gaul from the mountains looked on disapprovingly, and said thatthe world was coming to a pretty pass if such daintiness was to beallowed? A bowl to one's self was etiquette then. All sorts of thingswhich to us seem matter of course and commonplace, began by beingnovelties and subjects for discussion and wonderment. Remember that tea, potatoes, carpets, tobacco, matches, almost all our modern conveniences, were quite unknown even so lately as four or five hundred years ago. Asthe world grew richer, people went on growing more refined. The richestfolks tried to make their houses more beautiful than the houses of theirneighbors. They gave splendid feasts, and hired sculptors and artiststo invent decorations for their tables, and all kinds of little elegantusages sprang up which have gradually become the custom of our own day, even among people who are not rich and do not give feasts. " "But do they mean anything? Are they of any real use?" persisted Cannie. "I confess that some of them do not seem to mean a great deal. Still, ifwe look closely, I think we shall find that almost every one had itsorigin in one of two causes, --either it was a help to personalconvenience, or in some way it made people more agreeable or lessdisagreeable to their neighbors. We have to study, and to guess a littlesometimes, to make out just why it has become customary to do this orthat, for the original reason has been forgotten or perhaps does notexist any longer, while the custom remains. " "I wonder, " said Cannie, whose mind was still running on her ownmishaps, "why people mustn't cut fish with a steel knife. I read in abook once that it was not genteel to do so, and I couldn't think why. And then to-night I didn't see the little silver one--" "I imagine that in the first instance some old _gourmet_ discovered orfancied that a steel knife gave a taste to fish which injured it. Sopeople gave up using knives, and it grew to be said that it was vulgarand a mark of ignorance to cut fish with them. Then, later, it was foundnot to be quite comfortable always to tear your bit of fish apart with afork and hold it down with a piece of bread while you did so, and thecustom arose of having a silver knife to cut fish with. It is aconvenient custom, too, for some reasons. Waiting on table is quite anart, now-a-days, when there are so many changes of plates, and a goodwaiter always tries to simplify what he has to do, by providing as muchas possible beforehand. You can see that if each person has beside hisplate a silver knife for fish and a steel knife for meat and two forksthese two courses will go on more easily and quietly than if the waiterhas to stop and bring a fresh knife and fork for each person before hehelps to the dish, whatever it is. " "But why is there nothing on the table but flowers and pretty littlethings? And why do they put lemon-peel in the bowls of water?" "Well, the lemon is supposed to take the smell of dinner away from thefingers. And it isn't always lemon. Frederic is apt to drop in ageranium leaf or a sprig of lemon-verbena, and those are nicer. As forthe other thing, it is more convenient for many reasons not to have thecarving done on the table; but aside from that, I imagine that in thefirst instance the custom was a matter of economy. " "Economy!" repeated Candace, opening wide her eyes. "Yes, economy, though it seems droll to say so. In the old days, whenthe meat came on in a big platter, and the vegetables each in its largecovered dish, people had to put more on table than was really wanted, for the sake of not looking mean and giving their neighbors occasion fortalk. Now, when everything is carved on a side-table and a nice littleportion carried to each person, you are able to do with exactly what isneeded. There need not be a great piece of everything left over forlook's sake. One chicken is enough for four or five people if it isskilfully carved, but the chicken would look rather scanty on a platterby itself; don't you think so?" "Yes, " said Cannie, with a little laugh. She had forgotten her troublesin the interest of the discussion. "A dish containing one mutton-chop and a spoonful of peas for eachperson would be called a stingy dish in the country, where every onesees his food on the table before him, " continued Mrs. Gray; "but it isquite enough for the single course it is meant to be at a city dinner. There is no use in having three or four chops left over to toughen andgrow cold. " "I see, " said Cannie, thoughtfully; "what else did I do that was wrong, Cousin Kate?" "You called Frederic 'sir, '" replied her cousin, with a smile. "That wasnot wrong, but not customary. Servants are expected to say 'sir' and'ma'am' to their employers as a mark of respect; and people not servantsuse the word less frequently than they formerly did. They keep suchterms for elderly or distinguished persons, to whom they wish to showspecial deference. " "But Aunt Myra always _made_ me say 'sir' and 'ma'am' to her andgrandpapa. She said it was impolite not to. " "She was quite right; for she and your grandfather were a great dealolder than yourself, and it was only respectful to address them so. Butyou need not use the phrase to everybody to whom you speak. " "Not to you?" "Well, I would quite as soon that in speaking to me you said, 'Yes, Cousin Kate, ' as 'Yes, ma'am. ' That is what I have taught my children todo. They say, 'Yes, mamma;' 'Did you call me, papa?' I like the soundof it better; but it is only a matter of taste. There is no real rightor wrong involved in it. " Candace sat for a moment in silence, revolving these new ideas in hermind. "Cousin Kate, " she said timidly, "will you tell me when I make littlemistakes, like that about the knife? I'd like to learn to do thingsright if I could, and if it wouldn't trouble you too much. " "Dear Cannie, "--and Mrs. Gray kissed her, --"I will, of course; and I amglad you like to have me. Your mother was the sweetest, most refinedlittle lady that I ever knew. I loved her dearly; and I should love totreat you as I do my own girls, to whom I have to give a hint or acaution or a little lecture almost every day of their lives. No girlever grew into a graceful, well-bred woman without many such smalllessons from somebody. If your mother had lived, all these things wouldhave come naturally to you from the mere fact of being with her andnoticing what she did. You would have needed no help from any one else. But are you sure, " she went on, after a little pause, "that you won'tend by thinking me tiresome or interfering or worrisome, if I do as Isay?" "No, indeed, I won't!" cried Candace, to whom this long talk had beenlike the clearing up after a thunder-shower. "I think it would be _too_mean if I felt that way when you are so kind. " CHAPTER III. A WALK ON THE CLIFFS. IT is always an odd, unhomelike moment when one wakes up for the firsttime in a new place. Sleep is a separation between us and all that hasgone before it. It takes a little while to recollect where we are andhow we came there, and to get used to the strangeness which had partlyworn away, but has come on again while we dreamed and forgot all aboutit. Candace experienced this when she woke in the little blue room themorning after her arrival in Newport. She had gone to bed, by Mrs. Gray's advice, when their long talk about manners and customs was ended, and without going downstairs again. "You are very tired, I can see, " said Cousin Kate. "A long night's sleepwill freshen you, and the world will look differently and a great dealpleasanter to-morrow. " Candace was glad to follow this counsel. She _was_ tired, and she feltshy of Mr. Gray and the girls, and would rather put off meeting themagain, she thought, till the morning. Ten hours of unbroken sleep restedher thoroughly, but she woke with a feeling of puzzled surprise at hersurroundings, and for a few moments could not gather up her thoughts orquite recollect where she was. Then it all came back to her, and she wasagain conscious of the uncomfortable sensations of the night before. She lay a little while thinking about it, and half wishing that she neednot get up at all but just burrow under the blanket and hide herself, like a mouse or rabbit in his downy hole, till everybody had forgottenher blunders, and till she herself could forget them. But she said toherself bravely: "I won't be foolish. Cousin Kate is just lovely; she'spromised to help me, and I'm sure she will. I will try not to mind theothers; but, oh dear! I wish I were not so afraid of the girls. " She jumped out of bed resolutely and began to dress, taking her timeabout it, and stealing many glances out of the open window; for she knewit must be early, and as yet there were no sounds of life about thehouse. After her hair was curled, she stood for some time at the door ofthe closet, debating what dress she should put on. The choice was limited. There were only a brown plaided gingham, a bluecalico, and a thick white cambric to choose from. The latter seemed toher almost too nice to be worn in the morning. It was the first whitedress she had ever been allowed to have, and Aunt Myra had said a gooddeal about the difficulty of getting it done up; so it seemed to Candacerather a sacred garment, which should be reserved for special stateoccasions. After hesitating awhile she put on the brown gingham. It had a littleruffle basted round the neck. Candace tried the effect of a large bluebow, and then of a muslin one, very broad, with worked ends; butneither pleased her exactly. She recollected that Georgie and Gertrudehad worn simple little ruches the night before, with no bows; and atlast she wisely decided to fasten her ruffle with the little bar ofsilver which was her sole possession by way of ornament, for hermother's few trinkets had all been sold during her father's longillness. This pin had been a present from the worldly-minded Mrs. Buell, who so often furnished a text to Aunt Myra's homilies. She had one dayheard Cannie say, when asked by one of the Buell daughters if she hadany jewelry, "Are napkin-rings jewelry? I've got a napkin-ring. " Mrs. Buell had laughed at the droll little speech, and repeated it as a goodjoke; but the next time she went to Hartford she bought the silver pinfor Cannie, who was delighted, and held it as her choicest possession. Her dressing finished, Candace went softly downstairs. She paused at thestaircase window to look out. Cousin Kate's storm had not come afterall. The day was brilliantly fair. Long fingers of sunshine were feelingtheir way through the tree-branches, seeking out shady corners andgiving caressing touches to all growing things. A book lay on thewindow-bench. It was "A York and a Lancaster Rose, " which little Marianhad been reading the night before. It looked interesting, and, seeing bya glance at the tall clock in the hall below that it was but a littleafter seven, Candace settled herself for a long, comfortable readingbefore breakfast. Mrs. Gray was the first of the family to appear. She swept rapidlydownstairs in her pretty morning wrapper of pale pink, with a smallmuslin cap trimmed with ribbons of the same shade on her glossy blackhair, and paused to give Cannie a rapid little kiss; but she lookedpreoccupied, and paid no further attention to her, beyond a kind word ortwo, till breakfast was over, the orders for the day given, half a dozennotes answered, and half a dozen persons seen on business. The girlsseemed equally busy. Each had her own special little task to do. Georgielooked over the book-tables and writing-tables; sorted, tidied, put awaythe old newspapers; made sure that there was ink in the inkstands andpens and paper in plenty. After this was done, she set to work to waterthe plant boxes and stands in the hall and on the piazza. Gertrude fellupon a large box of freshly cut flowers, and began to arrange them invarious bowls and vases. Little Marian had three cages of birds toattend to, which, as she was very particular about their baths andbehavior, took a long time. Candace alone had nothing to do, and sat by, feeling idle and left out among the rest. "I think I shall put you in charge of the piazza boxes, " said Mrs. Gray, noticing her forlorn look as she came back from her interview with thefishmonger. "See, Cannie, the watering-pot is kept _here_, and thefaucet of cold water is just there in the pantry. Would you like to takethem as a little bit of daily regular work? They must be sprinkledevery morning; and if the earth is dry they must be thoroughly watered, and all the seed-pods and yellow leaves and dead flowers must be pickedoff. Do you feel as if you could do it?" "Oh, I should like to, " said Cannie, brightening. "Very well. Georgie has plenty to attend to without them, I imagine. Shewill be glad to be helped. Georgie, Cannie has agreed to take the careof all the outside flower-boxes in future. You needn't have them on yourmind any more. " "That's nice, " said Georgie, good-naturedly. "Then I will look after theplants on your balcony, mamma. Elizabeth doesn't half see to them. " "Oh, mightn't I do those too?" urged Cannie. "I wish you would let me. " "Well, you can if you like. They are all watered for to-day, though. Youneedn't begin till to-morrow. " "That is just as well, " said Mrs. Gray; "for now that I am through withthe orders and the tradesmen, I want Cannie to come up to themorning-room for a consultation. Georgie, you may come too. It's aboutyour hair, Cannie. Those thick curls are very pretty, but they look atrifle old-fashioned, and I should think must be rather hot, like alittle warm shawl always on your shoulders all summer long. " She strokedthe curls with her soft hand, as she spoke. "Should you dislike to havethem knotted up, Cannie? You are quite old enough, I think. " "No, I shouldn't dislike it, but I don't know how to do my hair in anyother way. I have always worn it like this. " "We'll teach you, " cried Georgie and Gertrude, who had joined them whileher mother was speaking. "Let us have a 'Council of Three' in themorning-room, and see what is most becoming to her. " So upstairs they went, and the girls pounced on Cannie, and put a towelover her shoulders, and brushed out her curls, and tried this way andthat, while Mrs. Gray sat by and laughed. She would notinterfere, --though Cannie at times resisted, and declared that theywere pulling her hair and hurting her dreadfully, --for she was anxiousthat the cousins should grow intimate and familiar with each other. Infact, Cannie's shyness was quite shaken out of her for the moment; andbefore the experiments were ended, and it was decided that a little bangon the forehead, and what Marian called a "curly knot" behind, suitedher best, she felt almost at home with Georgie and Gertrude. "There, " said Georgie, sticking in a last hair-pin, "come and seeyourself; and if you don't confess that you are improved, you're a veryungrateful young person, and that is all I have to say. " Candace scarcely knew her own face when she was led up to thelooking-glass. The light rings of hair lay very prettily on theforehead, the "curly knot" showed the shape of the small head; it alllooked easy and natural, and as if it was meant to be so. She smiledinvoluntarily. The girl in the glass smiled back. "Why, I look exactly like somebody else and not a bit like myself, " shecried. "What _would_ Aunt Myra say to me?" "I am going out to do some errands, " said Mrs. Gray; "will you comealong, Cannie, and have a little drive?" Mrs. Gray's errands seemed to be principally on behalf of her youngcompanion. First they stopped at Seabury's, and after Mrs. Gray hadselected a pair of "Newport ties" for herself, she ordered a similarpair for Candace. Then she said that while Cannie's shoe was off shemight as well try on some boots, and Cannie found herself being fittedwith a slender, shapely pair of black kid, which were not only prettierbut more comfortable than the country-made ones which had made her footlook so clumsy. After that they stopped at a carpet and curtain place, where Cannie was much diverted at hearing the proprietor recommendtassels instead of plated rings on certain Holland shades, for thereason that "a tossel had more poetry about it somehow. " Then, after abrief pause to order strawberries and fresh lettuce, the carriage wasordered to a milliner's. "I want to get you a little hat of some sort, " said Cousin Kate. "Theone you wore yesterday is rather old for a girl of your age. I willretrim it some day, and it will do for picnics and sails, but you needmore hats than one in this climate, which is fatal to ribbons andfeathers, and takes the stiffness out of everything. " So a big, shady hat of dark red straw, with just a scarf of the samecolor twisted round the crown and a knowing little wing in front, waschosen; and then Mrs. Gray spied a smaller one of fine yellowish strawwith a wreath of brown-centred daisies, and having popped it on Cannie'shead for one moment, liked the effect, and ordered that too. Two newhats! It seemed to Cannie's modest ideas like the wildest extravagance;and after they returned to the coupé she found courage to say, -- "Cousin Kate, please, you mustn't buy me too many things. " "No, dear, I won't. I'll be careful, " replied Mrs. Gray, smiling. Then, seeing that Cannie was in earnest, she added, more seriously: "My child, I've no wish to make you fine. I don't like finery for young girls; butone needs a good many things in a place like this, and I want to haveyou properly dressed in a simple way. It was agreed upon between AuntMyra and myself that I should see to your summer wardrobe after you gothere, because Newport is a better shopping-place than North Tolland; andwhile we are about it, we may as well get pretty things as ugly ones. Itdoesn't cost any more and is no more trouble, and I am sure you likethem better, don't you?" "Oh, yes, indeed, " replied Cannie, quite relieved by this explanation. "I like pretty things ever so much--only--I thought--I was afraid--" Shedid not know how to finish her sentence. [Illustration: THE OLD STONE MILL. It was a roofless circular tower, supported on round arches. --PAGE 73. ] "You were afraid I was ruining myself, " asked her cousin, lookingamused. "No, Cannie, I won't do that, I promise you; and in return, you will please let me just settle about a few little necessary thingsfor you, just as I should for Georgie and Gertrude, and say no moreabout it. Ah! there is the old Mill; you will like to see that. Stop amoment, John. " The coupé stopped accordingly by a small open square, planted with grassand a few trees, and intersected with paths. There was a music-stand inthe centre, a statue on a pedestal; and close by them, rising from thegreensward, appeared a small, curious structure of stone. It was aroofless circular tower, supported on round arches, which made a seriesof openings about its base. Cannie had never heard of the Stone Millbefore, and she listened eagerly while Mrs. Gray explained that it hadstood there since the earliest days of the Colony; that no one knewexactly how old it was, who built it, or for what purpose it was built;and that antiquarians were at variance upon these points, and had madeall sorts of guesses about its origin. Some insisted that it waserected by the Norsemen, who were the first to discover the New Englandshores, long before the days of Columbus; others supposed it to be afragment of an ancient church. Others again--and Mrs. Gray supposed thatthese last were probably nearest the truth--insisted that it was justwhat it seemed to be, a mill for grinding corn; and pointed out the factthat mills of very much the same shape still exist in old countryneighborhoods in England. She also told Cannie that the mill used to bethickly overhung with ivies and Virginia creepers, and that it had neverbeen so pretty and picturesque since the town authorities, under amistaken apprehension that the roots of the vines were injuring themasonry, had torn them all away and left the ruin bare and unornamented, as she now saw it. "Did you never read Longfellow's 'Skeleton in Armor'?" she asked; andwhen Cannie said no, she repeated part of the poem, and promised to findthe rest for Cannie to read when they got home. Then they drove on; andCannie's head was so full of "Lief the son of Arnulf, " the "fearfulguest, " and the maiden whose heart under her loosened vest flutteredlike doves "in their nest frighted, " that she could hardly bring herselfback to real life, even when Cousin Kate stopped at a famousdress-furnisher's in the Casino Block, and caused her to be measured fortwo dresses. One was of white woollen stuff, like those which Georgieand Gertrude had worn the night before; the other, a darker one, ofcream-and-brown foulard, which Mrs. Gray explained would be nice forchurch and for driving and for cool days, of which there were alwaysplenty in the Newport summer. She also bought a little brown parasol forCannie, and a tightly fitting brown jacket to match the foulard; andaltogether it was a most exciting and adventurous morning. Cannie, asshe took off her hat at home and fluffed the newly constructed "bang"into shape with gentle finger-touches, asked herself if it could bereally only a day and a half since she said good-by to Aunt Myra inNorth Tolland; and if in fact it were really herself, little CandaceArden, to whom these wonderful things belonged, or was it some one else?Perhaps it was all a dream, and she should presently wake up. "If it beI, as I believe it be, " was the tenor of her thought, as of the oldwoman in the nursery rhyme; only Cannie had no little dog at hand tohelp her to a realization of her own identity. Into Candace's bare little cradle in the hill country had been droppedone precious endowment. From both her father and her mother sheinherited the love of reading. If old tales were true, and thegift-conferring fairies really came to stand round a baby's bed, eachwith a present in her hand, I think out of all that they could bestow Ishould choose for any child in whom I was interested, these twothings, --a quick sense of humor and a love for books. There is nothingso lasting or so satisfying. Riches may take wing, beauty fade, gracevanish into fat, a sweet voice become harsh, rheumatism may cripple thefingers which played or painted so deftly, --with each and all of thesedelightful things time may play sad tricks; but to life's end the powerto see the droll side of events is an unfailing cheer, and so long aseyes and ears last, books furnish a world of interest and escape whosedoors stand always open. Winds may blow and skies may rain, fortune mayprove unkind, days may be lonely and evenings dull; but for the truelover of reading there is always at hand this great company ofcompanions and friends, --the wisest, the gentlest, the best, --never tootired or too busy to talk with him, ready at all moments to give theirthought, their teaching, to help, instruct, and entertain. They neverdisappoint, they have no moods or tempers, they are always at home, --inall of which respects they differ from the rest of our acquaintance. Ifthe man who invented sleep is to be blessed, thrice blessed be the manwho invented printing! There were not many books in the old yellow farm-house at North Tolland;but all that there were Cannie had read over and over again. Shakspeareshe knew by heart, and "Paradise Lost, " and Young's "Night Thoughts, "and Pollock's "Course of Time. " She had dipped into her dead father'stheological library, and managed to extract some food for herimagination, even from such dry bones as "Paley's Evidences" and"Edwards on the Will and the Affections. " Any book was better than nobook to her. Aunt Myra, who discouraged the practice of reading forgirls as unfitting them for any sort of useful work, used to declarethat the very sight of a book made Cannie deaf and blind and dumb. "You might as well be Laura what's-her-name and have done with it, " shewould tell her; "only I don't know where to look for a Dr. Howe or a Dr. Anybody, who will come along and teach you to develop your faculties. Ideclare, I believe you'd rather read a dictionary any day than not readat all. " "I don't know but I would, " said Cannie; but she said it to herself. Shewas rather afraid of Aunt Myra. With this strong love of reading, the girl's delight may be imaginedwhen Mrs. Gray, true to her promise, put into her hands a greatillustrated volume of Longfellow, and left her free to dip and selectand read as long as she chose. She curled herself up on the staircasebench, and was soon so deep in "The Skeleton in Armor" as to be quiteoblivious to all that went on below. She did not hear the bell ring, shedid not see various ladies shown into the drawing-room, or notice thehum of conversation that followed. She never lifted her eyes whenGeorgie Gray and a friend, who was no other than the identical Miss Joyof the "Eolus, " stood at the staircase foot for some moments and held awhispered conversation; nor was she conscious of the side glances whichthe visitor now and then cast up toward the brown gingham skirt visibleabove. It was not till "_Skoal!_ to the Northland! _skoal!