A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK

 By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS

New YorkDodd, Mead and Company

COPYRIGHT, 1896, BYDODD, MEAD & COMPANY

To_DOROTHY MOORE_, A LITTLE GIRL OF TO-DAY, FROMHER MAMMA'S FRIEND, AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. NEWARK, 1896. 

CONTENTS

 I. THE LITTLE GIRL

 II. GOOD-BY TO AN OLD HOME

 III. FINE FEATHERS FOR THE LITTLE WREN

 IV. A LOOK AT OLD NEW YORK

 V. GIRLS AND GIRLS

 VI. MISS DOLLY BEEKMAN

 VII. MISS LOIS AND SIXTY YEARS AGO

 VIII. THE END OF THE WORLD

 IX. A WONDERFUL SCHEME

 X. A MERRY CHRISTMAS

 XI. THE LITTLE GIRL IN POLITICS

 XII. A REAL PARTY

 XIII. NEW RELATIONS

 XIV. JOHN ROBERT CHARLES

 XV. A PLAY IN THE BACKYARD

 XVI. DAISY JASPER

 XVII. SOME OF THE OLD LANDMARKS

 XVIII. SUNDRY DISSIPATIONS

 XIX. WHEN CHRISTMAS BELLS WERE RINGING

A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK

CHAPTER I

THE LITTLE GIRL

"How would you like to go to New York to live, little girl?"

The little girl looked up into her father's face to see if he was"making fun. " He did sometimes. He was beginning to go down the hill ofmiddle life, a rather stout personage with a fair, florid complexion, brown hair, rough and curly, and a border of beard shaved well away fromhis mouth. Both beard and hair were getting threads of white in them. His jolly blue eyes were mostly in a twinkle, and his good-natured mouthlooked as if he might be laughing at you. 

She studied him intently. Three months before she had been taken to thecity on a visit, and it was a great event. I suspect that her mother didnot like being separated from her a whole fortnight. She was such anice, quiet, well-behaved little girl. Children were trained in thosedays. Some of them actually took pride in being as nice as possible andobeying the first time they were spoken to, without even asking "Why?"

The little girl sat on a stool sewing patchwork. This particular patternwas called a lemon star and had eight diamond-shaped pieces of twocolors, filled in with white around the edge, making a square. Hergrandmother was coming to "join" it for her, and have it quilted beforeshe was eight years old. She was doing her part with a good will. 

"To New York?" she repeated very deliberately. Then she went on with hersewing for she had no time to waste. 

"Yes, Pussy. " Her father pinched her cheek softly. The little girl wasthe most precious thing in the world, he sometimes thought. 

"What, all of us?" You see she had a mind to understand the case beforeshe committed herself. 

"Oh, certainly! I don't know as we could leave any one behind. "

Then he lifted her up in his lap and hugged her, scrubbing her face withhis beard which gave her pink cheeks. They both laughed. She held hersewing out with one hand so that the needle should not scratch either ofthem. 

"I can't--hardly--tell;" and her face was serious. 

I want to explain to you that the little girl had not begun withgrammar. You may find her making mistakes occasionally. Perhaps thechildren of to-day do the same thing. 

"Would we move everything?" raising her wondering eyes. 

"Well, no--not quite;" and the humorous light crossed his face. "Wecouldn't take the orchard nor the meadows nor the woods nor the creek. "(I think he said "medders" and "crick, " and his "nor" sounded as if heput an _e_ in it. ) "There are a good many things we should have to leavebehind. "

He sighed and the little girl sighed too. She drew up her patchwork andbegan to sew. 

"It is a great deal of trouble to move;" she began gravely. "I mustconsider. "

She had caught that from Great-Aunt Van Kortlandt, who never committedherself to anything without considering. 

Her father kissed her cheek. If it had been a little fatter she wouldhave had a dimple. Or perhaps he put so many kisses in the little dentit was always filled up with love. 

I don't know whether you would have thought this little girl of pastseven pretty or not. She was small and fair with a rather prim face andthick light hair, parted in the middle, combed back of her ears, and cutsquare across the neck, but the ends had some curly twists. 

Certainly children are dressed prettier nowadays. The little girl'sfrock was green with tiny rivulets of yellow meandering over it. Theymade islands and peninsulas and isthmuses of green that were odd andfreaky. Mrs. Underhill had bought it to join her sashwork quilt, andthere was enough left to make the little girl a frock. It had the meritof washing well, but it gave her a rather ghostly look. It had a short, full waist with shoulder straps, making a square neck, a wide belt, anda skirt that came down to the tops of her shoes, which were like Oxfordties. Though she was not rosy she had never been really ill, and onlystayed at home two weeks the previous winter at the worst of thewhooping-cough, which nobody seemed to mind then. But it must have madea sort of Wagner chorus if many children coughed at once. 

"I had a very nice time in New York, " she began, with grave approbation, when she had considered for some seconds. "The museum was splendid! Andthe houses seem sociable-like. Don't you suppose they nod to each otherwhen the folks are asleep? And the stores are so--so--" she tried tothink of the longest word she knew--"so magnificent? Aunt Patience andAunt Nancy were so nice. And the cat was perfectly white and sat in AuntNancy's lap. There was a little girl next door who had a big doll and acradle and a set of dishes, and we had tea together. I'd like to havesome dishes. Do you think Uncle Faid is coming back?" she askedsuddenly. 

"I believe he is, this time. And if we get very homesick we shall haveto come back and live with him. "

"I shouldn't be homesick with you and mother and the boys, and Steve andJoe. It would be nice to have Dobbin and Prince, but the stores are onthe corners instead of going to the village, and its nice and queer toride in the omnibuses and hand your money up through the roof. Thedrivers must have an awful sight when night comes. "

They even said "awful" in those far-back days, they truly did. 

Father Underhill laughed and squeezed the little girl with a fondnessshe understood very well. 

Just then a voice called rather sharply: "'Milyer! 'Milyer!" and he satthe little girl down on the stool as carefully as if she had been china. He put another kiss in the little dent, and she gave him a tender smile. 

His whole name was Vermilye Fowler Underhill. Everybody called himFamiliar, but Mrs. Underhill shortened it to 'Milyer. 

The little girl's name was Hannah Ann. The school children called herHan and Hanny. One grandmother always said Hanneran. But being theyoungest, the most natural name seemed "little girl. "

There were three sons to lead off, Stephen Decatur, Joseph Bennett, andJohn Fowler. Then a daughter was most welcome, and she was calledMargaret Hunter after her mother, and shortened to Peggy. They usednicknames and diminutives, if they were not as fanciful as ours. 

After Margaret came George Horton, Benny Franklin, and James Odell. Thepoor mother gave a sigh of disappointment, she had so longed for anothergirl. When Jim had outgrown babyhood altogether and was nearly five, thedesired blessing came. 

There was a great discussion about her name. Grandmother Hunter hadmarried a second time and was a Van Kortlandt now. She had named heronly daughter after her mother and was a bit offended that Margaret wasnot named for her. Now she came with a fairy god-mother's insistence, and declared she would put a hundred dollars in the bank at once, andremember the child in her will, besides giving her the old Huntertablespoons made in London more than a hundred years ago, with the crownmark on them. 

Grandmother Underhill's name was Ann. She lived with her eldest son atWhite Plains, who had fallen heir to his grandfather's farm. When awidow she had gone back to her girlhood's home and taken care of her oldfather. David, her eldest son, had come to work the farm. She had a"wing" in the house, but she never lived by herself, for her son and thegrandchildren adored her. 

Now she said to the baby's mother: "You put in Ann for a middle name andI'll give her a hundred dollars as well, and my string of gold beadsthat came from Paris. And I'll make her a nice down bed and pillows. "

So Hannah Ann it was, and the little girl began life with a bankaccount. She was a grave, sweet, dainty sort of baby, with wonderingeyes of bluish violet, bordering on gray. I think myself that she shouldhave had a prettier name, but people were not throwing away eventwo-hundred-dollar chances in those days. Neither had they come toEdiths and Ethels and Mays and Gladys. And they barbarously shortenedsome of their most beautiful names to Peggy and Betsey and Polly andSukey. 

Left to herself the little girl went on with her patchwork, and recalledher visit to the city. There were so many aunts and cousins and so manywonderful things to see. She must find out whether there would be anysnow and sleighrides in the winter. As for fruit and vegetables and eggsand poultry the farmers were always sending them in to the city, sheknew that. 

The prospect of a removal from Yonkers, where they had always lived, wasnot so new to the elders. Stephen was in New York nearly all the weeknow. Joseph was studying for a doctor. John was not in love with farmingand had a great taste for mechanical pursuits. Margaret, a tall, fairgirl of seventeen, was begging to be sent away to school another year, and learn some of the higher branches people were talking about. Joethought she should. Her father was quite sure she knew enough, for shecould do all the puzzling sums in "Perkins' Higher Arithmetic, " and youcouldn't trip her up on the hardest words. She went to a very goodschool in the village. And the village was quite primitive in thosedays. The steamboat-landing was the great focus of interest. It was allrock and hills and a few factories were plodding along. The farm was twogood miles away. 

The young people thought it a most auspicious turn in affairs that UncleFaid was coming back. His real name was Frederic. Since David had hisgrandfather's farm, this had been divided between the two remainingsons, but Frederic had been seized with the Western fever and gone outto what was called the new countries. His sons had married and settledin different places, one daughter had married and come East to live, andUncle Faid was homesick for the land of his youth. 

Mrs. Underhill had declared at first, "She wouldn't stir a step. 'Milyercould buy out his brother's part in the house"--the two hundred acreshad been already divided. But people had begun to complain even thenthat farming did not pay, and John wanted to learn a trade. And if threeor four went out of the old home nest! Steve wanted his father in NewYork. If they were not satisfied they could come back and build a newhouse. And presently she began to think it best even if she didn't likeit. 

The little girl finished her block of patchwork, pinched and patted downthe seams, and laid it on the pile. Her "stent" for that day was done. There were nine more blocks to make. 

There was a wide half closet beside the chimney and she had the topshelf for her own. It was so neat that it looked like a doll's house. Her only doll had been a "rag baby, " and Gip, the dog, had demolishedthat. 

"Never mind, " said her mother, "you are too big to play with dolls. " Butthe little girl in New York was almost a year older, and she had a largewax doll with "truly" clothes that could be taken off and washed. If shewent to the city she might have one. 

She piled up her patchwork with a sense of exultation. She was extremelyneat. There was a tiny, hair-covered trunk grandmother Van Kortland hadgiven her full of pretty chintz and calico pieces. She kept her babyshoes of blue kid that were outgrown before they were half worn out, sochoice had her mother been of them. There were some gift-books andmementos and a beautiful Shaker basket Stephen had given her atChristmas. It was round, so she imagined you put something in it andshook it, for she had no idea the Shakers were a community and madedainty articles for sale, even if they discarded all personal vanities. 

She went through to the next room, which was the kitchen in winter anddining-room in summer. She took down her blue-and-white ginghamsun-bonnet, and skipped along a narrow path through the grass to thesummer kitchen. This was a short distance from the house, a big, squareroom with a door at each side, and smoky rafters overhead. The brick andstone chimney was built inside, very wide at the bottom and tapering upto the peak in the roof. There was a great black crane across it, withtwo sets of trammels suspended from it, on which you could hang twokettles at the same time. If you have never seen one, get Longfellow'sbeautiful illustrated poem, "The Hanging of the Crane. " A great many oldcountry houses had them, and they were considered extremely handy. 

The presiding genius of the kitchen was a fat old black woman, so oldthat her hair was all grizzled. When she braided it up in little tailson Saturday afternoon Hannah Ann watched with a kind of fascination. Shealways wore a plaid Madras turban with a bow tied in front. She had beengrandmother Underhill's slave woman. I suppose very few of you knowthere were slaves in New York State in the early part of the century. Aunt Mary had sons married, and grandchildren doing well. They beggedher now and then to give up work, but she clung to her old home. 

"Aunt Mary, " inquired the little girl, "is the chicken feed mixed?"

"Laws, yaas, honey, lem me scoop it in de pail. You's got such littleclaws o' han's. Don't seem 's if dey ever grow big ernough fer nothin'. "

She ladled out the scalded meal, mixed with bits of broken bread. Thelittle girl laughed and nodded and crossed the small bridge that spannedthe creek. The spring, or rather the series of them, ran around thehouse and down past the kitchen, then widened out into quite a pondwhere the ducks and geese disported themselves, and the cows alwayspaused to drink on their way to the barn. 

She went down to the barn. On the carriage-house side in the sun weresome chicken-coops. Pretty little chicks whose mothers had "stolentheir nests;" thirty-two of various sizes, and they belonged to thelittle girl. She rarely forgot them. 

There were plenty of chores for Ben and Jim. They drove the cows topasture, chopped wood, picked apples, and dug potatoes. You wondered howthey found any time for play or study. 

Jim "tagged" the little girl as she came back with her pail. She couldrun like a deer. 

"Here you, Jim!" called Aunt Mary, "you jes' take dis pail an' git someof dem big blackbre'es fer supper steder gallopin' roun' like a wildpalakin ob de desert!" and she held out the shining pail. 

A "palakin of the desert" was Aunt Mary's favorite simile. In vain hadMargaret explained that the pelican was a bird and couldn't gallop. 

"Laws, honey, " the old woman would reply, "I aint hankerin' arter any obdis new book larnin'. I's a heap too old fer 'rithmertic an' 'stology. Ijes' keeps to de plain Bible dat served de chillen of Isrul in dewilderness. Some day, Miss Peggy, when you's waded tru seas o' trubblean' come out on de good Lord's side an' made your callin' an' 'lectionsure, you'll know more 'bout it I done reckon. "

"Come with me, do, Hanny, " pleaded Jim. "You can walk along the stonefence and pick the high ones and we'll fill the kittle in no time. "

Jim thought if he had made a spelling-book, he would have spelled theword that way. Jim would have been a master hand at phonetics. 

The little girl crossed two of her fingers. That was a sign of truce inthe game. 

"No play till we come back, " said Jim. 

The little girl nodded and ran for her mitts of strong muslin with thethumb and finger ends out. The briars were so apt to tear your hands. 

They ran a race down to the blackberry patch. Then they sat on the fenceand ate berries. It was really a broad, handsome wall. There were somany stones on the ground that they built the walls as they "clearedup. " The blackberry lot was a wild tangle. There were some hickory-nuttrees in it and a splendid branching black walnut. Sometimes they founda cluster of hazel-nuts. 

The great blackberry canes grew six or seven feet high. They generallycut one path through in the early summer. The long branches made archesoverhead. 

The little girl pinned a big dock-leaf with a thorn and made a cup. Whenit was full she emptied it into Jim's pail. They were such great, luscious berries that they soon had it filled. Then they sat down andrested. Everybody knows that it is harder work to pick berries than toplay "tag. "

Jim had a piece to speak on Friday afternoon at school. They had theseexercises once a month, but this was to be a rather grand affair, asthen school closed for a fortnight. That was all the vacation they had. 

Jim was rather proud of his elocutionary gift. He stood up on a big flatstone and declaimed so that the little girl might see if he knew everyword. It was extremely patriotic, beginning:

 "Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise, The queen of the world and the child of the skies!"

"Oh, you say it just splendid!" declared the little girlenthusiastically. She never laughed and teased him as Peggy did. 

She was learning some verses herself, but she wondered if she would havecourage enough to face the whole school. They were in her "Child'sReader" with the "Little Busy Bee, " and "Let Dogs Delight to Bark andBite. " She thought them beautiful:

 "The rose had been washed, lately washed in a shower, Which Mary to Anna conveyed. "

It puzzled her small brain a good deal as to why the rose neededwashing. But Peggy showed her one day how dusty the leaves and flowersgrew in a dry time, and she learned that the whole world was the betterfor an occasional washing. She asked Mary afterward why the clothes werenot put out in a hard rain to get them clean. 

"Laws, honey, dey need elbow-grease, " and the old woman laughedheartily. 

"I do wish my name was Anna, " she said, with a sigh. 

"Well, you just need to put another _a_ to the Ann, " said her brotherconfidently. 

"And I don't like being called Han and Hanny. "

"I'd a heap rather be called Jim than James. When pop calls me James Ithink it's time to pick myself up mighty spry, I tell you!" and helaughed. 

"It's different with boys, " she said, with a soft sigh. "Girls ought tohave pretty names, and Hanneran is dreadful. "

"I'd stand a good deal for two hundred dollars. And it doubles infourteen years. And seven again! Why you'll have more than five hundreddollars when you're grown up!"

She did not know the value of money and thought she would rather havethe pretty name. Yet she wasn't _quite_ sure she would choose Anna. 

"You stay here while I run after the cows, " said Jim. "It will saveanother journey. "

Boys are often economical of their steps, I have noticed. Perhaps thisis how they gain time for play. The little girl jumped down presentlyand looked over at the wild flowers. There were clusters of yarrow inbloom, spikes of yellow snap-dragons, and a great clump of thistles intheir purple glory. She must tell her father about them, and have themrooted out. Would it hurt them to be killed? She felt suddenly sorry forthem. 

A squirrel ran along and winked at her as he gave his tail an extraperk. Nothing was ever afraid of the little girl. But she ran from theold gobbler, and the big gander who believed he had pre-empted the farmfrom the Indians. She generally climbed over the fence when she saw oldRed, who had an ominous fashion of brandishing her long horns. But shedidn't mind with Jim nor Benny. 

Jim came now and took up the pail. The cows meandered along. She wasrather glad Jim did not see the thistle. She would not tell him about itto-night. 

CHAPTER II

GOOD-BY TO AN OLD HOME

When they reached the barn they saw Aunt Mary carrying a great platterof corn up to the house. The little girl washed her hands and her face, that was quite rosy now, and followed. How delicious it all looked!White bread, corncake, cold chicken, pot-cheese in great creamy balls, and a hot molasses cake to come on with the berries. 

The little girl always sat beside her mother, and Margaret on the boys'side, to help them. There were four boys and two hired men. 

Mrs. Underhill was a notable housekeeper. She was a little sharp in thetemper, but Mr. Underhill was so easy that some one had to uphold thefamily dignity. She complained that 'Milyer spoiled the children, butthey were good-natured and jolly, and quite up to the average. 

After supper the cows were milked, the horses fed and bedded, Margaretand her mother packed up the dishes in a big basket, and the boys tookthem down to Mary. Mrs. Underhill looked after the milk. 

The little girl went out on the wide porch and studied her lessons. There were two long lines in Webster's elementary spelling-book to getby heart, for the teacher "skipped about. " The children went up anddown, and it was rare fun sometimes. The little girl had been out of theBaker class a long while. They call it that because the first columnbegan with that easy word. She was very proud of having gone in thelarger class. Her father gave her a silver dollar with a hole punchedthrough it, and Steve brought her a blue ribbon for it. She wore it onstate occasions. She studied Peter Parley's geography and knew theverses beginning:

 "The world is round and like a ball, Seems swinging in the air. "

How it could be puzzled her. She asked her father, for she thought heknew everything. He said he believed it was, but he could never make itseem so. 

Aunt Mary strenuously denied it. "Sta'ns to reason de folks would falloff w'en it went swirlin' round. De good Lord He knows His businessbetter'n dat. Jes don't mind any sech foolin', honey! Its clear agin deBible dat speaks ob de sun's risin' an' settin', an' de Lord nebbermakes any mistake 'bout dat ar Bible. "

The little girl studied her lesson over four times. Then Jim came up andthey had a game of tag. Dave Andrews and Milton Scott sat out under theold apple-tree smoking their pipes and talking politics. One was a Whigand the other a Democrat who believed that we had never had a Presidentworth mentioning since Andrew Jackson, Old Hickory as he was oftencalled. 

When her father came round the corner of the house she stopped runningafter Jim and held out both hands to him. Her cheeks were like wildroses and her eyes shone with pleasure. They sat down on the step, andhe put his arm about her and "cuddled" her up to his side. She told himshe had gone up three in saying seven times in the multiplication table, and four in spelling "tetrarch. " Then when Charley Banks was reading hesaid "condig-en" and the class laughed. She also told him she had beenstudying about Rhode Island and Roger Williams, and all the bays andinlets and islands. She made believe comb his hair with her slim littlefingers and once in a while he opened his lips like a trap and caughtthem, and they both laughed. 

Presently Mrs. Underhill, who sat by the window knitting in thetwilight, said: "'Milyer, that child must go to bed. "

She felt she had to issue this mandate two of three times, so she beganearly. 

They hugged each other and laughed a little. Then he said: "All thechickens right?"

"Yes, I counted them. They're so cunning and lovely. "

"I hope they'll get their feather cloaks on before cold weather, " saidher father. 

"'Milyer, that child _must_ go to bed! I don't see why you want to keepher up all hours of the night. "

They hugged each other a little closer this time and did not laugh, butjust kissed softly. It was beginning to grow dusky. The peeps andcrickets and katydids were out in force. The katydids told you therewould be frost in six weeks. 

When her mother added in a dignified tone, "Come, Hannah Ann, " thelittle girl took one last hug and came into the room. Margaret hadlighted the candles in their polished brass candlesticks. One stood onthe hall table, one on the stand in the middle of the room. Mrs. Underhill had knit past the seam in her stocking and pulled out a fewstitches. Then she laid it down and unfastened the little girl's frockand said, "Now run to bed this minute. " Margaret was reading, but sheglanced up and smiled. 

The candle made a vague yellowish light on the stairs. There were peoplewho burned lamp-oil, as the oil from whales was called. The little girlheld it in curious awe, associating it with the story of Jonah. Mrs. Underhill despised the "ill-smelling stuff" and would not have it in thehouse. She made beautiful candles. Oil-wells had hardly been thought of, except that some one occasionally brought a bottle from Pennsylvania forrheumatism. 

The little girl had slept in her mother's room, which answered to theback parlor, until this spring when she had gone up to Margaret's room. There were four large chambers on the second floor and a spaciousclothes-room with a closet for bedding. Up above was an immense garretwith four gables. The three younger boys and the two hired men sleptthere. 

The little girl didn't mind going to bed alone, but her mother generallyfound some good reason for going up-stairs. On cool nights she was afraidthe little girl wasn't well covered; and to-night she looked in andsaid:

"I hope you're not bundled up in a blanket this hot night, Hannah Ann!Children seem to have such little sense. "

"Oh no, I have only the sheet over me. " But the little girl raised upand held out her arms, and her mother gave her a soft squeeze and pattedthe pillow and said:

"Now you must go to sleep like a good little girl;" quite as if she wasin the habit of being bad and not going to sleep, but they bothunderstood. 

You may think the little girl's life was dull with lessons and sewingand going to bed at dusk. But she found no end of fun. Now and then ahost of cousins came, and they climbed trees, ran races, waded in thebrooks, went off to the woods and swung in the wild grape-vines. Sometimes they walked out on the end of a wide-spreading branch, holdingto the one above, and when they began to "teeter" too much they gave aspring and came down on the soft ground. The little girl could go out along way because she was so light and fearless. They never broke theirnecks or their limbs. They laughed and shouted and turned summersaultsand ran races. No day was ever long enough. 

The school was a good mile away, but on very stormy days they were takenin the covered wagon. They studied with a will, just as they played, andyou heard nothing about nerves in those days. 

Some of the parents came that last day at school. Jim acquitted himselfcreditably in his "Ode to Columbia, " and the little girl recited with arose in her hand, though Margaret had quite a trouble to find one forher. Roses didn't bloom all the year round as they do now. When thechildren were dismissed they went out and gave some deafening hurrahsfor the two weeks' vacation. Oh, what throats and lungs they had!

When the little girl reached home she found a houseful of company. Whenfamilies have lived from one to two hundred years in one section of thecountry, they get related to almost everybody. And though Aunt BeckyOdell was a second cousin of her mother's, she was aunt to the littlegirl all the same. She had come up from West Farms to spend a few daysand brought her two little girls. Some other relatives had come fromTarrytown. 

The little girl greeted everybody, took off her Sunday white frock thathad a needleworked edge that her mother had worn twenty years and moreago. Then she took the little girls out to see the chickens and huntsome eggs and have a good play on the hay in the barn. 

"Oh, ain't you just crazy to go to New York to live?" cried Polly Odell. "The stores are so beautiful! When I go down I just don't want to comeback!"

"You was homesick at Aunt Ph[oe]be's, you know you was, " said hersister, with small regard for her tense. 

"Well, I didn't like Aunt Ph[oe]be one bit. She's old and cross, and sheisn't our own aunt either. She won't let you stand by the window les'you breathe on the glass, and she won't let you rock on the carpet norrun up and down stairs, nor touch a book, and makes you get up at fivein the morning when you're so sleepy. She wanted me to stay 'cause shesaid 'I was handy to wait on her. ' And it wasn't truly New York but wayup by the East River. I wouldn't have stayed for a dollar. I just jumpedup and down when poppy came, and she said, 'For goodness' sake! don'tthrash out all my carpet with your jouncin' up an' down. ' You can justgo yourself, Janey Odell, and see how you like it!"

"I'm sure I don't want to go. But you just jumped at it!"

"Well, I thought it would be nice. But oh, Hanneran, it's just splendidhere! And to-morrow Uncle 'Milyer's going to take us out riding. He saidso. Oh, Hanneran, wasn't you awful 'fear'd to speak a piece before allthe folks at school?"

Polly Odell looked at her in amazement. 

"Well--just at first----"

"I wouldn't dast to for a dollar!" cried Janey. 

They went on with their play, now and then stumbling against adiscussion that never really reached the height of a dispute. Margaretcame to hunt them up presently that they might have their tousled headssmoothed and their hands and faces washed. 

The little girl was always interested when they had a high tea in thesitting-room. The best old blue china was out, the loaf sugar, and thesugar-tongs that the little girl watched breathlessly lest her mothershould lose the lump of sugar before it reached the cup. 

The men and boys were having supper in the other room, but the littlegirls waited on the porch. They were so quiet and kept so tidy that Mrs. Underhill gave them a lump of sugar in each glass of milk, and took itup with the sugar-tongs, to the little girl's great delight. 

She couldn't help hearing the talk as they all sat out on the porch. Uncle Faid had really sold his farm, stock, and crops, and was to givepossession in September. Then they would visit their two sons and someof Aunt Betsey's people in Michigan, and get on about Christmas. 

"It's a shame to have to give up the house, " declared Cousin Odell. "Can't you keep it, 'Milyer?"

"A bargain's a bargain. Faid did a fair thing when he went away, and Ican't do less than a fair thing now. If he'd died, his share in thehouse would have been offered to me first. I dare say we could put on anaddition and live together without quarrellin', but the boys want to goto New York, and they couldn't all stay here and make a living. Theyoung folks must strike out, and I tell mother if she don't get tofeeling at home I'll come back and build her a house. "

"It'll never be like this one, " said Mrs. Underhill sharply. 

"The world is full of changes, " declared the Tarrytown cousin. 

The little girl sat in her father's lap and listened until she wentsoundly asleep. Janey Odell leaned against the porch column and almosttumbled over. Mrs. Underhill sprang up. 

"Mercy on us! These children ought to be in bed. Wake up, Hannah Ann!"

"I'll carry her up-stairs, " said her father, and he kissed her tenderlyas he laid her on the bed. Her mother undressed her and patted down herpillow. She flung her arms about her mother's neck. 

"Oh, mother!" she cried softly, wonderingly, "do you want to go to NewYork?"

"Child dear, I don't know what I want, " and there was a muffled sound inher voice. "There, go to sleep, dear. Don't worry. "

They inspected the pretty knoll the next day where Mrs. Underhill was tohave her new house built if they didn't take root in New York. Were nother children dearer to her than any spot of ground? And if they were allgoing away----

The children had a very jolly time. On Monday the Odells went home, andthe little girl hated to say good-by. Cousin Famie Morgan, her real namewas Euphemia, wanted to go to White Plains to visit a while with AuntAnn and David, and Cousin Joanna would stay a few days longer and go toNew York to do some shopping. Margaret would go with Cousin Famie. Thelittle girl wanted to go too, and take her patchwork. She had only sixblocks to do now. 

Grandmother was very glad to see her, and praised her without stint. Uncle David and Aunt Eunice had some grandchildren. Two sons and onedaughter were married, and one son and daughter were still at home. AuntEunice was a very placid, sweet body, and still clung to her Quakerdress and speech, though she went to the old Episcopal church with herhusband. Her folks lived up in Putnam County. 

Grandmother would have spoiled the little girl if such a thing had beenpossible. She would help her with the patchwork, and then she broughtout some lovely red French calico that was soft and rich, and began tojoin it. They had some nice drives, and one day they took Cousin Morganhome and stayed to dinner. There were three single women living togetherin a queer rambling house that had been added to, and raised in places. Mr. Erastus Morgan and his wife lived in Paris, and once a year or sothere would come a package of pretty things--china and ornaments ofvarious kinds, odd pieces of silk and brocade for cushions, gloves, andfans and laces and silk for gowns, as if they were still quite youngwomen. 

Uncle David had the "Knickerbocker History of New York, " which everybodynow knew was written by Mr. Washington Irving, and various members ofthe family were settled about Tarrytown, and many others in the SleepyHollow graveyard. The very next day the little girl began to read thehistory, for she wanted to know about New York. They had a delightfulvisit with grandmother and Aunt Eunice. Uncle David was seven yearsolder than her father. The little girl concluded she liked him verymuch. 

When she and Margaret went home everything was going on just the same. The little girl was somewhat amazed. No one said a word about moving. She had expected to see everything packed. The children started forschool as usual. Then Mrs. Underhill went down to the city and stayed afortnight and came home looking worn and worried. The impending changeweighed upon her. But the little girl was so interested in Mr. DederichKnickerbocker which she was reading aloud to her father that changeshardly mattered. 

Early in December Mr. Frederic Underhill with his wife and daughter cameto hand. He was thin and stooped a good deal, and looked older thanUncle David. Aunt Crete's name was Lucretia, and the little girl wasamazed to learn that. She was tall and thin and wore a black lace sortof cap to cover the bald spot on her head. Then she had a false front ofdark hair. Her own was very thin and white. She had been a greatsufferer from 'ager, ' as she called it, and the doctors said only anentire change of climate would break it up. And goodness only knew howglad she was to get back East. 

Lauretta--Retty as she was called--was about twenty-two, a good, stout, common-place girl who made herself at home at once. She had a lover whowas coming on in the spring when they would be married, and he expected"to help Pop farm. Pop was pretty well broken down with hard work, andhe'd about seen his best days. He'd been awful anxious to get back amonghis own folks, and she, Retty, hoped now he'd take things kinder easy. "

Grandmother and Uncle David's family came down to welcome them. All thecountry round seemed to turn out. And just before Christmas, with allthe rest of the work, the little girl's quilt was put in. Some of theolder people came the first day and had a fine supper. Next afternoon itwas the young people's turn. 

The little girl had a blue-and-white figured silk frock made from askirt of her mother's. The tops of the sleeves were trimmed with four orfive ruffles and there were two ruffles around the neck. She wore hergold beads, and Margaret curled her hair. Everybody praised her and shefelt very happy. Some of the young men came in while they were takingthe quilt out of the frame, and oh, what a tussle there was! The girlwho could wrap herself first in it was to be married first. Such pullingand laughing, such a din of voices and struggle of hands--you would havethought all the girls wild to get married. The little girl looked withdismay, for it seemed as if her quilt would be torn to pieces. 

Retty wound one corner around herself, and two of the young men rolledMargaret and several of the other girls in the other end amid the shoutsof the lookers-on. 

Then grandmother shook it out and folded it. 

"There!" she exclaimed, "to-morrow I'll put on the binding. And, HannahAnn, you have a good beginning. Not every little girl can show such aquilt as that, pieced all by herself before she was eight years old!"

"But you helped, grandmother----"

"Nonsense, child! Just a piece now and then! And I've a nice pair ofwool blankets I'm saving up for you that I spun myself. You'll have agood many things saved up in a dozen years. "

What fun they had afterward! There were two black fiddlers in the hall;one was Cato, Aunt Mary's grandson, a stylish young fellow much indemand for parties. They danced and danced. 

Steve took his little sister out several times, and John danced withher. Her father thought her the very prettiest one in the crowd. Hermother let her stay up until eleven. 

"I'm so sorry you are going away, " said Retty, the next morning. "Inever did have such a good time in my life. I don't see why we can't alllive together in this big house!"

In the new year the real business of changing began. It was hard toselect a house. Joe said all New York was going up-town, and that beforemany years the lower part of the city would be given over to business. Bond and Amity Street, around St. John's Park and East Broadway werestill centres of fashion. The society people had come up from theBowling Green and the Battery, though there were still some beautifulold houses that business people clung to because they wanted to be nearto everything. Harlem and Yorkville were considered country. Up on theeast side as far as Eightieth or Ninetieth Street there were somespacious summer residences with beautiful grounds. A few fine mansionsclustered about University Square. City Hall Park was still covered withfine growing shade-trees. There was such a magnificent fountain thatLydia Maria Child, describing it, said there was nothing to equal it inthe Old World. 

Still, the unmistakable trend was up-town. Grace Church was agitating anew building at Tenth Street. Rows of houses were being put up on thenew streets, though down-town people rather scoffed and wondered whypeople were not going up to Harlem and taking their business placesalong. 

After much discussion the Underhills settled upon First Street. Stephenmade the decision, though he had great faith in "up-town. " This wasconvenient. Then they could buy through to Houston Street, and there wasa stable and sort of storehouse on the end of the lot. And though youwouldn't think it now, it was quite pretty and refined then, from AvenueA out to the Bowery. They were in a row of nice brick houses, quite nearFirst Avenue, on the lower side of the street. Opposite it was wellbuilt for quite a space, and then came the crowning glory of the block. About a dozen houses stood thirty or so feet back from the street andhad lovely flower-gardens in front. Stephen would have liked one ofthese, but the houses were not roomy enough. And in their own place theyhad a nice grass-plot, some flower-beds, and several fruit-trees, besidea grape-trellis. He thought his mother would be less homesick if shecould see some bloom and greenery. 

It was the last of March, 1843, that the little girl came to New York. Mrs. Underhill believed it only an experiment. When the boys were grownup and married, settled in their own homes, she and 'Milyer would goback to Yonkers on their part of the farm and have a nice big house fortheir old age and for the grandchildren. In her motherly heart she hopedthere would be a good many of them. She couldn't have spared any of hereight children. 

The house in First Street seemed very queer. It had a front area and twobasements, two parlors on the next floor with folding-doors and a longell-room, rather narrow, so that it would not darken the back room toomuch. Up-stairs there were three large chambers and one small one, andon the fourth floor, that did not have full-size windows, three more. That there was no "garret" caused endless lamentation. 

They could not bring old Mary, indeed she would not come, but they had arather youngish countrywoman whose husband had deserted her, and who waslooking for a good home. Mary thought she would stay a while with the"new folks" and get them "broke in, " as she phrased it, and then go andlive with her son. 

The little girl stood on her own front stoop looking up and down thestreet. It was queer the houses should be just alike--six brown-stonesteps, and iron side railings, and an iron railing to the area, that waspaved with brick. You would always have to be thinking of the number oryou might get into the neighbor's house. Oh, no. Here was a sure sign, the bright silver door-plate with black lettering--"Vermilye F. Underhill. " She looked at it in amazement. It made her father suddenlygrand in her estimation. Could she sit in his lap just the same andtwist his whiskers about her fingers and comb his hair and read out ofher story-books to him? And where would she go to school? Were there anylittle girls around to play with? How could she get acquainted withthem?

While she was considering this point, two girls went by. Both had strawgypsy hats with flowers and ruffled capes of black silk. They looked upat her. She was going to smile down to them in the innocent belief thatall little girls must be glad to see each other. One of themgiggled--yes, she absolutely did, and said:

"Oh, what a queer-looking thing! Her frock comes down to her shoe-topslike an old woman's and that sun-bonnet! Why she must have just come infrom the backwoods!"

CHAPTER III

FINE FEATHERS FOR THE LITTLE WREN

The little girl stood still a moment as if transfixed. There came thepassionate desire to run and hide. She gave the door-bell a sharp pull. 

Martha Stimis answered it. 

"Goodness sakes, is it you, ringin' as if the world wouldn't standanother minnit? Next time you want to get in, Haneran, you jest comedown the _aree_! And me a-mouldin' up the biscuit!"

The little girl walked through the hall with a swelling heart. Shecouldn't be allowed to ring the door-bell when her own father's name wason the door!

The ell part was her mother's sleeping chamber and sitting-room. No onewas in it. Hannah Ann walked down to the end. There was a beautiful olddressing-case that had been brought over with the French great, greatgrandmother. It had a tall glass coming down to the floor. At the sideswere several small drawers that went up about four feet, and the top hadsome handsome carved work. It was one of Mrs. Underhill's choicestpossessions. In the mirror you could see yourself from "top to toe. "

The little girl stood before it. She had on a brown woollen frock and agingham high apron. Her skirt _was_ straight and long. Her laced shoesonly came to her ankles. Her stockings were black, and she rememberedhow she had watched these little girls coming down the street, theirstockings were snowy white. Of course she wore white yarn ones onSundays. A great piece of their pantalets was visible, ruffled, too. Yes, she did look queer! And the starch was mostly out of hersun-bonnet. It wasn't her best one, either. 

She sat down on a little bench and cried as if her heart would break. 

"Oh, Hanny dear, what is the matter?"

Margaret had entered the room unheard. She knelt by her little sister, took off her sun-bonnet and pressed the child in her arms. "What is it, dear?" in a soft, persuasive voice. "Have you hurt yourself?"

"No. I--I----" Then she put her little arms around Margaret's neck. "Oh, Peggy, am I very, very queer?"

"You're a little darling. Did Martha scold you?"

"No. It wasn't--some girls came along----" She tried very hard to stopher sobbing. 

"There, dear, let me wash your face. Don't cry any more. " She laid asidethe bonnet and bathed the small face, then she began to brush the softhair. It had not been cut all winter and was quite a curly mop. Stephenhad bought her a round comb of which she was very proud. 

"It was two girls. They went by and they laughed----"

Her voice was all of a quaver again, but she did not mean to cry if shecould help it. 

"Did they call you 'country'?"

Margaret smiled and kissed the little girl, who tried to smile also. Then she repeated the ill-bred comment. 

"We are not quite citified, " said Margaret cheerfully. "And it isn'tpleasant to be laughed at for something you cannot well help. But allthe little girls _are_ wearing short dresses, and you are to have somenew ones. Mother has gone out shopping, and next week cousin CynthiaBlackfan is coming to fix us all up. But I _do_ hope, Hanny, you willhave better manners and a kinder heart than to laugh at strangers, nomatter if they are rather old-fashioned. "

"I don't believe I ever will, " said the little girl soberly. 

"Now come up in my room. Mother said I might rip up her pretty blueplaid silk and have it made over. I came down to hunt up the waist. "

She found it in one of the drawers, pinned up in a linen pillow-case. 

"And you can have on a white apron, " the elder said when they reachedthe room. 

This had long sleeves and a ruffle round the neck. The little girl wasever so much improved. 

And I think she would have felt comforted if she could have heard therest of the talk between the two girls. 

"I do wonder if she belongs to the new people, " said the girl wholaughed. "They can't be much. They came from the country somewhere. "

"But they've bought all the way through to the other street. And ma saidshe meant to call on them. Some one told her they owned a big farm inYonkers, and one of the young men is to be a doctor. Maybe the littlegirl doesn't really belong to them. I wish you hadn't spoken quite soloud. I'm sure she heard. "

"Oh, I don't care!" with an airy toss of the head. "Mother said theother day she shouldn't bother about new neighbors. Calling on them isout of style. "

Hanny looked out of the window a long while. Then she said gravely:"Margaret, are all those old Dutch people dead that were in the history?And where was their Bowery?"

"It is the Bowery out here, but it has changed. That was a long, longtime ago. "

"If I'd lived then no one would have laughed about my long frock. Ialmost wish I'd been a little girl then. "

"Perhaps there were other things to laugh about. "

"I don't mind the laughing _now_. But they must have had lovely gardensfull of tulips and roses. There doesn't seem any room about for suchthings. And lanes, you know. Did the new people drive the Dutch away?"

"The English came afterward. You will read all about it in history. Andthen came the war----"

"That grandmother knows about? Margaret, I think New York is a great, strange, queer place. There are a good many queernesses, aren't there?"

Margaret assented with a smile. 

"Oh, there's father in the wagon!" The little girl was all a tremor ofgladness. He caught her eyes and beckoned, and she ran down. But shecouldn't manage the night-latch, and so Margaret had to follow her. 

"Bundle up my little girl, " he said. "I've got to drive up to Harlem andI'll take her along. "

Hanny almost danced for joy. Margaret found her red merino coat. Thecollar was trimmed with swan's down, and her red silk hood had an edgeof the same. True, some ultra-fashionables had come out in springattire, but it was rather cool so early in the season. Hanny lookedvery pretty in her winter hood. And as they drove down the street thesame girls were standing on a stoop; one was evidently going away fromher friend. The one who laughed lived there then. But neither of themwould have guessed it was the "queer" girl, and they almost envied her. 

"I've never been down to this corner, " said Hanny. "And the streets runtogether. "

"Yes, First Street ends and Houston goes on over to the East River. "

The little girl looked about. There was a great sign on the house at thejunction--"Monticello Hotel, "--and on the edge of the sidewalk a pump, which the little girl thought funny. They dipped the water out of thespring at home--they had not given up saying that about the old place. There was no need of a pump, and at grandmother's they had a well-sweepand bucket. 

Then they turned up Avenue A, where he had an errand, and soon they weregoing over rough country ways where "squatters" had begun to come inwith pigs and geese. They seemed so familiar that the little girllaughed. And if some one had told her that she would one day be drivingin a beautiful park over yonder it would have sounded like a fairy tale. It was rough and wild now. Dobbin spun along, for the sun was hurryingover westward. 

"We have some old cousins living beyond there on Harlem Heights, " hesaid, "but it's too late to hunt them up. And it'll be dark by the timewe get home. There was a big battle fought here. Their brother waskilled in it. Why, they must be most eighty years old. "

The little girl drew a long breath at the thought. 

"We'll look them up some day. " Then he stopped before a hotel wherethere was a long row of horse sheds, and sprang out to tie Dobbin. 