_" ended the poem, that her dream ended, and she roused herself to find thecallers gone and luncheon on the table. Mrs. Gray was wont to say that they always had a meal at noon and a mealat night; and when her husband was at home, the first was called lunchand the second dinner, and when he was away the first was called dinnerand the second supper; and that the principal difference between themwas that at one there was soup and at the other there was not. Candacedid not particularly care what the meal was called. Under any name shewas glad of it, for sea-air and a morning drive had made her veryhungry; and this time she was on her guard, watched carefully whatothers did, and made no serious blunders. "What are you girls going to do this afternoon?" asked Mrs. Gray. "Berry Joy has asked me to drive with her, " replied Georgie; "she wantsto take her friend over to the Fort to hear the band play. You have noobjection, have you, mamma?" "No; none at all. And you, Gertrude?" "I haven't made any particular plan. " "Then suppose you and Candace take a walk on the Cliffs. I have to takeMarian to the dentist; but Cannie has not seen the sea yet, except at adistance, and you both ought to have a good exercise in the fresh air, for I am almost sure it will rain by to-morrow. You might take her tothe beach, Gertrude, and come home by Marine Avenue. " "Very well, mamma; I will, certainly, " said Gertrude. But there was alack of heartiness in her tone. Like most very young girls she had astrong sense of the observant eyes of Mrs. Grundy, and she did not atall approve of the brown gingham. "I wonder why mamma can't wait tillshe has made Cannie look like other people, " she was saying to herself. There was no help for it, however. None of Mrs. Gray's children everthought of disputing her arrangements for a moment; so the two girls setforth, Cannie in the despised gingham, and Gertrude in a closely fittingsuit of blue serge, with a large hat of the same blue, which stood outlike a frame round the delicate oval of her face, and set off thefeathery light hair to perfection. Their way for a little distance was down a sort of country lane, whichwas the short cut to the Cliffs. It ended in a smooth greensward at thetop of a wall of broken rocks; and, standing on the edge, Cannie calledout, "Oh!" with a sense of sudden surprise and freedom. Before her was a bay of the softest blue, with here and there a line ofwhite surf, where long rollers were sweeping in toward the distantbeach. Opposite, stretched a point of land rising into a low hill, whichshone in the yellow afternoon sun; and from its end the unbroken seastretched away into a lovely distance, whose color was like that of anopal, and which had no boundary but a mysterious dim line of faintlytinted sky. Sails shone against the moving water; gulls were dipping anddiving; a flock of wild-ducks with glossy black heads swam a little awayout from the shore. Beyond the point which made the other arm of thelittle bay rose an island, ramparted by rocks, over which the surfcould be seen to break with an occasional toss of spray. There was adelicious smell of soft salty freshness, and something besides, --a kindof perfume which Candace could not understand or name. "Oh, what is it; what can it be?" she said. "What?" "The smell. It is like flowers. Oh, there it is again!" "Mamma makes believe that it is the Spice Islands, " answered Gertrude, indifferently, "or else Madeira. You know there is nothing between usand the coast of Africa except islands. " "Really and truly? How wonderful!" "Well, I don't see how it is so very wonderful. It just happens so. Isuppose there are plenty of sea-side places where they can say the samething. " "Perhaps, --but I never saw any sea-coast but this. It is all new to me. " "I suppose so, " responded Gertrude, with a little yawn. She looked toright and to left, fearing that some acquaintance might be coming tosee her in company with this rather shabby little companion. "Would youlike to walk up the Cliffs a little way, or shall we go down to thebeach?" she asked. "Oh, let us just go as far as that point, " said Candace, indicatingwhere, to the right, past a turnstile, a smooth gravel path wound itsway between the beautifully kept borders of grass. The path ran on thevery edge of the Cliff, and the outer turf dipped at a steep incline towhere the sharp rock ran down perpendicularly, but to the very verge itwas as fine and as perfectly cut as anywhere else. Candace wondered whoheld the gardeners and kept them safe while they shaved the grass sosmoothly in this dangerous spot, but she did not like to ask. Gertrude'sindifferent manner drove her in upon herself and made her shy. A hundred feet and more below them the sea was washing into innumerablerocky fissures with a hollow booming sound. The cliff-line was brokeninto all sorts of bold forms, --buttresses and parapets and sharpinclines, with here and there a shallow cave or a bit of shingly beach. Every moment the color of the water seemed to change, and the soft dunsand purples of the horizon line to grow more intense. Candace had noeyes but for the sea. She scarcely noticed the handsome houses on herright hand, each standing in its wide lawn, with shrubberies and beds ofdazzling flowers. Gertrude, on the contrary, scarcely looked at the sea. It was an old story to her; and she was much more interested in tryingto make out people she knew at the windows of the houses they passed, oron their piazzas, and in speculating about the carriages which could beseen moving on the distant road. "How good it is of the people who own the places to let everybody gothrough them!" exclaimed Candace, when it was explained to her that theCliff walk was a public one. "Oh, they can't help themselves. There is a right of way all round theIsland, and nobody would be allowed to close it. Some owners grumbleand don't like it a bit; but mamma says it is one of the best things inNewport, and that it would be a great injury to the place to have ittaken away. The Cliff walk is very celebrated, you know. Lots of peoplehave written things about it. " "Oh, I should think they would. It is the most beautiful place I eversaw. " "You haven't seen many places, have you?" observed Gertrude, ratherimpolitely. "Oh no, I never saw anything but North Tolland till I came to Newport. " "Then you can't judge. " They had now turned, and were walking eastward toward the beach. Itsline of breaking surf could be distinctly seen now. Carriages and peopleon horseback were driving or riding along the sands, and groups of blackdots were discernible, which were other people on foot. "There is Pulpit Rock, " said Gertrude, stopping where a shelving pathslanted down toward a great square mass of stone, which was surroundedon three sides by water. "Would you like to go down and sit on top fora little while? I am rather tired. " "Oh, I should like to so much. " Down they scrambled accordingly, and in another moment were on top ofthe big rock. It was almost as good as being at sea; for when theyturned their backs to the shore nothing could be seen but water andsails and flying birds, and nothing heard but the incessant plash anddash of the waves below. "Oh, how perfectly splendid!" cried Cannie. "I should think you wouldcome here every day, Gertrude. " "Yes, that's what people always say when they first come, " said theexperienced Gertrude. "But I assure you we don't come every day, and wedon't want to. Why, sometimes last summer I didn't see the Cliffs forweeks and weeks together. It's nice enough now when there are not manypeople here; but after the season begins and the crowd, it isn't nice atall. You see all sorts of people that you don't know, and--and--well--itisn't pleasant. " "I can't think what you mean, " declared Cannie, opening her eyes withamazement. "I'd just as soon there were twenty people on this rock, if Ineedn't look at them and they didn't talk to me. The sea would be justthe same. " "You'll feel differently when you've been in Newport awhile. It's not atall the fashion to walk on the Cliffs now except on Sunday, and not atthis end of them even then. A great many people won't bathe, either, --they say it has grown so common. Why, it used to be the thingto walk down here, --all the nicest people did it; and now you never seeanybody below Narragansett Avenue except ladies'-maids and butlers, andpeople who are boarding at the hotels and don't know any better. " "How funny it seems!" remarked Candace, half to herself, with her eyeson the distance, which was rapidly closing in with mist. "What is funny?" "Oh, I was--I was only thinking how funny it is that there should be afashion about coming down to such a beautiful place as this. " "I don't see how it is funny. " "Yes, " persisted Candace, who, for all her shyness, had ideas andopinions of her own; "because the Cliffs are so old and have always beenhere, and I suppose some of the people who make it the fashion not towalk upon them have only just come to Newport. " "I really think you are the queerest girl I ever saw, " said Gertrude. A long silence ensued. Each of the two girls was thinking her ownthoughts. The thickening on the horizon meanwhile was increasing. Thinfilms of vapor began to blow across the sky. The wind stirred and grewchill; the surf on the beach broke with a low roar which had a menacingsound. Suddenly a wall of mist rose and rolled rapidly inland, blottingout all the blue and the smile of sky and sea. "Gracious! here's the fog, " cried Gertrude, "and I do believe it's goingto rain. We must hurry home. I rather think mamma's storm is coming, after all. " CHAPTER IV. THE MANUAL OF PERFECT GENTILITY. MRS. GRAY'S storm had indeed come. All the next day it rained, and theday after it rained harder, and on the third day came a thick fog; so itwas not till the very end of the week that Newport lay again in clearsunshine. The first of the wet days Cannie spent happily in the society of MissEvangeline and Mr. Hiawatha, two new acquaintances of whom she felt thatshe could scarcely see enough. Marian found her sitting absorbed on thestaircase bench, and after peeping over her shoulder at the pictures fora while, begged her to read aloud. It was the first little bit offamiliar acquaintance which any of the younger members of the Grayfamily had volunteered, and Candace was much pleased. Marian was not yet quite fourteen, and was still very much of a child atheart and in her ways. Her "capable" little face did not belie hercharacter. She was a born housekeeper, always tidying up and puttingaway after other people. Everything she attempted she did exactly andwell. She was never so happy as when she was allowed to go into thekitchen to make molasses candy or try her hand at cake; and her cake wasalmost always good, and her candy "pulled" to admiration. She was anaffectionate child, with a quick sense of fun, and a droll littlecoaxing manner, which usually won for her her own way, especially fromher father, who delighted in her and never could resist Marian's saucy, caressing appeals. It required all Mrs. Gray's firm, judiciousdiscipline to keep her from being spoiled. Georgie, who was nearly nineteen, seemed younger in some respects thanGertrude, who was but three months older than Candace. Georgie, too, hada good deal of the housekeeper's instinct, but she was rather dreamyand puzzle-headed, and with the best intentions in the world was oftenled into scrapes and difficulties from her lack of self-reliance, andthe easy temper which enabled any one who was much with her to gain aninfluence over her mind. Gertrude--but it is less easy to tell what Gertrude was. In fact, it wasless important just then to find out what she was than what she waslikely to be. Gertrude reminded one of an unripe fruit. The capacitiesfor sweetness and delightfulness were there within her, but all in acrude, undeveloped state. No one could predict as yet whether she wouldripen and become mellow and pleasant with time, or remain alwayshalf-hard and half-sour, as some fruits do. Meanwhile she was theprettiest though not the most popular of the Gray sisters, and she ruledover Georgie's opinions and ideas with the power which a stronger andmore selfish character always has over a weaker and more pliable one. Marian was less easily influenced. She and Gertrude often came intocollision; and it was in part the habit of disputing Gertrude'smandates which led her to seek out Candace on that rainy afternoon. Inthe privacy of her own room that morning, Gertrude had made some veryunflattering remarks about their newly arrived relative. "It's really quite dreadful to have a girl like that come to spend thewhole summer with one, " she said to Georgie. "She hasn't a bit of style, and her clothes are so queer and old-timey; and she's always lived up onthat horrid farm, and hasn't an idea beyond it. Everything surprises herso, and she makes such a fuss over it. You should have heard heryesterday when we were out walking; she said the Cliffs had been therealways, and some of the fashionable people had only just come. " "What _did_ she mean?" "I'm sure I don't know. She says the queerest things. And she looks sofunny and so different from the other girls; and of course everybodywill know that she is our cousin. " "Mamma has ordered her some dresses from Hollander's, " observed Georgie;"and that was a real pretty hat that came home last night. " "I don't care. They won't look like anything when she puts them on. " "Gertrude Gray, I think it's real mean to talk so about your owncousin, " cried Marian, who, with the instinct of a true "littlepitcher, " had heard every word. "It isn't Cannie's fault that she hasalways lived on a farm. She didn't have anywhere else to live. Verylikely she would have preferred Paris, " with fine scorn, "or to go toboarding-school in Dresden, as you and Georgie did, if anybody had givenher the choice. She's real nice, I think, and now that her hair is putup, she's pretty too, --a great deal prettier than some of the girls youlike. I'm going down now to sit with her. You and Georgie don't treather kindly a bit. You leave her all alone, and very likely she'shomesick at this moment; but I shall be nice to her, whatever you do. " Whereupon Miss Marian marched out of the room with her nose in the air, and devoted herself to Candace for the rest of that day, much to thelonely little visitor's contentment. They grew quite at home with each other over "Evangeline. " Birthdaybooks had just come into fashion. Somebody had given Marian one; and shenow brought it and asked Candace to write in it. "June 17, " she said, as Cannie sought out the right page; "why, that isnext Saturday. " "So it is, though I shouldn't have remembered it if it hadn't been foryour book. " "Why, how funny!" cried Marian, opening her eyes wide. "Don't you keepyour birthdays?" "Keep them?" repeated Candace, in a tone of perplexity. "Yes; keep--celebrate them? Don't people ever give you presents? Didn'tyou ever have a cake?"--her voice increasing in dismay, as Candace inanswer to each question shook her head. "Cake--on my birthday, you mean? No, I don't think I ever did. Aunt Myradoesn't believe in cake. She says she liked it when she was young; butsince she was converted to cracked wheat and oatmeal at the age ofthirty-three, she has hardly ever touched it. We never had any at NorthTolland, except gingerbread sometimes. " "What a dreadful kind of aunt for a girl to have!" remarked Marian, meditatively. She sat for some time longer on the floor, with her headon Candace's knee; but she seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and said she didn't feel like being read to any longer. At last she wentaway "to speak to mamma, " she said. Candace had forgotten all about this birthday discussion before Saturdaymorning dawned dimly out of the still persistent fog. All the time shewas dressing, her eyes were on "The Golden Legend" which lay open on thebureau beside her; and her thoughts were so much occupied with PrinceHenry and poor pretty Elsie, for whom she felt so very sorry, that shehad none to spare for the comparatively unimportant fact that she, little Candace Arden, had that day turned the corner of her seventeenthyear. It was all the more a delightful surprise, therefore, when she went downto breakfast and found a pile of dainty, white, ribbon-tied parcels onher plate, a glass of beautiful roses beside it, and was met with aspecial kiss from Cousin Kate, and a chorus of "Many happy returns" fromthe rest of the family. The little softnesses and prettinesses of life, the gifts and surprises, the sweet words, the being made much of on special occasions, were quiteunknown to the old farm-house in North Tolland. Aunt Myra was a stanchPresbyterian. She disapproved on principle of Christmas day, asbelonging to popery and old superstition. She didn't see that one daywas any better than any other day. It was just an accident on what dayof the year you were born, and it was no use to make a fuss about it, she said. There were plenty of people in the world before you came, andthere would have been plenty if you had never come at all. Such was AuntMyra's _dictum_. With these views, it may be supposed that Candace's idea of ananniversary was not a very lively one. For a moment she scarcely took inthe meaning of what she saw, but stood regarding the plate-ful ofparcels with a bewildered look on her face. "It's your birthday, you know, " exclaimed little Marian. "Many happyreturns! Don't you recollect that it's your birthday? We shouldn't havefound it out, though, if it hadn't been for my book. " "I'm not so sure about that, " said Mrs. Gray, smiling at her. "I had thedate of Cannie's birthday put down securely somewhere, and I've beenkeeping a special gift for it. It's something that I brought you fromGeneva, Cannie; but as it had waited so long before getting to you, Ithought it might as well wait a little longer and come on youranniversary. " "Oh, thank you, " said Candace, glancing shyly at the parcels. "Please do begin to open them!" urged Marian. "It is such fun to seepeople open presents. That's mamma's; open it first. " It was a flat squarish bundle, tied with a rose-colored ribbon. Cannie'sfingers shook with excitement as she undid the knot. Breakfast meantimewas at a stand-still. The girls were peeping over her shoulders, Mr. Gray watching from behind his newspaper; even Frederic, with a plate ofhot toast in his hand, had paused, and out of one discreet eye wasobserving her movements. Inside was a flat case of gray polished wood, with a little silverornament in the middle. It opened with a snap. Cannie pressed thespring, the lid flew up, and there, on a cushion of blue velvet, lay theprettiest little Swiss watch imaginable, with C. V. A. Enamelled on itslid. There was a slender gold chain attached, a little enamelledkey, --nothing could be more complete. "A watch! for me! to be my own!" cried Candace, hardly able to believeher eyes. "I never thought I should have a watch, and such a darlingbeauty as this. Oh, Cousin Kate!" "I am glad it pleases you, " said her cousin, with another kiss. "Youshould have had it two years ago; but I thought you rather young to betrusted with a watch then, so I kept it till we should meet. " "Oh, do make haste and open another! It's such fun to see you, " pleadedMarian. One by one, the other parcels were unfastened. There was a little ringof twisted gold from Georgie, a sachet of braided ribbons, dark andlight blue, from Gertrude, a slender silver bangle from Marian, and fromMr. Gray a long roll of tissue paper in which lay six pairs of undressedkid gloves in pretty shades of tan color and pale yellow. There wasbesides a big box of candy. This, Mr. Gray declared, was his realpresent. Cousin Kate was responsible for the gloves, but he knew verywell that there never yet was a girl of seventeen who did not have asweet tooth ready for a sugar-plum. One bundle remained. It was tied with pink packthread instead of ribbon. Cannie undid the string. It was a book, not new, bound in faded brown;and the title printed on the back was "The Ladies' Manual of PerfectGentility. " "Who on earth gave you that?" demanded Marian. Mrs. Gray looked surprised and not very well pleased. "It is a joke, I suppose, " she said. "Georgie, Gertrude, --which of youhas been amusing yourself in this odd way?" "Not I, mamma, " said Georgie. Gertrude felt the reproof in her mother'smanner, but she tried to laugh the matter off. "Oh, I put it there just for fun, " she said. "I thought the more parcelsthe better, and I happened to see that queer old thing, and thought itwould make Cannie laugh. " This explanation was not quite sincere. Gertrude had put the book on thetable, hoping to tease Cannie. She had overheard something which hermother was telling Candace the day before, --an explanation about somelittle point of manners, --and it had suggested the idea of the oldvolume. Her shaft had missed its mark somehow, or, like the boomerangsused by the Australian blacks, had returned again to the hand that aimedit; for Cannie did not seem to mind at all, and Mrs. Gray, though shesaid no more at the moment, was evidently meditating a lecture. It cameafter breakfast, and was unexpectedly severe, hurting Gertrude a greatdeal more than her maliciously intended gift had hurt Candace. "You are inclined to despise your cousin as countrified and unused tosociety, " said Mrs. Gray. "I grant that she is not up in all the littlesocial rules; but let me tell you, Gertrude, that Cannie has the trueinstinct of ladyhood in her, and after the occurrence of this morning Iam beginning to fear that you have not. Good manners are based on goodfeeling. Cannie may be shy and awkward; she may not know how to face aroom full of strangers gracefully, --such things are not hard to learn, and she will learn them in time; but of one thing I am very sure, andthat is, that if you were her guest at North Tolland instead of herbeing yours at Newport, she would be quite incapable of any rudenesshowever slight, or of trying to make you uncomfortable in any way. Iwish I could say the same of you, Gertrude. I am disappointed in you, mychild. " "Oh, mamma, don't speak so!" cried Gertrude, almost ready to cry; forshe admired her mother as well as loved her, and was cravingly desirousto win her good opinion. "Please don't think I meant to be rude. Itreally and truly was a joke. " "My dear, you meant a little more by it than that, " replied Mrs. Gray, fixing her soft, penetrating look on Gertrude's face. "You haven't begunquite rightly with Candace. I have noticed it, and have beensorry, --sorry for you even more than for her. She is an affectionate, true-hearted girl. You can make a good friend of her if you will; andyou can be of use to her and she to you. " "Now, what did mamma mean by that?" thought Gertrude, after she had goneupstairs. "I can't, for the life of me, see what use Cannie could be tome. I might to her, perhaps, if I wanted to. " The "Manual of Perfect Gentility" was destined to excite more attentionthan its donor had intended, in more ways than one. Candace and Marianfell to reading it, and found its contents so amusing that they carriedit to the morning-room, where Georgie was taking a lesson inchina-painting from her mother, who was very clever at all the minor artaccomplishments. Gertrude came in at the same time, in search of somecrewels to match an embroidery pattern; so they were all together. "Mamma, mamma, please listen to this!" cried Marian, and she read:-- "'_Directions for entering the room at an evening party. _--Fix your eye on the lady of the house on entering, and advance toward her with outstretched hand, looking neither to the right nor to the left, until you have interchanged the ordinary salutations of the occasion. When this is done, turn aside and mingle with the other guests. ' Now, mamma, just imagine it, --marching in with your hand out and youreye fixed!" And Marian, relinquishing the Manual to Cannie, flew to thedoor, and entered in the manner prescribed, with her eyes set in a stonyglare on her mother's face, and her hand held before her as stiffly asif it had been a shingle. No one could help laughing. "I don't think the hand and the glare are necessary, " said Mrs. Gray;"but it is certainly quite proper to speak to the lady of the house, when you come in, before you begin to talk to other people. " "Here's another, " cried Marian, hardly waiting till her mother had donespeaking. "Just listen to these-- "'_Directions for a horseback ride. Mounting. _--The lady should stand on the left side of the horse, with her right hand on the pommel of her saddle, and rest her left foot lightly on the shoulder of her gentleman attendant, who bends before her. When this is done, the gentleman will slowly raise himself to the perpendicular position, and in doing so lift the lady without difficulty to the level of her seat. '" "My gracious! suppose he didn't, " remarked Georgie, looking up from herpainting. "There she would be, standing on his shoulder, on one foot!Imagine it, on the Avenue!" And the four girls united in a peal oflaughter. "But there is something here that I really want to know about, " saidCandace. "May I read it to you, Cousin Kate? It's in a chapter called'Correspondence. '" "Oh, my!" cried Marian, who still held fast to one side of the Manual. "It tells how to refuse gentlemen when they offer themselves to you. Here it all is. You must say, -- "'SIR, --I regret extremely if anything in my manner has led to a misapprehension of my true feelings. I do not experience for you the affection which alone can make the marriage relation a happy one; so I--'" "No, no, " interrupted Candace, blushing very pink, and pulling the bookaway from Marian; "that isn't at all what I wanted to ask you about, Cousin Kate. It was--" "Oh, then perhaps you meant to accept him, " went on the incorrigibleMarian, again getting possession of one side of the "Manual ofGentility. " "Here you are:-- "'DEAR FRIEND, --Your letter has made me truly happy, breathing, as it does, expressions of deep and heartfelt affection, of which I have long felt the corresponding sentiments. I shall be happy to receive you in my home as an accepted suitor, and I--'" "Cousin Kate, make her stop--isn't she too bad?" said Cannie, vainlystruggling for the possession of the book. "'And I'--let me see, where was I when you interrupted?" went on Marian. "Oh, yes, here-- "'And I am sure that my parents will give their hearty consent to our union. Receive my thanks for your assurances, and believe--'" But Candace had again got hold of the volume, and no one ever learnedthe end of the letter, or what the lover of this obliging lady was to"believe. " "_This_ is what I wanted to ask you about, Cousin Kate, " said Candace, when quiet was restored. "The book says:-- "'The signature of a letter should depend upon the degree of familiarity existing between the writer and the person addressed. For instance, in writing to a perfect stranger a lady would naturally use the form, -- Yours truly, Mrs. A. M. Cotterell. '" "Oh! oh!" interrupted Georgie. "Fancy any one signing herself 'Yourstruly, Mrs. A. M. Cotterell. ' It's awfully vulgar, isn't it mamma?" "That is a very old-fashioned book, " observed Mrs. Gray; "still I don'tthink, even at the time when it was published, that well-bred peopleused a signature like that. It may not be 'awfully vulgar, ' but itcertainly is not correct; nothing but the Christian name should ever beused as a signature. " "But suppose the person you were writing to did not know whether youwere married or not, " said Candace. "Then you can add your address below, like this;" and she wrote on theedge of her drawing-paper, -- "Yours truly, "CATHERINE V. GRAY. "MRS. COURTENAY GRAY, "Newport, R. I. That is what I should do if I were writing to a stranger. " "Then there is this about the addresses of letters, " went on Candace:-- "'In addressing a married lady, use her maiden as well as her married name; for example, in writing to Miss Sarah J. Beebe, who is married to George Gordon, the proper direction would be Mrs. Sarah B. Gordon, Care of George Gordon, Oshkosh, Michigan. ' Is that right, Cousin Kate?" "No; that is decidedly _wrong_. When Miss Beebe married, she became notonly Mrs. Gordon, but Mrs. George Gordon, to distinguish her from anyother Mrs. Gordons who might happen to exist. She should _sign_ herself'Sarah B. Gordon, ' but her letters and cards should bear her marriedname, 'Mrs. George Gordon. '" "But people do write to widows in that way, don't they?" asked Gertrude. "I recollect, when I went to the post-office with Berry Joy one day, there was a letter for her mother, directed to Mrs. Louisa Bailey Joy. " "Yes; people do, but not the people who know the right way, " her motherreplied dryly. "A man's Christian name doesn't die with him any morethan his surname. I often see letters addressed to Mrs. Jane this andMrs. Maria that, but it never seems to me either correct or elegant. Itis a purely American custom. English people have never adopted it, andit seems very odd to them. " "Well, about cards, " continued