"I had better take you out. Something might happen. " He carried her inhis arms clear up the steps. A lady came around the corner of the wideporch. 

"I'll leave my little girl in the waiting-room a few moments. I havesome business with Mr. Brockner, " he said. 

"I will take her through to my sitting-room, " the lady replied, andholding out her hand she led Hanny thither. She insisted on taking offher hood and loosening her coat, and in a few moments she seemed wellacquainted. The lady asked her father's name and she told it. 

"There are some old ladies of that name living half a mile or so fromhere, " she said. Then remembering they were very poor, and that poorrelations were not always cordially accepted, she hesitated. 

"Father spoke of some cousins, " cried the little girl eagerly. "He saidsometime we would hunt them up. We only came to New York to live twoweeks ago. "

"Then you have hardly had time to look up any one. They would be glad tosee your father, I know. He looks so wholesome and good-natured. "

The little girl was not an effusive child, but she and the lady fellinto a delightful talk. Then her hostess brought in a plate of seedcookies, and she was eating them very delicately when her fatherentered. 

"We have had such a nice time, " she said, "that I'd like you to bringyour little girl up again. Indeed, I have half a mind to keep her. "

"We couldn't spare her, " said her father, with a fond smile, which Hannyreturned. 

"I suppose not. But it will soon be beautiful around here, and when shelongs for a breath of the country you must bring her up. "

"Thank you, madam. "

"And oh, father, the cousins really are here. Two old, old ladies----"

Mr. Underhill inquired about them, and learned their circumstances werequite straitened. He promised to come up soon and see them. 

Mrs. Brockner kissed Hanny, quite charmed with her simplicity and prettymanner. And she had never once thought about the length of her oldbrown skirt. 

It was supper time when they reached home. Steve and Joe and John werethere. The three younger boys had been left at Yonkers. Indeed, Georgehad declared his intention of being a farmer. Mrs. Underhill said shedidn't want any more boys until she had a place to put them. 

Afterward Joe coaxed the little girl to come and sit on his knee. Theywere talking about schools. 

"Seems to me, Margaret better be studying housekeeping and learning howto make her clothes instead of going to school, " said Mrs. Underhillshortly. "She can write a nice letter and she's good at figures, and, really, I don't see----"

"She wants to be finished, " returned Steve, with a laugh. "She's a citygirl now. I've been looking schools over. There are severalestablishments where they burnish up young ladies. There's MadameChegary's----"

"I won't have her going to any French school and reading wretched Frenchnovels!"

Steve threw back his head and laughed. He had such splendid, strong, white teeth. 

"My choice would be Rutgers Institute. It's going to be the school ofthe day, " declared Joe. 

"Exactly. I was coming to that. There would be one term beforevacation. "

"I call it all foolishness. And she'll be eighteen on her nextbirthday, " said her mother. "If she wasn't a good scholar already--andwhat more _do_ you expect her to learn?"

They all laughed at their mother's little ebullition of temper. 

"The world grows wiser every day, " said Joe sententiously. 

"And what are you going to do, Pussy?"

Steve reached over and gave the little girl's ear a soft pinch. 

"I am going to look up a nice school for her myself. Don't begin toworry about a child not yet eight years old, " said their mother sharply. 

"Eight years. She'll soon be that, " remarked her father with a softsigh. And he wished he could keep her a little girl always. 

They went on discussing Rutgers Institute, that was one of the mosthighly esteemed schools of the day for young ladies. Steve looked overat his fair sister--she was _almost_ as pretty as Dolly Beekman. Dollyhad some dainty, attractive ways, played on the piano and sang, andPeggy had a voice blithe as a bird. Steve was beginning to be quite ajudge of young ladies and social life, and there was no reason why theyshould not all aim at something. They had good family names to backthem. Family counted, but so did education and accomplishments. 

Mrs. Underhill gave in. Steve would have his way. But then he was such agood, upright, affectionate son. So when he announced that he hadregistered his sister, Margaret's pulses gave a great thrill of delight. 

There was so much to do. True, Martha was a good cook and capable, andthere was no milk to look after, no churning, no poultry, and thecountless things of country life. Miss Cynthia Blackfan came the nextweek and remodeled the feminine part of the household. She was a tall, slim, airy-looking person, with large dark eyes and dark hair that shewore in long ringlets on either side of her face. She always looped themup when she was sewing. She had all the latest quips of fashion at hertongue's end--what Margaret must have for school dresses, what forSunday best, what lawns and ginghams and prints for summer. 

But when she went at the little girl she quite metamorphosed her. 

"You must begin to plait the child's hair and tie it with ribbons[people generally used the word instead of 'braid']. And her frocks mustbe made ever so much shorter. And, Cousin Underhill, _do_ put whitestockings on the child. Nobody wears colored ones. Unbleached do wearstronger and answer for real every day. "

"They'll be forever in the wash-tub, " said the mother grimly. 

"Well, when you're in Rome you must do as the Romans do, " with emphasis. "It looks queer to be so out of date. Everybody dresses so much more inthe city. It's natural. There's so much going and coming. "

Even then people had begun to discuss and condemn the extravagance ofthe day. The old residents of the Bowling Green were sure Bond Streetand the lower part of Fifth Avenue were stupendous follies and wouldruin the city. Foreign artistic upholsterers came over, carpets andfurniture of the most elegant sort were imported, and even then somepeople ordered their gowns and cloaks in Paris. Miss Blackfan's bestcustomer had gone over for the whole summer, otherwise she would nothave the fortnight for Cousin Underhill. She uttered her dictum with acertain authority from which there was no appeal. And she charged adollar and a half a day, while most dressmakers were satisfied with adollar. 

So the little girl had her hair braided in two tails--they were quiteshort, though, and her father liked the curly mop better. Little girls'dresses were cut off the shoulder, and made with a yoke or band and abelt. In warm weather they wore short sleeves, though a pair of longsleeves were made for cool days. There were some tucks in the skirt tobe let down as the child grew. 

The little girl was most proud, I think, of her pantalets. There weresome nankin ones made for every day. And she had a real nankin frockthat Margaret embroidered just above the hem. It was used a great dealfor aprons, too. Aprons, let me tell you, were no longer "high-ups" witha plain armhole. They were sometimes gathered on a belt and had Berthacapes over the shoulders trimmed with edging or ruffles. And everywell-conditioned little girl had one of black silk. 

"She'll have to hem her own ruffles, " declared Mother Underhill almostsharply. "And how they're ever to get ironed----"

"There's hemstitching and fagoting, but I don't know as it's any lesswork than ruffling. And all the little girls are knitting lace. I'mdoing some myself, oak-leaf pattern out of seventy cotton, and it's ashandsome as anything you ever see. "

"I don't know how any one is going to find time for so much folderol!"

"Oh, pshaw, Cousin Underhill, we did lots of it in our day. I worked thebottom of a party dress a good quarter up, and Vandyke capes, and thosegreat big collars. And we tucked up to the waist. There's alwayssomething. And those old Jewish women had broidery and finery of everysort, and 'pillows' in their sleeves as we wore years ago. See what alittle it takes to make a pair of sleeves now! We must have lookedfunny, all sleeves and waists up under our arms. "

When you consider that sewing-machines had not been invented, it was awonder how the women accomplished so much. But they always had some"catch-work" handy. The little girl was provided with a prettywork-basket, six spools of cotton, a pincushion, a needle-book, a bit ofwhite wax, and an emery, which was a strawberry-shaped cushion toppedoff with some soft green stuff she knew afterward was chenille. This wasto keep her needles bright and smooth. Then she had three rolls ofruffling, yards and yards in each piece. One was cambric, one was finelawn or nainsook, and one of dimity. She had done some over-seam insheets, she had hemmed towels and some handkerchiefs, and sewed a littleon the half-dozen shirts Margaret had made for father last winter. Butthe stitches had to be so small, and oh, so close together! Then theylooked badly if they were not straight. She liked the dimity the bestbecause the stitches seemed to sink in, and it ruffled so of itself. 

But the little girl didn't sew all the time. She wiped dishes forMartha. And one day, when she saw a little girl up the street sweepingthe sidewalk, she begged to do that. She could dust a room very nicely. There was much running up and down, and she was always glad to waitupon Steve. Indeed, she ran errands cheerfully for anybody. But she_did_ miss Benny Frank and Jim. 

Margaret had felt quite diffident about her new school, and at firstrather shrank from the young ladies, much as she desired to be amongthem. But she found herself quite advanced in some of the studies, andin a week's time began to feel at home. Two girls were very friendly, Mary Barclay and Annette Beekman. 

Perhaps Steve hadn't been quite as disinterested as it seemed. He hadmet Dolly Beekman at Miss Jane Barclay's party early in the winter. Theyhad taken a mutual fancy. Old Peter Beekman lived at the lower end ofBroadway, and had a farm "up the East River, " about Ninety-sixth Street. He had five girls, and the two last had been sore disappointments. ButHarriet, the eldest, had married her cousin and had four Beekman boys. Two others were married. Dolly had graduated from Rutgers the yearbefore and was now nineteen. Annette, as the old Dutch name was spelled, was not quite seventeen. Margaret had been put in her class in mostbranches. 

Steve _did_ want the Beekmans to think well of his people. He and Dollywere not declared lovers, but they understood each other. Old Petermade inquiries about the young man, and if they had not beensatisfactory Stephen would soon have known it. So he felt quite assured. And though his mother talked of her sons marrying, he knew that just atfirst it would come a little hard to find she had a rival. 

"Well, Peggy, " he said, Friday evening of the first week, "how doesschool go? Seen any girls you like?"

"I've seen two that know you, " and Margaret laughed. "Mary Barclay saidyou had been at their house. And so did Annie Beekman. "

"Yes, I was at Miss Beekman's party; quite a fine affair. And I've beenthere to play whist. They're a jolly crowd. Next winter we must have afew parties. And I'm going to get a piano. "

"Oh, you lovely Steve!" She squeezed his arm rapturously. 

"You have a very pretty voice, Peggy. Annie Beekman's sister singsbeautifully. How do you like Annie?"

"Why, you never can tell whether she is in earnest or quizzing you. Butshe's ever so much prettier than Mary. Yes, on the whole I like her. "

"You ought to see her sister Dolly. She has real flaxen hair and such acomplexion!"

"Annie has a lovely complexion, too. There are a great many prettygirls in the world. I have a curious sort of pity for those who are nota bit pretty, " Margaret said sympathetically. 

Steve laughed and nodded, as if the idea amused him. 

If Margaret and Annie became friends, and if Dolly and Annie came tocall--well, he was sure they would all fall in love with Dolly. And thenthe matter would go on smoothly. People thought more of being friendlywith their relations by marriage in those days. 

CHAPTER IV

A LOOK AT OLD NEW YORK

On a Sunday toward the end of April, Stephen took his two sisters downto the Battery for a walk. It was very warm and springlike. Thecherry-tree in their yard had come out in bloom. Buds were swellingeverywhere, and the gray spots were all green and shining in the softgolden atmosphere. There was the wide, magnificent expanse of the bay, the edge of Brooklyn, the hazy outline of Staten Island, the vagueNarrows that seemed to lead to some unknown world. And there was thegreat round Castle Garden, the Castle Clinton of earlier times, where afew years later the little girl was to hear some of the world's mostfamous singers. And when she looked out of that weird, narrow waterwayand wondered just where Europe was, and how foreign countries must look, she could not by the most vivid stretch of imagination fancy herselfsailing out to that unknown country. 

The short grass was so lovely and green, and the waves came lapping upwith a silvery melody. There were people lounging on the seats, ladieswith sunshades in their hands, mothers with some little children, fathers with a son or two, or a little girl like herself in pantaletsand white stockings and low shoes. The clothes she thought werebeautiful. The hats were full of flowers. She had a new straw gypsy witha wreath of buttercups, and soft yellow strings tied under her chin. Her_challi de laine_ had small blue flowers on a white ground, withyellow-brown centres, and there was a blue ribbon tied about her waist, with a bow at the back. She had a white cape of some soft cotton goodswith a satiny finish, warranted to wash as good as new. She would haveliked a sunshade, but she had so many new things. 

She thought quite a good deal about her pretty clothes, and how glad sheshould be to learn more geography. Stephen was talking about Hudson'sexpedition up the river to which he gave his name, and a few monthslater when some hovels were built to shelter the sailors, the beginningof a settlement. And how in 1614 the Dutch erected a rude fort and gavethe place the name of New Amsterdam. Then the Dutch West India Companybought Manhattoes Island from the natives for goods of various kinds, amounting to sixty guilders. 

"You see the Dutch were thrifty traders even then, more than two hundredyears ago, " says Stephen with a pleasant laugh. 

"How much are sixty guilders?" asks the little girl. It sounds animmense sum to her. And to buy a whole city!

"It was about twenty-four dollars at that time, " replies Stephen. 

The little girl's face is amusing in its surprise. 

"Only twenty-four dollars! And father had three hundred a few days ago. Why, he could have bought"--well, the limitless area takes away herbreath. 

"I don't believe we should have wanted to live in such a wilderness asit was then. "

"But when Walter the Testy came--he was really here?" It is ratherchaotic in her mind. 

"He was here. Wouter van Twiller was his real name. Then a line of Dutchgoverners, after which the island was ceded to the British. It becamequite a Royalist town until the Revolutionary War. We had a 'scrap'about tea, too, " and Stephen laughs. "Old Castle Clinton was a famousspot. And when General Lafayette, who had helped us fight our battles, came over in 1824, he had a magnificent ovation as he sailed up the bay. It's a splendid old place. "

Everybody seemed to think so then. The birds were singing in thesunshine, and the rural aspect was dear to the hearts of the olderpeople. They rose and walked about in the fragrant air. Now and thensome one bowed gravely to Stephen. There was a Sunday decorum over all. 

They rambled up to the Bowling Green. Some quaintly attired elderlypeople who had the _entrée_ of the place were sitting about enjoying theloveliness. One old Frenchman had a ruffled shirt-front and a very highcoat-collar that made him look like a picture, and knee-breeches. 

Some one sprang up, and coming to the gate said: "Oh, Mr. Underhill, andMiss Margaret! Is this your little sister? Do walk in and chat with us. My sister Jane and I have come down to dine with the Morrises, and itwas so lovely out here. Isn't it a charming day?"

There was Miss Jane Barclay very fashionably attired, Miss Morris, andher brother, who was very attentive to Miss Barclay, and a littlefarther on Mrs. Morris, fat, fair, and matronly. She was reading "TheLady of the Manor, " and when the little girl found it afterward in aSunday-school library, Mrs. Morris seemed curiously mixed up with it. Sunday papers at that period would have horrified most people. 

"What a dear little girl!" said Mrs. Morris. "Come here and tell me yourname. Why, you look like a lily astray in a bed of buttercups. Is itpossible Mr. Stephen Underhill is your brother?"

"The eldest and the youngest, " explained Stephen. "And this is mysister, Miss Underhill. "

Mrs. Morris bowed and shook hands. Then she made room on the settee forthe child. 

"You haven't told me your name, my dear. "

Mrs. Morris' voice was so soft, almost pleading. The little girl glancedup and colored, and if the bank could have broken and let her money downin the ocean, or some one could have stolen it and bought a newManhattan Island in the South Seas, --so that she could have had a newname, she wouldn't have minded a bit. But she said with brave sweetness:

"Hannah Ann. I was named after both grandmothers. "

"That's a long name for such a little girl. I believe I should call youNannie or Nansie. And Mr. Morris would call you Nan at once. I neverknew such a man for short names. We've always called our Elizabeth Bess, and half the time her father calls her Bet, to save one letter. "

The little girl laughed. The economy of the thing seemed funny. 

"What does your father call you?"

"'Little girl, ' most always. Margaret was grown into quite a big girlwhen I was born, so I was the little girl. "

"Well--that's pretty, too. And where are you living?"

"In First Street. "

"Why, that's way up-town! And--let me see--you did live at Yonkers? I'venever been there. Is it a town?"

"We lived on a great big farm. And oh, the Croton water pipe came rightacross one corner of it. "

"Ah, you should have seen the celebration! Such a wonderful, indescribable thing!"

"Margaret came down and most of the boys. Mother said I would be crushedto death. "

"And she couldn't spare her little girl! Well, I don't blame her. Do yougo to school?"

"No, ma'am, not yet. " All the children but the very rough ones said "no, ma'am, " and "yes, ma'am, " in those days. "But I did go at Yonkers. "

"And what did you learn. "

She was quite astonished at the little girl's attainments, and hersimplicity she thought charming. When Stephen came for her, Mrs. Morrissaid:

"I have really fallen in love with your little sister. You must bringher down again. _We_ think there's nothing to compare with our BowlingGreen and the Battery. "

They bade each other a pleasant adieu. It was time to go home, indeed. The little girl felt very happy and joyous, and she thought her prettyclothes had helped. Perhaps they had. 

She sat on her father's knee that night telling him about Mrs. Morris. And she suddenly said:

"Father, what was the Reign of Terror?"

"The Reign of Terror? Oh, it was a horrible time of war in France. Wheredid you pick up that?"

"There was an old man in the Green who had on a queer sort ofdress--knee-breeches and buckles on his shoes like those ofgrandfather's. And ruffles all down his shirt-bosom and long, curly, white hair. And Mrs. Morris said he was in prison in the Reign ofTerror, and then came to America with his daughter, and that his mindhad something the matter with it. Do you suppose he got awfullyfrightened?"

"I dare say he did, my dear. When you are a big girl you will learn allabout it in history. But you needn't hurry. There are a great manypleasanter things to learn. "

She leaned her head down on her father's shoulder and thought how sad itmust be to lose one's mind. Was that the part of you always thinking?How curious it was to always think of something! Your feet didn't alwayswalk, your hands didn't always work, but that strange thing inside ofyou never stopped. Oh, yes, it had to when you were asleep. But then yousometimes dreamed. And the little girl fell fast asleep over psychologythat she didn't know a word about. 

Early in the next week Mrs. Underhill took the little girl and went upto Yonkers. She said she was homesick to see the boys. And oh, how gladthey were to see her! Aunt Crete was laid up with the _tic douloureux_. Retty was full of work and house-cleaning, and her lover had come on. Hewas a Vermonter by birth, and an uncle in the Mohawk valley had broughthim up. Then he had gone West, but not taken especial root anywhere. Hewas tall and thin, with reddish hair and beard, but the kindliest blueeyes and a pleasant voice. He and George had struck up a friendshipalready. And Retty confided to Aunt Margaret "that she was going to bemarried without any fuss, and Bart was goin' to turn in and help run thefarm. "

Everything wore a different aspect even in this brief while. Mrs. Underhill had some things to pack up, that she was going to leave, awhile at least, in the garret. Her sister-in-law was very glad to takeanything she wanted to dispose of, since they had sold their furnitureat the West. 

Oh, how wonderful the world was to the little girl! The trees werecoming out in bloom, there were great bunches of yellow daffodils, andthe May pinks were full of buds. And then the chickens, the ducks' nestsfull of eggs, the pretty little dark-eyed calf that the boys had tamedalready! And the children at school! Everybody was wild over Hanny andglad to get her back. 

But it was queer she should miss her father so much when it came night. She went out on the old stoop and felt strangely lonesome. Then the boyscame round, having done up their share of the chores. 

"Do you _reely_ like it, Hanny?" asked Jim. 

She knew he meant the city. 

"Well--father and Steve and Joe and John are there"--yet her tone was alittle uncertain. 

"Are there any boys about?"

"I don't know any. I haven't had time to find any girls. But there is abig public school round in Houston Street, and I guess there's athousand children. You should see them coming out of the gate. "

"Hm'n! I don't believe there's a thousand children in all New York. That's ten hundred, Miss Hanny!"

Hanny was sobered by the immensity of her statement, for she was a verytruthful little girl. 

"What have you been doing all this time?" Jim asked impatiently. 

"Well--there was the house to get to rights. And we had to have some newclothes made. A girl laughed at me one day and said I looked queer. "

"If I'd been there I'd punched her head. Yes--I see you're mighty fine. Would _I_ look queer?"

"Oh, boys always look alike, " returned Hanny reflectively. "We had abeautiful walk one Sunday on the Battery, and I think, " hesitatingly, "that all the boys had on roundabouts. "

"Are you sure they didn't have on overcoats?"

"Don't plague her, Jim. Tell us about the Battery, Hanny. "

Hanny could describe that quite vividly. Jim soon became interested. When she paused he said, "What else?" She told them of her ride up toHarlem, and a walk down the Bowery to Chatham Square. 

"But there ain't any real bowers in it any more, only stores and suchthings. "

"What a pity, " commented Benny Frank. 

"Well, I think I'd like to go as soon as mammy can get ready. It isn'tas much fun here without you all. "

"Oh, Jim, don't say mammy. They don't do it in the city, " said thelittle girl beseechingly. 

"If you think I'm going to put on French airs, you're much mistaken, Miss Hanny! I'll say pop and mammy when I like. I'm not going to dressup in Sunday best manners because you wear ruffled pantalets. It makesyou look like a feather-legged chicken!"

"Don't mind him, Hanny, " said Ben tenderly. "I wish I had seen that oldman at the Bowling Green----"

"Do they make bowls there?" interrupted teasing Jim. 

"Because I've been reading about France and the Reign of Terror, " BennyFrank went on, not heeding his brother. "It was in about 1794. Robespierre was at the head of it. And there was a dreadful prison intowhich they threw everybody they suspected, and only brought them out forexecution. It must have been terrible! And the poor old man must havebeen quite young then. I should think he would have lost his mind. "

"Bother about such stuff! You'd rather be in New York, wouldn't you, Hanny? And mother said we might come as soon as she was settled. I'm notgoing to stay here and be ordered about by this Finch fellow. Retty'ssoft as mush over him. Say, Ben, you _would_ like to go, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I think I would, " answered Ben slowly. "There would be such asplendid chance to learn about everything. "

Their mother had been walking around the familiar paths with George, whohad developed some ideas of his own in this brief space. And his motherhad not realized before how tall and stout he was getting. 

"I'd like to see father and Steve and make some plans. I'd like to workpart of father's ground on shares or some way. I'm glad Dave Andrews isstaying on. I don't altogether like Uncle Faid's ideas, and oh, mother, 'tisn't any such jolly home as you had. Poor Aunt Crete is so miserable. But you see if I really had some interest of my own I'd be learning allthe time. "

"I'm sure your father will consent. " His mother felt so proud, leaningon his arm. And some time _they_ would come back. So they talked thematter over with eager interest, and she quite forgot about the littlegirl's bedtime. Retty had joined them and was rehearsing some of herWestern experiences, and the little girl sat with wide-open eyes, looking at Retty in the moon-light, thinking what a great wonderfulworld it was to have so many places and all so different. Did you havetwo organs of thought? She was so puzzled about thought, anyhow. Forwith one side of her that didn't see Retty, she could see her father soplainly in this very corner, and she was in his arms, and with thefaculty that wasn't listening to her cousin she could hear her father'svoice. You see, she wasn't old enough to know about dual consciousness. 

When Hanny went up-stairs with her mother the boys went also. 

"Say, Ben, " and his brother gave him a dig in the ribs with his elbow;"say, Ben, don't you want to go back to New York with mother? If we justpush with all our might and main, together we can. "

"Well, don't push me through the side of the house. "

"You want to be pushed all the while. You're as slow as 'lasses inwinter time. Ben, you take after Uncle Faid. It takes him 'most all dayto make up his mind. Now I can look at a thing and tell in a minute. "

"You seem ready enough to tell. " Ben laughed a little provokingly. 

"Well, you can go or not as you like. 'Taint half the fun here that itused to be. I didn't think I cared so much for Hanny. "

"Is it Hanny?" in a tone that irritated. 

"It's Hanny and mother and John and father and New York, and just amillion things rolled into a bundle. And if you don't care I'll fight myway through. There, Benjamin Franklin! You'd sit on a stone in themiddle of a field and fly your kite forever!"

Jim was losing his temper. 

"Yes, I _think_ I'd like to go. There would be so much to see andlearn. "

"Oh, hang it all! Simply go!"

Ben was thinking of the old man--he must have been quite young then--whowas in prison through that awful Reign of Terror. He undressed slowly. He was not such a fly-away as Jim. But Jim was asleep before he wasready for bed. 

Mrs. Underhill had not really meant to take the boys home with her. Shewas quite sure the city was a bad place for boys. And the country was somuch healthier in the summer. But they coaxed. And somehow, the old home_had_ changed already. The air of brisk cheerfulness was gone. AuntCrete had her face tied up most of the time, or a little shawl over herhead. Retty was undeniably careless. Barton Finch played cards with thehired man. Uncle Faid had some queer ideas about farming. 

"I'd like wonderful well to have the boys stay, " he said. "They're worththeir keep. A boy 'round's mighty handy. I'd have to hire one. "

Somehow she wasn't quite willing to have her boys put in the place of ahired one, or one bound out from the county house. And Jim had been herbaby for so long. The little girl pleaded also. She told them finallythey might come down and try. But if they were the least bit bad ordisobedient they would be sent back at once. 

Mrs. Underhill was half-cured of her homesickness. She had thought shecould never be content in New York; why, she was almost contentalready. 

She and Hanny took a walk the last day of their stay up on the knollwhere the new house was to be built. 

"When all the children are married and father and I get to be oldpeople, we will come back here. I shall want you, Hanny, " and she heldthe little girl's hand in a tight clasp. 

Hanny wondered if she would be stout and have full red cheeks and looklike Retty? And oh, she did hope her mother wouldn't have _ticdouloureux_ and wear shawls over her head. When all the children weremarried--oh, how lonesome it would be!

But she had been quite a little heroine and gone to school one day tosee the girls and boys. And one girl said: "I s'pose it's city fashionto wear pantalets that way, but my! doesn't it look queer!"

She was very glad to get back to her father. The country was beautifulwith all its bloom and fragrance, but First Street had such a clean, tidy look with its flagged sidewalks and the dirt all swept up to themiddle of the street, leaving the round faces of the cobble-stonesfairly shining. It was quite delightful to show the boys all over thehouse and then go through the yard to the stables and greet Dobbin andPrince. And Battle, the dog, called so because he had been such afighter, but commonly known as Bat, wagged his whole body with delightat sight of the boys. 

CHAPTER V

GIRLS AND GIRLS

A week or so after Mrs. Underhill's return, one of the neighbors calledone afternoon and brought her two little girls, Josie and Tudie Dean. Tudie stood for Susan. The little girl was summoned, and the three, after the fashion of little girls, sat very stiff on their chairs andlooked at each other, then cast their eyes down on the carpet, fidgeteda little with the corners of their white aprons, and then gave anotherfurtive glance. 

"Hanny, you might take the little girls out in the yard and gather anosegay for them. " Flower roots and shrubs had been brought down fromthe "old place, " and there was quite a showing of bloom. 

The mothers talked meanwhile of the street, and Mrs. Dean spoke of thewonderful strides the city was making up-town. A few objectionablepeople had come in the old frame houses at the lower end of the street. When Mr. Dean built, some seven years ago, it was all that could bedesired, but already immigrants were forcing their way up HoustonStreet. If something wasn't done to control immigration, we should soonbe overrun. The Croton water had been such a great and wonderfulblessing. And did her little girl go to school anywhere? Josie and Tudiewent up First Avenue by Third Street to a Mrs. Craven, a rather youngishwidow lady, who had two daughters of her own to educate, and who wasvery genteel and accomplished. Little girls needed some one who hadgentle and pretty manners. There was a sewing-class, and all through thewinter a dancing-class, and Mrs. Craven gave lessons on the piano. Public schools were well enough for boys, but they were too rude andrough for little girls. 

Mrs. Underhill assented. "She wouldn't think of sending Hannah Ann to apublic school. "

"She looks like a very delicate child, " commented Mrs. Dean. 

"She's always been very well, " said the mother, "but she _is_ small forher age. And all of my children have grown up so rapidly. "

"I couldn't believe those young men belonged to you. And that tall, pretty young girl. "

Mrs. Underhill smiled and flushed and betrayed her pride in her eightnice healthy children. 

"I envy you some of your sons, " Mrs. Dean went on. "I never had but thetwo little girls. "

They came in now, each with the promised nosegay, and full of delight. They were round and rosy, and looked more like one's idea of a countrygirl than little lilybud Hannah. But they were all eager now, and evenher cheeks were pink. They had talked themselves into friendship. AndJosie wanted to know if Hanny couldn't come and see them, and if theycouldn't have their dishes out and have tea all by themselves?

Mrs. Dean looked up at Mrs. Underhill, and replied: "Why, yes, if hermother is willing. Saturday would be best, as you are not in school. "

That was only two days off. Hanny's eyes entreated so wistfully. And theDeans lived only three doors away. 

"Why, yes, " answered her mother with a touch of becoming hesitation. 

Hanny was telling this eventful interview over to Jim as they sat on thestoop that evening. Ben was reading a book, Jim was trying the toes ofhis shoes against the iron railing and secretly wishing he could gobarefoot. 

"And they have a real play-house up-stairs in one room. There's two bedsin it and two bureaus, and oh, lots of things! Josie has seven dolls andTudie four. Tudie gave two of hers away, and Josie has a lovely big waxdoll that her aunt sent from Paris. And a table, and their mother letsthem play tea with bread and cake and real things. And I'm to go onSaturday. "

Hanny uttered this in a rapid breath. 

"Sho!" ejaculated Jim rather disdainfully. "They're not much if theyplay with dolls. Now _I_ know some girls----"

The boys had been at Houston Street public school not quite a week. Jimknew half the boys at least, already, and all the boys that lived on theblock. He wasn't a bit afraid of girls, either, though he generallycalled them "gals. "

"There's some living down the street, and Jiminy! if they haven't gotnames! You'd just die of envy! Rosabelle May, think of it! And LilianAlice Ludlow. Lily's an awful pretty girl, too. And they wanted to knowall about you and Peggy. "

"Did you tell her my name?" asked the little girl timidly. 

"Well--don't you know you said you wished it was Anna?" Jim answeredslowly. "I just said it so it sounded like Anna. And Lily said she'dseen you riding with father. I wish you'd walk down there, " coaxingly. 

"I'll see if mother will let me. " Hanny sprang up. 

"And put on a nice white apron, " said Jim. 

"They're too old for Hanny, " began Ben, looking up from his book. 

"Why, Lily's only eleven. And anyhow----"

Jim didn't know just how to explain it. Lily had begged him thatafternoon to bring his little sister down. To tell the truth she wasvery ambitious to know the Underhills. They must be somebody, for theykept horses and a carriage, and owned their house. 

"Do you know, " said Belle May as they watched Jim going up the street, "I half believe the little girl who stood on the stoop that day is Jim'ssister. "

"That little country thing! I never thought of it. But I don't supposeshe really heard. "

"If she _did_--what will you do?"

"Do?" Lily tossed her head. "Why, I shall act just as if I never said itor had seen her before or anything. You don't suppose I'm a goose inpin-feathers, do you? I want to get acquainted with them. Of course Ishall ask both boys to my birthday party. I should only ask the nicepeople in the street. "

Margaret threw her pretty pink fascinator round Hanny's shoulders. Shedidn't need any hat this warm summer night. Hanny was very proud to walkdown the street with her brother, who knew so many girls already. Jimwasn't a bit afraid of being called a "girl boy. " Quite a number ofpeople were sitting out on their stoops. It was the fashion then. Someof the ladies were knitting lace on two little needles that had sealingwax on one end, so the stitches could not drop off. There was muchpleasant chatting. The country ways of sociability had not all gone outof date. 

They walked down to the lower end, where the houses were ratherirregular and getting old. Two or three had a small grass door-yard infront. Two girls were walking up and down with their arms around each. Jim knew in a moment who they were, but he loitered behind them untilthey turned. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Lily Ludlow in well-acted surprise. "Are you out takinga walk?"

"Yes, " answered Jim, quite as innocently as if the matter had not beenarranged a few hours ago. "And this is my sister. And this is LilyLudlow, and this Belle May. "

Alas for Hanny! Lily Ludlow was the girl who had called her "queer" andlaughed. The child's face flushed and there was a lump in her throat. 

"You don't go to school, do you?" asked Lily with the utmostnonchalance. She was quite ready for anything. 

The little girl made an effort, but no words would come. She could neverlike this girl with the pretty name, she felt very sure. 

"No, " said Jim. "She's so small for her size that mother would beafraid of her getting lost. "

They all giggled but the little girl, who wanted to run away. 

"But you like New York, don't you? Jim thinks he wouldn't go back to thecountry for anything. "

We had not come to "Bet your life, " and "There's where your head'slevel, " in those days. But Jim answered for his sister--"You just guessI wouldn't, " with a deal of gusto. 

They all walked up a short distance. The girls and Jim had all the talk, and they chaffed each other merrily. Hanny was silent. She really wastoo young for their fun. 

Belle May's mother called her presently, and the little girl said in awhisper: "Oh, Jim, we must go home. "

Jim wondered if he might ask Lily to walk with them, so he could comeback with her. But she settled it with a gay toss of the head. 

"Good-night, " she said. "Come down again some evening. "

"What a little stupid you are, Hanny!" Jim began, vexed enough. "Whydidn't you ask them to walk up our way! And you never said a word! Icould have given you an awful shake!"

"I--I don't like them. "

"You don't know anything about them. Ben and I see them half a dozentimes a day, and walk to school with them, and they're nice and prettyand have some manners. You're awful country, Hanny!"

The little girl began to cry. 

"Oh, what a baby you are! Well, I s'pose you can't help it! You're onlyeight, and I'm almost thirteen. And Lily Ludlow's nearly eleven. Isuppose you _do_ feel strange among girls so much older. "

"It isn't that, " sobbed the little girl. How could she get courage totell him?

"Oh, Hanny, dear, don't cry. " Jim's voice softened--they were nearinghome. "See here, I'll ask father to take us to Tompkins Square onSunday, and you shall paint out of my new box. There! and don't tell anyone--don't say a word to Ben. "

He kissed her and wiped her eyes with the end of her starchy apron. Jimwas very coaxing and sweet when he tried. 

"Joe's here, " said Ben. "And he thought the wolves would eat you up ifyou went too far. He wants to see you. "

Jim dropped down on the step. Hanny ran through the hall. They wereusing the back parlor as a sitting-room, and everybody seemed talking atonce. Joe held out his arms and the little girl flew to them. 

Then it came out that Joe had taken one of the prizes for a thesis, andhe would shortly be a full fledged M. D. He was so jubilant and the restwere so happy that the little girl forgot all about her discomfort. 

Jim came rushing in. "Where's the hundred dollars?" he inquired. 

Joe laughed. "I have not received the money yet. I thought theannouncement was enough for one night. "

"You and Hanny'll be so stuck up there'll be no living with you, " saidJim. 

Hanny glanced up with a smiling face. If she had only looked that way atLily Ludlow! But even his schoolmate was momentarily distanced by thethought of such a prize. And he remembered later on with muchgratification that he could tell her to-morrow. 

Miss Chrissy Ludlow had been sitting by the front window in her whitegown, half expecting a caller. When Lily entered, she inquired if thatlittle thing was the Underhill girl?

"Oh, that's the baby, " and Lily giggled. "There's a young lady who goesto Rutgers--well, I suppose she isn't quite grown up, for she doesn'twear real-long dresses. And they have another brother in thecountry--six brothers!"

Chrissy sighed. If she only knew some way to get acquainted with theyoung woman. And all the brothers fairly made one green with envy. 

"You keep in with them, " she advised her sister. "You might as well lookup in the world for your friends. "

There were not many people in the street who kept a carriage. Chrissylonged ardently to know them. And she had been almost fighting for aterm at Rutgers. Mr. Ludlow was a common-place man, clerk in ashoe-store round in Houston Street, and capable of doing repairs. Theyrented out the second floor, as they could not afford to keep the wholehouse. But since Chrissy had found out that they were distantconnections of some Ludlows quite well off and high up in the socialscale, she had felt extremely aristocratic. For a year she had been outof school, and now her mother thought she better learn dressmaking, since she was so "handy. " She meant to get married at the first goodopportunity. 

Mr. Thackeray in England was writing about snobs during this period. Hethought he found a great many in London. And even among the republicansimplicity of New York he could have found some. 

Hanny's second attempt at social life was a much greater success. Thevisit at the Deans' was utterly delightful. The play-house wasenchanting. They dressed and undressed the dolls, they gave Hanny two, and called her Mrs. Hill, because Underhill was such a long name, andthey had an aunt by the name of Hill. They "made believe" days andnights, and measles and whooping cough, and earache and sore throat. Josie put on an old linen coat of her father's and "made believe" shewas the doctor. And oh, the solicitude when Victoria Arabella lay at thepoint of death and they had to go round on tiptoe and speak in whispers, and the poor mother said: "If Victoria Arabella dies, my heart will bebroken!" But the lovely child mended and was so weak for a while thatthe greatest care had to be taken of her, for she couldn't sit up a bit. And Hanny proposed they should take her up to Yonkers, where she couldrecruit in the country air. 

Mrs. Dean came up with a basket and said it was supper time. Shearranged a side table to hold some of the things. There was a nice whitetablecloth and Josie's pretty dishes. There was a pitcher of hot waterto make cambric tea, square lumps of sugar, dainty slices of breadalready spread, smoked beef, pot-cheese, raspberries, cherry-jam, andtwo kinds of cake. Well, it was just splendid. 

Then they went out on the sidewalk and skipped up and down. There wasquite an art in skipping gracefully without breaking step. When theywere warm and tired they came in, and Mr. Dean played on the piano forthem. 

At seven o'clock Mr. Underhill walked up for his little girl, whosecheeks were pink and her eyes shining like stars. He sat on the stoopand talked a little while with Mr. Dean, and said most cordially theother girls must come and take tea with Hanny. And if they liked hewould take them out driving some day. That was a most delightfulproposal. 

Jim let the whole school know the next week that his "big brother" hadwon a prize of one hundred dollars. And when Joseph passed with honorand took his degree, they were all proud enough of him. 

"Mother, " said the little girl after much consideration, "if any of usget sick will we have to pay Joe like a truly doctor?"

"Well--why not?" asked Mrs. Underhill. "That will be his way of earninghis living. "

The little girl drew a long breath. "He might come and live with usthen. Where will he live, anyway?"

"He is to practise in the hospital awhile. "

"Couldn't he doctor us at all?" she asked in surprise?

"Oh, yes, he might if we had faith in him, " returned her motherlaughingly. 

That puzzled the little girl a good deal, and when she had anopportunity she asked her father if he had faith in Joe. 

"Well, " her father seemed to hesitate, "he might doctor Tabby, but Iwouldn't let him experiment on Dobbin or Prince. "

Hanny's face was a study in gravity and disappointment. "And if _I_ wassick?" she ventured with a very long sigh. 

Then her father hugged her up in his arms until she was breathless, andscrubbed her soft little face with his whiskers, and both of themlaughed. But Joe promised one day when he was home to doctor her fornothing, so that point was settled. 

They had a great time Fourth of July. Lamb and green peas were theregulation dinner. Steve sent a wagon up every morning with the freshestvegetables there were in market, and the meat for the day. Their milkcame from the Odells in West Farms, and their butter from Yonkers. To besure, it wasn't quite like country living, and Mrs. Underhill waspositive that no one gave such a flavor to butter as herself. 

The Odells and some other relatives were down on Fourth of July. Theyhad the lamb and peas, as I said, and at that date one kind of meat wasconsidered enough. They had green-apple pie. There was a very earlypie-apple on the farm and George had brought some down for his mother. He was well and happy as he could be "without the folks, " and he shookhis head a little ambiguously about Uncle Faid's method, and those ofMr. Finch. 

They had some ice-cream and cake afterward. The little girl had nevereaten any, and she thought it very queer. It would have been delightfulbut for the awful coldness of it! It froze the roof of her mouth andmade an ache in the middle of her forehead. Steve told her peoplesometimes warmed it, and she ran out to the stove with her saucer. 

"The land alive! What are you going to do with that cream?" almostshrieked Martha, who was washing dishes at the sink. 

"Warm it, " replied the little girl. "It's so cold. "

Martha almost fell into a chair with the dish-cloth in her hand, andlaughed as if she would have a fit. There was a suspicious sound fromthe dining-room as well, and the fair little face grew very red. 

Steve came out. 

"Here, Nannie, is mine that the weather has warmed, and I'll trade itfor your peak of Greenland. " He took the chunk out of her saucer, andpoured the soft in. 

"It is nicer, " she said. "And you needn't laugh, Martha. When I am a bigwoman and make ice-cream I shall just boil it, " and she walked back withgrave dignity. 

She took the Odell girls to Mrs. Dean's, and some other children flockedaround the stoop. They had torpedoes and lady-crackers, that twochildren pulled, when they went off with a loud explosion in the middleand made you jump. There were real fire-crackers that the boys had, andpin-wheels and various simple fireworks. But the great thing would begoing down to City Hall in the evening and seeing the fireworks there. 

The Odells could not stay, to their sorrow. Mr. Underhill proposed totake the business wagon and put three seats in it, and ask the Deans togo with them. Mrs. Dean was very glad to accept for herself and thechildren. There was a young lady next door, Miss Weir, that Margaretliked very much, and she accompanied them. John had promised to takecharge of the boys. Steve had dressed himself in his new light summersuit and gone off. 

The little girl thought the display beyond any words at her command. Such mysterious rockets falling to pieces in stars of every color. Therewas a great dome of stars, and rays that presently shot up into heaven;there was a ship on fire, which really frightened her. And, oh! thenoise and the people, the shouting and hurrahing, the houses trimmedwith flags, the brass band that played all the patriotic songs, and theendless confusion! The little girl clung closely to her mother, gladshe was not down on the sidewalk, for the people would surely havetrodden on her. 

They came home very tired. But the little girl had added to her stock ofhistorical knowledge and knew what Fourth of July stood for. It was avery great day, the beginning of the Republic. 

The boys were out early the next morning finding "cissers, " crackersthat had failed to burn out entirely, and still had a little explosivemerit when touched by a piece of lighted punk. There was no school thatday, and Steve took them up to West Farms to expend the rest of theirhilarity. The little girl was pale and languid. Mrs. Underhill was quitetroubled at times when friends said:

"Isn't Hanny very small of her age? Is she real strong? She looks sodelicate. "

This was why she had thought it best not to send her to school thissummer. She read aloud to her mother and said one column in a spellerand definer, and Margaret taught her a little geography and arithmetic. She could hem very nicely now. She had learned to knit lace, and do somefancy work that was then called lap stitching. You pulled out somethreads one way of the cloth, then took three and just lapped them overthe next three, drawing your needle and thread through. Now a machinedoes it beautifully. 