Marian, who was turning over the leavesof the "Manual of Gentility. " "See what a funny little card this is;and the writer of the book says it is the kind we ought to have. " Shepointed to a page on which appeared a little oblong enclosure bearingthe name +----------------------+ | | | _Fannie C. Jones. _ | | | +----------------------+ "That isn't nice a bit, is it, mamma?" "No, I confess that it does not look to me at all right. Girls oldenough to need cards are old enough to have 'handles to their names. ' IfI were that young woman I should spell 'Fanny' without the _ie_, andcall myself 'Miss Frances C. Jones' on my card, and keep my pet name forthe use of my friends, and not print it. " "I think I've learned a good deal to-day, " said Candace. "The funny oldbook isn't right in what it says, but Cousin Kate knows; so it comes tothe same thing in the end. I'm glad you gave it to me, Gertrude. " Gertrude had the grace to feel ashamed, as she saw Candace's perfectfreedom from shame. "Oh, dear! how much there is to learn!" continued Candace, with a sigh. She was still deep in the "Ladies' Manual of Perfect Gentility. " "Put away that book, Cannie, " said her cousin; "or give it to me, and Iwill hide it where Gertrude shall not find it again. Good breeding canbe learned without printed rules. " "Can it, mamma?" "Yes; for, as I was saying this morning to Gertrude, good manners arethe result of good feeling. If we really care about other people, andwant to make them happy, and think of them and not of ourselves, weshall instinctively do what will seem pleasant to them, and avoid doingwhat is disagreeable. We shall refrain from interrupting them when theyare speaking. We shall not half listen to what they say, while our eyesare roving about the room, and our attention wandering to other things. We shall be quick to notice if they want anything that we can get forthem. We shall not answer at random, or giggle, or say the wrong thing. We shall not loll back in our chairs, as Georgie is doing at thismoment, with one foot cocked over the other knee, and a paint-brush inour mouths. " "Mamma!" And Georgie hastily recovered the upright position, and tookher paint-brush from between her lips. "We shall not drum idly on window-panes, as Gertrude was doing just now, for fear that the little noise will be disagreeable to our neighbors. " "Now, mamma!" "We shall not walk carelessly between any one and the fire, because weshall be afraid of making them cold; nor shall we upset a work-basketwhile doing so, as Marian upset mine just now. " "Mamma, I do believe you are giving us all a scolding; I shall just stopyou. " And Marian flung her arms round her mother's neck, and gave herhalf a dozen enormous kisses. "We shall consider a kiss as a favor, " went on Mrs. Gray, inexorably, holding Marian off at arm's length, "not a punishment to be inflictedwhenever we happen to feel like it. We shall never trot one foot when weare nervous, and shake the table. " "Cannie, that's you. I thought it would be your turn soon, " said Marian. "Oh! did I trot?" said Cannie. "Please excuse me, Cousin Kate. I havesuch a bad habit of doing that. Aunt Myra says it's my safety-valve. " "If it's a safety-valve, it's all very well, " replied her cousin. "Ididn't know. In short, my dears, as the poet says, -- 'Manners are not idle, but the fruit Of noble nature and of lofty mind. ' The instinct of self-control, of gentleness, of consideration andforethought and quick sympathy, which go to make up what we call goodbreeding; the absence of noise and hurry, the thousand and one littleways by which we can please people, or avoid displeasing them, --are alltaught us by our own hearts. Good manners are the fine flower ofcivilization. And everybody can have them. I always say that one of thebest-bred men of my acquaintance is Mr. Jarvis, the mason. I have knownhim come up out of a cistern to speak to me, dressed in overalls and aflannel shirt; and his bow and his manner and the politeness of hisaddress would have done credit to any gentleman in the world. " "Mamma, how funny you are, " said Georgie, wonderingly; but Gertrudecaught her mother's meaning more clearly. "I rather like it, " she said slowly. "It sounds like something in a poemor a storybook, and it would be nice if everybody felt like that, butpeople don't. I've heard Mrs. Joy speak quite rudely to Mr. Jarvis, mamma. " "Very likely. I never have considered Mrs. Joy as a model of manners, "replied Mrs. Gray, coolly. "And that reminds me to say just one otherword about good breeding toward servants and people who work for us, orare poor and need our help. Gentleness and politeness are even moreimportant with them than they are with other people. " "Why more, mamma?" "Because their lives are harder than ours, and we owe them all thelittle help that courtesy can give. Because, too, we are their models, consciously or unconsciously, and if we are polite to them they will inreturn be polite to us. And besides, they meet us at a disadvantage. Ifa servant 'answers back, ' she is called impertinent and discharged; butI should think it must be rather hard _not_ to answer back to somemistresses. " "Is that why you are always so very polite to Jane?" asked Gertrude. Jane was the cook. "Yes, partly that; and partly because I want Jane to be very polite tome; and she always is. " "There is the sun at last, I do declare, " cried Marian, springing up. "Hurrah! I should think it was time. Now we shall have some niceweather, Cannie. Newport is lovely after a fog. It looks so nicelywashed, and so green. Mamma, couldn't we have a long drive thisafternoon in the wagonette, across the beaches and way round by thewindmill? I like that drive so much. " "Yes; and at dinner we will eat Cannie's health in her birthday cake. Itis making now, and Jane has the seventeen little pink candles all ready. How the fog is rolling away! It will be a charming afternoon. " CHAPTER V. DOWN TO BEAVER TAIL. SUNDAY morning brought the fresh, lovely stillness which Sundays inearly summer seem always to possess in Newport. Later in the season theroll of wheels and the jingle of plated harnesses come to mar thispeacefulness; but till the very end of June it endures, and is one ofthe sweet things of the place. The Joys were at breakfast. It was one of the points in which Mrs. Joytook most pride, that this meal was served in a special apartment knownas the breakfast-room, and not, as with most families, in the room wherethey dined. The breakfast-room was not large, but sumptuous in all itsappointments. A critical taste might have objected that the plushcurtains which shaded the windows were too heavy for summer; that thebegilded wallpaper "swore" a little at its own dado and frieze, as wellas deadened the effect of the pictures which hung against it; and thatthe drapery of lace and velvet which veiled the fireplace made a fireinconvenient and almost impossible, however cold the weather might be. But a critical taste might have found the same faults with the wholehouse. The general effect was of costliness and magnificence; but thedetails were at variance, and comfort and homelikeness had beensacrificed in the effort to make everything fine. There was a library, with almost no books in it; a ball-room, which was used only for balls, and looked bare and shut up on ordinary days; a huge drawing-room, fullof costly toys, --tables loaded with Sèvres cups, other tables withprocessions of pug-dogs in precious china, snuff-boxes, patch-boxes;chimney-piece crowded with porcelain figures and bits of old Dresdenware; there was a great deal of carving and _or-moulu_, --but it all hadthe air of being created and kept for company use, and deserted themoment company went away. Mrs. Joy had only got so far in her arteducation as this, that she bought everything which cost a great deal ofmoney and which her neighbors bought, and she never stopped to reasonabout such minor points as taste, fitness, convenience, or theadaptation of an article to her own particular needs. Mrs. Joy was the very image of a prosperous woman, as she sat behind herheavy silver coffee-pots and cream-jugs, reading the Sunday paper, toget which her groom had ridden a couple of miles before breakfast. Hervery black hair was trained into a line of formal rings across herforehead, which as yet scarcely showed a wrinkle. Her tightly lacedfigure was almost as slender as her daughter's; and the hand sparklingwith diamonds, which held the paper, was white and youthful. Handsomeshe certainly was; and people called her agreeable, for she talked agreat deal, in a noisy, lively way, and had a caressing manner for allpersons whom she thought it worth her while to caress. But her face washard; and when the society smile died out of it, it was neitherintelligent nor kindly. Mrs. Joy had been extremely pretty in her youth. Berenice was like her; but Tom Joy the son resembled his father, who haddied three or four years before the opening of this little story. Berry and her friend Ethel Curtis were talking about a sailing partywhich they had planned for the next day. "The Grays and the Halletts, and Julia Prime, that makes seven; mammafor matron, eight; then there's Tom and George Rivington, and the twoFosters. I can't think where we are to get the other three men. " "It isn't like a dinner party. The numbers need not be exactly equal, "suggested Ethel. "That's true, but it's a great deal better fun to have them equal. Menhate to talk to two girls at once, and the girls who haven't any men totalk to feel left out. Carrol Benton is coming up the end of the week; Iwish he were here now. " "I guess you'd better look up some other matron, and let me off, " saidMrs. Joy, laying down her newspaper. "I don't care much for sailing. I'mso apt to feel a little sick, and that spoils all the pleasure of it. Ask Mrs. Freddy Allen; she is young, and likes to go everywhere, andFreddy will go along and make another gentleman. " "That will do nicely if you really don't want to go, mamma. We'll invitethem all as we come out of church, and save the bother of writing notes. It's easier to explain when you see people than to write downeverything. " "Yes, that's one of the conveniences of going to church, " remarked Mrs. Joy, calmly. "I've often had as many as three or four invitations, coming out of Trinity on a Sunday morning in the season. These muffinsare horrid. James, tell the cook she ought to be ashamed of herself tosend up such things. They're as tough as leather, and burned besides--asblack as my shoe, I do declare. " "Yes, 'm. " And James departed to incense the cook with the unsoftened message. Thecook declared that when ladies came down an hour late for breakfast, they must expect tough muffins; and for her part she didn't care whetherthey were good or not; she didn't think much of the place anyway, anddidn't mean to stay on. There'd be plenty of people coming in a week ortwo, and plenty of places to pick and choose from. Mrs. Joy was alwayshaving little difficulties with her servants. Trinity Church looked cool and shady, as the party entered it from thedazzle of the outer sunshine. Berenice Joy was perfectly well-trained inthe outward forms of devotion. She called herself "High Church;" andnothing could be more graceful than the manner in which she glided upthe aisle, bowed to the chancel, and sank on her knees, for what wassupposed to be a short interval of silent prayer. But her eyes wentstraight to the Grays' pew the moment she rose, and from thence to theHalletts', and she whispered to Ethel, "They're all here. That's nice. "Then she indulged in a long stare at Candace, who had come to churchwith her cousins, and who, in her new cream-and-brown foulard, with thedaisy-trimmed hat, and a pair of the birthday gloves on her slenderhands, looked quite differently from the ill-dressed little passenger ofthe "Eolus" the Monday before. "Do look! That's the very girl we saw on the boat, " went on Berenice, inthe same low whisper. "Did you ever! Hasn't Mrs. Gray done her overnicely? I wonder where she got that hat?" "I wonder what she has done with the old one?" "Given it to the cook, or sold it to the rag-and-bottle man, " retortedBerry. Then came a suppressed giggle, which ended in sudden, forcedgravity as the opening words of the service fell on their ears, and theyrose with the rest of the congregation. Candace was not conscious that she was being looked at. She had onlyonce or twice in her life been in an Episcopal church, and never beforein an old one. Trinity seemed to her as wonderful and picturesque assome of the churches she had read about in books. She looked at thesquare pews where people sat sideways, instead of fronting the chancelas in ordinary churches. She noted the tall wands with gilded tops, which marked the places of the junior and senior wardens; the quaint, swinging chandeliers of old brass; the tablets on the walls, two orthree bearing inscriptions in honor of dead rectors or other departedworthies, one to the memory of a young girl, with a beautiful flyingfigure in bas-relief, carved in white marble. She gazed with amazementat the pulpit, --one of the ancient "three-decker" pattern, which israrely seen now-a-days, with a clerk's desk below, a reading-deskabove, above that a lofty pulpit for the clergyman, to which a narrowflight of stairs gave access, and suspended over all an enormousextinguisher-shaped sounding-board. It looked large and heavy enough tocrush any clergyman who should be caught by its fall while in act ofpreaching; and Candace watched its slight oscillations with anapprehensive fascination, till she recollected that it must have hungthere for a hundred years at least, so there was no reason to supposethat it would drop on this particular Sunday. By turning her head a very little she could get a glimpse of theorgan-loft, with its quaint little organ bearing two gilded mitres and aroyal crown on top, and below, the inscription, "The Gift of GeorgeBerkeley, late Lord Bishop of Cloyne. " She wondered who George Berkeleycould have been, and resolved to ask Cousin Kate as they went home ifthere was any story about him. There was no whispering or giggling in Mrs. Gray's pew. The girls weretoo well trained for such irreverence; and except that Georgieinterchanged one little smile with Berry Joy as she came in, not one ofthem looked away from the clergyman till the sermon was over and thebenediction pronounced. It had been an impressive service to Candace, who was used to the barer forms of the Congregational church; and shewas surprised to perceive how little solemnizing effect it seemed tohave on the congregation in general. The moment people rose from their knees, a low buzz of conversationbegan. Berry Joy seized on Georgie and Gertrude, and began to unfold thesailing plan as they walked down the aisle. Mrs. Joy took possession ofCousin Kate. Everybody seemed to have something to say to somebody. Candace caught scraps of half-a-dozen different conversations before shereached the door, and not one of them related in any way to the sermonor to anything religious. She overheard one invitation to dinner, another to drive, an inquiry about a dressmaker, a bit of gossip about anew engagement, a request for a recipe for mayonnaise. She supposed itmust be the right thing to chatter thus, since all thesedelightful-looking people did it; still it seemed to her country notionsrather queer. The carriage was waiting in Spring Street, a little farther up the hill. She did not like to get in till the others were ready, so she steppedaside among the gravestones, and looked up to where the white, slenderspire of the old church towered against the blue. She was trying to makeout the Episcopal mitre surmounted by the gilded weather-vane, when Mrs. Gray saw and beckoned to her. She was still talking with Mrs. Joy, and that lady was saying, "I maypossibly not be able to go myself, but if I am prevented I will see thatthe young folks have a proper matron. And then, my dear, there's CaptainDavis, you know. I never let Berry sail with any one else. He's so safeand so careful, and the weather promises to be perfect. " "It certainly is perfect to-day, " said Mrs. Gray. "Candace dear, I wantto introduce you to Mrs. Joy. My cousin, Miss Arden, Mrs. Joy; or rathermy niece, for her mother was like my own sister. She has come to spendthe summer with me. Cannie, Mrs. Joy is the mother of the young lady whocame down with you in the 'Eolus. '" "Ah, indeed, the girls did not tell me about that, " said Mrs. Joy. "Well, my dear, "--Mrs. Joy would have said "my dear" to Queen Victoriaor the Empress of China, if she had ever had the chance of an interviewwith those potentates, --"you've come to a charming place and to charmingrelatives, I'm sure, and you can't fail to enjoy your summer. You mustcome with your cousins to-morrow to this sailing-party which my youngfolks are getting up. They'll be delighted, I'm sure. " "Thank you, " said Candace, timidly, glancing at Mrs. Gray. "That will be very nice, " said her cousin. "Cannie has not been on thewater yet. It is a new pleasure for her. At four o'clock, you said, Mrs. Joy?" "Yes, dear, at four. And don't trouble to send down for the girls. It'simpossible to tell exactly when they will get in, as it depends on thewind, and Berry will have the beach-wagon, and can bring them all up aswell as not. Good-by, dear. " And Mrs. Joy sailed toward her carriage, where the two girls were already seated. "I've asked that Miss Arden who's staying with the Grays to go outsailing with you to-morrow, " she said, as she took her seat. "You'llwant another gentleman, Berry. " "Oh, mamma, what _did_ you do that for? She's the pokiest little thing. We didn't want her at all. " "Well, Mrs. Gray introduced her, and said she was almost her niece, andI thought it seemed to be expected. Mrs. Gray is always polite to ourvisitors, you know, and I don't like to seem to slight any of hers. What's the matter with the girl?" "Oh, nothing's the matter, only she's poky, and doesn't seem to fit insomehow. You would understand if you had seen her the day she came. Mrs. Gray has dressed her up, as you might be sure she would; but then shelooked like the backwoods, didn't she, Ethel?" "She seemed nice-appearing enough to-day. You'll have to make the bestyou can of it, I guess; for Mrs. Gray accepted for her. " "It doesn't really signify, " said Berry, discontentedly; "only it throwsthe party all out of shape. And she's younger than any of the rest, onlyjust seventeen, Georgie says. She'd a great deal better stay at homewith Marian. " It was fortunate that Candace did not guess how unwelcome her companywas to the getters-up of the party, for the idea of the sail was mostdelightful to her. She had never been out in a boat in her life, noteven on the smallest pond; and she had just discovered the strongfascination of the sea. She longed to get nearer to it, to know itbetter; and in her innocent little heart she thought, "How very kind itwas in Mrs. Joy to invite me. " Sunday was always a particularly pleasant day at the Grays'. Mrs. Graywas wont to declare that though she did not believe in the JewishSabbath, she did with all her heart believe in the Christian day ofrest; and she took pains to make it a happy one for all under her roof. She gave her servants as much liberty as she could, simplified theirwork, and provided a plenty of good reading for such of them as stayedat home. Her own time was much more at the service of her family than itcould be on ordinary days. She always took a walk with the girls in thecool of the afternoon, if the day were pleasant, and kept some book of athoughtful kind to read aloud in the evenings. This Sunday it happenedto be that wonderful little prose poem of Mrs. Oliphant's, "ABeleaguered City. " Cannie found it absorbingly interesting, and even Mr. Gray laid aside his newspaper and listened to the very end. The reading done, Candace found a chance to ask her question aboutGeorge Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, the donor of the organ. There was astory about him, as it turned out, and a very interesting one. Mrs. Graytold how, when Dean of Derry in Ireland, the project of establishing acollege in Bermuda for the education of English boys and of Indianyouths to act as missionaries to their own people, had taken possessionof his mind; and he had given up his preferment, and crossed the seawith his family to engage in this chosen work. She described theirlanding in Newport on a Sunday morning when everybody was at church, andhow the clergyman stopped in the middle of his sermon, and with all hiscongregation following him, hurried down to the water-side to receivethe distinguished guest. She promised to take Candace out some day tosee Whitehall, --the house which he built on the island, and in which helived for some years, till the impossibility of carrying out his schemefor Bermuda drove him back again to Ireland; and also the rocky shelfstill called "Bishop Berkeley's Rock, " where he is said to have composedthe lines which begin "Westward the course of empire takes its way. " Then she looked up a photograph from Smibert's picture of Dean Berkeleyand his family to show them, and by that time the girls had all growninterested; and when Marian said that she, too, wanted to go to seeWhitehall, Georgie and Gertrude begged to be included also, and Mrs. Gray promised to take them all. "One of the Dean's little children is buried in Trinity churchyard, Cannie, " she ended; "you can look up the stone some day. It has 'LuciaBerkeley' carved upon it. " "I should like to, " said Cannie. "It has been so nice to hear about him. How many interesting things have happened in Newport! I shall care agreat deal more about that funny little organ, next Sunday. " * * * * * Newport Harbor shone all blue and silver in the sun, as the partystepped on board the cat-boat "Cornelia" at sharp four on Mondayafternoon. Mrs. Fred Allen, a tall, graceful brunette, seemed as much ofa girl as any of the party which she was nominally to "matronize;" but"she _was_ married though she didn't look it, " as Berry Joy remarked, and so was qualified to fill the place. There was a fair wind, whichsent the boat smoothly along with little or no motion as they glidedpast the long sunken shoal off the end of Goat Island, and opened theview of Brenton's Cove, with the wreck of the old slaver lying in thedeep shadow under one bank, opposite the ribs of the other strandedbark; while from beyond in the laughing bay, white-winged boats flittedto and fro, and seemed to beckon and make tempting signals to the poordefeated barks who might never sail or enjoy the sea again. Candaceventured to ask Gertrude in a whisper, "What are those?" "Oh, only some old wrecks, " replied Gertrude, carelessly; and she turnedfrom Candace to talk to Tom Joy, who sat next to her. The "Cornelia" was now running on the favoring wind between Fort Adamsand the Conanicut shore. On one hand lay Newport, which looked like adream city in the soft shine of the afternoon; on the other was the longhill line of the island, green with grasses, except where broken now andthen by rocky cliffs, and indented with innumerable little coves andinlets, --some ending in strips of pebbly beach, others in stony shelvesoverhung by sea-weeds. The water was beautiful in color, --here paleflashing green, there purple in the shadow, with gleams of golden lightand a low reach of shimmering blue toward the horizon. On sped the boattill they could almost touch the ledges. The rounded outline of the oldfortification on the upper hill towered above their heads. Then suddenlyshe curved and wheeled off on the other tack, with the sharp line ofCastle Hill and the Agassiz Point full in view. Candace gazed with delighted eyes to left and right. Her mind was fullof questions, but there seemed no one of whom she could ask them. Georgie and Berry were perched on the extreme point of the bow, with ayoung man stretched at their feet. Mrs. Fred was on the cabin roofamidships, with quite a little court of girls and young men about her. The couples who sat opposite and beside her seemed quite absorbed ineach other. No one had spoken to Candace since the first introductions, and she was too shy to open a conversation with anybody. "How I wish I knew!" she sighed to herself, half aloud. Looking up, she met the shrewd, twinkling eyes of the Captain. Perhapshe had caught the words, for he asked encouragingly, "Did you speak, Miss?" "No, " said Candace, "I don't think I spoke. But I was wondering aboutthat--that--_thing_ up there, " pointing to the Fort. "That? That's Fort Dumpling, as folks call it. It is a kind of a queerold place, ain't it? They don't use it now for no war purposes, but itmakes a pretty p'int in the landscape, and folks go there for picnicsand such in the summer season. " "When was it built?" asked Candace, charmed to find somebody able andwilling to satisfy her curiosity. "Wa'al, I reckon it was about 1812, when we was a-tackling the Britishfor the last time. 