There was another fashion, "fads" we should call them nowadays. Aschool-bag--they didn't call them satchels then--was made of a piece ofblue and white bed-ticking, folded at the bottom. Every white stripe youworked with zephyr worsted in briar stitch or herring-bone or featherstitch. You could use one color or several. And now the old work and thebed-ticking has come back again and ladies make the old-fashioned bagswith tinsel thread. 

Margaret had made one, and the little girl had taken it up. She wasquite an expert with her needle. She had found several delightful newbooks to read. The Deans had some wonderful fairy stories. She wasenraptured with the "Lady of the Lake, " and some of Mrs. Howitt'sstories and poems. She had learned her way about, and could go out tothe Bowery to do an errand for her mother. She knew some more littlegirls, and with her sewing, helping her mother, studying and reading andplay, the days seemed too short. 

Vacation did not begin until the 1st of August. The boys were to go upto Yonkers and help George and Uncle Faid. They were quite ready for newventures. 

When Margaret came home the last day of school with a really finereport, her mother felt quite proud of her. The little girl, with largeeyes and a mysterious expression, begged her to come into the parlor andsee something. She smiled and took Hanny's small hand in hers. Thefurniture had been moved about a little. And oh, what was this? Thelittle girl's eyes were stars of joy. 

"It's your piano and mine, " she said. "Yours till you get married and goaway, and then mine forever and ever. Joe gave fifty dollars of hisprize money toward it. Wasn't he lovely? And oh, Margaret, suchbeautiful music as it makes!"

The little girl with one small finger struck a key. The sound seemed tofascinate her. Margaret caught her in her arms and kissed the enrapturedface. 

"We shall be too happy, I'm afraid. I shouldn't have had the courage toask for a piano, but it's the one thing above all others that I havewanted. Oh, it's just too delightful!"

Mrs. Underhill said: "It's a great piece of wastefulness, but the boyswould have it. I'm sure I don't see where you're going to get time tolearn everything. And you'll never know anything about housekeeping. Ishould be ashamed to have any one marry you. "

People didn't hustle off to the country the day school closed. Indeed, some didn't go at all. The children played on the shady side of thestreet. The little girls had "Ring around a rosy, " that I think Eve'sgrandchildren must have invented. Then there was "London Bridge isfalling down, " "Open the gates as high as the sky, " and

 "Here come two lords quite out of Spain A-courting for your daughter faire, "

and after a great deal of disputing and beseeching they obtained"daughter faire, " and averted war. And "Tag" never failed with its "Anamana mona mike. " You find children playing them all yet, but I think thewonderful zest has gone out of them. 

In the evening a throng of the First Street children who had pennies tospend used to go up to the corner of Second Street and Avenue A. An oldcolored woman sat there, with a gay Madras turban, and a little tablebefore her, that had a mysterious spring drawer. On one side she had anearthen jar, on the other a great pail with a white cloth over it, thatemitted a steamy fragrance. And she sang in a sort of chanting tone:

"H-o-t corn, hot corn. Here's your nice hot corn, s-m-okin' h-o-t. B-a-ked pears, baked pears--Get away, chillen, ' get away, 'les you'vegot a penny. Stop crowdin'. "

They had enough to eat at home, but the corn was tempting. One night oneboy would treat and break the ear of corn in two and divide. And thebaked pears were simply delicious. The old woman fished them out with afork and put them on a bit of paper. Wooden plates had not beeninvented. And the high art was to lift up your pear by the stem and eatit. Sometimes a mischievous companion would joggle your arm and the stemwould come out--and oh, the pear would drop in a "mash" on the sidewalk. You could not divide the pear very well, though children did sometimespass a "bite" around. But we lived in happy innocence and safety, forthe deadly bacillus had not been invented and ignorance was bliss. 

CHAPTER VI

MISS DOLLY BEEKMAN

It seemed curiously still after the boys went away. Margaret took twomusic lessons a week and gave the little girl half a one. And one dayStephen came in and said:

 "Go dress yourself, Dinah, in gorgeous array, And I'll take you a-drivin' so galliant and gay. "

"Both of us?" asked the little girl. 

"Yes--both of us. I have my new buggy and silver-mounted harness. Youmust go out and christen it for good luck. Hurry, Peggy, and put on yourwhite dress. "

Miss Blackfan had been again and made them two white frocks apiece. Thelittle girl had "wings" over her shoulders and they made her less slim. She wore a pink sash and her hair was tied with pink. Her stockings wereas white as "the driven snow, " and her slippers looked like dolls' wear. They were bronze and laced across the top several times with narrowribbon tied in a bow at her instep. She had a new hat, too, a leghornflat with pale pink roses on it. It cost a good deal, but then it would"do up" every summer and last years and years. Fashions didn't changeevery three months then. Margaret had a pretty gipsy hat, with a biglight-blue satin bow on the top, and the strings tied under her chin, and it made quite a picture of her. Her sleeves came a little below theelbow, and both wore black silk "openwork" mitts that came half-way upthe arm. 

There had been a shower the night before and the dust was laid. Theywent over Second Street to the East River, where one or two blocks werequite given over to colored people. There was an African M. E. Church, that the little girl was very curious to see. Folks said in revivaltimes they danced for joy. Crowds used to go to hear the singing. 

"But do they dance?" asked the little girl wonderingly. She couldn'tquite reconcile it with the gravity of worship. 

"They simply march up and down the aisles keeping time to the tunes. Well--the Shakers dance in the same fashion. " Stephen had been up toLebanon. 

Then a little farther on was another Methodist church, where severalnotable lights had preached. Nearer the river were some queer oldhouses, and at almost every corner a store. Saloons were a rarity. Overyonder was Williamsburg, up a little farther Astoria, just a place ofcountry greenery. There were a few boats going up and down, and theferry-boats crossing. 

The houses were no longer in rows. There were some vegetable gardens, and German women were weeding in them; then tracts of rather rocky land, wild and unimproved. After a while it began to grow more diversified andbeautiful--country residences and well-kept grounds full of shrubbery atthe front and vegetables in the rear, with barns and stables, betrayinga rural aspect. The air was so sweet and fresh. 

"Oh!" exclaimed Margaret, "Annette Beekman must live somewhere abouthere. I promised her we would come up some day. "

Stephen turned into a country road. There were many grand old elms, hemlocks, pines, and fruit-trees as well. A table stood under one, andsome ladies were sitting there sewing and chatting, while severalchildren ran about. And while they were glancing at them a girl in apretty blue muslin sprang up and ran down to the wide-open gate. 

"Oh, Margaret!" cried Annette Beekman. "Why, this is lovely of you, Stephen! Can't you turn in and stop a while with us?"

"I'm showing Margaret New York, " said Steve, with his pleasant laugh. "She has begun to think straight down to Rutgers Institute comprisedevery bit there was of it. "

"Oh, Stephen!" deprecatingly. 

Some one else came out; a fair, tall girl with great braids of flaxenhair and a silver comb in the top to make her look taller still. Shesmiled very sweetly. 

"Oh, Mr. Underhill!" she exclaimed. 

"This is my big sister and this is my little one, " explained Stephen. "And this, " to Margaret, "is Miss Dolly Beekman. "

A warm color rose in Margaret's cheeks as a half-suspicion stole overher. 

"You must get out and rest a while after this long ride, " said MissDolly with winsome cordiality. "The rain last evening was delightful, but the day is warm. We are all living out-of-doors, as you see. Andthis, I suppose, is your little sister? Drive up and help the girls out, and then go round to the barn. You will find some one there. "

Stephen wound slowly up the driveway, nodding to the group of ladies. Dolly walked along the grassy path. She wore a white dotted suisse gownwith a "baby waist, " and had a blue satin sash with ends that fellnearly to the bottom of the skirt. Her sleeves came to the elbow andwere composed of three rather deep ruffles edged with lace. Round herpretty white neck she had an inch-wide black velvet, fastened with atiny diamond that Stephen had brought her a week ago. She looked like apicture, Margaret thought, and later her portrait in costume wasexhibited at the Academy of Design. 

Stephen lifted his sisters down. Dolly took Margaret's arm and thelittle girl's hand and introduced them to almost as many sisters andcousins and aunts as there were in "Pinafore. " The small person was notquite comfortable. She had a feeling that the back of her nice frock wasdreadfully crushed. Margaret was a little confused. Stephen seemed so athome among them all. Annette had spoken so familiarly of him, yet shehad not suspected. How blind she had been!

There was young Mrs. Beekman, thirty or so, already getting stout, andwith the fifth Beekman boy that she would gladly have changed for agirl; Mrs. Bond, the next sister, with a boy and a girl; Aunt GittyBeekman, some Vandewater cousins, and some Gessler cousins from Nyack. 

They had rush-bottomed and splint chairs, several rockers, some rusticbenches, and two or three tables standing about, with work-baskets andpiles of sewing and knitting, for people had not outgrown industry inthose days, and still taught their children the verses about the busybee. 

Dolly put Margaret in a rocker, untied her bonnet, and took off her softwhite mull scarf--long shawls they were called, and the elder ladieswore them of black silk and handsome black lace. They were held up onthe arms and sometimes tied carelessly, and the richer you were, themore handsomely you trimmed them at the ends. Then for cooler weatherthere were Paisley and India long shawls. 

Hanny kept close to her sister and leaned against her knee. She feltstrange and timid with the eyes of so many grown people upon her. Butthey all took up their work and talked, asking Margaret variousquestions in sociable fashion. 

There were three Beekman boys and one little Bond running about. Thegirl was very shy and would sit on her mother's lap. The Beekmans werefat and chubby, with their hair cut quite close, but not in the modernextreme. They wore long trousers and roundabouts, and low shoes withlight gray stockings, though their Sunday best were white. We should saynow they looked very queer, and unmistakably Dutch. You sometimes seethis attire among the new immigrants. But there were no littleFauntleroy boys at that period with their velvet jackets andknickerbockers, flowing curls and collars. 

The boys tried to inveigle Hanny among them. Pety offered her the smallwooden bench he was carrying round. Paulus asked her "to come and seeMolly who had great big horns and went this way, " brandishing his headso fiercely that the little girl shuddered and grasped Margaret's hand. 

"Don't tease her, boys, " entreated their mother. "She'll get acquaintedby and by. I suppose she isn't much used to children, being theyoungest?"

"No, ma'am, " answered Margaret. 

The boys scampered off. Annette knelt down on the short grass, andpresently won a smile from the little girl, who was revolving aperplexity as to whether big boys were not a great deal nicer thanlittle boys. Then Stephen came back and Mr. Paulus Beekman, who wasstout and dark, and favored his mother's side of the family. The ladieswere very jolly, teasing one another, telling bits of fun, comparingwork, and exchanging cooking recipes. Miss Gitty asked Margaret abouther mother's family, the Vermilyeas. A Miss Vermilye, sixty or seventyyears ago, had married a Conklin and come over to Closter. She seemed tohave all her family genealogy at her tongue's end, and knew all therelations to the third and fourth generation. But she had a rather sweetface with fine wrinkles and blue veins, and wore her hair in longringlets at the sides, fastened with shell combs that had been hermother's, and were very dear to her. She wore a light changeable silk, and it still had big sleeves, such as we are wearing to-day. But theyhad mostly gone out. And the elder ladies were combing their hair downover their ears. There were no crimping-pins, so they had to braid it upat night in "tails" to make it wave, unless one had curly hair. Most ofthe young girls brushed it straight above their ears for ordinary wear, and braided or twisted it in a great coil at the back, though it wasoften elaborately dressed for parties. 

Aunt Gitty was netting a shawl out of white zephyr. It was tied in thesame manner that one makes fish-nets, and you used a little shuttle onwhich your thread was wound. It was very light and fleecy. Aunt Gittyhad made one of silk for a cousin who was going abroad, and it had beenvery much admired. The little girl was greatly interested in this, andventured on an attempt at friendliness. 

Dolly took them away presently to show them the flower-beds. Mr. Beekmanhad ten acres of ground. There were vegetables, corn and potato fieldsand a pasture lot, beside the great lawn and flower-garden. Old Mr. Beekman was out there. He was past seventy now, hale and hearty to besure, with a round, wrinkled face, and thick white hair, and he waspassionately fond of his grandchildren. He had not married until he wasforty and his wife was much younger. 

There were long walks of dahlias of every color and kind. They were afavorite autumn flower. A great round bed of "Robin-run-away, " bergamot, that scented the air and attracted the humming-birds. All manner ofold-fashioned flowers that are coming around again, and you could seewhere there had been magnificent beds of peonies. In the early seasonpeople drove out here to see Peter Beekman's tulip-beds. 

There were borders of artemisias, as they were called, that diffused apungent fragrance. We had not shaken hands so neighborly with Japanthen, nor learned how she evolved her wonderful chrysanthemums. 

The little girl grew quite talkative with Mr. Beekman. You see, in thosedays there was a theory about children being seen and not heard, and noone expected a little six-year-old to entertain or disturb a room fullof company. The repression made them rather diffident, to be sure. ButMr. Beekman gathered her a nosegay of spice pinks, carnations now, andtook her to see his beautiful ducks, snowy white, in a little pond, andanother pair of Muscovy ducks, then some rare Mandarin ducks from China. She told him about the ducks and chickens at Yonkers and how sorry shewas to leave them. 

And then came the handsome white Angora cat with its long fur andcurious eyes that were almost blue, and when she said "mie-e-o-u" in arather delighted tone, it seemed as if she meant "O master, where haveyou been? I'm so glad to see you!"

He stood and patted her and they held quite a conversation as she archedher neck, rubbed against his leg, and turned back and forth. Then shestretched way up on him and gave him her paw, which was very cunninglydone. 

"This is a nice little girl who has come to see me, " he said, as sheseemed to look inquiringly at Hanny. "She's fond of everything, kittiesespecially. "

Kitty looked rather uncertain. Hanny was a little afraid of such acurious creature. But presently she came and rubbed against her with asoft little mew, and Hanny ventured to touch her. 

"She likes you, " declared old Mr. Beekman, much pleased. "She doesn'toften take fancies. She loves Dolly, and she won't have anything to dowith Annette, though I think the girl teases her. Nice Katschina, " saidher master, patting her. "Shall we buy this little girl?"

Perhaps you won't believe it, but Katschina really said "yes, " andsmiled. It was very different from the grin of the "Chessy cat" thatAlice saw in Wonderland. 

Some one came flying down the path. 

"Father, " exclaimed Dolly, "come and have a cup of tea or a glass ofbeer. Stephen and his sister think they can't stay to supper. But may bethey'll leave the little girl--you seem to have taken such a notion toher. "

Hanny didn't want to be impolite and she really _did_ like Mr. Beekman, but as for staying--her heart was up in her throat. 

Dolly picked up Katschina and carried her in triumph. Two white paws layover Dolly's shoulder. 

There was a table with a shining copper tea-kettle, a pewter tankard ofhome-brewed ale, bread and butter, cold chicken and ham, a great dish ofcurd cheese, pound cake, soft and yellow, fruit cake, a heaping dish ofdoughnuts and various cookies and seed cakes. Scipio, a young coloredlad, passed the eatables. Young Mrs. Beekman poured the tea. The mothersat near her. She was short and fat and wore her hair in a highPompadour roll, and she laughed a good deal, showing her fine whiteteeth of which she was very proud. 

Katschina sat in her master's lap, and the little girl was beside him. The boys were given their hands full and sent away. It was a very prettypicture and the little girl felt as if she was reading an entertainingstory. One of the Gessler cousins had been knitting lace, doubleoak-leaf with a heading of insertion. It looked marvellous to the littlegirl. She said she was making it to trim a visite. This was a Frenchysort of garment lately come into vogue, though the little girl did notknow what it was, and was too well trained to ask questions. But thelace might be the desire of one's heart. 

They sipped their tea or raspberry shrub, or enjoyed a glass of ale. They were all very merry. The little girl wondered how Dolly dared to beso saucy with Stephen when she only knew him such a little. Mrs. Beekmancould hardly accept the fact that they would not stay to supper, andsaid they must come soon and spend the day, and have Stephen drive upfor them, and that she hoped soon to see Mrs. Underhill. "It is quitedelightful and we are all well satisfied, " she added, nodding rathermysteriously. 

Dolly put on the little girl's hat and kissed her, giving her abreathless squeeze. Miss Gitty kissed her as well and told her she was a"very pretty behaved child. " The buggy came round and Stephen put themin amid a chorus of good-bys. 

"The little one looks delicate, " commented the younger Mrs. Beekman whenthey had driven away. "I'm afraid she doesn't run and play enough. Butshe's beautifully behaved. And what a fancy father took to her!"

"Miss Underhill doesn't seem like a real country girl, " said another. 

"The Underhills are a good family all through, English descent from someLord Underhill. They were staunch Royalists at one time. "

"And the Vermilyeas are good stock, " said Aunt Gitty. "There's nothinglike being particular as to family. It tells in the long run. "

"Well, Dolly, we think he will do, " said Mrs. Beekman laughingly, asDolly, having said her good-bys, sauntered back to the circle. "He mightbe richer, of course. There's a large family and they can't have muchapiece. "

"Stephen Underhill's got the making of a good substantial man in him, "grunted father Beekman. "If he'd been a poor shoat he wouldn't have hungaround here very long, would he, Katschina? We'd 'a put a flea in hisear, wouldn't we. "

Katschina arched her back. Dolly laughed and blushed. Stephen was herown true-love anyway, but she was glad to have them all like him. Withthe insistence of youth she felt she never could have loved any otherman. 

Stephen clicked to Prince, who was rested and full of spirits. Theydrove almost straight across the city, about at the end of our firsthundred numbered streets. But the road wound around to get out of a lowmarshy place, a pond in the rainy season, and some rocks that seemedtumbled up on end. They struck a bit of the old Boston Post Road, andthat caused the little girl to stop her prattle and think of the oldladies they had never visited. She must "jog" her father's memory. Thatwas what her mother always said when she recalled half-forgotten things. 

Stephen and Margaret had only spoken in answer to the little girl. Hehad a young man's awkwardness concerning a subject so dear to his heart. Margaret was awed by the mystery of love, captivated by Dolly'sfriendliness, and puzzled to decide what her mother would think of it. Stephen married! Any of them married for that matter. How strange itwould seem! And yet she had sometimes said, "When I am married. "

The place was wild enough. You would hardly think so now when hollowshave been filled and hills levelled, and rocks blasted away. After theyturned a little stream wound in and out through the trees and bushes. Amid a tangled mass the little girl espied some wild roses. 

"Oh, Steve!" she cried, "may I get out and pick some?"

"I will. " He handed the reins over to Margaret and sprang down, runningacross a little bridge, and soon gathered a great handful. 

"Oh, thank you, " and her eyes shone. "What a funny little bridge. "

"That's Kissing Bridge. "

"Who do you have to kiss?" asked the little girl mirthfully. 

"Well, a long while ago, in Van Twiller's time, I guess, " with a twinklein his eye, "there wasn't any bridge. The lovers used to carry theirsweethearts over, and the charge was a kiss. "

"But there wasn't any kissing _bridge_ then, " she said shrewdly. 

"When the bridge was built they stopped and kissed out of remembrance. "

"Was it really so, Margaret?"

"It has been called that ever since I can remember. "

"You unkind girl, not to believe me!" exclaimed Stephen, with an air ofoffended dignity. "And I am ever so much older than Margaret. "

"You didn't carry _me_ over, but you carried the roses, so you shallhave the kiss all the same, " and as she reached up to his cheek theyboth smiled. 

Then they came down Broadway to Bleecker Street, and over home. FatherUnderhill was sitting on the stoop reading his paper. Jim begged to takethe horse round to the stable. Margaret went up-stairs to pull off herbest dress and put on her pink gingham. She had just finished and wascalling for Hanny, when Stephen caught her in his arms. 

"Dear Peggy--you must have guessed. "

"Oh, Stephen! It seems so strange. Is it really so? I never dreamed----"

"I fell in love with Dolly months ago. There were so many caring for herthat I hardly hoped myself. But there's some mysterious sense about it, and I began to see presently that she preferred me. Though I didn'treally ask her until Sunday night. And they all consented. We areregularly engaged now. "

"Oh, Stephen! To lose you!"

That is the first natural thought of the household. 

"You are not going to lose me. We shall be engaged a long while; a yearsurely. "

"But, father--and our coming here. "

"That is all right. It can't make any difference. Only you will have anew sister. Oh, Peggy, try to love her, " persuasively, yet knowing shecould not resist her. 

"She is very sweet. "

"Sweet! She's just cream and roses and all the sweetest things of lifeput together! I tell you, Peggy, I'm a lucky fellow. Of course it willseem a little strange at first. But some day you'll have your romance, only I don't believe you can ever understand how glad the other fellowwill be to get you. Girls can't. And you'll try to make things smoothwith mother if she feels a little put out at first? Dolly wants to loveyou all. She's admired Joe so much, and they are all proud of him. "

The supper bell rang impatiently. Stephen kissed his sister and gave hera rapturous hug. 

Hanny came up-stairs and Margaret hurried through her change of attire. 

"I thought you never were coming, " began their mother tartly. "'Milyer, you're the worst of the lot when you get your nose buried in anewspaper. Boys, do keep still, though I suppose you're half starved, "with a reproachful look at those who had delayed the meal. 

The little girl had eaten so many of the delicious cookies that shewasn't a bit hungry. So she entertained her father with the miles ofdahlias and the wonderful cat, so soft and furry and different fromtheirs, and with truly blue eyes, and who could understand everythingyou said to her. And Mr. Beekman was very nice, but not as nice asfather. The little boys were so short and so funny. "And I don't believeI like _little_ boys. Jim and Benny, Frank and all of you are nicer. Perhaps it _is_ the bigness. "

They all laughed at that. 

She sat in her father's lap afterward and went on with her quaint story, until her mother came and routed her out and said, "I do believe, 'Milyer, you'd keep that child up all night. "

Afterward Mr. Underhill went out on the front stoop, where he andStephen had a long talk, while Margaret sat at the piano making up forher afternoon's dissipation, but in the soft, vague light she could seeDolly Beekman with her laughing eyes and crown of shining hair, and wassure she would make a delightful sister. Mrs. Underhill sat and darnedstockings and sighed a little. Yet she was secretly proud of Margaret, even if she did study French and music. Whether they would ever help herto keep house was a question. Where would she have found time for suchthings?

CHAPTER VII

MISS LOIS AND SIXTY YEARS AGO

"Yes; come get out once in a while. "

"I've no time to spare, " said Mrs. Underhill. "Some one has to work oryou'd all be in a fine case. Here's Margaret spending her time drummingon the piano and studying French and what not. I dare say you'll becalled upon some time to take your daughter to Paris to show off heraccomplishments. "

"I hope we'll do credit to each other, " he returned with a dry, humorouslaugh, as if amused. 

"The world goes round so fast one can't keep up with it. If the workonly rushed on that way! Why don't some of you smart men who have plentyof time to sit round, invent a machine to cook and sew and sweep thehouse?"

"Martha's a pretty good housekeeping machine, I think. And you mightfind another to sew. "

She had no idea that Elias Howe was hard at work on a tireless iron andsteel sewing-woman and was puzzling his brains day and night to put aneye in the needle that would be satisfactory. 

"You'd need to be made of money to hire all these folks! Margaret oughtto be sewing this very minute, but she's fussing over those drawings ofJohn's. I've such a smart family I think they'll set me crazy. And whatyou will do when I am gone----"

"We're not going to let you get away so easy. And if you would just goout a bit now and then. Come, mother, " with entreaty in his voice. 

"Oh, 'Milyer, " she said, touched by something in the tone, "I reallycan't go to-day. I've all those shirts to cut out, and Miss Weir told meof a girl who would be glad to come and sew for fifty cents a day. Ithink I'll have her a few days. And you look up the poor old creaturesand see if they are in any want. Then if I really _can_ do them any goodI'll go. "

She always softened in the end. She felt a little sore and touchy aboutSteve's engagement, and proud, too, that Miss Beekman had accepted him. Stephen had insisted some one must come in and help sew, and that hismother must have a little time for herself. Seven men and boys to makeshirts for was no light matter. The little girl was learning to darnstockings very nicely and helped her mother with those. 

So father Underhill took the little girl and Dobbin and the ordinaryharness, for Steve had Prince and the silver-mounted trappings, and theelders could guess where he had gone. Business was dull along in August, so the men had some time for diversion, and the father always enjoyedhis little daughter. Her limited knowledge and quaint comments amusedhim, and her sweet, innocent love touched the depths of his soul. 

It was quite in the afternoon when they started. Dobbin was not as youngand frisky as Prince, so they jogged along, looking at the gardens, thetrees, the wild masses of vines and sumac, and then stretches of rockyspace interspersed with squatters' cabins and the goats, pigs, geese, and chickens. Sometimes in after years when she rode through CentralPark, she wondered if she had not dreamed all this, instead of seeing itwith her own eyes. 

They went over to Mr. Brockner's to inquire. 

"Oh, " he exclaimed, "Mrs. Brockner will be so sorry to miss you. She hastalked so much about your little girl, and threatened to hunt her up. And now she's gone to Saratoga for a fortnight, to see the fashions. Butyou must come up again. "

Then he directed them, and they drove over in a westerly course and sooncame to the little stone house that bore evident marks of decay fromneglect as well as age. The first story was rough stone, the half-storyof shingles, that had once been painted red. There were two smallwindows in the gable ends, but in front the eaves overhung the doorwayand the windows and were broken and moss-grown. There was a big flatstone for the doorstep, a room on one side with two windows, and on theother only one. The hall door was divided in the middle, the upper partopen. There was a queer brass knocker on this, and the lower partfastened with an old-fashioned latch. The little courtyard looked tidy, and there was a great row of sweet clover along the fence, but now andthen the goats would nibble it off. 

When they stepped up on the stoop they saw an old lady sitting in arocking-chair, with a little table beside her, and some knitting in herlap. She had evidently fallen into a doze. Hanny stretched up on tiptoe. A great gray cat lay asleep also. There were some mats laid about thefloor, two very old arm-chairs with fine rush bottoms painted yellow, adoor open on either side of the hall, and a well-worn winding stairsgoing up at the back. 

Mr. Underhill reached over and gave a light knock. The cat lifted itshead and made a queer sound like a gentle call, then went to the oldlady and stretched up to her knees. She started and glanced toward thedoor, then rose in a little confusion. 

"I am looking for a Miss Underhill, " began the visitor. 

"Oh, pardon me. " She unbolted the lower door. "I believe I had fallenasleep. Miss Underhill?" in a sort of surprised inquiry. "I am--one ofthe sisters. Walk in. "

She pushed out one of the arm-chairs and gave her footstool to thelittle girl. 

"I am an Underhill myself, a sort of connection, I dare say. We heard ofyou some time ago, but I have been much occupied with business, yet Ihave intended all the time to call on you. "

"You are very good, I am sure. We had some relations on Long Island, andI think some here-about, but we lost sight of them long ago. We reallyhave no one now. My sister Jane is past eighty, and I am only threeyears younger. "

She was a slim, shrunken body and her hands were almost transparent, sowhite was her skin. Her gown was gray, and she wore a white kerchiefcrossed on her bosom like a Quakeress. Her fine muslin cap had thenarrow plain border of that denomination. 

Mr. Underhill made a brief explanation of his antecedents, and hisremoval to the city, --then mentioned hearing of them from Mr. Brockner. 

"You are very good to hunt us up, " she said, with a touching tremble inher voice. "I don't think now I could tell anything about my father'srelatives. He was killed at the battle of Harlem Heights, and my onlybrother was taken prisoner. The Ferrises, my mother's people, owned agreat farm here-about. But much of it was laid waste, and a little laterthe old homestead burned down. This house was built for us before theBritish evacuated the city. My brother had died in prison of a fever, and there were only my mother and us two girls. "

Hanny was sitting quite close by her. She reached over and took thewrinkled hand gently. 

"Do you mean you were alive then--a little girl in the RevolutionaryWar?" she exclaimed in breathless surprise. 

"Why, I was nine years old, " and she gave a faded little smile. "I doubtif you're more than that. "

"I am a little past eight, " said Hanny. 

"And the battle was just over yonder, " nodding her head. "We all hopedso that General Washington would win. My father was very patriotic andvery much in earnest for the independence of the country. The armieswere separated by Harlem Plains, and General Howe pushed forward throughMcGowan's Pass, the rocky gorge over yonder. But our men forced theminto the cleared field, and if it had not been for a troop of Hessiansthey would have driven the British off the field. But I believeWashington thought it best to retreat. I've heard it was almost avictory, still it wasn't quite. But we were wild with apprehension, forwe could hear the noise and the firing. And then the awful word camethat father was killed. "

"Oh!" cried the little girl, and she laid her soft cheek on the wrinkledhand. What if she had been alive then!--and she looked over at _her_father with tears in her eyes. 

"It was a sad, sad time. Some of the Ferrises were on the King's side. You know a great many people believed the rebels all wrong and said theynever could win. My Uncle Ferris was bitterly opposed to father'sespousing the Federalists' cause. "

"But you didn't want England to win, did you?" inquired the little girl, wide-eyed. 

"We were so full of trouble. Mother was very bitter, I remember, andfolks called her a Tory. Then brother, who was only seventeen, was takenprisoner. Uncle Ferris said it would be a good lesson for a hot-headedyoung fellow, and that two or three months in prison would cool hisardor. But he was taken sick and died before we knew he was really ill. Then our house burned down. Mother thought it was set on fire. Oh, mychild, such quantities of things as were in it! My mother had nevergone away from the old house because grandmother was a widow. Then theland was divided, and this smaller house built for mother and us. TheBritish took possession of the city, and it was said uncle made moneyright along. But the English were very good to us, and no one evermolested us after that. Dear, we used to think it almost a day's journeyto go down to the Bowling Green. "

The little girl was listening wide-eyed, and drew a long breath. 

"There have been many changes. But somehow we seem to have gone on untilmost everybody has forgotten us. You might like to see sister Jane, though she's quite deaf and hasn't her mind very clear. I don'tknow, "--hesitatingly. 

"Do you live all alone here?" Mr. Underhill asked. 

"Not exactly alone; no. We sold the next-door lot four years ago to someGermans, very nice people. The mother comes in and helps with our littlework and looks after our garden, and sleeps here at night. The doctorthought it wasn't safe to be left here alone with sister Jane. It madeit easy for them to pay for the place. It's nearly all gone now. Butthere'll be enough to last our time out, " she commented with a soft sighof self-abnegation. 

"And you have no relatives, that is, no one to look after you a bit?"

"Well, you see grandmother made hard feelings with the relatives. Shedidn't think the colonies had any right to go to war. And after father'sdeath mother felt a good deal that way. They dropped us out, and wenever took any pains to hunt them up. We never knew much about theUnderhills. I must say you are very kind to come, " and her voicetrembled. 

Just then the door opened and Miss Underhill sprang up to take hersister's arm and lead her to a chair. She was taller and stouter, andthe little girl thought her the oldest-looking person she had ever seen. Her cap was all awry, her shawl was slipping off of one shoulder, andshe had a sort of dishevelled appearance, as she looked curiouslyaround. 

Lois straightened her up, seated her, and introduced her to thevisitors. 

"I'm hungry. I want something to eat, Lois, " she exclaimed in a whining, tremulous tone, regardless of the strangers. 

Miss Underhill begged to be excused, and went for a plate of bread andbutter and a cup of milk. 

"Perhaps you'd like to see our old parlor, " she said to her guests, andopened the door. 

There were two rooms on this side of the house. The back one was usedfor a sleeping chamber. She threw the shutters wide open, and a littlelate sunshine stole over the faded carpet that had once been such amatter of pride with the two young women. There were some familyportraits, a man with a queue and a ruffled shirt-front, another with abig curly white wig coming down over his shoulders, and several ladieswhose attire seemed very queer indeed. There was a black sofa studdedwith brass nails that shone as if they had been lately polished, a talldesk and bookcase going up to the ceiling, brass and silver candlesticksand snuffers' tray, as well as a bright steel "tinder box" on the high, narrow mantel. A big mahogany table stood in the centre of the room, polished until you could see your face in it. But there was an odd tallarticle in the corner, much tarnished now, but ornamented with gilt andwhite vines that drooped and twisted about. Long wiry strings went fromtop to bottom. 

"I suppose you don't know what that is!" said Miss Lois, when she sawthe little girl inspecting it. "That's a harp. Young ladies played on itwhen we were young ourselves. And they had a spinet. I believe it'saltered now and called a piano. "

"A harp!" said the little girl in amaze. Her ideas of a harp were veryvague, but she thought it was something you carried around with you. She had heard the children sing

 "I want to be an angel And with the angels stand; A crown upon my forehead, A harp within my hand, "

and the size of this confused her. 

"But how could you play on it?" she asked. 

"You stood this way. You could sit down, but it was considered moregraceful to stand. And you played in this manner. "

She fingered the rusted strings. A few emitted a doleful sort of soundalmost like a cry. 

"We've all grown old together, " she said sorrowfully. "It was considereda great accomplishment in my time. I believe people still play on theharp. We had a great many curious things, but several years ago acommittee of some kind came and bought them. We needed the money sadly, and we had no one to leave them to when we died. There was somebeautiful old china, and a lady bought the fan and handkerchief that mygrandmother carried at her wedding. The handkerchief was worked at someconvent in Italy and was fine as a cobweb. My mother used it, and thenit was laid by for us. But we never needed it, " and she gave a softsigh. 

She had glided out now and then to look after Jane, who was eating asif she was starved. And in the broken bits of talk Mr. Underhill hadlearned by indirect questioning that they had parted with their land bydegrees, and with some family valuables, until there was only this oldhouse and a small space of ground left. 

Miss Jane was anxious now to see the visitors. But she was so deaf Loishad to repeat everything, and she seemed to forget the moment a thingwas said. Dobbin whinnied as if he thought the call had been longenough. 

Mr. Underhill squeezed a bank-note into the hand of Miss Lois as he saidgood-by. "Get some little luxury for your sister, " he added. 

"Thank you for all your friendliness, " and the tears stood in her eyes. "Come again and bring your sister Margaret, " she said to the littlegirl. 

They drove over westward a short distance. The rocky gorge was stillthere, and at its foot was one of the first battle-fields of thisvicinity. Hanny looked at it wonderingly. 

"Then Washington retreated up to Kingsbridge, " began her father. "Theyfound they could not hold that, and so went on to White Plains, followedby some Hessian troops. They didn't seem very fortunate at first, forthey were beaten again. Grandmother can tell you a good deal about that. And a great-uncle had his house burned down and they were forced to flyto a little old house on top of a hill. My father was a little boythen. "

The little girl looked amazed. Did he know about the war?

"It seems such a long, long time ago--like the flood and the selling ofJoseph. And was grandmother really alive?"

"Grandmother is about as old as Miss Lois. "

"Miss Lois doesn't look so awful old, but the other lady does. I feltafraid of her. "

"Don't think of her, pussy. It's very sad to lose your senses and be atrouble. "

"You couldn't, " was the confident reply after much consideration. Shedidn't see how such a thing could happen to him. 

"I hope I never shall, " he returned, with an earnest prayer just underhis breath. 

Dobbin insisted upon going home briskly. He was thinking of his supper. The little girl was so sorry not to have Benny Frank to talk over heradventures with. Margaret and her mother were basting shirts; John wasdrawing plans on the dining-room table. He had found a place to work athouse-building and was studying architecture and draughting. A man hadcome in to see her father, so she was left quite alone. The Deans andseveral of the little girls on the block had gone visiting. She walkedup and down a while, thinking how strange the world was, and whatwonderful things had happened, vaguely feeling that there couldn't beany to come in the future. 

At the end of the week she and Margaret went up to White Plains, asgrandmother was anxious to see them. 

Her grandmother was invested with a curious new interest in her eyes. That any one belonging to her should have lived in the Revolutionary Warseemed a real stretch of the imagination for a little girl eight yearsold. Grandmother considered _her_ wonderful also. She wasn't so much infavor of short frocks and pantalets that came down to your ankles, butthe little girl did look pretty in them. And when she found how neatlyshe could hemstitch and do such beautiful featherstitch, and darn, andread so plainly that it was a pleasure to listen to her, she had toadmit that Hannah Ann was a real credit, and, she confessed in hersecret heart, a very sweet little girl. 

"I've begun your new Irish chain patchwork, " she said. "I've made oneblock for a pattern, and cut out quite a pile. Aunt Eunice lighted uponsome beautiful green calico. I was upon a stand whether to have green orred, but an Irish chain generally is pieced of green. It seems moreappropriate. "

And yet people had not begun to sing "The Wearing of the Green. "

"I declare, " said Cousin Ann, "you're such an old-fashioned little thingone can hardly tell which is the oldest, you or grandmother. "

"Is it anything"--what should she say?--wrong or bad seemed tooforcible--"queer to be old-fashioned?"

"Well, yes, _queer_. But you're awful sweet and cunning, Hannah Ann, andwe'd just like to keep you forever. "

With that she almost squeezed the breath out of the little girl andkissed her a dozen times. 

Grandmother could tell such wonderful stories as they sat and sewed. Allthe glories of the old Underhill house, and the silver and plate thathad come over from England, and the set of real china that a seacaptain, one of the Underhills, had brought from China and how it hadtaken three years to go there and come back. And the beautiful Indiashawl it had taken seven years to make, and the Persian silk gown thathad been bought of some great chief or Mogul--grandmother wasn't quitesure, but she thought they had a king or emperor in those countries. Shehad a little piece of the silk that she showed Hanny, and a waist ribbonthat came from Paris, "For you see, " said she, "we were so angry withEngland that we wouldn't buy anything of her if we could help it. Andthe French people came over and helped us. "

"What did they fight about, grandmother?"

"Oh, child, a great many things. You can't understand them all now, butyou'll learn about them presently. The people who came here and settledthe country wanted the right to govern themselves. They thought a king, thousands of miles away, couldn't know what was best for them. AndEngland sent over things and we had to pay for them whether we wantedthem or not. And it was a long struggle, but we won, and the British hadto go back to their own country. Why, if we hadn't fought, we wouldn'thave had any country, " and grandmother's old face flushed. 

The little girl thinks it would be dreadful not to have a country, buther mind is quite chaotic on the subject. She is glad, however, to havebeen on the winning side. 

Nearly every day Uncle David took her out driving. They saw the oldhouse on the hill in a half-hidden, woody section where the family hadto live until the new house was built. They went round the battlefield, but sixty years of peace had made great changes, and the next fiftyyears was to see a beautiful town and many-storied palaces all about. She dipped into the history of New Amsterdam again and began tounderstand it better, though she did mistrust that Mr. DederichKnickerbocker now and then "made fun, " not unlike her father. 

The visit came to an end quite too soon, grandmother thought, and shewas very sorry to part with the little girl. She thought she would tryand come down when the fall work was done, and she gave Hanny only fourblocks of patchwork, for if she went to school there wouldn't be muchtime to sew. 

They stopped at Yonkers two days and picked up the boys, who were brownand rosy. Aunt Crete was much better and did not have to go about withher face tied up. She said there was no place like Yonkers, after all. Retty seemed happy and jolly, but there was a new girl in the kitchen, for Aunt Mary had gone to live with her children. George said he shouldcome down a while when the crops were in. 

School commenced the 1st of September sharp. It was hot, of course. Summer generally does lap over. The boys who had shouted themselveshoarse with joy when school closed, made the street and the playgroundring with delight again. If they were not so fond of studying they likedthe fun and good-fellowship. And when they marched up and down the longaisles singing:

 "Hail Columbia, happy land; Hail ye heroes, heaven-born band. Who fought and bled in freedom's cause!"

you could feel assured another generation of patriots was being raisedfor some future emergency. Oh, what throats and lungs they had!

Mrs. Underhill had been around to see Mrs. Craven, and liked her verywell indeed. So the little girl was to go to school with Josie and TudieDean. 

Some new people had come in the street two doors below. Among themembers was a little girl of seven, the child of the oldest son, and alarge girl of fourteen or so, two young ladies, one of whom was teachingschool, and the other making artificial flowers in a factory down-town, and two sons. The eldest one was connected with a newspaper, and was inquite poor health. His wife, the little girl's mother, had been deadsome years. The child was rather pale and thin, with large, dark eyes, and a face too old for her years and rather pathetic. And when Mrs. Whitney came in a few days later to inquire where Mrs. Underhill senther little girl to school, she decided to let her grandchild go to Mrs. Craven's also. 

"She's quite a delicate little thing and takes after her mother. I tellmy son, she wants to company with other children and not sit aroundnursing the cat. But Ophelia, that's my daughter who teaches down-town, where we used to live, says the public school is no place for her. Andyour little girl seems so nice and quiet like. "

Nora, as they called her, was very shy at first. Hanny went after her, and found the Deans waiting on their stoop. Nora never uttered a word, but looked as if she would cry the next moment. Mrs. Craven took her incharge in a motherly fashion, but it seemed very hard for her tofraternize with the children. 

Mrs. Craven lived in a corner house. The entrance to the school was onThird Street, and the schoolroom was built off the back parlor, whichwas used as a recitation-room for the older class. There were abouttwenty little girls, none of them older than twelve. At the end of theyard was a vacant lot, fenced in, which made a beautiful playground. 

There were numbers of such schools at that period, but they were mostlyfor little girls. Hanny liked it very much. On Wednesday afternoon theyhad drawing, and reading aloud, when the girls could make their ownselections, which were sometimes very amusing. On Friday afternoon theysewed and embroidered and did worsted work. There was quite a rage aboutthis. One girl had a large piece in a frame--"Joseph Sold by hisBrethren. " Hanny never tired of the beautiful blue and red and orangecostumes. Another girl was working a chair seat. And still another hadbegun to embroider a black silk apron with a soft shade of red. Thenthey hemstitched handkerchiefs, they marked towels and napkins withornate letters, and really were a busy lot. Little Eleanora Whitneycouldn't sew a stitch, and some of the girls thought it "just dreadful. "

Friday from half-past three until five Miss Helen Craven gave thechildren, whose parents desired it, a dancing lesson. If Nora couldn'tsew, she could dance like a fairy. Her education was a curiousconglomeration. She could read and declaim, but spelling was quitebeyond her, and her attempts at it made a titter through the room. Shecould talk a little French, and she had crossed the ocean to Englandwith her papa. So she wasn't to be despised altogether. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE END OF THE WORLD

"'Taint no such thing! The world couldn't come to an end!" Janey Dayquite forgot Mrs. Craven's strictures on speech. "It's too strong. And--and----"

"And it's round, " said the wit of the school. "Round as a ring and hasno end. There now. "

"But the world ain't like a ring. "

"So is_n't_ my love for you, my friend. "

There was quite a little shout of laughter. 