'Tain't very much of a fort to look at; but if youwas to mount some of them powerful guns they make now on the walls, them and the others over at Fort Adams yonder would protect the channelpretty well. The shot'd reach clear across. Why, you hardly think itperhaps, but not more'n four or five years ago, there was some folks whohad come on a kind of an excursion, taking their lunches up there byFort Dumpling, and some soldiers was firing at a long-range target overthere to Fort Adams, and one of the balls came over and hit a younglady. " "How dreadful!" said Candace, her eyes measuring the long distancebetween the two points. "And it seems so far away. I suppose the younglady felt perfectly safe. I am sure I should have. Did it kill her?" "Oh, no! they thought at first it had, but it didn't turn out so bad aswas expected. The soldiers, they felt mighty mean, I expect. You see, they didn't intend a mite of harm to her or anybody; but it just showshow far them big guns carry now-a-days. A war-ship now, unless she wassome kind of a monitor or that, would stand a fair chance of beingstove and sent to the bottom before she could get in to attack Newport. " "What a fanny little house that is close down to the water!" remarkedCandace, looking off to the opposite shore. "That's Professor Agassiz's laboratory. Do y' see that kind of a covewhich sets in there near by the building, and a little black thingsticking up out of it? That's the pipe of his steam-launch. He and therest go out in it and dredge for fish and such like, and then theyexperiment on them inside. " "What do they do that for?" asked Candace. "Wa'al, they want to find out about 'em, I reckon. I was in there onceand saw them at work, but I couldn't make nothing out of it, and therewasn't anybody I could ask. " "Oh, what is that?" cried Candace, as the "Cornelia, " tacking again, opened one of the little bays on the south end of Conanicut, where asmall steam vessel was lying. Two boats, which seemed to belong to her, were rowing in a parallel line with each other, and behind themappeared a long line of bobbing points which she could not at allunderstand. "That's one of the fishing steamers, and the boats are drawing hernets, " explained the Captain. "Didn't you ever see a seine drawn before?Wa'al, I declare! I'm mighty glad we happened just in time, for it's acur'us spectacle. I guess we'll kind of hang about till they get thenets in, and then I'll take the 'Cornelia' up near enough for you tosee. " "Captain, there are the seine-boats out, " called Tom Joy at the samemoment. "Let's sail up and see what they've caught. " The two boats began to near each other as they reached the limits of thelong elliptical curves which made their course; and presently a greatnumber of scintillating specks were seen in the space enclosed betweenthem. There were the leaping fish, just conscious that they were crowdedinto a confined place, and desirous of escape. When they were quiteclose to one another, the boats turned and began to row for thesteamer. The "Cornelia" followed; and the Captain with a twist of thetiller threw her into the wind just beyond the great net, which by thattime was being rapidly hauled in. It was a wonderful thing to see, --the heavy mass of floundering fishespouring over into the steamer's hold. Thousands and thousands ofquivering silvery shapes of all kinds, from the fat, oily-bodiedmenhaden, to weird horned monsters with gaping mouths, andstrange, half-translucent blocks like jelly, which seemed to have nomouths at all. Large and small, pinky white, black, blue, --in theypoured. Now and then some fish more lucky than his fellows would splashover the side of the net and escape to liberty and the deep sea; now andthen a fisherman with a sudden dash of his hand would single out aspecimen choicer than the rest, a blue-fish, a chicken cod, or asea-bass. The little company in the sail-boat shared all the excitement of thecatch. The young men left their flirtations for the boat's side, wherethey could get a better view. A great deal of chaff went on betweenCaptain Davis and the captain of the menhaden steamer. Tom Joy amusedhimself by bargaining for blue-fish, and actually bought three bigflapping specimens for a dollar and a quarter. They were deposited onthe bottom of the "Cornelia, " where they leaped painfully up and down, while the girls retreated for refuge to the upper deck, till CaptainDavis at last caught the fish and stowed them away in his little cabin. It was not till the last loop of the seine was emptied, the last fishsecured, and the boats were making ready for another cast, that the"Cornelia" finally glided away; and by that time a soft crimson glow hadgathered in the west and the sun was nearing the horizon edge. The windblew more freshly now, and with a zest and coolness which it had not hadearlier in the afternoon. Captain Davis pointed out to Candace the light-ship anchored in theoffing between Point Judith and Brenton's Reef, and told her how the menwho lived on board of her did not see a face from land for weekstogether sometimes, when winds were stormy and waves rough. Candacelistened eagerly. The rest of the party had gone back to their oldplaces, but there was not so much chatter now. The dreamy influences ofthe hour were felt by every one. Dick Foster was quoting Tennyson in alow voice to pretty Julia Prime. Berry Joy and Georgie still kept up afitful conversation with their cavalier; but Gertrude had grown silent, and Tom Joy was whistling softly to himself, with his eyes fixed on thesunset. The "Cornelia" sped silently seaward. Suddenly they were in the shadowof a deep cove at the very end of Conanicut; and close by them rose outof the sea an immense square table of rock, over which, still as it was, the surge was constantly flinging showers of white spray. The whole topof this rock was black with large sea-birds. Candace had never imaginedsuch a sight. The birds seemed crowding each other on every inch ofspace. Each moment some of them would rise, wheel in air with wild criesand screams, and then settle again to dispute for room, while theseething foam splashed over them; and the incessant flutter of theirwings, the dashing spray, and the long wash of waves at the base of therock gave to their place of refuge the effect of movement, so that itseemed to sway and float in the sea. "Oh, what a wonderful place!" cried Candace. "Such big birds, and somany of them, --what do you call them, Captain?" "Wa'al, they're mostly cormorants and gulls, I reckon. That's what wecall them down to Newport. They ain't no good for eating, so they don'tget shot; and they do increase powerfully, though it seems to me I neverdid see quite so many on the Kettle Bottom before as this afternoon. " "Is that the name of the rock?" "Yes, the Kettle Bottom Rock; that's what it's called. It's a queerplace. There was a painter here last summer, and he made a picter of it, with them birds all flying over it, which folks said was as like aslike. " The line of hotels on Narragansett Beach was now plainly in sight. Theywere almost off Beaver Tail, and the sea was rougher. "Captain, we may as well put about, " said Tom Joy. "The sun's goingdown, and there's rather more motion hereabouts than the ladies like. " So they put about and sped harborward, helped by the tide which was nowrunning swiftly in. Frank Rivington began to sing in a mellow tenorvoice little barcarolles and Venetian boat-songs, which were full of ameasured rhythmic movement like oar-strokes and the beat of waves. Thepink in the west deepened after the sun went down to a vivid orange red, and flamed higher and higher till the zenith caught the glow; and alittle crescent moon, which was climbing up, swung like a tiny silverboat on a crimson tide. It was all like a dream, to which the noiselessspeed of the boat offered no interruption. "Good-night, Captain, " said Candace, gently, as the "Cornelia" touchedthe wharf, at the upper end of which the carriages were waiting forthem. "I'm so much obliged to you for telling me all about the things. " "You're welcome, I'm sure, " replied the hearty Captain. "It's beennothing but a pleasure so far as I'm concerned. Hope I may take you outsailing again, Miss. " "Oh, I hope so. I think sailing is lovely. " "Good-by, Miss Arden. I hope you have enjoyed it, " said Mrs. Allen, asshe was borne off by her husband. It was the sole remark addressed bythe "matron" of the party to the little stranger under her care duringthat afternoon; but Candace had not felt neglected. "Oh, yes; very much, thank you, " she replied. Tom Joy, who had waked upto the sense that "the little girl in the red hat" had not had muchattention paid her on the sail, tried to get up a conversation as thebeach-wagon climbed the hill; but Candace had but little small talk ather command, and they did not get on very fluently. "I've had a lovely time, Miss Joy, " she said shyly, as they were setdown at home. "I'm sure I'm glad. Good-night, Miss Arden. " And that was all the noticewhich Berenice Joy took of her youngest guest, beyond the necessarygood-afternoon when they first met on the wharf. Candace was too unexacting, and too much accustomed to think of herselfas a child to whom no particular attention was due, to realize or resentbeing treated with this scant courtesy. She told Cousin Kate about thesail and the seine steamer, and all the Captain's tales andexplanations, with a glow of enjoyment which surprised Gertrude, andperhaps pricked her conscience somewhat; for that night, athair-brushing time, she surprised Georgie by the observation, "Afterall, Cannie is quite a sweet little thing. " "So she is, sweet enough; but what makes you think of it just now?" "Why, we rather left her out this afternoon, I am afraid. Hardly anybodysaid a word to her, except the Captain. It was rude enough of Berry, forit was her party; but I think it was worse for us. Any other girl wouldhave been hurt and cross, and showed it; but Cannie never seemed to minda bit, and enjoyed everything, and was just as nice and pleasant as ifshe had been the belle of the party. " "Well, it _was_ too bad, " said Georgie, penitently. "I never thoughtabout it, and I sat ever so far off from her, and Arnold Foster was sofunny--in fact, I forgot Cannie. I took it for granted that she wasbeing entertained, somehow. " "I'm afraid both of us find it pretty easy to forget Cannie, " remarkedGertrude. "Well, I shall try to do better another time. " CHAPTER VI. A TALK ABOUT SHYNESS. "CANNIE, " said Mrs. Gray, a few days after the sailing-party, "would youlike to study French this summer, with Marian for company?" "Y-es, " replied Cannie; but she said it more because she saw that a yeswas expected of her, than because of any real pleasure at the idea. Likemost girls who have had scanty or poor teaching, she liked to read agreat deal better than she liked to study. "Do you know any French at all?" continued her cousin. "No, not any. There wasn't anybody at home who taught it; and if therehad been, I don't believe Aunt Myra would have let me learn. She thinksEnglish is a good enough language for anybody. I did study Latin alittle while, though. Aunt Myra consented to that, because we had papa'sLatin books in the house, and she said they might as well be useful. " "Well, your Latin won't come amiss to your French, " said Mrs. Gray, laughing to herself over this thrifty reason for learning a language. "Marian is, of course, far ahead of you in speaking, for she learned itby ear, as they say of music, during the year we spent in France on ourway home; but she knows but little of the rules and grammar. I think youwill do very well together; for her fluency will tempt you on to talk, and your perseverance will keep her up to the exercises andconjugations, which are sad drudgery, but very needful if you are everreally to know anything of the language. You are persevering, are younot, Cannie?" "I don't know whether I am or not, " replied Candace, inly resolving tojustify Cousin Kate's good opinion. "I have confidence in you, " said Mrs. Gray, smiling kindly at her. "Andanother thing I wanted to say is, that I think both you and Marian willenjoy the summer a great deal better for having one regular study toprepare for. It gives a sort of backbone to your lives, don't you see?Clear fun is like clear honey, --it cloys and loses its charm; but whenit is mixed with occupation it keeps its flavor, and you don't get tiredof it. " "I can understand that, " said Candace, thoughtfully. "I recollect hownice Saturday afternoons used to seem when Aunt Myra had kept me busydarning stockings all the morning. I think I _would_ like the Frenchlessons, Cousin Kate; only I am afraid the teacher will think me verystupid. " Candace's fears were not realized. As a beginner, her first steps werenecessarily slow; but she took pains, and had no bad habits or evilaccents to unlearn, and after a while she "got hold" of the language andwent on more rapidly. Marian's fluent chatter stimulated her to try totalk as fast also, though Mademoiselle Bougereau, their teacher, found agreat deal of fault with Marian, and said that many of the phraseswhich came so glibly out of her mouth partook of the nature of slang, and were not finished or elegant French. Still, with all drawbacks, thelittle class of two made fair progress; and Candace realized that whatMrs. Gray had said was true, and that all the bits of amusement andpleasure which came in her way were doubly enjoyed by reason of thelittle "backbone" of real work thus put into her days. Another pleasure which she and Marian shared in common was a surf-bathbefore breakfast. Berry Joy had got up an omnibus party of girls, whichshe called "The Early Dip Club, " in which all four of Mrs. Gray's youngpeople were included. Punctually at a quarter before seven on every fairmorning the omnibus rattled up the Avenue; and the "Club" set out, underthe care of an old experienced maid of Mrs. Joy's, who had nursed Berry, and could be trusted to see that none of the young ladies did anythingvery imprudent, --such as staying too long in the water or standing aboutin their wet bathing-dresses. At that early hour there were no loungersto stare at the party. The beach, cleanly swept by the tide of the nightbefore, had scarcely a footprint to mar its smooth, firm sands. Therewas something delightful in the perfect freshness of the hour and place. Some of the girls had taken lessons in the "School of Natation" in thelower bay, and could swim very well. Candace could not swim, and made noattempt to learn; but she soon acquired the art of floating, under thetuition of Alice Frewen, who, next to Marian and herself, was theyoungest of the party, and to whom she had taken a great fancy. Thethree "children, " as Berenice Joy called them, made common cause, andgenerally kept together, a little apart from the others, holding eachother's hands and splashing up and down in the rollers with greatenjoyment. Bathing over, the "Early Dippers" returned home in their omnibus aboutthe time that other people were waking up, bringing with them suchcheeks and such appetites as were a satisfaction to their families, anddid great credit to the powers of the Newport surf. So the days sped on. It was full summer-tide now; yet the weather neverseemed hot, except perhaps for an hour or two at a time. Morning aftermorning the sun would rise in a blaze of yellow, which anywhere elsewould have betokened a scorching day; and just as people had begun tosay, "What a sultry morning!" lo, in one moment the wind would set infrom the sea, strong, salty, fresh, invigorating; and, behold, it wascool! Or if the afternoon seemed for a little while oppressive in thestreets of the old town, it was only necessary to go down to the end ofthe Avenue to find a temperature cool enough to be called chilly. Nobodyever thought of driving without a shawl, and the shawl was almost alwaysneeded. Mrs. Gray was wont to say that Newport had three differentclimates, --a warm one and a cold one and an in-between one, --and it hadthem all three every day, and people could take their choice, which wasmuch more convenient than having only one. The large places on the Cliffs were all open and occupied now. Theflower-beds, newly planted when Candace came, made wonderful spaces ofcolor everywhere in the emerald turf. Geraniums seemed as universal asgrass, and their splendid reds and pinks were such as are seldom seenanywhere except in Newport. Foliage plants grew into enormous crimson orgolden mats, which showed not one break in their luxuriant fulness. Inthe more ornate places were beds planted to look like Turkish carpets orIndian shawls, the pattern reproduced by hundreds of small plants ofcarefully adjusted hues, kept closely shaven so as to lie as flat as theobjects they simulated. Roses were everywhere; and the soft driftingmists which now and again blew in from the sea, and the constantunderlying moisture of the climate kept everything in a state of perfectfreshness. The Casino balls and lawn-tennis matches had begun. Visitors werepouring into the Ocean House; and every day increased the number ofcarriages, drags, dog-carts, pony phaetons, and village carts, which onall bright afternoons thronged the Avenue from end to end. Dinners andlawn-parties were of frequent occurrence, and during calling-hours thebell seemed always in vibration at the Gray cottage. --"Cottage" I callit; for in Newport everything that is not a "villa" is styled a"cottage, " no matter how big or square or uncompromising its appearancemay be. Candace was rather too young to be taken into general society, and shesaw much less of these entertainments than Georgie; less even thanGertrude, who, by reason of her intimacy with Georgie's set, was oftenincluded in their parties, though not yet formally "out. " Mrs. Gray, however, thought it good for Candace to share a little of what was goingon; and she took pains to have her invited now and then with the othersto lawn-parties, excursions, or afternoon teas. If Mrs. Gray herself waspresent on these occasions, Cannie did pretty well; for she invariablygot behind her cousin or beside her, made no attempt to talk, and justamused herself by watching what went on. But when Mrs. Gray did not go, and she was left to the tender mercies of Georgie and Gertrude, she wasapt to feel lonely and unfriended; for with all the better resolutionsof these pleasure-loving young people, they still found it "easy toforget Cannie. " "What are you going to do this morning, children?" asked Mrs. Gray, oneday at breakfast. "Is the great tennis-match that we have heard so muchabout to come off, or have I forgotten the date?" "No, this is the eventful day, " replied Gertrude; "and I am so nervousabout it that I don't feel as if I could play at all. " "Nonsense! you played beautifully yesterday, " said Georgie. "There wasn't anything depending on me yesterday. It is queer how peoplenever do their best when it is important that they should. I feel as ifI were going to be all thumbs this morning. " "Oh, you won't. You'll get excited and forget about the thumbs, "remarked Georgie, consolingly. "Mamma, aren't you coming to see us?" "Yes, I think I shall; and I will bring Cannie with me. She hasn't seenthe Casino yet. " Candace had become familiar with the street side of the pretty Casinobuilding, and admired greatly its long façade, with the quaintlyshingled curves and balconies, and the low gables, ornamented with disksand half suns in dull gilding, --all looking, Mrs. Gray said, as old asif it had stood there for a couple of centuries, instead of for three orfour years only. But the street side, picturesque as it is, had by nomeans prepared her for what she saw as she followed her cousin throughthe entrance hall and into the quadrangle beyond. What did she see? An open space of greenest turf, broken only by twolong curving beds of foliage plants and a stone basin from which afountain threw up a cool jet to refresh the air. On either hand, and onthe side from which they had entered, was a line of low buildings, withbalconies and _grilles_ of quaintly designed wood-work, windows filledwith oddly tinted glass, and at one point a clock tower of roughmasonry, over which vines were clustering. Connecting the buildings toright and left, was a raised covered gallery, semi-circular in shape, with a second gallery overhead; and on these ladies in fresh morningtoilettes were sitting, some with pieces of embroidery in their hands, others collected in knots for conversation or to listen to the music ofthe band. Beyond this gallery lay another and much larger quadrangle, with linesof trees and shrubs to veil its boundaries, on which lawn-tennis wasbeing played in five or six courts at once. At the back of thisquadrangle was another long low building, in the same picturesque styleas the rest, which, Mrs. Gray explained, contained on one side acharming little theatre which could also be used as a ball-room, and onthe other an admirable bowling-alley and racket-court for the use of themembers. The band was playing gay music; a hum of conversation filledthe air; pretty girls in white or blue or rose color were moving about;the wind drew with delicious coolness through the galleries; altogetherit would have been hard to find on a summer morning a prettier place ora livelier scene. Mrs. Gray was too much of a favorite not to be at once sought out. Shewas soon the centre of a little group of friends; and Candace sat besideher, silent as usual, but gazing with enchanted eyes at the animatedfigures on the tennis ground, at the gables and loggias of therestaurant building, at the curious clock-tower, with the heavy ironrings depending above the base, and its top like a bellflower. It wasall like a fairy tale to her. Her imagination was actively at work, butno one would have guessed it from her quiet little face; and when Mrs. Gray introduced her to one person and another, she shrank into herself, and after her shy little bow and "How do you do?" relapsed again intostillness, and made no attempt to keep up a conversation. People werekind; but it is always easy to secure solitude in a crowd, and Canniesoon found herself let alone to her heart's content. Gertrude was playing her best. Her nervousness had disappeared in theexcitement of the game, as Georgie had predicted that it would, and someof her strokes were so clever as to win a little volley of applause fromthe by-standers. Candace did not know the game well enough to appreciatefine points of play, but she could perfectly appreciate the fun ofwinning; and when Gertrude, flushed and radiant, came to show her motherthe prize she had won, a lace pin of gold filigree in the form of aracket, Cannie's face lighted up with a bright sympathy which waspleasant to see. A lady who had been watching her whispered to Mrs. Gray, "What a sweet face that little niece of yours has!" "So she has, " replied Mrs. Gray; "only she is so very timid. She neverdoes herself justice. " "Is it timidity? I had a fancy that she had an unhappy temper, or wastroubled about something. Her face has always seemed so sad andovercast till just now, when it lit up at Gertrude's good fortune, andthen I caught the true expression. " Mrs. Gray recollected this remark as she drove home with Candace, who, perfectly at ease now that she was alone with her cousin Kate, chatteredand laughed like any other girl, and showed herself the happy youngthing that she was. At home, even when with Georgie and Gertrude, shewas no longer shy; but the moment a stranger came in, all was changed. It was like an evil spell cast by some enchanter. The pleasant smile andsimple childish manner vanished, and Cannie became stiff, cold, awkwardeven; for her discomfort made her feel constrained in every limb andmuscle. Her manner grew frigid, because she was frightened and wanted tohide it. If she had to shake hands, she did it without smiling and withdowncast eyes; she was too ill at ease to be cordial. People thoughtthat she was out of humor or troubled about something, and set her downas dull and unattractive; and with a natural reaction, Cannie felt thatthey did not like her, and that made her more uncomfortable than ever. Mrs. Gray pitied Cannie very much, and had tried various methods toshake her out of her shyness and teach her confidence in herself. Noneof them so far had done any good. She now began to wonder if heranalysis of the case was not wrong; if shyness was not a fault ratherthan a misfortune, and needed to be disciplined accordingly. She watchedCandace for a day or two, and then she made up her mind. "It will bekill or cure, " she thought, as she ordered the coupé and proposed toCannie to take the ocean drive. Marian wanted to go too, and protestedthat there was plenty of room on the little let-down seat, and that shewouldn't crowd them a bit; but her mother was quite firm, and despatchedher on an errand in the other direction without any compunctions. "I must have Cannie all to myself, " she thought. It was not till they were out of the Avenue and rolling along the smoothroad beyond Bailey's Beach, with the fresh-water ponds on one hand andon the other the points and indentations of the coast, that Mrs. Grayled to the subject which was on her mind. The sea was intensely bluethat afternoon, with shoots of creamy foam over every rock and ledge, and for a while they talked of nothing but the beauty of the day and theview. Finally Mrs. Gray began, -- "How did you like Mrs. Endicott?" Mrs. Endicott was one of various visitors who had called that morning. Candace had been sent for, and had been more than usually awkward andunresponsive. "I liked her pretty well, " said Candace. "She didn't talk to me but alittle while. " "I know she didn't. It was on her account specially that I sent for youto come down, " continued Mrs. Gray. "Did she tell you that she was atschool with your mother when they were quite little girls?" "No!" said Candace, surprised. "Yes; they were great friends, and she wrote to me before she came upthat she was looking forward to seeing you. Shall I tell you why she sosoon stopped talking to you? She told me afterward. She said: 'I wantedto talk to your niece about her mother, and to ask her to come to me fora visit; but she looked so frightened and seemed so stiff and shy andhard to get at, that I thought the kindest thing I could do would be tolet her alone for the moment, till she was a little more used to me, andto talk to some one else. Next time I come, we shall get on better, Ihope. '" Candace looked much mortified. "Was I stiff?" she asked. "I didn't know it. I didn't mean to be. " "You are almost always stiff with strangers, " said her cousin. "I knowyou do not mean it, and you are not conscious of the effect of your ownmanner; but all the same it is stiff. Now, Cannie, will you promise menot to be hurt at what I am going to say?" "Why, of course I won't, " said Cannie, looking at her with trustfuleyes. "Well then, listen! If I didn't know you, --if you were not my own dearlittle Cannie, whose warm heart I am sure of, and whose good intentionsI know all about, --if I met you for the first time and judged of youmerely from your manner, as all strangers must judge, --do you know whatI should think?" "What?" "I should think you rather a cold-hearted girl, who didn't like peopleand didn't mind letting them know it. " "Oh, Cousin Kate!" "Or else, if I were more charitably inclined, I should think you a dullgirl who did not take much interest in what went on about her. " "Oh, Cousin Kate!" "Or, " continued her cousin, relentlessly, "if I were a real angel, anddisposed to make the very best of everybody, I should say to myself, 'The poor thing is so shy that she can't show what she really is. 'Unluckily, there are few perfect angels in this world, and a great manyof the other sort. And even as a perfect angel, my dear Cannie, I don'tthink I should consider you exactly agreeable. " "But what can I do?" demanded Candace, looking very unhappy. "I can'tmake myself not shy. " "No; but you can mend matters by forcing yourself to hide your shyness. I have been meditating on the subject, Cannie, and I have made up mymind that shyness is one form of selfishness. " "Cousin Kate, how can you say that? I thought selfishness was doing whatyou liked and what is pleasant. I'm sure I don't _like_ to be shy. " "Oh, it's not that kind of selfishness, " said Mrs. Gray, smiling. "Thereis nothing pleasant about shyness; that I am quite ready to admit. Butcan't you see that it is self-occupation, the being absorbed with yourown sensations and feelings, and with trying to imagine what people arethinking about you, that makes you so miserable? If you could forgetand occupy yourself with others, this shyness would go. Now, thismorning, had you been full of Mrs. Endicott, and what she was like, andwhat she wanted to talk about, instead of little Candace Arden, and whatMrs. Endicott considered her like, it would all have been different, andmuch pleasanter for both of you. " "Oh, if I only could, " said Candace, with a catch in her voice, "I wouldgive anything I have in the world! I hate to seem so awkward and dull. But you've no idea how uncomfortable I feel, Cousin Kate. The moment Icome downstairs and see that roomful of company, my face twitches and mycheeks burn, and I can't think of anything to say, and I keep wishing Icould run upstairs again and hide somewhere. " "Yes, because, as I said, your mind is full of yourself. If instead ofcoming in with this miserable self-consciousness full upon you, youcould look upon the roomful as just so many people to whom you owe thelittle duties of politeness and cordiality, for whom you have thechance to do something kind or pleasant, you would forget your face andyour cheeks and the desire to run away. You would be thinking of them, and in thinking of them you would forget to be shy. " Candace did not reply. "You are a conscientious child, " her cousin went on. "I think that yousincerely wish to do what is right, and to make God's rule the rule ofyour life. And, Candace, in my opinion you should consider it a part ofreligious duty to try to get rid of this false shame, this bondage tothe idea of self, and to learn to live for others instead. " Candace looked up, with the dawn of a new idea in her face. "How do you mean?" she asked. "You cannot always run away, " continued her cousin. "Big as it is, theworld is not big enough to furnish hiding-places for all the people whoare afraid to face their fellow-men. And since you cannot run away, yourplain duty is to be brave and make the best of it. Now, Cannie, thereare two things which may help you to do this, two thoughts which you cankeep in mind; and I wish you would try to remember them when you feel afit of fright or of stiffness coming on. " "What are they?" "One is, that you are but one little insignificant atom among thousands. People are not thinking about you or noticing you very particularly. Youare not of much consequence except to yourself and the few friends wholove you. This would be a mortifying fact, if vanity were your trouble;but as it is not, it is a comfortable one. And just as nobody noticesyou specially, so all the world is not engaged afterward in recollectingall your little mistakes and the stupid things you have said. Unless youhave done something _very_ queer, they forget about you as soon as theylose sight of you. I know what miseries sensitive girls undergo inthinking over their foolish speeches and actions, and imagining thatevery one remembers them as distinctly as they themselves do. " Cannie couldn't help smiling. "Cousin Kate, how can you know about allthose things?" she asked. "Because I was a girl myself once, and as foolish as any of the rest ofyou; and I have not forgotten how it feels to be a girl, " said hercousin, gayly. "That is the use of growing old, Cannie. You can show theway to younger people, and make the road you have walked over a littleeasier for them. --But to go back to what we were talking about, our owninsignificance is one helpful thought, as I said; the other is, thatkindliness is one of the Christian virtues, and it is just as much aduty to practise it as it is to be honest and temperate. " Candace drew a long breath. "It would be perfectly delightful to keep thinking like that always, "she said; "the only thing is that I am afraid I should forget when thetime came. I wish you could give me an exact rule, Cousin Kate, justwhat to say and how to act. I would try ever so hard to follow it. " "I know you would, " said Mrs. Gray; "but there is no exact rule that Ican give, except the Golden one, to do to others just as you would likethem to do to you. If you feel stiff, be sure to look cordial. Smile, and shake hands as if you meant it. Try to look interested in whatpeople are saying to you. A good listener helps on conversation as wellas a good talker. If you are friendly and warm in your manner, otherpeople will warm to you instinctively. Try it, Cannie, and see if I amnot right. And now we will not talk any more about ourselves or ourshyness, but drive into the Fort and listen to the music. I caught astrain from the Band just then, and I recollect that this is a 'FortDay. '" So in they drove, clattered between walls and embankments, and over asteep paved incline beneath a great arch, and found themselves in anopen square, with buildings of solid masonry on all sides, in the midstof which the band was stationed. Other carriages were drawn up to listento the music, and officers in uniform were coming and going, andtalking to the ladies in the carriages. One of these officers, a niceold Major, with a bald spot under his gold-banded cap, knew Mrs. Gray, and came to welcome her. His "girls" were gone over to Newport to alawn-party, he said; but he insisted on taking Mrs. Gray and Cannie into see their quarters, which were in a casemate, in close neighborhoodto one of the great guns. Here he brewed them a delicious cup of tea;and afterward, at Mrs. Gray's request, he took Candace to see themagazines, and some of the curious underground passages which connectone side of the Fort with the other. Cannie thought these extremelyinteresting, and like all the caves on desert islands which she had everread about; for they were narrow, dark, and mysterious, they smelt veryclose, and all sorts of odd funguses and formations were growing on theroofs overhead. These adventures chased the worry from her mind and the anxious puckersfrom her forehead; and she went home quite happily, without recurringagain to the subject of their late conversation. But she did not forgetit, and it bore fruit. Mrs. Gray noted, without seeming to be on thewatch, the efforts which Candace thenceforward made to overcome hershyness. She saw her force herself to come forward, force herself tosmile, to speak, when all the time she was quaking inwardly; and shefelt that there was real power of character required for such an effort. Quiet Candace would always be; modest and retiring it was her nature tobe: but gradually she learned not to seem cold and stiff; and when hercousin saw her, as she sometimes did, forgetting herself in talking tosome one, and lighting up into her easy, natural, bright manner, shefelt that the rather hard lesson administered that afternoon on theocean drive had not been in vain. Rome was not built in a day, and easeof manner is not acquired in a moment; but Candace had at last got holdof a right idea, and there was hope that with time people lesscharitable even than "perfect angels" might pronounce her "agreeable. " CHAPTER VII. TWO PICNICS. IT was while Candace was still doing battle with her shyness, sometimesgetting the better of it and then again yielding and letting it get thebetter of her, that Georgie and Gertrude sent out invitations to anotherluncheon party of girls. It was the third they had given since coming toNewport. Mrs. Gray certainly did a great deal for the pleasure of herdaughters, although Berenice Joy did consider her so "strict. " Candace had her share in this entertainment, as one of the three youngladies of the house. The party was mainly composed of the "EarlyDippers, " who were not as formidable to her imagination as entirestrangers would have been. She and Georgie and Gertrude wore theirwhite woollen dresses, which were almost exactly alike, and "looked liketriplets, " as Marian rather spitefully observed. Marian herself was notasked to the party, and was out of humor in consequence. Her crossnessdid not extend to Candace, however. She evinced this by coming in justas Candace had finished dressing, with a long-stemmed pink rose in herhand, which she pinned on the shoulder of the white gown, just underCandace's cheek. "That looks sweet, " remarked Marian. "I am really quite pleased at yourappearance; you're every bit as pretty as Gertrude, and heaps betterlooking than that old Georgie, who wouldn't let me come to her party. Now, take my advice: hold your head up, and don't let any of the girlsbully you. If Berry Joy tries it, sit down hard on her. " "I don't know how to sit down hard, " laughed Candace; but she kissedMarian for the sweet rose, and went downstairs feeling quite brave. Marian watched her over the balusters; made a face at Berry Joy, whowas just sailing into the drawing-room; shook her dimpled fist atGeorgie's back, visible through the open door; and then went to sit withher mother, who also was "not invited. " There is no prettier entertainment than a lunch-party of girls. Theflowers, the confections, all the graceful little fripperies of thefeast, seem to suit with the bright young faces, to whom daylight is abecoming and not a dangerous test. Frederic had taken great pains inornamenting the table for his young ladies. There was a nosegay for eachguest, and no two nosegays were alike. One was made up of roses anddaisies, another of roses and heliotrope, another of roses and violets;and each was tied with a satin ribbon of corresponding color, which hadthe name of the girl for whom it was intended, and the date, painted ingold letters on the ends. In the middle of the table stood a largesquare pan of glass, in which floated a mass of waterlilies, pink andwhite; and winding in and out among the little dishes of crystallizedfruits, éclairs, apricots, and hot-house grapes, was a continuouscurving wreath of pansies of every color. It appeared to lie directly onthe white tablecloth; but the stems of the flowers were really set inshallow semi-circles of tin, not over half an inch high, which werefilled with wet sand. For the more substantial part of the meal appeared a succession ofappetizing little dishes, hot and perfectly served; and the wind-up ofthe whole was, of course, unlimited ice-cream and water-ices, thosenational delicacies dear equally to the heart of every American girl thecountry over, whether she consumes her saucer-full in uppermost Maine orsouthernmost Florida. Luncheon over, the party went out to the piazza, where coffee wasserved; and then Berry Joy began to tell of a picnic at Southwick'sgrove which she had attended the day before. None of the other girlshad, as it happened, been present; so she had the field of narrative toherself. "It was perfectly splendid, " she said. "There were five coaches withfour ladies and a lot of men in each, and ever so many other carriages. We made a sort of procession down the Island. I went in Lawrence Jones'scoach, with Sue Tucker and Maude and Mrs. Freddy. You should have seenthe country people rush out to look at us when all the horns blew atonce. I tell you it was exciting. " "And what did you do after you got to the grove?" "Oh, we had the most wonderful spread that ever was seen. You know, everybody takes a dish and a bottle of wine to these picnics; and thereis always a great competition as to who shall bring the best things. Inever saw such a luncheon in my life; everything was perfectlydelicious. " "But what did you _do_?" "Do? Why, we didn't do anything but that. There was no time for anythingelse. It took ever so long to get lunch ready. Some of the things had tobe cooked after we got there, you know, and the coffee and themayonnaise made. The servants lit fires and fussed about, and the restof us sat round and talked a little; but I was so ravenous that Icouldn't think of anything but lunch, and I rather think the others werein the same condition. Then, as soon as we had done, it was time tostart for home. " "What do you think that horrid Mr. Deane said?" she continued, after ashort pause. "You know, he's always trying to be satirical. Some one wassaying something about the grove's being such a nice place for picnics, and Mr. Deane interrupted, in that disagreeable dry way of his whichsome people call funny: 'Well, yes, perhaps so; but in my opinion theproper place for a picnic of this kind is--a gorge!'" There was a universal giggle. "How did he dare?" observed Julia Prime. "Oh, he dares to say just what he likes. He doesn't mind anybody. But Iknow one thing, and that is that Gorham Allerton didn't like it a bit. He looked absolutely black, and I saw him talking to Mrs. JacksonTainter about it afterward; and I'll wager something handsome that oldDeane will find himself left out of the next picnic. I'm sure, if hedoes, it will only serve him right for being so rude. " "I don't believe he'll mind it if he isn't invited, " remarked Gertrude. "He dined with papa last night; and I heard him say that it was thedullest affair he ever was at in his life, and only fit for the'companions of Ulysses. '" "What _did_ he mean?" "I don't know. Something about General Grant, I suppose. --Candace, what_are_ you laughing at?" "Oh, nothing, " said Cannie, composing her face as well as she could. Alittle old translation of the Odyssey had been among the books in theNorth Tolland library, and she was more "up" in the "companions ofUlysses" than the rest of the party. "How different picnics now-a-days are from those which we used to havein Newport when I was a girl, " remarked Mrs. Gray from the drawing-roomwindow, where she had been standing unperceived for a moment or two. "Oh, Mrs. Gray, are you there?" and the girls hastened to the window. Some of them kissed her; and all, except perhaps Berry Joy, looked gladto see her, for she was a general favorite with her daughters' friends. "Tell us about the picnics you used to have when you were young, " saidJulia Prime, balancing herself on the window-sill and keeping fast holdof Mrs. Gray's hand. "There is not much to tell, Julia. They would seem tame affairs enoughto you modern young people, I suppose. We hadn't any men with us as ageneral thing, except an occasional brother or cousin, and we didn'tcarry half as much to eat as seems to be considered necessarynow-a-days. Then we did all the work ourselves instead of taking cooksand footmen to do it for us; but for all that, we thought them mostdelightful. For one thing, we always went to some really interestingplace, such as the Glen, or the Dumpling Rocks, or the ParadiseValleys. " "Where are the Paradise Valleys?" inquired Julia. "Oh, I know what they are, " said Maud Hallett. "They are lovely placeshidden in behind Bishop Berkeley's Rock. I went there once with AuntEdith. She knows all the nooks and corners of Newport better thananybody else. " "Mamma, you must take us there some day, " said Georgie. "Oh, do, and let me go with you, " pleaded Maud. "I should like so muchto see them again. " "Won't you take me too?" said Belle Jeffrys. "We should all like to go, " remarked Julia, slyly. "Oh, Mrs. Gray, dear, I have such a lovely idea! Give us a picnic yourself, one of the niceold-fashioned sort that you used to have when you were young, in theParadise Valley; won't you, dear Mrs. Gray? Oh, do!" "You needn't coax so hard, Julia; I'm very easy to persuade when I liketo do a thing, " said Mrs. Gray, with a laugh. "I'll give you a picnicwith pleasure; only I must make one stipulation, that it shall beexclusively a girl-party. I don't think the young men of the present daywould enjoy the kind of thing I mean, or know what to make of it. " "Girls!" cried Julia, "just listen to what this dear angel says! She'sgoing to take us to Paradise Valley, all by ourselves, with no men tobother and distract our attention. --Men _are_ out of place in Paradiseanyway; just think how Adam behaved! (this in a parenthesis). --It is tobe a real old-fashioned "goloptious" picnic. Now, who would like to gobesides myself?" "I, I, I, " cried the girls, with gratifying unanimity. "Now, what day shall it be?" continued Julia. "Let's make Mrs. Graysettle the time at once, and then she can't back out. " "I don't want to back out, " said Mrs. Gray. "I enjoy the idea as much asyou do. " So, after some comparing of engagements, the next Thursday was fixedupon. "You had better make this the rendezvous, " said the giver of the picnic. "I shall have room for one girl in my wagonette besides my four. Youmust all wear something stout, which won't spoil with scrambling overrocks, and you need not bring any luncheon-baskets. I will see to allthat. This is to be an old-fashioned picnic, you know, and I shallprovide exactly the sort of things that we used to take 'When I was young and charming, many years ago. '" "You are just as charming as you can be now, " declared Belle, enthusiastically. "I do hope there won't be a fog, " said Julia Prime, as she walked up theAvenue with the others. "I sha'n't care if there is, " replied Berry. "I must say it sounds to melike a very stupid plan, --no men, and nothing in particular to eat. It'sjust like Mrs. Gray. Her ideas are so queer, as mamma says. " "I wonder you go if you feel that way about it, " retorted Julia. "I dare say I sha'n't. I have a strong presentiment that on thatparticular day I shall have a headache. " And Berry did, --a "distracting" headache, as she wrote Georgieover-night. She was the only member of the Early Dip Club who missed thepicnic. Headaches are sad but convenient things. Eleven o'clock brought the girls to the Grays' front door, all ready fortheir start, in various village carts and victorias. There was a littlere-distribution: Georgie and Gertrude fitted in with some of theircronies, and Mrs. Gray took three girls besides Marian and Candace inher wagonette. Frederic and the coachman stowed many small baskets and aheap of wraps into the different rumbles and box seats, and they setforth under the bluest of blue skies. It was a beautiful day, just warmenough and not too warm; for a fragrant wind was blowing softly in fromthe sea. They had passed the first beach, which at that hour was black withbathers and by-standers, and had climbed the hill-slope which separatesit from the second beach, when Marian suddenly cried, "Mamma, here weare close to Purgatory; can't we stop just a minute and show it toCandace?" Mrs. Gray looked at her watch. "Your minute will be at least a quarter of an hour, Marian, " she said;"but I think there is time enough. Would any of the rest of you like togo?" Girls always "want to go. " There was a general disembarkation; and Mrs. Gray led the way through a gate and across a rough field which stretchedalong the top of a line of cliffs, steeper and bolder than those on theNewport Point, and cut here and there into sudden sharp fissures. The scanty grass, yellow with August sun, was broken everywhere by lumpsand boulders of that odd conglomerate which is known by the name of"plum-pudding stone. " Golden-rod and the early blue aster were floweringeverywhere. A flock of sheep fled at their approach, with a low rushingsound like the wind in boughs. [Illustration: PURGATORY. The name of "Purgatory" seemed to her to suggest some terrible sort ofplace. --PAGE 188. ] Candace walked along with the rest, in a little shiver of expectancy. The name of "Purgatory" seemed to her to suggest some terrible sort ofplace. Presently she saw the girls ahead, as they reached a particularpoint, diverge sharply to the right with little cries and exclamations;and when she advanced, she found herself on the edge of a chasm deeperand darker than any of those which they had passed. It cut the clifffrom its highest point to the sea-level; and the wall-like sides recededtoward their base, leaving vaulted hollows beneath, into which the eyecould not penetrate. Only the ear caught the sound of thunderous murmursand strange gurgles and hisses of spray echoing from unseen recesses farunderground; and it was easy to imagine that these sounds came from someimprisoned sea-creature, hemmed in by the tide, with no chance ofescape, and vexing the air with its groans. Candace shrank away from the brink with a sensation of affright. "Whatan awful place!" she said, drawing a long breath. "Do you suppose anyone ever fell down there?" Every member of the party had some tradition of the sort to relate; butnone of the stories seemed to rest on a very secure foundation. "Anybody who did must be killed, I should think. I don't wonder theynamed it Purgatory, " said Marian. There was a fascination of horror about the spot. The girls lingered andleaned over the brink and turned back, until Mrs. Gray had to call themaway; and they were all rather silent as they walked across the field totheir carriages. But the impression was soon dispelled; for as theydrove down the incline toward the second beach, they came upon anunexpected scene of brilliant and animated life. The tide and the wind together were bringing ashore quantities ofseaweed of the kind used in manuring fields, and all the farmers of theneighborhood had assembled to secure this heaven-planted harvest. Thelong curves of yellow sands which stretch from the Purgatory rocks toSacluest Point were alive with people. Teams of mild mouse-colored orwhite oxen stood harnessed to heavy wagons, ready to drag the seaweedhome. Out in the plunging surf men were urging horses seaward, orswimming them toward the shore, with long rake-like implements in theirwake, which gathered and bore along masses of the glittering brown androsy kelp. The splash and foam of the waves, the rearing horses, thecries of the men and of the seagulls, who seemed to resent thisintrusion upon their haunts, made a vivid and fascinating picture, whichseemed in keeping with the beauty of sea and sky and the freshness ofthe sun-warmed wind. Then, passing the beach, the carriages drove along a smooth country roadfor a short distance, and turned into a narrow lane running up hill, which presently brought them to a small farm-house built on the veryedge of a ravine. "Here we take to our feet, " said Mrs. Gray, jumping out of thewagonette. The farmer and his wife, who seemed to be old acquaintances, came out tospeak to her. The baskets were collected, and the carriages sent back totown, with orders to return to the same place at six o'clock. "Oh, why six? why not stay and go home by moonlight?" urged Julia. "My dear child, if you were in the habit of reading either the almanacor the heavens, you would know that there will be no moon to-night tillafter eleven o'clock, " said her chaperone. "These roads will be as blackas pitch by half-past seven. Now, girls, each of you take your own shawland one of the baskets, and we will _descend_ into Paradise. It soundsparadoxical, but you shall see. " She led the way down a steep narrow pathway on the hill-side into thevalley below. The path was overhung with trees. It was necessary to putthe boughs aside here and there; brambles reached from the thicket tocatch at the girls' skirts as they went by; but when they had passedthese trifling obstacles they found themselves safely on the levelfloor of a little valley below. Such a choice little valley! It was enclosed between the line of hillfrom which they had just descended and another parallel line, whose topwas of solid granite and whose base was walled by trees. This doublebarrier kept off all cold winds, and let the sunshine in from east towest to flood and foster the valley growths. To the east the eye sawonly the winding of the leafy glade; the west stood open to the sea, andgave a wide vista of glittering ocean and yellow surf-fringed beach. The ground was carpeted with the softest grass. Thickets of wild rosesshowed here and there a late blossom, and other thickets of aldersglittered with coral-red berries. Apple-trees loaded with small crimsonapples made spots of color on the hill-side. Wild-flowers grew thicklyin damp spots, and mosses clustered among the stones. Birds chirped andflew from every bush and tree. All was shaded and peaceful and still. Newport, with its whirl and glitter, seemed immeasurably far away. TheParadise Valley might to all appearance have been hidden in the heart ofthe Alleghanies, instead of being within three miles of the gayestwatering-place in America! Mrs. Gray, with accustomed feet, led the way straight across the gladeto where an old cedar-tree stood commanding the oceanward view, with asquare block of stone at its foot. "This is where we used always to come, " she said, in a dreamy voice. "What a delicious place!" cried Julia; "to think that I should havespent seven summers in Newport and never have seen it before! What shallwe do with the baskets, Mrs. Gray, dear?" "Put them here in the shade, and when you all feel hungry we will openthem. " "Hungry! why, I am as hungry as a wolf at this moment. I have a gift atbeing ravenous. Girls, what do you say? Don't you agree with me that notime is like the present time for lunch? Hold up your hands if you do. " "Very well, " said Mrs. Gray, laughing, as every hand flew up. "We willhave lunch at once, then; but I warn you that there is a good deal to bedone first. There, " pointing to a blackened spot against a rock, "iswhere we always boiled our kettle. If some of you will collect some drysticks, we will see if the present generation is capable of making afire. I meanwhile will fetch the water. " She took a bright little copper kettle from one of the baskets, andmounted the hill with elastic footsteps, calling out, as she went, -- "Make haste, and be sure that the sticks are dry. " "I'm not sure that I know a dry stick when I see it, " whispered MaudHallett to Julia; but instinct, as often happens, took the place ofexperience on this occasion, and Mrs. Gray found quite a respectablepile of fuel awaiting her when she came back with her kettle full ofspring water. "Now I will show you how to swing a pot over the fire, " she said; and inthree minutes a rustic crane of boughs was constructed, the kettle washanging from it, and the wood piled artistically underneath. A box ofmatches appeared from Mrs. Gray's pocket, which; as Marian said, wasevery bit as good as the "Bag" of the Mother in the "Swiss FamilyRobinson, " and seemed to hold almost as great a variety of usefulthings. Presently a gay little fire was crackling and snapping againstthe face of the rock, and adding its smoke to the blackened stains leftby those other smokes of long ago. The girls stood about, watching theblaze and listening for the first hiss of the kettle; but Mrs. Grayinformed them that there was still work to be done. "I want some new potatoes to roast, for one thing, " she said. "Maud andGeorgie, you might run up to the farm and ask Mr. Bacon to send me afew, say eighteen or twenty large ones, --oh, and a couple of dozen fresheggs. " While they were absent on this errand, the other girls, under Mrs. Gray's direction, unpacked the baskets and arranged their contents onthe rock beneath the cedar-tree. Mrs. Gray had taken pains to provide, as far as was possible, the same sort of food which twenty-odd yearsbefore it had been customary to take to picnics. Out of one basket camea snow-white table-cloth and napkins; out of another, a chafing-dish, aloaf of home-made brown bread, and a couple of pats of deliciousDarlington butter. A third basket revealed a large loaf of "ElectionCake, " with a thick sugary frosting; a fourth was full of crisp littlejumbles, made after an old family recipe and warranted to melt in themouth. There was a pile of thin, beautifully cut sandwiches; plenty oflight-buttered rolls; and a cold fowl, ready carved into portions. Bythe time that these provisions were unpacked, Maud and Georgie were seendescending the hill at a rapid walk, which, at sight of the festivepreparations below, changed to what Julia Prime called "a hungrygallop. " By this