One of the larger girls, Hester Brown, stood with upraised head andearnest countenance. 

"It _is_ coming to an end in October. It is only two or three weeks off. My father has read it all in the Bible. And we are getting ready. "

Her demeanor silenced the little group. 

"But how _do_ you get ready?"

"We must repent of our sins. And that's why mother wouldn't let me cometo the dancing-class. She thinks it wrong, any way. And mother andAuntie are making their ascension robes. We go to church every night. "

The girls stood awestruck. 

"What's going to happen?" asked one. 

"Why, the world will be burned up. All those who love God are to becaught up to heaven. Then the dead people who have been good will riseout of their graves. And all the rest--everything will be burned. "

The solemnity of the girl's voice impressed so that they looked at eachother in silent fear. 

"I just don't believe a word of it, " declared Janey Day, drawing a longbreath. "My father's a good man and goes to church and reads the Bibleevery night. He's read it through more than fifty times, and he's neversaid a word about the world coming to an end. And he's building a newhouse for us to move into next spring. "

"Fifty times, Janey Day! It takes a long, long while to read the Biblethrough. My grandmother's read it all through twice, and she's awfulold. "

"Well--twenty times at least. And don't you 'spose he'd found somethingabout it?"

"Everybody can't tell. It's in Daniel. There's days and times to beadded up. "

"Five of _you_, Janey, " said the wit with a child's irreverence. 

"Just _when_ is it coming to an end? Girls, there's no use to study anymore lessons. "

"It will be next week, " said Hester with almost tragic solemnity. "Butyou must all go on doing your work just the same. "

"I don't see the sense. I've just begun fractions, and I hate them. Iwon't do another sum. "

The bell rang and recess was at an end. The girls straggled until theyreached the doorway, then suddenly straightened themselves into anorderly line and took their seats quietly. There was a sound of rapidlymoving pencils--slates and pencils were in full swing then. No one hadinvented "pads. "

One after another read out answers. A few went up to Mrs. Craven forassistance. 

"Lottie Brower, " the lady said presently. 

Lottie colored. She had a kind of school-girl grudge against Hester. 

"I--I haven't done my sums, " she replied slowly. 

"Why not?"

"Because the world is coming to an end. They're so hard, and what is theuse if we're not going to live longer than next week?"

Every girl stopped her work and stared at Hester, amazed, yet ratherenjoying Lottie's audacity. 

"How did you come by such an idea?" asked Mrs. Craven quietly. 

"But _is_ there any use of studying or anything?" Lottie's voice had alittle tremble in it. "I'm sure I don't want the world to come to anend, but----"

"Do your people believe this?"

"No, ma'am, " replied Lottie. 

"Where, then, did you get the idea?"

"Hester Brown is sure----"

Hester's face was scarlet. She felt that she was called upon to bearwitness. 

"My father and mother believe it, and we are all getting ready. My unclemeans to give away all his things next week. "

The girl was in such earnest that Mrs. Craven was puzzled for a moment. 

"I do not think we shall know the day or the hour, " was the reply. "Weare all exhorted to go on diligently with whatever we are doing. AndLottie, Hester has certainly set you an example. She did her sumscorrectly. She has added works to her faith as the Bible commands. I amaware many people think the end of the world is near, but that is noreason for our being careless and indolent. I doubt if that excuse wouldbe accepted; at all events, I cannot accept yours. "

"But I hate fractions! The divisors and the multiples get all mixed upand go racing round in my head until I can't tell one from the other. "

"Bring your slate here. " Mrs. Craven made room for her by the table. "Now, what is the trouble?"

Twelve o'clock struck before Lottie was through, but she had to admitthat it wasn't so "awful" when Mrs. Craven explained the sums in herquiet, lucid manner. The girls rose and went to the closet for theirhats and capes. 

"Girls, " began Mrs. Craven, "I want to say a word. I hope each one ofyou will respect the other's religious belief. Our country has beenfounded on the corner-stone of liberty in this matter, and one ought tobe noble enough not to ridicule or sneer at any honest, sincere faith, remembering that we cannot all believe alike. "

Hester went out with two or three of the larger girls. 

"I do not think you were quite kind, Lottie, " said her teacher, in asoft tone. 

"But what would be the use of fractions if the world came to an end?"

"Oh, Mrs. Craven! _do_ you believe it? I should feel just dreadful. Theworld has so many splendid things in it--and to be burned up. "

"I should just be frightened to death, " and one little girl shuddered. 

"Children, I am sorry anything has been said about this. There are agood many people who believe and who have preached for the last threeyears that the end of the world is near. The time has been set for nextweek. Yet the Bible _does_ say that _no_ man knoweth the day nor thehour. I do not believe in these predictions, " and she smiledreassuringly. "I think we can all count on Thanksgiving and a merryChristmas as well as a happy New Year. I want you all to be kind to eachother, and when Hester is disappointed next week, to refrain fromteasing her. If you think for a moment, you will find it very easy tobelieve just as your parents do, for you love them the best of any onein this world. And the more you respect and obey them, the more readyyou are to be kind and gentle and truthful to all about you, the betteryou are serving God. You must leave this matter in His hands, andremember that He loves you all, and will do whatever is best. Don't feeltroubled about the world coming to an end. I am afraid Lottie here willhave a great deal more trouble about fractions. I doubt if she getsthrough by Christmas. Now run home or you will be late for dinner. "

The little girl sat very quiet at the table. There was only her mother, John, and the boys. She wished that her father or Steve were here so shecould ask them. A strange awe was creeping over her. It seemed sodreadful to have all the world burned up. There might be some peopleleft behind in the hurry. It hurt terribly to be burned even a little. 

There was a very sober lot of girls at school that afternoon. The jestwas all taken out of recess. Hester sat on the steps reading a littlepocket Testament. The others huddled together and shook their headsmysteriously, saying just above a whisper, "I don't believe it. " "Mymother says it isn't so. " But somehow they did not seem to fortifythemselves much with these protestations. 

Some of the elder cousins had come to visit and take tea. People wentvisiting by three in the afternoon and carried their work along. Therewas an atmosphere of relationship and real living that gave a certainsatisfaction. You enjoyed it. It was not paying a social debtreluctantly, relieved to have it over, but a solid, substantialpleasure. 

Martha took the little girl up-stairs and put on a blue delaine frock andwhite apron, and polished her "buskins, " as the low shoes were called. Then she went into the parlor and spoke to all the ladies. She had herlace in a little bag, and presently she sat down on an ottoman and tookout her work. 

"You don't mean to say that child can knit lace? And oak-leaf, too, I dodeclare! What a smart little girl!"

"Oh, she embroiders quite nicely, also. Hannah Ann, get your apron andshow Cousin Dorcas. "

The apron was praised and the handkerchiefs she had marked for herfather were brought out. Then she was asked what she was studying atschool. 

Cousin Dorcas was knitting "shells" for a counterpane. There was one ofwhite and one of red, and they were put together in a rather longdiamond shape with a row of openwork between every block. It was for herdaughter, who was going to be married in the spring, and it interestedthe little girl wonderfully. 

Then they talked about Steve and Dolly Beekman. While the girls were atWhite Plains, Steve had coaxed his father and mother up to theBeekmans', and the engagement had been settled with all due formality. Dolly and her mother had been down and taken tea. And now Steve went upevery Sunday afternoon and stayed to supper, and once or twice throughthe week, and took Dolly out driving and escorted her to parties. 

The Beekmans were good, solid people, and Peggy ought to be satisfiedthat Stephen had chosen so wisely. "Was it true that Steve had beenbuying some land way out of town? Did he mean to build there?"

"Oh, dear, no!" answered his mother. "It was a crazy thing, but John hadreally persuaded him, and John was too young to have any judgment. Buthe said the Astors were buying up there, and land was almost givenaway. "

"I don't know what it's good for, " declared Aunt Frasie. "Why it'll beforty years before the city'll go out there. Well, it may be good forhis grandchildren. "

They all gave a little laugh. 

Presently another of the cousins sat down at the piano and played the"Battle of Prague. "

Then Aunt Frasie said, "Do sing something. It doesn't seem half likemusic without the singing. "

Maria Jane ran her fingers over the keys, and began a plaintive air verymuch in vogue:

 "Shed not a tear o'er your friend's early bier, When I am gone, I am gone. "

Aunt Frasie heard her through the first verse, and then saidimpatiently:

"You've sung that at so many funerals, Maria Jane, that it makes me feelcreepy. You used to sing 'Banks and Braes. ' Do try that. "

It had been said of Maria Jane in her earlier years that she had sung"Bonnie Doon" so pathetically she had moved the roomful to tears. Hervoice was rather thin now, with a touch of shrillness on the high notes, but the little girl listened entranced. Then she sang "Scots wha' hae"and "Roy's wife of Aldivaloch. " Margaret had come home, thesupper-table was spread, the men came in, and they sat down to thefeast. They teased Steve a little, and bade John beware, and were somerry all the evening that when it came her bedtime the little girl hadforgotten all about the world coming to an end. 

The girls discussed it the next day. Most of their mothers and fathershad scouted the idea. Josie Dean was very positive it couldn't be--herfather had been going over the Bible and the Millerites had made a bigmistake. 

"And girls, " said Josie earnestly, "St. John, one of the disciples ofour Saviour, lived to be a hundred years old. Some people taught thatthe world would come to an end before he died. And now it's 1843, andit's stood all this while, though every now and then there's been anexcitement about it. And I ain't going to be afraid at all, there now!"

The little girl wondered whether she would be afraid. But Friday eveningthe boys were full of it, and Steve said it was nonsense. She crept upinto her father's lap and asked him in a tremulous whisper if he wasafraid. 

"No, dear, " he answered, pressing her to his heart. 

"But if it _should_ come. "

"Well--I'd take my little girl and mother and Margaret----"

"And what would you do?" as he made a long pause. 

"I'd beg to be taken into heaven. And we would all be together. I thinkGod would be good to us. "

"And the boys. "

"Yes, the boys. " He wondered within himself if they were all fit forheaven. But he was quite sure the little girl was. 

There was a very great excitement. For months there had been meetings ofexhortation and prophesying, and appeals to conscience, to terror, tothe desire of being saved from impending destruction. Last winter therehad been revivals everywhere, yet during the summer thoughtful peoplehad questioned whether the moral tone of the community had been anyhigher. There were heroic souls, that always rise to the surface intimes of spiritual agitation. There were others moved by any excitement, who seized on this with a kind of ungovernable rapture. 

No one spoke of it in Sunday-school. Hanny brought home "Little BlindLucy, " and was so lost in its perusal that she hardly wanted to leaveoff for half an hour with Joe. But her mother let her look over to seewhether Lucy really did have her eyesight restored. She was so sleepythat when she had said her little prayer she felt quite sure that Godwould take care of her and the beautiful world He had made. It would becruel to burn it all up. 

But the children went to school on Monday. Martha washed as usual. Shedid think it would be a waste of labor and strength if the world came toan end, though she was sure clean clothes would burn up quicker, and ifit had to be, one might as well have it over as soon as possible. 

All things went on, the buying and selling, the business of the day, andin some houses there were weary pain-racked bodies that slipped out oflife gently without waiting for the general conflagration. 

Still a strange awe did pervade the city. Some of the churches wereopen, and people were on their knees weeping and sobbing to be madeready; others were full of faith and expectations, singing hymns, andimpatiently waiting the moment when the trump would sound and they becaught up to glory. Down on Grand Street Hester Brown's uncle was givingaway shoes, and wondering at the fatal unbelief of those who were soready to accept. Here and there another of abounding faith was doing thesame thing, or perhaps giving away things they did not need, hoping itwould be accounted to them for good works. 

Hester was not in school. Neither did she come on Tuesday, and thatnight was to be the fatal end of all things. A great many people went tochurch that day. The children did suffer from dread, though LottieBrower kept up a sort of cheery bravado, as one whistles or sings in thedark. 

"And I don't think Hester's been such an awful sight better than therest of us. She answered correct one day when she had talked, andpretended she had forgotten all about it. And she was just mean enoughabout that clover-leaf pattern and wouldn't show a single girl. And shegets mad just as easy as the rest of us. "

"I think we oughtn't get mad any more. And, girls, I'll lend you myknife to sharpen your pencils. We ought to _try_ to be just as good aswe could, for my Sunday-school teacher said if we died the world came toan end for us. "

They made many resolves. Mrs. Craven thought they had never been soangelic in their lives. 

But the little girl was very much "stirred up. "

People didn't say nervous so much in those days. In fact nervousness wasrather associated with whims and tempers. Joe came over to supper--hecould get off from the hospital now and then. They were all talkingabout going to Delancey Street Church, where it was said people wouldbe dressed in their ascension robes, and remain to the final change. 

Margaret begged to go, and said she knew all her lessons. The boys hadtheirs to study. Jim scouted the idea of the world's coming to an end. Benny adduced several remarkable reasons why it couldn't come just yet. The Millerites had made a mistake in the true meaning of the "days" inDaniel. 

"Are you quite sure?" asked the little girl timidly. 

"Well--you'll see the same old world next week this time. Don't you getfrightened, Hanny dear, " and Ben kissed her reassuringly. 

She sat by the boys and knit on her lace a while. Then her mother lookedup from the stockings she was darning. She said "she always took Time bythe forelock, " and the little girl had a fancy some time she would draghim out. She wondered if she would really like to see Time with hishour-glass and scythe, and all his bones showing. 

Mrs. Underhill looked up at the clock. 

"My goodness, Hanny!" she exclaimed, "it's time you were in bed half anhour ago. Put up your lace. You'll be sleepy enough in the morning. "

The little girl wound it round her needles and then stuck the ends inthe stem of the spool and put it away in her basket. She kissed Ben andJim good-night, and followed her mother. Her eyes had a half-frightenedlook and the pupils were very large. Mrs. Underhill felt out of patiencethat there should be so much talk about the world coming to an endbefore children. She knew Hanny was "just alive with terror. " Shecouldn't pretend to explain anything to her; she was of the opinion thatas you grew older "you found out things for yourself. " And I am reallyafraid she didn't believe in total depravity for sweet little girls likeHanny. It was well enough for boys. So much of her life had been spentin doing, that she might have neglected some of the "mint, anise, andcummin. " She undressed the little girl. Oh, how fair and pretty hershoulders were, and her round white arms that had a dimple at the top ofthe elbow. She was small for her age, but nice and plump, and her motherfelt just this minute as if she would like to cuddle her up in her armsand kiss her as she had in babyhood. If she had, all the fear would havegone out of the little girl's heart. 

Hanny said her prayer, and added to it, "Oh, Lord Jesus, please don'tlet the world come to an end to-night. " Then her mother patted down thebed, took off one pillow and the pretty top quilt, and put her in, kissing her tenderly, the little trembling thing. 

Then she stood still awhile. 

"I do wonder what I did with your red coat, " she began. "Cousin Cynthiasaid it might be let down and do for this winter. There's no little girlto grow into your clothes. Let me see--I put a lot of things in thiscloset. I remember pinning them up in linen pillow-cases, but I meant tostore them in the cedar chest. I wonder if I have been that careless. "

She stood up on a chair and threw down some bundles with unnecessaryforce. Then she stepped down and began to look them over, keeping up arunning comment. She would not have admitted that she was talkingagainst time, secretly hoping the little girl would drop off to sleep. But the coat was not in any of the bundles. 

"I think it must be in the chest. While I'm about it I may as well goand see. If you have outgrown it, it could be made over into a dress;it's nice, fine merino, a little thicker than I'd buy for a dress, butyour father would have just that piece. I'll get a candle and goup-stairs--I wouldn't trust a glass lamp with this horrid burning-fluidin _my_ storeroom. Hanny, be sure you don't get up and touch it, " as ifthere was the slightest possibility. "I'll be down again in fiveminutes. "

That was a shrewd motherly excuse not to leave the little girl alone inthe dark, though she was never afraid. 

She lay there very still, with a feeling of safety since her mother wasup-stairs. Of course she was old enough to know a great many things andto have ideas on religious subjects. But I think the Underhills weremore intelligent than intellectual, and people were still living rathersimple lives, not yet impregnated with ideas. They had not had the oldPuritan training, and the ferment of science and philosophy andtranscendentalism had not invaded the country places. To-night in thecity there were wise heads proving and disproving the times and halftimes, and days and signs, but they really had no interest for Mrs. Underhill, who was training her family the best she knew how, makinggood men and women. 

And the little girl's ideas were extremely vague. She thought her soulwas that part of her heart that beat. When it ceased beating you diedand the body was left behind; so of course that was what went to heaven. And when she had been naughty or when she had left something undone andwas hurrying with all her might to do it, this thing beat and throbbed. If she wanted something very much and was almost tempted to take it, thefeeling came up in her throat, and she knew that was conscience. She wastrying now to recall and repent of her sins, and oh, she did so wishher father was here. Would he be back before the end came, and take themall in his strong arms? and they would run--Oh, no! they were to becaught up in the clouds. But she would be safe where he was. 

Years afterward, she was to understand how human and finite loveforeshadowed the eternal. But then she could only believe, and her faithin her human father was the rock of her salvation. 

And when her mother came down she _had_ fallen asleep, but she thoughtit would be just as well to leave the lamp burning until Margaret'sreturn. She would look in now and then to see that it didn't explode. Burning-fluid was considered rather dangerous stuff. 

Hanny was so tired that she slept soundly. It was almost midnight whenthe folks came home, and Mrs. Underhill begged Margaret to go to bedquietly and not disturb her. And it was all light with the sun rising inthe eastern sky and shining in one window when she opened her eyes. Margaret stood before the glass plaiting her pretty, long hair. 

The little girl sat up. Something had happened. There was a greatweight--a great fear. What was it? Oh, yes, this was their room; theywere all alive, for she heard Jim's breezy voice, and Joe, who hadstayed all night, said impatiently:

"Peggy, are you never coming down?"

Hanny sprang out of bed and clasped her little arms about her sister. 

"Oh!" with a great exultation in her sweet child's voice--"the worlddidn't come to an end, did it? Oh, you beautiful world! I am so glad youare left. And everybody--only--Margaret, were the people at the churchdreadfully disappointed? What a pity God couldn't have taken those whowanted to go; but I'm so glad we are left. Oh, you lovely world, you aretoo nice to burn up!"

I think there were a great many people in the city just as glad asHanny, if they did not put it in the same joyful words. 

Margaret smiled. "Hurry, dear, " she said, "Joe will have to go, and Iknow he wants to see you. "

Hanny put on her shoes and stockings, and Margaret helped her with therest, washed her and just tied up her hair with a second-best ribbon. Joseph had eaten his breakfast and was impatiently waiting to saygood-by. John was off already. 

Nothing had happened. The world was going on as usual. True there hadbeen the comet and falling stars and wars and rumors of wars, but theold world had sailed triumphantly through them all. The dear, old, splendid world, that was to grow more splendid with the years. 

Perhaps it did rouse people to better and kindlier living and moreserious thought. Before Mr. Underhill went away his wife said:

"'Milyer, hadn't you better look after those old people up at Harlem. Isuppose they had some garden truck, but there's flour and meat andlittle things that take off the money when you haven't much. And fuel. I'll try to go up some day with you and see what they need to keep themcomfortable in cold weather. "

The girls could hardly study at school, there was so much excitement. Did people really have on their ascension robes? What _would_ Hestersay?

Hester did not come to school all the week. Of course they had made amistake in computing the time, but a few weeks couldn't make muchdifference. Still, the worst scare was over, and if one mistake could bemade, why not another? Were they so sure all the signs were fulfilled?

CHAPTER IX

A WONDERFUL SCHEME

The Whitneys and the Underhills became very neighborly. Mr. TheodoreWhitney often stopped for a little chat, and he was very fond of a goodgame of checkers with Steve or John. He was on the other side inpolitics and they had some warm discussions. Ophelia, the oldest girl, was engaged and deeply absorbed with her lover. Frances went away earlyin the morning and did not get back until after six. Mrs. Whitney, aSouthern woman by birth, was one of the easy-going kind and very fond ofnovels. Mr. Whitney brought them home by the dozen. The house seemedsomehow to run itself, with the aid of Dele, as she was commonly called. 

Dele proved a powerful rival to Miss Lily Ludlow. Lily was much prettierand more delicate looking. Dele had brown-red hair, dry and curly. Shewas a little freckled, even in the fall. Her mouth _was_ wide, but shewas always laughing, and she had such splendid teeth. Then her eyes wereso full of fun, and her voice had a sort of rollicking sound. She knewall kinds of boys' play, and was great at marbles. Then she had so manyodd, entertaining things, and their parlor wasn't too good for use when'Phelia's beau was not there. But the children lived mostly on the stoopand the sidewalk. 