time exercise and fresh air had made everybody sodesperately hungry that it seemed impossible to wait another moment; so, while Mrs. Gray heated the coffee and dropped the large pink potatoesinto their bed of embers to roast, the younger members of the party fellto work on the sandwiches, just to take off the fine edge of theirappetites till something better was ready. When the coffee was hot, Mrs. Gray seated herself by the rock, lit thelamp under her chafing-dish, dropped in a bit of butter, sprinkled withpepper and salt, and proceeded to "scramble" a great dish of eggs. Didany of you ever eat hot scrambled eggs under a tree when you werefuriously hungry? If not, you can form no idea of the pleasure which the"Early Dippers" took in theirs. But it was not the eggs only; it waseverything: never was a luncheon so delicious, the girls protested. Newpotatoes roasted in the ashes were a feast for the gods; and as for thegrandmother's cake with which the repast wound up, it baffled analysisand description. Mrs. Gray had made this cake with her own hands, "in order to carry outthe historic verities, " as she said. It used to be part of the religionof New England, especially of Connecticut, she explained; and she toldthem how once, when she was a girl, making a visit to an old aunt inWethersfield, she had sat up nearly all night over a "raising" ofElection cake. "But why did you do that?" asked the girls. "Well, you see, my aunt had a sudden attack of rheumatism in her arm. She was going to have the sewing-society meet at her house; and such athing as a sewing-society without Election cake was not to be dreamedof. So I offered to make it; and I was bound that it should be good. Thepeculiarity of this particular cake is that it must rise twice before itis baked. You mix half the butter and sugar, and so on, with the yeast;and when that is light, you put in the other half. Now, my first halfrefused to rise. " "What did you do?" "Oh, I sat beside it with one of Scott's novels, and I waited. It wasrather poky; for my aunt and her servant had gone to bed, and there werequeer creaks and noises now and then, as there always are in old houses. Midnight struck, and one, and two, before the first bubbles appeared onthe surface of the cake; and I had fallen asleep over my book more thanonce, before I could be quite sure that it was safe to stir in theremainder of the spice and fruit, and go to bed. It was just fouro'clock when I finally put out my lamp; and very sleepy I was next day, as you may imagine: but the cake turned out a great success, and I hadmany compliments about it from the crack housekeepers in theneighborhood, when they found that it was of my making. " "Wasn't it a dreadful trouble to have to make cake and things like thatat home?" asked Maud Hallett. "I think I would rather have had it notquite so good, and got it from the confectioner's, than to have all thatfuss and bother. " "My dear, there _were_ no confectioners in those days except in two orthree of the largest cities, and none even then who would be thoughtworth speaking of in our time. It was a case of home-made cake or none;and though it was certainly a great deal of trouble, the cake was betterthan any confectioner's cake that I ever tasted. People took great pridein it; and recipes were copied and handed about and talked over with aninterest which would be impossible now-a-days, when everything comes tohand ready made, and you can order a loaf of sponge cake by postal card, and have it appear in a few hours, sent by express from central NewYork, as some of us have been doing this summer. " The last crumb of the Grandmother's loaf had now disappeared, and Mrs. Gray proposed that the girls should go for a scramble on the hills whileshe repacked the baskets. But this division of labor was not permitted. The girls insisted that they must be allowed to stay and help, and thatthe scramble would be no fun at all without their matron. Julia seizedthe coffee-pot and chafing-dish, and ran up the hill to rinse them atthe spring; the others collected forks and plates; and, many handsmaking light work, in a very short while all was in order, and Mrs. Grayin readiness to head the walking party. She guided them to the top of the granite ridge which is visible fromNewport, and made them observe the peculiarity of the rock lines, andthe contrast between their bareness and the fertility of the littleintervening glades, for which they serve as a natural conservatory. Thenthey dipped down into the thickets of the farther side, finding allmanner of ferns and wild-flowers and shy growing things, and so to thesandy flats above the third beach, with their outlook across theriver-like strait to Little Compton and up the curving shore of NewportIsland, set with old farm-houses and solemn orchards of gnarledapple-trees. From thence a short walk brought them to the end of theridge and to Bishop Berkeley's seat, with its ponderous projecting roofof rocks; and they all sat down to rest just where he is said to havesat with his books and pen, looking off toward far Bermuda, and dreamingof the "star of empire. " At that time no ugly brick chimneys orartificial water-basin existed to mar the foreground; and nothingsweeter or more peaceful could be imagined than the view from the rockyshelf, --the breadth of ocean lit with clear sun, the shining capes toright and left, the yellow sand-dunes and winding creek bordered withbrown grasses and patches of mallow or green rushes, and over all thearch of blue summer sky. One or two carriages rolled along the distantroad as they sat there; but otherwise; the stillness was unbroken saveby the twitter of birds in the woods behind them, the chirp ofsand-peeps or the scream of gulls on the beach, and the softintermittent boom of the surf. It had been a perfect afternoon, and a great success, all the picnickersvoted, as they parted in the dusk on the gravel-walk in front of Mrs. Gray's door. Yet, after all, there was much to be said for Newport andcivilization, and they were not sorry to come back to them. It was allvery well to play at being old-fashioned for a day; but modern timeshave their distinct charms and conveniences, and if the girls, on sobersecond-thought, preferred their own share of the centuries to any other, no one need count them blameworthy. CHAPTER VIII. BRIC-A-BRAC. ONE afternoon in August, Candace happened to be alone in thedrawing-room with Mrs. Gray when Mrs. Joy was announced. "My dear, " began that lady, after administering the two hard, rapidlittle kisses which were her idea of a cordial greeting, "I've come tosee if you don't want to go down to the Point with me. There's an oldwoman there, I hear, who has a lot of wonderful old china and somemahogany arm-chairs which she wants to sell, and I'm going to look atthem. Do put your things on, and come. I hate to drive alone; andthere's no fun in this sort of expedition unless there's some one alongwith you. " "You are very kind, " said Mrs. Gray; "but I have promised Mr. Gray to gowith him at four to call on some friends who have just arrived atBateman's, so it's quite impossible for me to go with you. Who is theold woman? Do you recollect her name?" "Oh, Collishan or Collisham, --some name like that. She lives in ThirdStreet. " "It must be old Miss Colishaw. Are you sure she wants to sell herchina?" asked Mrs. Gray, who as a child had spent many summers inNewport before it became a fashionable watering-place, and knew thetownspeople much better than did Mrs. Joy. "I believe so; why shouldn't she? She's as poor as a church mouse, theytell me; and what use can such things be to her? She would rather havethe money, of course. You can't go, then? I'm awfully sorry. But you'lllet me have one of the girls, dear, won't you? I absolutely can't do italone. " "Georgie has gone to drive with Berry, and I am sorry to say thatGertrude is on the sofa with a headache. " "Well, here's Miss Candace; she hasn't a headache, I'm sure: perhaps shewill take pity on me. --You'll come, won't you? that's a dear. Run andput on your hat. It's a splendid afternoon, and the Point's a veryinteresting place if you happen to like old things. I don't care forthem myself; but they're all the fashion now, you know, and I dare sayyou've caught the fever with the rest of the folks. --She can come, can'tshe, dear Mrs. Gray?" "I don't think she has any engagement, " replied Mrs. Gray, trying not tosmile at the struggle with dismay that was going on in Candace'scountenance; "she likes driving, and it is a beautiful afternoon. --Youcan go, can't you, Cannie?" It was impossible on the spur of the moment to frame any excuse. Mrs. Joy's eyes were full upon her; Cousin Kate gave no help; there seemednothing to do but to comply. Candace murmured something about"Certainly, --very kind, --very happy, " and went away to put on the redhat, which went very well with the dress of red and white linen that shehappened to have on. It was a new one, which Mrs. Gray had bought forwarm days, and which Elizabeth had fitted and made. She wore a red rosein her breast, and had a pair of gray gloves, and she looked very freshand girlish in this simple costume; but Mrs. Joy did not quite approveof it. "Why don't they fix the little thing up better?" she was thinking toherself as she got into the carriage. "It's too bad. She'd be quitenice-looking if she were a little more stylish. A light silk, now, or asurah in two shades, like Berry's blue, would make quite a differentthing of her. " "You've been down on the Point before now, I suppose, " she said as theyrolled smoothly along the Avenue. "Yes, once I did. Cousin Kate took me with her one day to call on afriend of hers, Miss Gisborne. " "Oh, yes, that queer old maid. I know they're very intimate, though Iconfess I never could see what Mrs. Gray finds in her to like. She's soeccentric, and so different from other people, and she wears suchextraordinary clothes. " "But she's very nice, and she tells the funniest stories, and her houseis ever so pretty, " said Candace, rather at a loss to know what sheought to say. "Ah, indeed, is it? Inside, you mean. I don't think it amounts to muchoutside, though people who have a mania for old houses rave about it, Ibelieve. I'm afraid I'm dreadfully modern in my tastes. I can't, for thelife of me, see any beauty in ceilings so low that you bump your headagainst them, and little scraps of windows filled with greenish glassthat you can't see through, and which make you look like a mouldyfright, if any one looks through from the outside. " "Miss Gisborne's window-panes _are_ green, " admitted Candace. "Some ofthem are so old that they have colors all over them likemother-of-pearl, --red and blue and yellow. I liked to see them; and shetold us that last summer an architect who was going by the housestopped and looked at them a long time, and then rang the bell andoffered to give her new sashes with great big panes in them if she wouldexchange; but she wouldn't. " "The more fool she!" rejoined Mrs. Joy, frankly. "My! what a splendidbig house that is going to be! That's the kind of thing I like. " And shepointed to an enormous half-finished structure of wood, painted pumpkincolor and vermilion, which with its size, its cottage-like details, andthe many high thin chimneys which rose above its towering roofs, lookeda happy mixture of an asylum, a factory, and a Swiss châlet. "But what a little bit of ground there is about it for such a bighouse!" said Candace, whose country eyes were often struck by thedisproportion between the Newport edifices and the land on which theystood. "Yes; land is so dreadfully dear now that people can't afford largeplaces. " "I wonder why this is called 'Farewell Street, '" said Candace, lookingat the name painted on the corner of a street into which they wereturning. "Some people say it's because this is the street by which funerals comeaway from the Cemetery, " replied Mrs. Joy. "There's the Reading-roomdown there. You've seen that, I suppose. Mrs. Gray comes down to themothers' meetings sometimes, I know. " "Yes; and she has promised to take me with her some day, but we haven'tgone yet. " The carriage now turned into a narrow street, parallel with the Bay, butnot in sight of it; and Mrs. Joy indicated to her footman a lowdormer-windowed house, shabby with weather-stains and lack of paint, whose only ornament was a large and resplendent brass knocker on itsfront door. "That's the place, " she said. "Just look at that knocker. I know for acertainty that lots of people have offered to buy it, and the absurd oldcreature to whom it belongs won't sell. She declares that it's beenthere ever since she can remember, and that it shall stay there as longas she stays. So ridiculous, when things of the kind bring such anenormous price now, and she really needs the money!" The carriage now stopped. Mrs. Joy got out, and Candace with her. Thefootman seized the shining knocker, and gave a loud rap. "Go back to the carriage, Wilkins, " said Mrs. Joy. Then she added in alow voice to Candace: "Get close to the door, dear. These people are soqueer. I often have to push my way in, but I can always manage them inthe end. " The door was opened a very little way by a very little girl. "Is Miss Collisham at home?" asked Mrs. Joy, at the same time insertingher foot deftly between the door and the door-frame, to insure that thedoor should not be closed against her. "No, 'm, " said the child. "She's gone out. " "Dear me, what a shame! where is she?" demanded the visitor, in anaggrieved tone, as if Miss Colishaw had no right to be out when wantedby the owner of such a fine equipage. "She's over to old Miss Barnes's. She's sick, " replied the little girl. "Who's sick?--old Miss Barnes? And where does she live?" "Just over there in First Street, " said the child, staring at Candace, whose big red hat had caught her fancy. "'Tain't but a little way, " sheadded. "Ah, indeed!" said Mrs. Joy, pushing her way into the entry. "Well, then, you just run over to this place, dear, and tell Miss Collishamthat there's a lady waiting to speak to her on business. Be quick, that's a good little girl! This young lady and I will sit down here andwait till you come back. " The small maiden looked uncertain and rather frightened; but Mrs. Joymarched resolutely into the little parlor on one side of the hall, andseated herself; so, after a pause of hesitation, the child seized asun-bonnet which lay on a chair, and set off at a run in the directionindicated. The moment she was gone Mrs. Joy jumped briskly up. "Such a piece of good luck!" she cried. "One so rarely gets the chanceto examine a place like this without the bother of a family standing byto watch everything you do. " Then, to Candace's horror and astonishment, she walked straight across the room to a cupboard which her experiencedeye had detected in the side of the chimney, opened the door, and took asurvey of the contents. "Nothing there, " she remarked, locking it up, "only medicine bottles andtrash. Let's try again. " She opened a closet door, and emitted a sigh ofsatisfaction. "These must be the very plates I heard of, " she said. "Let mesee, --five, six, eight, --a complete dozen, I declare, and all in goodorder, --and a platter, and two dishes! Well, this _is_ a find; and suchlovely china, too, --I must have it. Mrs. Kinglake's, --that she's soproud of--isn't half so handsome; and _she_ has only eight plates. Now, where are those chairs that they told me about, I wonder?" Candace was sitting in one of the very chairs, as it proved; the otherMrs. Joy presently discovered in a little back-room which opened fromthe parlor, and which she lost no time in rummaging. She had justunlocked another closet door, and was standing before it with a pitcherin her hand, when the mistress of the house appeared, --a tall, thin, rather severe-looking woman, whose cheeks still wore the fresh colorwhich cheeks retain till old age in the Narragansett country. Candace, who had remained in her chair in a state of speechless andhelpless dismay, watching Mrs. Joy's proceedings through the open door, saw her coming, but had no time to warn Mrs. Joy. "You wanted to see me on business?" said Miss Colishaw, fixing a pair ofwrathful eyes on Mrs. Joy, the pitcher, and the open door of the closet. "Oh, is it Miss Collisham?" replied that lady, neither noticing norcaring for the very evident indignation of look and tone. "Your littlegirl was so kind as to say that she would go and call you; and while wewere waiting we thought we would look at this curious old--" "We! are there more of you, then?" demanded Miss Colishaw, glaring intothe closet as if she expected to see other audacious visitors concealedin its depths. Finding none, she closed the door and turned its stoutwooden button with a good deal of energy. "If you've any business with me, ma'am, " she said, "perhaps you'll be sokind as to step into the parlor and say what it is. " "Certainly, " responded Mrs. Joy, airily. "But before we go do tell meabout this curious old jug. It's Spode, is it not? I'm almost sure thatit must be Spode, or some other of the very old English wares. Do youknow about it?" "I know that it was my mother's yeast-pitcher, and that's all that Icare to know, " replied Miss Colishaw, grimly, taking it out of her hand. "I use it to keep corks in. " "Corks! How amusing! But it's really a nice old piece, you know. I'dlike to buy it if you don't care any more for it than that. You couldput your corks in something else just as well. " "It ain't for sale, " said Miss Colishaw, decidedly, putting the pitcheragain into the closet, and leading the way into the parlor. Candace, who had heard all, and was feeling awkward and guilty to thelast degree, rose as they entered, and courtesied to Miss Colishaw. Perhaps her face showed something of the shame and annoyance with whichher heart was filled; for Miss Colishaw's iron expression relaxed alittle, and the "Good-afternoon" she vouchsafed her sounded a shade lessimplacable. "Oh, I forgot!" said Mrs. Joy, turning back to the rear room. "There'sthis old chair, Miss Collisham. " "_Colishaw_'s my name, " interposed her hostess. "I beg your pardon, I'm sure; so it is, of course. Well, as I wassaying, I noticed a delightful old arm-chair in this room, --ah, thereit is! It exactly matches some without arms which I bought at Sypher's. If you'd like to part with this and the other in the front room, Miss--Miss Collishall, I should be glad to buy them; and I'd give you avery good price for them because of the match. " Miss Colishaw made no answer. "Then there's some china that I _observed_ in another closet, " went onMrs. Joy, returning again to the parlor, and opening the door of thecloset in question. "This red and blue, I mean. I see you have a gooddeal of it, and it's a kind I particularly fancy. It's like some whichmy dear old grandmother used to have. " Mrs. Joy's tone became quitesentimental. "I'd give almost anything for it, for the sake of oldassociations. I wish you'd fix a price on this, Miss Collisham. " "Very well, then, I will, --one million of dollars, " replied MissColishaw, losing all command over her temper. "No, ma'am, I'm notjoking. One million of dollars!--not a cent less; and not even thatwould pay me for my mother's china, and the chair my father used to sitin when he was old. They ain't for sale; and when I've said that once, I've said it for always. " "But, my dear Miss Collishall--" "I ain't your dear, and my name ain't Collishall. Colishaw's what I'mcalled; and it's a good old Newport name, though you don't seem to beable to remember it. " "I beg your pardon, " said Mrs. Joy, loftily. "It's rather an unusualname, and I never happened to hear it till to-day. Then you don't careto sell any of these old things?" "No, ma'am, not one thing. " "Well, I must say that I consider you very foolish. This sort of oldstuff won't always be the fashion; and the minute the fashion goes out, they won't be worth anything. Nobody will want to buy them. " "They'll be worth just the same to _me_ then that they are now, "responded Miss Colishaw, more gently. She evidently saw the hopelessnessof trying to impress her point of view on Mrs. Joy. "I dare say you have an attic-full of delightful old spinning-wheels andthings, " remarked that lady, quick to mark the change of tone and hopingto profit by it. She glanced toward the stair-foot as she spoke. MissColishaw quickly stepped in front of the stairs, and stood there withthe air of an ancient Roman defending his household gods. "Yes, ma'am, I _have_ an attic, " she said dryly. "It's a very goodattic, and it's stuffed full of old things. There's a fender and twopairs of fire-dogs--" Mrs. Joy's eyes sparkled. "Oh, do let us go up and see it!" she cried. "No, you don't!" said Miss Colishaw, taking a firmer grasp of thebaluster. "There's a wool-wheel, and a flax-wheel, and a winder, andthree warming-pans--" "Dear me! What a delightful place!" put in Mrs. Joy. "There's lots and lots of old truck, " continued the implacable MissColishaw. "It all belonged to my mother and my grandmother and hermother before her. It's all up there; and there it's going to stay, ifall the rich ladies in Newport come down to try to wheedle me out of it. Not a soul of them shall set foot in my attic. " "Well, I must say that I think you very foolish, " said Mrs. Joy, settling the wrists of her long gloves. "You're very poor, and these oldthings are no use to you in the way you live; and you'd far better takethe money they would bring, and make yourself comfortable. " Miss Colishaw was now pale with anger. "And who told you I was poor?" she demanded. "Did I ever come a-beggingto you? Did I ever walk into your house to pry and rummage, and tell youthat your things were no use? When I do you'll have a right to come hereand behave as you have, but not a minute before. Use! They _are_ of use. They remind me of my family, --of the time I was young, when we all livedin this house together, before Newport grew to be a fashionableboarding-place and was spoiled for people of the old sort. If that'sall the business you have with me, madam, I think we have got throughwith it. " "Really, there's no occasion for being so very rude, " said Mrs. Joy. "Rude!" Miss Colishaw gave an acrid laugh. "Mine ain't fashionablemanners, I know; but I guess they're about as good. " She opened thefront door, and held it suggestively wide. Mrs. Joy swept through. "Come, Miss Arden, " she called back over her shoulder. Candace could do nothing but look as apologetic as she felt. "I'm sosorry, " she murmured, as she passed Miss Colishaw. "You haven't done anything. It's she who ought to be sorry, " returnedMiss Colishaw, and banged the door behind her as she passed through. "What a horrid old person!" said Mrs. Joy, who looked heated and vexed. "I never met any one so impertinent. And such a fool, too! Why, shetakes in sewing, I am told, or makes cake, --some of those things. She'sas poor as Job's turkey; yet there she sits, with those valuable thingsabsolutely wasting in her poky old house, and refuses to sell them. Iwish I had spoken more strongly to her! I declare, I've a good mind togo back and do it now. It is such perfect folly. She really ought to bereasoned out of it. " "Oh, I wouldn't, " urged Candace, --"I wouldn't go back. She was _so_angry. I don't know what she would say if you did. " "My dear, I don't care a red cent what she says. All the old women onthe Point can't frighten _me_, " declared Mrs. Joy. She reflected alittle; then she gave up her intention. "After all, it isn't worth the trouble. She's just that sort ofobstinate old creature who will never listen to a word of advice. Iknew, the moment I looked at her, that nothing I could say would do anygood. Generally I can turn that kind of person round my finger. Why, you'd be surprised if I told you of the bargains I have got out of oldgarrets over on Conanicut and down the Island. But, really and truly, I'm a little tired of it; and I never did care much for such old duds, except that other people have them and it is the thing to have them. I'drather go to Howard's any day, and get a lot of nice French china. Howard has such exquisite things always. " So the carriage was ordered to Coddington's Cove; and as they rolledsmoothly past the Maitland Woods, neither Mrs. Joy nor Candace guessedthat at that moment Miss Colishaw was sitting in her little back-room, with the old yeast-pitcher in her lap, crying as if her heart wouldbreak. "It's bad enough to be old and poor and alone in the world, " she sobbedto herself, "without having fine stuck-up folks coming right in to sauceyou out of your senses. " She wiped her eyes, and looked for a minute atthe pitcher. "Betsey Colishaw, you're a fool!" she remarked aloud. "You might havekept your temper. The woman didn't hurt you any. And there was thatyoung thing looking so kind of sorry. You might have said a pleasantword to her, anyhow, even if you were all riled up with the other. " On sped the carriage, the lovely Upper Bay always in sight, until on thecurve of the long Coddington's Point it turned, and retraced its courseso as to strike Washington Street at the lower end. It was a deliciousafternoon. The tide was flowing freshly in, and the brisk northwestbreeze which met it sent little white-caps dancing all over the surface. Crafts of all kinds were traversing the harbor: yachts and cat-boatswere out in numbers; schooners and barges sped up the bay, their sailsshining against the green Island shores; row-boats and steam-tugs werecrossing and recrossing between the city and the Fort and TorpedoStation. A sharp double whistle announced the "Eolus" just started onher up trip, with a long wake of creamy foam behind her. Fleets of whiteclouds were drifting across the sky, which was bluer than the sea, likeships of heaven, simulating and repeating the movements of those ofearth below. Every wharf and dock was full of people, fishing, idling, or preparing to go out in boats. It was one of the moments when allmankind seems to be a-pleasuring, and to have laid aside all memory ofthe labors and the pains of this work-a-day world. Mrs. Joy probably felt that she owed Candace some compensation for theunpleasant quarter of an hour which she had led her into at MissColishaw's; for she did her best to be entertaining, and to telleverything that she herself knew about Washington Street and itsnotabilities. She pointed out the two pretty old houses which have beenso cleverly modernized into comfort without any sacrifice of theirquaint exteriors; and the other and still finer one, once belonging tothe Hunter family, whose renovations have gone so far toward spoilingit. "It used to have a nice old staircase with a broad landing, and windowsover the water, and beautiful mahogany balusters, " explained Mrs. Joy. "But they've spoiled all that. They have painted over the elegantsatinwood and old cherry wainscotings, and taken out the secretstaircase; and now it's no better than any other square house with thatkind of roof. " "Was there a secret staircase?" cried Candace. "Oh, what a pity theytook it out! I always thought I should like to see one so much. " "I don't believe this would have interested you particularly. It wasonly a kind of narrow back-stairs, which was not commonly used. They dosay, though, that ghosts used to be heard running up and down it quiteoften. " "Ghosts! How strange! What sort of noise did they make? I suppose no oneever saw them. " "One lady did. " "Really!" Candace's eyes were wide with attention. "Yes. She was a friend of mine, and she used to board in the housebefore it was altered. She heard the noises, which were a sort ofscratching and rustling, and she resolved to see what the ghost waslike; so she took a candle and followed it downstairs. " "How brave! And what was it like?" "It was like--a rat! When she caught sight of it, it was sitting on theedge of a pot of lard. It was picking its teeth, she said. " "A pot of lard!" "Yes. The secret staircase led down to a sort of cellar, you see. " "Oh, Mrs. Joy, how disappointing!" "I'm afraid ghost stories generally do turn out disappointing in theend. Here we are, close to old Fort Greene. Would you like to jump out, and run down to the water's edge and see it?" "Oh, thank you, I should like it ever so much. " It was but a few steps from the carriage to the grassy top of the oldredoubt; but when Cannie had picked her way down the steep inclinetoward the shore, she found herself entirely out of sight of the streetand the houses, out of sight of everything except the lovely sunlit Baywhich stretched before her. There was no sound except the plash of thewaves, and for a moment she felt as much alone as if she had been inthe depths of a country solitude. Then another sound came vaguely to herear, --a low murmur of conversation; and she became aware that the Fortheld other visitors besides herself. A rock hid the speakers from her, whoever they might be; the voices were too indistinct for recognition, and it was accident rather than intention which led her to diverge fromthe path, as she returned to the carriage, in a manner which gave her aview of the party. There were three persons, --a man and two girls. The man was young andgood-looking; he was also well dressed, but there was something abouthim which, even to Candace's inexperience, suggested the idea that hewas not quite a gentleman. One of the girls was standing with her backto Candace, talking eagerly in a hushed voice; the other sat on a stonein an attitude of troubled dejection. Her face was in shadow; but sheturned a little as Candace passed, and to her wondering surprise she sawthat it was no other than her cousin Georgie Gray. CHAPTER IX. PERPLEXED. CANDACE paused for a second, surprised and hesitating; then she walkedon again. Georgie had not seemed to observe her. The other girl wasdoubtless Berry Joy, with whom she was less at ease than with anybodyelse. She felt not the least desire to confront her, and a strange manto boot; besides, Mrs. Joy must not be kept waiting. "That looks like Berry's village cart, " exclaimed Mrs. Joy, as theydrove past a side street where a little vehicle stood drawn up in theshade under the care of a natty groom. "Was that James and the cart, Wilkins?" "Yes, ma'am, I believe it was. " "I wonder where the girls can be, " continued Mrs. Joy. "At theParishes', most likely, taking afternoon tea. That's a very favoriteplace at sunset with all the young people. There is such a wide piazza, and a splendid view. " Having said this, she dismissed the subject fromher mind. They lingered so long in Thames Street, over various errands, that itwas nearly dinner-time before Candace reached home. Georgie was therebefore her; she still had her bonnet on, and was sitting on the piazzawith her mother and Gertrude, giving an account of her afternoon. "And then we drove down to the Old Point, and called on the Parishes, "she concluded; "and, mamma, as we came away Miss Gisborne saw usfrom her window, and called out that I was to tell you thatMr. --somebody--Card--Caird--some Englishman, at all events--was comingto-morrow, and would you please be sure to lunch with her on Wednesdayand meet him?" "Caird, the artist? yes, I know. Miss Gisborne was expecting him. " Georgie seemed to have finished her narrative. She had not said a wordabout Fort Greene. "Now, Candace, what are your adventures?" demanded Gertrude. "It isquite exciting, after a dull afternoon on the sofa, to have you all comein and tell me what you have been about. I watched you drive away with aface like a frightened kitten. " "You would have seen me looking a great deal more frightened if you hadbeen with us at Miss Colishaw's, " said Candace; and she proceeded torelate what had happened, in a quiet, demure way which was particularlyfunny, throwing in a little unconscious mimicry which made the scenereal to her audience. Miss Colishaw's grim indignation, Mrs. Joy's coolaudacity, her own compunctious helplessness, --all were indicated inturn. Before she had done, they were in fits of indignant laughter. "Well, really, I did not think even Mrs. Joy could behave sooutrageously as that, " remarked Gertrude. "It is really too bad, " said Mrs. Gray. "Miss Colishaw is one of thesalt of the earth, always working herself to death for anybody who issick or in trouble, or poorer than herself. I am afraid her feelingswere really hurt. She is sensitive about her poverty, and has a greatregard for her old family relics. I feared that there might be somemistake about her wishing to sell her china when Mrs. Joy spoke aboutit; but it is a long time since I saw the old lady, and I thought itpossible that something had occurred to make her glad of the money. I amreally shocked at Mrs. Joy. " "If only I could have seen her at the cupboard, with the yeast-pitcherin her hand, and Miss Colishaw's face!" cried Gertrude, with anotherburst of laughter. "Well, after this truly awful interview what did youdo next, Candace?" "We drove to Coddington's Cove, and then we came back to WashingtonStreet, and Mrs. Joy told me about the old houses; and then she stoppedthe carriage by old Fort Greene, and I went down to the shore to look atit. " "Did you?" said Georgie with sudden interest; "why--why, Berry and Iwere there too. We ran down for a moment. " "I thought I saw you, " said Candace, simply. She was looking straight at Georgie as she spoke, and was surprised tosee her flush suddenly, and then turn as suddenly pale. Her change ofcolor was so marked that her mother could scarcely have failed to noticeit, had her attention not been for the moment occupied by Frederic, whojust brought out a note which required an answer. Gertrude was lookinganother way; only Candace noticed Georgie's unwonted emotion. Nothingmore was said about Fort Greene at the time; but a little later, whenshe was in her room smoothing her hair for dinner, Georgie tapped at thedoor. "Cannie, " she said, "I'm going to ask you not to say anything more toanybody about having seen Berry and me on Washington Street to-day. " "Certainly, I won't, " replied Candace, making in her surprise one ofthose hasty promises which are so often repented of afterward; "but whynot?" "Oh, well, there are no very important reasons; it's just that I wouldrather you wouldn't. " "Very well. " But Candace felt vaguely dissatisfied with thisexplanation, and a little curious. She thought of this promise, and of Georgie's odd manner of exacting itfrom her, as she fell asleep that night, and again the next morning; butgradually it faded from her mind, until, about ten days later, somethingoccurred to revive the remembrance. Mrs. Joy called to ask two of thegirls to drive with Berry and herself to see the polo play. Gertrudehappened to be out; so Candace fell heir to her share of the invitation. Mrs. Gray was glad to have her go. She herself did not often visit thePolo Ground, and she thought Candace would enjoy seeing a match, andthat it would be something pleasant for her to remember. The Polo Ground is a large enclosure to the south of Spring Street, andwell out of the town. It is shut in by a high paling, built with theintention of excluding every one who does not pay for the pleasure ofwitnessing the game. Nature, however, --that free-handed dame, --hasfrustrated this precaution by providing, close to the paling, a littlerocky bluff, or rise of land, not owned by the Polo Association, whosetop commands a clear view over the fence; and on polo days this point ofvantage is usually well filled by on-lookers of an impecuniousdescription. There was quite a little crowd on the brow of "DeadheadHill, " as it is called, when Mrs. Joy's carriage turned in at the gates;and she glanced that way and said, "It is really too bad about thathill!" in a dissatisfied tone, as if the enjoyment of thesenon-subscribers jarred in some way, or interfered with the pleasure forwhich she herself was forced to pay a round price. Inside the gate appeared a large railed enclosure, with a wicket ateither end; and about this carriages full of gay people were drawn upin rows, two or three abreast. The ponies which were to be used in thegame were being led up and down on the farther side of the ground, wherewas a range of out-buildings. Presently a bell rang. There was a littleconfusion of unblanketing and mounting, and eight riders armed with longmallets rode forward. Four wore red caps, and four blue; and the twocolors ranged themselves opposite each other at the wickets. The umpiretossed a little ball into the middle of the ground, and the game began. Candace was at first rather inclined to laugh at the riders, who were somuch too tall for their little steeds that in some cases their legsseemed in danger of hitting the ground; but before long she had becomeso interested in the game and the bold riding that she no longer feltinclined to laugh. The object of each side was to drive the ball throughits own wicket; and to effect this a great deal of both courage andskill were required, not only on the part of the horsemen, but of theponies as well. More than once all the eight seemed to be collected ina breathless tangle about and above the ball, crowding, pushing, struggling for the chance at a stroke; and in such cases the poniesseemed to divide the excitement with their masters, and fenced andcurved and described indescribably short circles, regardless of thedanger of getting a hard rap from the cruel mallets on their own poorlittle hoofs. Then, when some lucky hit sent the ball spinning acrossthe ground, it was quite beautiful to see the alacrity with which thelittle creatures, of their own accord, as it were, rushed, after it, obeying the slightest indication from rein or spur, and apparentlymeasuring the distance and the opportunities as accurately as theirriders. The beat of their small hoofs on the smooth ground was so swiftand even that it was more like a rustle than a rush. To and fro flew theball, now almost at the blue wicket, then reached and sent back in thevery nick of time by one of the red champions. Candace was so fascinatedthat she had no eyes for any one else till, turning her head byaccident, her eye lighted upon a face in the crowd near the carriage;and with a flash of recognition she knew that it was the stranger ofwhom she had caught that momentary glimpse at Fort Greene. Involuntarilyshe glanced at Berry Joy and Georgie, and perceived that the former hadseen the man also and was trying to look as if she had not seen him, while the latter was honestly unconscious. There was something odd aboutthe man's manner, which kept Candace's attention fixed. He seemed to bestanding carelessly among other spectators watching the game, and yet bya series of dexterous movements and small shiftings of position he wasgradually edging toward the carriage. Presently a forward step moredecided than the rest brought him close to it. Georgie saw him now. Adeep color flushed her face; she lowered her parasol as if to hide it. "I believe you dropped this, madam, " said the man, stooping suddenly asif to pick something up from the ground, and handing to Berry whatseemed to be a note. "Oh, thanks!" said Berry, in a confused voice, quite different from herordinary voice. The stranger raised his hat formally, and moved aside. "What was that?" asked Mrs. Joy, who had been watching the game and hadseen nothing of this by-play. "Did you drop something, Berry?" "Only a note from Julia Prime, " answered Berry, slipping the paper inher pocket. "It was very civil of that person, whoever he was, " said Mrs. Joy, unsuspiciously. Berry and Georgie exchanged looks. Candace was at a loss what to think. There are few better keepers of secrets than shy people. They do not letthings out by accident, as talkative persons do; it is easier for themto be silent than to talk, to keep counsel than to betray it. But apartfrom being shy, Candace's instincts were honorable. She had a lady-likedistaste of interfering with other people's affairs or seeming to pryinto them. She said not a word to any one about this matter of the PoloGround, and she tried not to think about it; although it was not inhuman nature not to feel a little curiosity, and she caught herselfobserving Georgie rather more than usual, though without intending it. This quickened observation showed her two things: first, that Georgiehad something on her mind; and secondly, that she was determined not toshow it. She laughed and talked rather more than was her custom; and ifthe laughter was a little forced, no one else seemed to find it out. There were times when Candace almost persuaded herself that the wholething was the effect of her own imagination, which had exaggeratedsomething that was perfectly commonplace into importance simply becauseshe did not understand it; and then again she doubted, and was sure thatGeorgie was not like her usual self. So another week went by, and brought them to September. There was nosign of autumn as yet. Every leaf was as green and fresh on its bough, every geranium as bright on its stalk, as if summer were just beginninginstead of just ended. But with the presage which sends the birdsouthward long before the cold is felt, and teaches the caterpillar toroll its cocoon and the squirrel to make ready its winter's nest andstore of nuts, the gay summer crowd began to melt away. Every daybrought a lessened list of arrivals at the hotels; and already there wasthat sense of a season over and done with and about to be laid up andshelved for the winter, which all watering-places know so well, andwhich is as a nipping frost to the hopes of landlords and letters oflodgings. Just why "Finis" should be written so early on the fair pageof the Newport season, it is hard to explain; for, charming as is thesummer, September and October are more charming still, and nowhere doesthe later autumn exhibit a more indulgent mood, holding back the wintertill the last possible moment, and sometimes coaxing summer to aid andabet with supplies of greenery and flowers, till the New Year comes toput an end to the merry game. Mr. Gray began to go to town in the Sunday-night boat for two or threedays of business, though he still spent the larger half of the week inNewport. Marian was sent to Lenox for a week's visit to an aunt. Thefamily seemed very small now; and when Mrs. Gray one Monday morningannounced her intention of running up to Boston next day for the nightand taking Gertrude with her, Georgie loudly protested. "It is really cruel of you, mamma. Cannie and I will feel like twodeserted little scraps, all alone in this big house. I do think youmight wait till papa is at home. And there's Marian coming backto-morrow night. What on earth shall we do with her all day? She willfeel dreadfully to find you gone. " "I am sorry about Marian, " confessed Mrs. Gray; "but Tuesday happens tobe the best day for us on several accounts. You and Candace must beparticularly good to her, and not let her feel aggrieved or forlorn. Ihave ordered the breakfasts and luncheons and dinner for to-morrow andWednesday, so you will have no housekeeping to trouble you, and we shallbe back at six o'clock, you know. Two days are but a short time, afterall. You might ask a couple of girls to dine with you to-morrow, --anyone you like. " But Georgie seemed out of spirits. She was dull and dreamy, and said shedidn't care to invite anybody, --she would rather have a nice lazy timeby themselves, if Candace liked it just as well. Candace, who had madeup her mind to the inevitable Berry Joy, was glad to be let off; so shespent a very quiet day, for Georgie went to her room as soon as lunchwas over, to lie down, as she said, and sleep off a little headache, andCandace was left alone till nearly dinner-time. Marian's arrival from the train brought a little stir and variety; butit was not of the most pleasurable kind, for she was so disappointed andindignant at finding her mother absent, that till the first sharp stingof vexation had abated, nothing could be got out of her but sobs andbroken words of complaint. Even when she grew calmer, things were stillrather melancholy; for she was too tired and depressed for speech, andjust sat in silence, leaning her head against Candace's shoulder untilbedtime. Nor did Georgie and Candace find much to say to each otherafter she had departed. Georgie remarked, rather peevishly, that Marianwas a most cross, tiresome child sometimes, and Candace said, "Yes, poorlittle thing! but she was really very tired this time, as well ascross;" then each took a book and read to herself till ten o'clock, whenthey separated with a brief good-night. It was a great contrast to theusual bright, cheerful evenings of the household; and Cannie, as sheundressed, was conscious of being low-spirited. "Homesick" she wouldhave called it; but the phrase did not justly express her mood, for evenon that dull evening I am very sure that she did not pine for Aunt Myra, or for the North Tolland farm-house, which was the only place she hadever called by the name of home. The next day opened more brightly. Marian was asked to lunch with theFrewens, who were her favorite friends; and her absence was something ofa relief to the others. Georgie and Candace did their little morningtasks, not forgetting the arrangement of the fresh flowers, whichusually fell to Gertrude's share; then Georgie sat down to practise, andCandace settled herself in a deep cushioned chair in the library withMotley's "Dutch Republic, " which she was reading for the first time. Itwas the chapter on the siege of Leyden; and the wild, fantastic nocturneby Chopin which Georgie was playing, seemed to blend and mix itself withthe tragic narrative. Candace did not know how long the reading and themusic had been going on, each complementing the other. She was soabsorbed in her book as not to heed the sound of the bell or Frederic'snoiseless tread as he crossed the hall to answer it; but she roused fromher absorption as the nocturne came suddenly to an end with a crash ofstartled chords, and Georgie's hands fell from the keys, at the sight ofBerry Joy, who came hurriedly in at the door. Candace in her corner wasinvisible. "Oh, Georgie, that dreadful creature is here again, " she heard Berrysay, while Georgie answered with a little despairing cry, "Not really!oh, Berry, what shall we do?" Then came a long whispered confabulation;then another tinkle at the door-bell. "Frederic, I am engaged, " Georgie called out. --"Come upstairs, Berry. Ifwe stay here, some one is certain to break in. " The two rushed acrossthe hall. Candace heard their rapid steps on the stairs; then Georgie'sdoor shut with a bang, and all was still. Her book dropped into her lap unheeded. Her mind was full of puzzledamazement. Who was the "dreadful creature, " and what _did_ it all mean? The silence in the house was unbroken except by the tick-tick of thetall clock. It made her nervous at last, and she went out on the lawn toget rid of the sensation. She picked a few flowers, pulled the seed-podsfrom one of the geraniums under her care, and spent some minutes inpetting and fondling Marian's pretty colly, who lay stretched outluxuriously in the full rays of the mild September sunshine. Then shecaught a glimpse of Berry's figure passing out of the gate, and wentback to the house. The drawing-room was empty. Motley lay on the floorwhere she had dropped him. She picked up the volume, and slowly mountedthe stairs. As she passed through the upper entry she heard a sound fromthe morning-room; was it a sob? Candace gently approached the door. Again the sound came, an unmistakable sob; and looking in she sawGeorgie, lying on her mother's sofa with her face hidden, sobbing as ifher heart would break, and saying over and over to herself in a voicewhich was like a moan, "What shall I do? oh, what shall I do?" CHAPTER X. A WORD FITLY SPOKEN. ALL Candace's timidity fled at the sight of Georgie's distress. Shehurried across the room, knelt down by the sofa, and took her cousin'shand, which was as cold as a stone, between her own warm ones. "What is it, Georgie? Don't cry so, Georgie, dear, please don't! Oh, what is the matter?" she said, in a voice so soft and affectionate andpleading, that it made its way straight to poor miserable Georgie'sheart. She still sobbed; she still hid her face in the pillow; but shelet Cannie hold her hand and stroke and kiss it, and seemed to find alittle soothing in the kind touch and the tender words. After a while the sobs grew fainter, and Georgie lay half exhausted, with her eyes shut, only now and then giving Cannie's hand a squeeze. Hers was one of those natures which cannot bear to suffer alone. Whatever was the matter, Georgie instinctively reached out for sympathyto the nearest source from which it could be had. Gertrude, her naturalconfidante, was away; and Candace, her sweet face full of pity andconcern, was close at hand. Her touch felt warm and comforting; hertender voice was irresistible to Georgie's desolate mood. She turned herwet face with a sudden burst of gratitude and trust toward the littlecousin whom she had till now held so cheaply, and who, at that moment, seemed the only friend left within reach. "Cannie, " she said, "I've a great mind to tell you--" Then she stopped. Confidence is like a timid bird, which hops nearer and nearer to thehand that holds out a crumb, but all the while keeps its wings halfpoised for flight, should a gesture alarm it. Candace had theinstinctive wisdom of a loving heart. She did not interrupt Georgiewith a word; only her anxious eyes asked the questions which her tonguedid not utter. "I am in such trouble, " said Georgie, thawing more and more under theinfluence of Cannie's silence and Cannie's look, --"in such a dreadfulscrape! Oh, what will become of me?" wringing her hands. "You are sogood, Cannie, --so kind. Will you promise not to breathe a word toanybody if I tell you all about it?" "Yes, " said Candace, "I promise. " "I know you can keep a secret, " continued Georgie, sighing heavily; "younever said a word about that time at Fort Greene, yet I know you musthave wondered what it all meant. " A little pause; then she went on:"There really wasn't any harm in it when it began. It was last winter. One day Berry and I had been laughing over some of the 'Personals' inthe 'Herald, ' and just for fun we wrote one ourselves and sent it to thepaper. It was an advertisement. We pretended it came from a lady whowanted to make the acquaintance of an eligible gentleman with a view tomatrimony. We made it as ridiculous as we could, and we signed it'Laura, ' and said that all the answers could be sent to the Station DPost-office. " "And did you get any answers?" "Oh, quantities! I never imagined that people could be so foolish. Why, there were a hundred and thirty the very first day, and ever so manyafterward. Some of them were sentimental, and some of them wereridiculous, and some were really funny. I think the funny ones came frompeople who suspected that the advertisement was a hoax; but we got agreat deal of amusement out of it, and we never for a moment dreamedthat any one would suspect who put it in. Oh, how I wish we never had;for it brought that horrible man down upon us, and since then we havenever had any peace of our lives. " "What horrible man?" asked Candace, more and more surprised. "You saw him at Fort Greene. I don't know who he is myself, really. Hesays his name is James Alexander, but he tells such frightful lies thatI don't believe it is his real name at all. He is a dreadful creature, and he has treated us so--" Georgie broke down into another fit ofcrying. "But I don't understand, " said Candace. "How could he treat you badly?How did he come to know you? What right had he to speak to you at all?" "Oh, no right!" explained Georgie, quivering with sobs. "It was onlythat he found out about the advertisement, and then he frightened us. Hesuspected something, and hung about the post-office and watched, tillone time when Berry and I went to get the 'Laura' letters. Then hefollowed us home, and found out where we both lived, and wrote to saythat he had become possessed of our secret, and that he was a poor manin need of money, and if we would at once send him twenty-five dollarshe would keep silent about it; but if not, he should feel bound to writeto our friends, and let them know what we had been doing. We were bothscared to death at this threat, and we made haste to send him themoney, hoping that he would keep his word, and that we should never hearof him again. But we might have known better; for the very next week hewrote again, demanding fifty. And so it has gone on ever since. He nevergives us any peace. We have to send him all he asks for, or else hedeclares he will call on papa, and not only tell him about theadvertisement, but all sorts of horrible things which are not true atall. He won't believe that it was only to amuse ourselves that we sentthe notice to the paper, and he hints the most dreadful things, and sayspapa and Mrs. Joy will be sure to believe him! Berry and I have grown soafraid that we would give a million, if we had it, to bribe him to goaway and never let us hear from him again. But even that would be nouse, for he would come back and demand another million, " ended poorGeorgie. "And he actually comes up to Newport, and follows you about, and makesyou give him money!" said Candace, horror-stricken at this glimpse ofthe hidden suffering endured by these two prosperous, cared-for girls, who were supposed to be without a sorrow in the world. "Indeed, he does. He came that time when you saw him, the middle ofAugust; and he wrote Berry a note to say that he must speak to us, andthat if we didn't meet him somewhere, he should appeal to Mrs. Joy. Wehad to consent, of course, and we gave him all the money we had, and wethought he was gone; but just a few days after he appeared again on thePolo Ground, and handed Berry a note, which he pretended she had droppedout of the carriage. But it was really from himself; and he said that hehad lost the money we gave him on a bet which had turned out badly, andhe must have a hundred dollars more. You can't think how hard it hasbeen for us to raise all this money, Cannie. Berry has her own income, but her mother likes to know what she does with it; and mamma chooses mythings for me, so I don't have much of an allowance. We have been atour wits' end sometimes to know how to manage. " "And how did you?" "Berry sold a diamond ring which she doesn't often wear, so her motherhas not missed it, and I put in thirty dollars, which was all I had; andhe went away, for good as we hoped. He promised solemnly not to come toNewport, or ask us for money again this season; and we were so relieved. For a few days I was almost happy, " with a miserable little laugh. "Butwhat fools we were to believe him! I can't imagine why we should, for hehas deceived us all through. I don't think he has spoken the truth oncefrom the very beginning. Berry came just now to tell me that he is backalready. She saw him herself this morning in Thames Street. He didn'tsee her, for she was in the close coupé, and he was looking in at a shopwindow; but, of course, he has come for money, and neither of us has anymore. We shall have to refuse, and he will go straight to papa, andthen--oh, what will become of me?" She buried her face again in thepillows. Candace was trembling with a mixture of sensations, --pity for hercousin, indignation at this mean persecution of which she was thevictim, and withal a fine touch of scorn over the weakness which was soeasily played upon. With all her country breeding and ignorance of theworld and its ways, there was in our little maiden a large share of thestrong, self-respecting pride of her ancestry. _She_ would never havestooped to buy the silence of a low knave like this Alexander; and herclear truthfulness of soul indicated at once the single, straight, unerring clew which could lead out of this labyrinth of difficulties. "Georgie, " she said, after a moment's thought, "there is just one thingfor you to do. You must tell Cousin Kate all about this. " "Oh, Candace, never!" screamed Georgie. "Tell mamma! Have mamma know!I'd rather die at once. You have no idea how she despises concealmentsand deceits; and I have had to plot and contrive, almost to tell lies, all through this wretched time. She would never get over it. Even if she_said_ she forgave me, I should always read a sort of contempt in hereyes whenever she looked at me. Oh, mamma, mamma! And I love her so!Candace, I couldn't. " "It is the only way, " repeated Candace, firmly. "You have promised not to tell!" exclaimed her cousin, starting up fromher recumbent position. "You promised me solemnly! You'll not forgetthat, will you, Cannie? You'll not tell mother yourself?" "Certainly not. What use would it be for me to tell her? It would beonly next best to having Alexander do it. But you, --you, Georgie, --thatis a different thing. " "Even Gertrude said she couldn't advise me to tell mamma, " continuedGeorgie. "Gertrude! Does Gertrude know about it then?" "Yes; I had to tell somebody, I was so miserable. It was only a littlewhile ago that I told her. I kept it to myself for a long time. " "Gertrude!" repeated Candace, unable to hide her amazement. "And whatdid she say?" "Oh, she was horrified, of course. Any one would be; and she threw agreat deal of blame on Berry. I don't think she has ever liked hersince. She always goes out of the room when she comes. She wanted me todo all sorts of impossible things, such as going to the chief of police. But about mamma, she felt just as I did. You see we both think so muchof mamma, Cannie; we care so much about having her approve of us. Youhaven't any mother; so perhaps you can't understand. " "No, " said Candace, "I have no mother. Perhaps it makes a difference. But there is another thing I can't understand, and that is how girls who_have_ a mother--such a mother as yours, Georgie--can be content to keepher love by means of a cheat. If I did have a mother, I should want herto know all about me, and approve of me honestly, not because I washiding things from her. Besides, "--there was a little choke here, --"Ithink mothers can stand a good deal, and still keep on loving theirchildren. I don't believe Cousin Kate would be hard on you, Georgie, ordespise you because you have been foolish. " "You don't half know mamma, " repeated Georgie. "She has such high ideasabout conduct. It would half kill her to know that I had even spoken toa man like this Alexander. " "Of course she would be sorry, " persisted Candace. "Of course she wouldrather that you had never got into this scrape. But she is so justalways, as well as kind. She always sees both sides. She will understandhow it began, --that Berry over-persuaded you--" "What makes you say that?" interrupted Georgie. "I never told you thatBerry over-persuaded me. " "No; but I knew it all the same. It's a matter of course, " saidCandace, too deeply in earnest to pick her words, or realize what a veryuncomplimentary thing she was saying, "Berry Joy always makes you dowhatever she likes. Cousin Kate will realize how it was in a minute. " "Well, never mind that. I want to talk about mamma. Don't you see thatif I did tell her she couldn't do anything unless she told papa? andthat is the very thing I want to prevent. Oh, what was that?" as theclock began to strike. "Six! They will be here in ten minutes. Oh, dear!how can I meet her? My eyes are swelled out of my head. She will be sureto notice. " And Georgie hurried to the looking-glass, and began tosmooth the tangled fluffs of hair on her forehead. Cannie's heart was hot within her, but she wisely forbore furtherremonstrance. She brought a basin of water and a sponge, and helpedGeorgie to bathe and cool her tear-stained face, and to arrange herdishevelled locks. Then she kissed her softly, and moved across theroom to the window. Georgie stole after her, and stood by her side. Itwas nearly time for the travellers to arrive from the train. A coolsea-wind was stirring. Through the trees a red glow could be seen in thewest, where the sun was nearing the horizon. There was a sound of wheels, and the Frewens' village-cart drove rapidlyin and set Marian down on the porch. As it drove away, another carriagemet and passed it at the gate. It was the coupé, and Mrs. Gray andGertrude were inside. With a shriek of joy Marian shot down the gravelwalk to meet them. John stopped his horses, Mrs. Gray jumped out, andMarian sprang into her arms. The lookers-on at the window above couldsee the whole pretty picture, --the lovely sunny-faced mother, the gladchild; they could hear Mrs. Gray's sweet laugh as she bent over andkissed Marian again and again. "Oh, Georgie, Georgie, " cried Candace, her eyes suddenly brimming overwith tears, "look at that, look at them! Was there ever any one sosweet and loving and dear as Cousin Kate? See how she holds Marian inher arms, how she kisses her! How _can_ you be afraid of her? How canyou doubt one minute that she loves you enough to forgive anything? Oh, if I had such a mother, would I stay away from her, and cheat andconceal, and trust a girl like Berry Joy, and a bad man like thisAlexander, and not trust her?--not go to her first of all for help andadvice? Think how good and kind she is, how glad to helpeverybody, --poor people, servants; think how lovely she has been tome, --and, of course, she loves you a hundred times more! How can youhesitate one minute? Oh, go straight to her, dear, dear Georgie; tellher all about it, your own self. She will know just what to do. She willmake it all right for you. Think how happy you will be not to be afraidof anything any more. Oh, Georgie, do, do!" "Why, Candace, I hardly know you, " faltered Georgie; and she spoketruly, for Candace in her intense eagerness seemed to grow out of andbeyond herself, and looked taller, older, quite unlike the shy Candaceof every day. Then the passion of her appeal caught hold of Georgie'sweakness. Deep feeling is contagious, and there are moments when cowardsbecome temporarily brave. Candace's rush of words, her mother's tenderlook and attitude as she held Marian close to her, or, it may be, someswift impulse from her good angel, seemed to melt her out of her mood ofresistance. How it happened she could not have told, she never couldtell; but a sudden strength came to her, and the next moment she was outin the hall. Mrs. Gray, slowly coming upstairs, was clasped in a wild, despairing embrace. "Oh, mamma! I want you. Oh, mamma! I've something to tell you, " criedGeorgie. Her mother, whose smile had changed to a look of paleamazement, could not speak. She suffered herself to be swept away. Thedoor of Georgie's room closed behind them; and Gertrude, who wasfollowing close behind, was left on the landing to confront the equallysurprised Candace. "What is it? What is Georgie going to say to mamma?" demanded Gertrude, in a frightened whisper. "She is going to tell her about that horrible man who has been makingher so unhappy, " replied Candace. "Going to tell mamma! oh, how did she ever get courage?" "I begged her--I told her it was the only way. " "You! why, Cannie, how did you dare?" cried Gertrude. "I never wouldhave ventured to do that. " "So Georgie said, " replied Candace, simply; "but I was sure the thing todo was for her to go straight to Cousin Kate. " CHAPTER XI. FIVE AND ONE MAKE SIX. A LONG hush followed these few words of explanation. Gertrude was toostunned to ask further questions. Mechanically she moved toward herroom, and took off her hat and coat; but all the time she was washingher hands and smoothing her hair, her ears were strained for sounds fromGeorgie's room, which was next her own. There was very little to beheard, --only a low, continuous murmur of conversation, broken now andthen by a louder word; but all so subdued that Candace, sitting on thestaircase seat, caught nothing. Marian, rushing up after her mother, hadbeen stopped by the explanation that Georgie was not well, and wanted tobe alone with mamma. After a little natural outburst of impatience, shetoo seemed to catch the vague sense of crisis that was in the air, andsettled down quietly, with her head on Candace's knee, to wait. It was a long waiting. The red sunset sky faded into pallor, and thestars came out. Gertrude, restless with suspense, joined the other two. Both she and Candace were too nervous for ordinary talk, and Marian'spresence precluded any mention of the subject with which their thoughtswere full; so the trio sat mostly in silence. Frederic was heard to passdown the upper entry and announce dinner; but Mrs. Gray only answered bythe word "Presently, " and did not open the door. The shadows grew darkeras the dusk deepened, till after a while the gas in the hall waslighted, when they fled to the remoter corners, and consoled themselvesby casting an added blackness wherever they were permitted to fall, --theonly consolation possible to shadows. To the anxious watchers on the window bench the time seemed very long;and in fact it was nearly eight o'clock before Georgie's door was heardto open, and Mrs. Gray to pass across the hall to her own room. She onlystayed there a few minutes. The girls sprang up to receive her as shecame downstairs, and the older ones looked anxiously in her face. Shewas tired and paler than usual, and her eyes showed that she had beencrying; but her smile was brave and clear as she put her arm roundCandace, and gave her a long kiss. "You must be half starved, my dears, " she said. "Georgie has a badheadache, and I have sent her to bed. She won't come down againto-night; we will have dinner at once. " They went to dinner, accordingly. Marian held fast to her mother's hand;but Mrs. Gray kept the other arm round Candace, and there was a warmthand tenderness in the touch which thrilled through Cannie's heart. Shefelt, without asking why, that Cousin Kate loved her more than usualthat night, and it made her happy. Jane had been deeply aggrieved at the long delay of the dinner; but shewas a woman of resources as well as principle, and, as a member in goodand regular standing of the Second Baptist Church, knew that forgivenessof injuries was a branch of Christian duty. She reminded herself, beside, that "Missis wasn't often that inconsiderate, and most probablythere was reasons this time, " which made it easier to overlook heroffence. So she kept some things back, and took some things off, andmanaged to send in the food in an eatable condition, instead of lettingit calcine into cinders as a less conscientious and capable cook wouldhave done. Marian went to bed; but still Mrs. Gray said not a word about Georgieand her confession. She looked weary and preoccupied, and Gertrudefancied--but perhaps it was only fancy--that there was a shade ofcoldness in her mother's manner towards herself. They were all glad whenthe time came to separate; but before she slept that night, Mrs. Graysent a telegram to her husband. Mr. Gray appeared next day on the earliest possible train. There was along consultation in the library, in which Georgie took a part. She cameout with her eyes red with crying, but somehow looking relieved, too, and with a peaceful look in her face which had been absent from it oflate. Candace, passing her on the stairs, averted her eyes shyly, andwas altogether astonished at being caught in a tight embrace and kissedseveral times. "It's all right, " Georgie whispered. "Papa has been, oh, so kind! andmamma is like an angel to me. You were just right; and I never can thankyou enough, you dear!" "Oh, how glad I am!" cried Cannie, clasping her hands together in suddenrelief. Georgie said no more; she gave Cannie another kiss, and hurried away. What steps Mr. Gray took to get rid of Alexander, the girls never knew;but whatever they may have been, they were effectual. He disappearedfrom Newport the very next day, and neither Berry Joy nor Georgie eversaw or heard of him again. It is only on women and girls, and men whoare as weak and uninstructed as women, that rascals of his low stampventure to practise their arts. The moment a man of boldness andresource appears on the scene, one who knows the laws and is not afraidto invoke their protection, black-mailers quail and vanish. Such an affair cannot, however, be made straight without a good deal ofsuffering to all concerned. Georgie was forgiven. She was saved from theconsequences of her own folly and imprudence; but she could not forgiveherself, nor could she forget the deep pain and mortification she hadgiven to the parents she loved, or ignore the fact that she hadforfeited something of their good opinion, and that it would take her along time to regain it. Gertrude, too, had her share to endure. She hada strong sense of honor and a high opinion of her own powers; yet inthis the first real test of her life, she had failed miserably, and notonly given Georgie no assistance, but had helped to confirm her in hererror. Berenice Joy received her portion of punishment in the shape ofan interview, which she found most disagreeable, with Mr. Gray. At herurgent entreaty, he gave up his intention of telling the story to hermother, but she felt that she was disgraced in his eyes and in those ofMrs. Gray; and though she cried, and looked very pretty, and wasproperly grateful and distressed, and assured Mr. Gray that she shouldnever forget how good he had been to her, and that he couldn't imaginehow much she and Georgie had suffered just for a moment ofthoughtlessness, she was aware all the time that her tears and hergratitude made no impression, and that he did not believe in her. Shewas sure that all intimacy between herself and Georgie would bediscouraged thenceforward; and this was a real punishment, for Berrycounted a good deal on the Grays, and had built some social hopes on herposition as their friend. Her forebodings proved true. Her little gushof thankfulness and penitence did not touch Mr. Gray's heart in theleast. He saw that Berry was a dangerous friend for his soft-hearted, easily influenced Georgie, and told his wife that he decidedly objectedto the girls' having anything more to do with her. Mrs. Gray agreed withhim in opinion; and though there was no open rupture between thefamilies, Berry found herself after that placed on the footing of anordinary acquaintance, and was never able to regain her old positionwith any of the Gray family. But before this conversation took place it was finally settled thatCandace was to stay always, and be Cousin Kate's fourth daughter, and asister to her three cousins. Parents, sisters, home, --this was a rich endowment, indeed, for alonely, orphaned girl to fall heir to. But Cannie had earned her goodfortune, and every member of the family had learned to value and to wishto keep her. It was Mrs. Gray who broke the happy news to her. "Shall you like it? Will you be content to stay with us always?" sheasked. "Why, Cousin Kate, what a question! How could I help liking it? I neverknew what happy meant, till I came to you, " answered Cannie, flushedwith emotion and pleasure. "It's only that it seems too good to be true!Why, only yesterday I was counting the days till the fifteenth ofOctober; because, you know, you are going back to town then, and Ithought you would send me back to Aunt Myra, and I said, 'I shall onlybe happy for twenty-four days more, perhaps only twenty-three, '--for, you see, I didn't feel sure that you could keep me till the very lastday. And now there is going to be no end to the happy times. I can't seewhat makes you so good to me, Cousin Kate. " "I think we can understand that better than you can, " her cousinreplied. "We need you, Cannie, as much as you need us. The benefit willbe mutual. " "Need _me_! when you have Cousin Court and the girls?" "Cousin Court and the girls need you too. --Don't we, Georgie? Come inand help me explain to Candace that all of us want her, and all of usare glad to have her stay. " "Indeed, we do. Cannie, I can't talk about it, for it's like a bad dreamfrom which I have waked up, and I don't like to recall it; but I nevershall forget how good you were to me that horrible day. It was you whopersuaded me to go to mamma. I never should have gone if you hadn'tsomehow swept me up and made me. And, oh, if I hadn't!--How could I beafraid of you, dear, darling mamma?--She was just what you said shewould be, Cannie. She knew just what to do; she understood in a moment. She was so kind! I feel as if Trinity Church had been rolled off mymind. It was all your doing, and I never can forget it. " "Georgie is right, " said Mrs. Gray. "Don't look so bewildered, dear. Youdid her a real service in persuading her to be brave and frank. I don'tknow why it is so hard for children to trust their parents. It is theparents' fault somehow, no doubt. " "Oh, mother, _no_! It was only that I dreaded to have you think ill ofme. " "Not quite, " said Mrs. Gray, shaking her head. "I must blame myself alittle. I must have made some mistake with you all, when even Gertrudecould not believe that I would not be harsh and unforgiving. But we havehad our lesson, Georgie, and we will not do so badly again, especiallyas there will be this dear little new sister of yours to help us to keepstraight. We need not talk any more about it, but, Cannie, we all feelthat to have you with us will be good for us all. There is nothing inthe world so rare and so precious as clear truth, and the courage tohold fast by it; and we have proved that you possess both. " "And don't you think that it will be good for me?" said Cannie, her eyesshining with grateful tears. "Yes; we can help you too. It is one of the good things in this worldthat help is almost always on both sides. --Marian, " as that small personpassed the door, "what do you think of having Cannie permanently for asister?" "Really! Will she stay? Oh, how perfectly--daisy!" And Marian threw herarms round Candace's neck, and gave her a squeeze which left no doubt asto her approval of the plan. Only one cloud now remained on Candace's horizon of happiness. Mrs. Grayhad become like a very mother to her. Her bright, perpetual, all-understanding tenderness was like daily food to Candace's hungeringheart. Mr. Gray had taken her into the highest favor. He had alwaysliked Cannie and been kind to her, but now he petted her almost as muchas he petted Marian. He scarcely ever came back from New York withoutbringing her some little gift, --a book, a trinket, a box of bonbons, --asa proof that she had been in his thoughts. The latest and prettiest ofthese was on her finger now, --a pearl ring with the word "Truth"engraved inside its golden circlet. Georgie and Marian had welcomed herheartily; but Gertrude, --Gertrude had said nothing. She was alwayscordial now, and a sort of added respect and liking had appeared in hermanner since the Alexander episode; but about the new arrangement whichmade Candace one of the family, she had not spoken a word. Till she did, till she was sure that Gertrude too was content to have her stay, Cannie's happiness could not be complete. The fourteenth of October at length arrived. It was the last day oftheir Newport season, but Candace no longer dreaded the break-up. It didnot mean separation and loneliness now, only the change to a new anddifferent scene, which might be as delightful in its way as the summerhad been. Yet Newport was still in full beauty, and it seemed a pity toleave it. No frosts had fallen to dim the glory of the flowers. Thehoneysuckles were still starred with their white, gold-antheredblossoms; the geranium beds looked as gay, the foliage plants as superbas ever; while the green of the grass was as fresh as in July. Here andthere a little drift of yellow leaves lay under the trees, but it wasthe only sign of autumn. Georgie gathered a great basketful ofnasturtiums, heliotrope, and mignonette to carry down to Miss Gisborne, and Marian was sent off in the village-cart with a similar basketful forMrs. Frewen. The house was all in a confusion of packing. Frederic waswrapping tissue-paper round the picture-frames, Elizabeth counting linenand silver, the gardeners emptying the balcony boxes. Mrs. Gray proposedthat Gertrude and Candace should go for a last walk on the Cliffs, andso be out of the way of these discomforts. "There is nothing for you to do, " she said. "Only don't stay too late, and come in before it grows dark. We are to have a 'thick tea' athalf-past six, in place of a regular dinner. I thought it would be lesstrouble on this busy day. " It was to Pulpit Rock that the two cousins bent their way. The Cliffswere even lonelier now than they had been when Candace first visitedthem. There were no bathers in the surf; no carriages were drawn up onthe higher part of the beach, and the road leading around Easton's Pointshowed only a few scattered figures and one solitary horseman on itsentire length. Here and there along the windings of the Cliff Walk asingle walker appeared, dark against the brightness of the sky, or twogirls were seen pacing the smooth gravel, with fluttering dresses, andhair blown by the soft October wind. The sea was as beautiful in coloras ever, but it had changed with the change of the season. The blueseemed more rarefied, the opalescent tints more intense; deep purplereflections lay in the shadows made by the rocky points, and there was abright clearness of atmosphere quite unlike the dream-like mistiness ofthe summer. The cousins sat side by side on the big rock, just where they had sat onthat June day which seemed to Candace so long ago. Gertrude was nolonger critical or scornful. She sat a little farther back than Candace, and from time to time glanced at her side-face with a sort of puzzledexpression. Cannie, happening to turn, caught the look; it embarrassedher a little, and to hide the embarrassment she began to talk. "Did you know that Cousin Kate is going to let me live with you always?"she asked. "Yes; mamma told me. " "Isn't she good?" went on Candace, impulsively. "I can hardly believeyet that it is true. What makes you all so very, very kind to me, Ican't think. " "I haven't been particularly kind, " said Gertrude, suddenly. "Candace, --I might as well say it at once, for it's been a good deal onmy mind lately, --I wish you would forget how nasty I was when you firstcame to us. " "Were you nasty?" said Candace, trying to speak lightly, but with aflush creeping into her face. [Illustration: THE CLIFFS. "I shall always love this rock, " said Candace. --PAGE 281. ] "Yes, I was; very nasty. I didn't care to have you come, in the firstplace; and I thought you seemed awkward and countrified, and I didn'tlike your clothes, and I was afraid the girls here would laugh at you. It was a mean sort of feeling, and the worst thing is that I didn'tsee that it was mean. I was ashamed of you; but now I am ashamed, dreadfully ashamed, of myself. I felt so much wiser and more knowingthan you then; and yet when Georgie, my own sister, got into thisdreadful trouble and came to me for help, I had none to give her. I wasas much a coward as she was. I gave her bad advice; and it was you, whomI laughed at and was unkind to, who saw what she ought to do, and wasbrave and really helped. When I think of it all, I feel as if I couldn'tforgive myself. " "Why, Gertrude dear, don't!" cried Cannie; for Gertrude was almostcrying. "I don't wonder you didn't care for me at first. I wasdreadfully awkward and stupid. And you never were nasty to me. Don't saysuch things! But"--with a shy longing to remove beyond question thedoubt which had troubled her--"you _do_ like me now? You are not sorrythat I am to stay and live with you?" "Sorry! No; I am very, very glad. You are the best girl I know. It willdo me heaps of good to have you in the house. " "Oh, how delightful!" cried Cannie. "Now I haven't a thing to wish for. It is all nonsense about my doing you good, but I am so glad you want meto stay. " The two girls nestled closer and kissed each other, with a new sense offriendship and liking. The west wind blew past, making little quickeddies on the surface of the water. The gulls flew lower, their whitewings flashing close to the flashing surf; sails far out at sea gleamedgolden in the level rays of the sunset; a yellow light enveloped thefarther point. "I shall always love this rock, " said Candace. Gertrude began the downward climb; but Candace paused a moment on thesummit, and turned for a last look at the water. Every glitteringfoam-cap, every glinting sail, seemed to her to wave a signal of gladsympathy and congratulation. "Good-by, " she softly whispered. "But Ishall come back. You belong to me now. " She kissed her hand to the farblue horizon; then with a smile on her face, she turned, and followedGertrude down the steep rock-face, a happy girl. * * * * * University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. SUSAN COOLIDGE'S POPULAR STORY BOOKS. SUSAN COOLIDGE has always possessed the affection of her young readers, for it seems as if she had the happy instinct of planning stories thateach girl would like to act out in reality. --_The Critic. _ Not even Miss Alcott apprehends child nature with finer sympathy, orpictures its nobler traits with more skill. --_Boston Daily Advertiser. _ * * * * * THE NEW YEAR'S BARGAIN. A Christmas Story for Children. 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