Delia went to Houston Street school. She could walk farther up thestreet with the boys, and watch out for them when they went. Ben likedher better than he did Lily or Rosa, but Jim was quite divided. He, likethe other poor man with two charmers, sometimes wished there was onlyone of them. But Lily was a born coquette, and jealous at that. She hada way of calling back her admirers, while Dele didn't care a bit foradmiration, but just wanted a good time. 

Benny Frank was something of a bookworm and student. Jim, who wasgrowing very fast, was a regular boy, and, I am sorry to say, did notalways have perfect lessons. He was so very quick and correct in figuresthat he managed to slip through other things. Moreover he carriedauthority. The boys had called him "country" at first and teased him indifferent ways until small skirmishes had begun. And one day there was astand-up fight at recess. Jim thrashed the bully of his class. It was aforbidden thing to fight in the school-yard, or in school hours, and soJim was thrashed again for his victory. But Mr. Hazeltine shook handswith him afterward and said "it wasn't because he thrashed Upton, butbecause he had broken the rules, and he liked to see a boy have courageenough to stand up for himself. " So Jim did not mind it very much, though he had a black eye for two or three days. 

After that he was a sort of hero to the boys, and Upton did not bully asmuch. But some of the boys delighted to "pick" at Benny Frank, who wouldhave made a good Quaker. Jim sometimes felt quite "mad" with him. 

Lily did not seem to get along very rapidly with her intimacy. Hanny wastoo young, and now that she had the Deans on one side and little NoraWhitney on the other, was quite out of Lily's reach. And she did enjoyDelia immensely, though she was past thirteen and such a tall girl. SoLily tried all her arts on Jim, and succeeded very well, it must beconfessed. 

It was Saturday, and the world had not come to an end yet. Benny hadgone down-town with Steve in the morning, but he would not have bothboys together, for Jim was so full of "capers. " So he had done errandsfor his mother, blackened the boots and shoes--the bootblack brigade hadnot then come in fashion, and you hardly ever saw an Italian boy. He hadcleared up the yard and earned his five cents. He was wondering alittle what he would do all the afternoon. 

Dele came flying in, eager and impetuous. 

"Oh, Mrs. Underhill!" she cried, "can't Hanny go to the Museum thisafternoon? The"--it seemed so odd, Hanny thought, to call grave-lookingMr. Whitney that, but she said Steve to her big brother. "The broughthome four tickets. My cousin, Walter Hay, is here, and he will go withus and then go down home. And Nora does so want Hanny to go. Oh, won'tyou please let her? I'll take the best of care of her. I've taken Noraand my little Cousin Julia ever so many times. Oh, Jim, what a pity! IfI had one more ticket!"

"Sho!" and Jim straightened himself up. "I have twenty-eight cents, andI wouldn't want to go sponging on a girl anyhow! Oh, mother, do let usgo? Hanny, come quick! Oh, do you want to go to the Museum?"

"To the Museum?" Hanny drew a breath of remembered delight and thrillinganticipation. 

Dele and Jim talked together. They were so earnest, so full of entreaty. Jim might have gone in welcome, but Hanny----

"Why, we shall just take the stage and ride to the door, and we'll be socareful getting out. They drive clear up to the sidewalk, you know. Walter is fourteen and he takes his little sisters out, and knows howto care for girls. And there's such a pretty play; just the thing forchildren, The. Said. "

"Oh, mother, please do, " and the little girl's voice was so persuasive, so pleading. 

"Oh, please, mother! I'll see that nothing happens to Hanny. "

"Oh, Mrs. Underhill, Nora would be so disappointed. And we all wantHanny. "

Mrs. Underhill had told her husband if he would come up about three shewould take the drive to Harlem with him. Of course she meant to take thelittle girl. Which would Hanny rather do?

The fascinations of the Museum outweighed the drive. Margaret was up tothe Beekmans' spending the day, their last week on the farm. Of courseJim could go--and when she looked at all the eager faces she gave in, and Hanny danced with delight. 

It was almost three before they could get off, and the play began atthat hour. However they caught a stage out on the Bowery and were soonwhirled down to the corner of Broadway and Ann Street. 

People were crowding in, it was such a beautiful day, and this wasconsidered the place preeminently for children. People who would havebeen horrified at the thought of a theatre did not have a scruple aboutthe lecture-room. 

"We better not stop to look at things, " advised Delia. "We can do thatafterward. Let's go in and get our seats. "

They had to go way up front, but they didn't mind that so long as theywere all together. They studied the wonderful Venetian scene on thedrop-curtain, and the young lad in a supposedly green satin costume, with a long white feather in his hat, who was just stepping into agondola where a very lovely lady was playing on a guitar. Then theorchestra gave a clash of drums, cymbals, French horns, and a big bassviol, and up went the curtain. 

A musical family came out and sang. Then there were some acrobaticperformances. After that the pantomime. 

Grandpapa Jerome, in a very foreign costume and a bald head which hetried to keep covered with a black velvet cap, had two extremely tricksysprites for grandchildren. They were very pretty, the girl with long, light curls, the boy with dark ones. But of all mischief, of alltormenting deeds and antics with which they nearly set grandpapa crazyand threw the audience into convulsions! They took the nice fat boiledham off the table and greased the doorstep so thoroughly you would havethought every bone in the old man's body would have been broken by therepeated falls. They cut the seat out of the chair, and when he went tosit down he doubled up equal to any modern folding-bed, and he kickedand turned summersaults until the maid came out and rescued him. Then hespied the author of the mischief asleep on a grassy bank, and he found abig strap and went creeping up cautiously, when--whack! and the littleboy flew all to pieces, and the old man was so amazed at his crueltythat he sat down and began to weep and bewail when the little lad peepedfrom behind a tree and, seeing poor grandfather's grief, ran out, huggedhim and kissed him and wiped his eyes, and you could see he waspromising never to do anything naughty again. But that didn't hinder himfrom cutting out the bottom of the basket into which the old man wascutting some very splendid grapes. There were not more than half a dozenbunches, and the children ran away with them. The old man descended socarefully, put his hand in the basket, his whole arm, and not a grape. There was none on the ground. Where had they gone! Oh, there was thecat. But pussy was much spryer than the old man, and the audience knewshe had not touched a grape. 

After that some Indians came on the scene of action, fierce red men ofthe forest, and their language was decidedly Jabberwocky. The littlegirl was quite frightened at the fierce brandishing of tomahawks. Thenthey had a war dance. And oh, then came the marvel of all! Fourbeautiful Shetland ponies with the daintiest carriage and six lads inlivery. There sat General Tom Thumb, the curiosity of the time, thesmallest dwarf known. He was not much bigger than a year-old baby, buthe dismounted from his carriage, gave orders to his servants; abright-eyed little fellow with rosy cheeks, graceful and with a varietyof pretty tricks. He sang a song or two, then sprang into his carriageand the ponies trotted off the stage. The curtain came down. 

The children were breathless at first. The crowd was surging out and theplace nearly empty before they found their tongues. And then there wasso much else to see. The various stuffed animals, the giraffe with histhree-story neck, the mermaid, the wax figures, the birds and beasts andserpents, and a model of Paris, of London, and of Jerusalem. The placelooked quite gorgeous all lighted up. 

The people were beginning to thin out. They had not seen half, Jimthought. 

"Oh, we haven't been up-stairs!" exclaimed Walter. "There's a greatroof-garden. And you can see all the city. "

They trudged up-stairs. Dele kept tight hold of the little girl's hand. It was quite light up here. What a great space it was! One large flagwas flying, and around the edge of the roof numberless smaller ones. Some evergreen shrubs in boxes stood around, and there were woodenarm-chairs, beside some settees. It was rather chilly, though the dayhad been very pleasant. And oh, how splendid the lights of Broadwaylooked to them, two long rows stretching up and up until lost inindistinctness. The stores were all open and lighted as brilliantly asone could with gas. No one thought of Saturday half-holidays then. Itwas very grand. But what would they have said to the Columbian nightsand electric lights?

"I don't feel as if I had seen it half, " said Jim. He was not grudginghis quarter. "If we had come about one o'clock. "

"We'll have to piece it on this end, " and Walter laughed. "We must getour money's worth. "

"We might stay over, " suggested Dele mirthfully. 

"Just the thing, " returned Jim, "and all for the same money. "

The children glanced at each other in sudden surprise. The glory of agrand conspiracy shone in their eyes. 

"Well, that's too good!" declared Walter. "Won't I just brag of that atschool on Monday. Oh, yes, let's stay. "

"We had better go down, for it is getting cool up here. If we only hadsomething to eat. Hanny, are you hungry? I don't believe Nora everknows whether she has eaten or not. Mother says she's just the worst. Idon't mind a bit, but you all----"

"I wouldn't give a copper for supper. It's ever so much more funstaying, " rejoined Walter. 

"I'm always hungry as a bear, but I'd a hundred times rather stay, " Jimreplied. "Hanny, will you mind?"

"I'm not a bit hungry, " answered Hanny. "It's all so beautiful. Oh, dolet's stay!"

"That settles it. Dele, you are a trump. "

They picked their way carefully down-stairs. The room was not verybrilliantly lighted, but they found many curiosities that had escapedtheir attention before. They espied the diorama and it interested themvery much. Half a dozen people straggled in. The janitor turned on morelight, and began to arrange a platform in a recess. 

How any one would feel at home Jim never thought. The rest were in thehabit of doing quite as they liked, and Delia often stayed at her aunt'suntil nine o'clock. 

At seven the main hall was quite full. The people were crowding uparound the platform. The children went too. The curtain was swung asideand out stepped Tom Thumb, to be received with cheers. He sang a songand went through with some military evolutions. There was a railingaround and no one could crowd upon him, but a number spoke to him andshook hands. 

"My little girl, " said a tall gentleman who had watched Hanny'sineffectual efforts to make herself taller, "will you let me hold youup? Wouldn't you like to shake hands? You're not much bigger yourself. "

"Oh, please do, " entreated Dele in her eager young voice. "She is sosmall. "

Hanny was a little startled, but the man held her in his arms and shesmiled hesitatingly. As she met the kindly eyes she said, "Oh, thankyou. It's so nice. "

The general came down that end. 

"Here is a little lady wants to shake hands with you, " the gentlemansaid, who was quite a friend of Tom Thumb's. 

The small hand was proffered. Hanny was almost afraid, but she put hersin it and the gallant little general hoped she was well. Then he made abow and retired behind the curtain, and it was announced that he wouldappear again after the lecture-room performance. 

They went in and took their seats. Nora was tired, and leaning her headon Dele's shoulder went sound asleep. Hanny was getting tired; perhaps, too, she missed her supper. 

It wasn't quite so much fun, for the play was just the same. Theaudience enjoyed it greatly. The Indians were more obstreperous, andsang a hideous song. The vocalists sang many popular songs of the day, "Old Dan Tucker, " "Lucy Long, " "Zip Coon, " and several patriotic songs. There was more dancing than in the afternoon, and the boys enjoyed theJuba in song and dance by a "real slave darkey" who had been made so bya liberal application of burnt cork, and who could clap and pat the tuneon his knee. 

They did not stop to see Tom Thumb again, but went straight down-stairs. Walter said good-night and declared he had had a splendid time, and Delemust thank Cousin The again. The four others bundled into the stage, which was crowded, but some kindly disposed people held both Nora andHanny. They had quite a habit of doing it then. 

Jim had been wondering what they would say at home. Of course he knewnow he ought not have stayed. But nothing _had_ happened, and Hanny wasall right, and--well, he would face the music whatever it was. If Delecould be trusted, why not he?

There had been a good deal of anxiety. Mrs. Underhill had expected themhome by six, but their father said: "Oh, give them a little grace. " Butwhen seven o'clock came she went down to Whitney's to inquire. Thetable was still standing. Mrs. Whitney sat at the head with a book inher hand; Dave, the second son, was smoking and reading his paper. Bothgirls had gone out. 

"Oh, Mrs. Underhill, don't feel a bit worried! They'll come home allsafe. I shouldn't wonder if Dele had taken them over to her aunt's, andshe'll never let them come home without their supper. She's the greatesthand for children I ever saw. And Dele's so used to going about. Theneverybody's out on Saturday night. Dear me! I haven't given it ananxious thought, " declared Mrs. Whitney. 

But Mrs. Underhill could not take it so comfortably. 

"There's so many of them we should hear if anything had happened, " saidJohn. "And there is no use looking, for we shouldn't know where theyare; Jim's pretty good stuff too, for a country boy. Now, mother, don'tbe foolish. "

But she grew more and more uneasy. If she had not let Hanny go! Whatcould she have been thinking of to do such a thing?

After nine Mr. Underhill walked out to the Bowery, and watched everystage that halted at the corner. Men, women, and children alighted, butno little girl. Oh, where could she be? He felt almost as if the worldwas coming to an end. 

Then a familiar group all talking at the same time stepped out on thesidewalk. A big girl and two little ones. 

"O father, father!" cried Hanny. 

He wanted to hug her there in the street. It seemed to him he had neverbeen so glad and relieved in all his life, or loved her half so well. 

"Where _have_ you stayed so long?"

"We went to two museums, " said Hanny, before the elders could find theirtongues. "And oh, father, we saw Tom Thumb and he's just as little andcunning as a baby! And he shook hands with me. A gentleman held me up. It was beautiful, but I'm awful tired. "

"Oh, _were_ you troubled?" cried Delia. "Why didn't you just go in to maand she would have told you that I always come up right, and thatnothing ever happens to me, I'm so used to taking care of children. Why, when we lived down town I used to take out the neighbors' children--overto Staten Island and to Williamsburg, and always brought them homesafely. Then we hadn't half seen the curiosities, and we should havemissed the nice time with that lovely little Tom Thumb. And we thoughtit such capital fun!"

Mr. Underhill really could not say a word. Tired as she was, the littlegirl was full of delight. Jim tried to make some explanations and takepart of the blame, but Delia talked them all down and was so fresh andmerry that you couldn't imagine she had gone without her supper. 

Mrs. Underhill stood at the area gate with a shawl about her shoulders. The little girl let go of her father's hand and ran to her. 

"Dear Mrs. Underhill, " began Dele, "I expect you'll almost want to killme, but I never thought about your being worried, for no one everworries about me. I suppose it is because I never do get into anydanger. And you must not scold any one, for I was the eldest, exceptCousin Walter, and it was my place to think, but I didn't one bit. Itseemed awful funny, you know, to have it all over for the same money, and we not paying anything at all! And I did take good care of Hanny. She's had a lovely time--we all have. And please don't scold Jim. He'sbeen a perfect gentleman. We didn't do anything rude nor coarse, andeverybody was as polite to us as if we'd been Queen Victoria's children. And so good-night. "

"Jim, your father ought to give you a good thrashing. The idea! Iwouldn't have believed any child of mine could have had such a littlesense, " his mother declared. 

I don't know what might have happened, but just then Steve and Margaretreturned. And when Steve caught sight of Jim's sober face and heard thestory, he thought it very boylike and rather amusing. Besides, it seemeda pity to spoil the good time. So he laughed, and told Jim he hadcheated Mr. Barnum out of a quarter, and that he would have to save uphis money to make it good. 

"And he owes me nine cents toward the omnibus ride. He must pay me thatfirst, " said his mother sharply. 

"I wasn't admitted _twice_" rejoined Jim. "It is the admittance. Ididn't see any notice about not staying, and I don't believe I reallyowe Mr. Barnum another quarter. "

"Jim, I think I'll educate you for a lawyer. You have such a way ofsquirming out of tight places. "

They all laughed. 

"Mother, do give the children some supper, " said their father. 

"Here, Jim, pay your mother. " Steve laid him down sixpence and threepennies. We had Mexican sixpences and shillings in those days. "You'llhave enough on your mind without that debt. And next time think of thefolks at home. "

"Why didn't the Whitneys feel worried? Oh, thank you, Steve. "

"It did beat all, " said Mrs. Underhill. "There Mrs. Whitney sat readinga novel----"

"Perhaps it was her French exercise, " interrupted Steve, with a twinklein his eye. 

"It was no such thing! It was a yellow-covered novel!" I don't know whythey persisted in putting novels in pronounced yellow covers to betraypeople, unless it was that publishers wouldn't use false pretences. Andto put a story in the fatal color made it as reprehensible to mostpeople as a yellow aster. "And such a table!" Mrs. Underhill caught herbreath. "Everything at sixes and sevens, and the cloth looking as if ithad been used a month, and Mrs. Whitney as unconcerned as if thechildren had only gone down to the corner. I declare I couldn't beso--so----"

"But they're a jolly lot. They save a great deal of strength in notworrying. And they know Dele is trusty. She's a smart girl, too. "

"Well, I wouldn't want any of my sons to marry girls brought up as thoseWhitneys. "

"Hear that, Jim. You are fairly warned. "

Jim turned scarlet. 

"Jim will have to be in better business many a year than thinking ofgirls, " subjoined his mother decisively. 

The little girl didn't seem very hungry. She ate her bread-and-milk andtalked over the delights of the afternoon, and her enjoyment mollifiedher mother a good deal. Jim considered at first whether it wouldn'trather even up things if he went without his supper, but the biscuitsand the boiled beef were so tempting, and in those days boys could eatthe twenty-four hours round. People were wont to say they had thedigestion of an ostrich. But I think if you had tried them on nails andold shoes the ostrich would have gone up head. 

"Oh, do you see how late it is? I know Hanny will be sick to-morrow! AndJim, you'll have the doctor's bill to pay. "

"Oh, no, " said Hanny with a smile, "Joe has promised to doctor me fornothing. "

Mrs. Underhill lost her point. Jim wanted a good laugh, but he thoughtit would hardly be prudent. 

Of course something ought to have happened to impress their wrong-doingon the children. But it didn't. They were all well and bright the nextmorning. Mr. Theodore Whitney took occasion to say that he hoped theUnderhills wouldn't feel offended. It was just a young people's caper, and he thought it rather amusing. 

Mrs. Whitney said in the bosom of her household: "Well, I wonder thatMrs. Underhill has an ounce of fat on her bones if she's worried thatway about her eight children! I always felt to trust mine toProvidence. "

Jim "gave away" the thing at school, and was quite a hero. But some ofthe boys had crawled under a circus tent. And a circus was simplyimmense!

Lily Ludlow said, out of her bitterest envy, "I shouldn't have thoughtyou would let a girl take you out, Jim Underhill!"

"She didn't take me! I bought my own ticket. And there was hercousin----"

"Well--if you like _that_ style of people--and red hair--and DeleWhitney has no more figure than a post! I wouldn't be such a fat chunkfor anything! And her clothes are just wild. "

"Of course you're ever so much the prettiest. And I wish _we_ could goto the Museum together, just us two. " Jim thought it would be fine totake out _one_ girl. 

That mollified Lily a little. 

"And I just wish you lived up by our house. It seems so easy then tocome in. And when you once get real well acquainted--intimatelike--well, you know I like you better than any girl in school;" thoughJim wondered a little if it was absolutely true. 

"Do you, really?" The eyes and the smile always conquered him. She madegood use of both. 

"Oh, you know I do. "

Chris didn't see why she couldn't get acquainted with Margaret. Shewanted her mother to call, but Mrs. Ludlow said, "I've more friends nowthan I can attend to. " And Miss Margaret seemed to hold up her head sohigh. Then Mr. Stephen was going to marry in the Beekman family. AndChris wondered why Mr. John didn't go in some store business instead oflearning a carpenter's trade. 

Hester Brown was out of school a week. Mrs. Craven had begged the girlsnot to tease her, but after a few days she announced that a mistake hadbeen made in the calculation--some people thought three years--but theend was sure. However three years seems a lifetime to children. 

CHAPTER X

A MERRY CHRISTMAS

George Underhill came down and made a nice long visit. He felt he likedhis own home people a little the best, but his heart was still set onfarming. Thanksgiving came after a lovely Indian summer, such as onerarely sees now. Then each State appointed its own Thanksgiving, andthere were people who boasted of partaking of three separate dinners. 

After that it was cold. The little girl had a good warm cloak and hoodand mittens, and it was nothing to run to school. She studied andplayed, and knew two pretty exercises on the piano. Jim and Benny Frankgrew like weeds. But Benny somehow "gave in" to the boys, and two orthree of the school bullies did torment him. 

"I'd just give it to them!" declared Jim. "I wouldn't be put upon andcalled baby and a mollycoddle and have that Perkins crowding me off theline and losing marks. I'd give him such a right-hander his head wouldhum like a swarm of bees. "

It was not because Benny was afraid. But he was a peace-loving boy andhe thought fighting brutal and vulgar. His books were such a delight. Heliked to go in and talk to Mr. Theodore, as they all called the eldestWhitney son. Mr. Theodore in his newspaper capacity had found out somany queer things about old New York, they really called New York thatin early 1800. He had such wonderful portfolios of pictures, and nothingin the Whitney house was too good to use. 

Hanny often went in as well. And though Dele was such a harum-scarumsort of girl, she was good to the children and found no end ofdiversions for them. Nora was a curious, grave little thing, and herlarge dark eyes in her small, sallow face looked almost uncanny. Shedevoured fairy stories and knew many of the mythological gods andgoddesses. They had a beautiful big cat called Old Gray. It reallybelonged to Mr. Theodore, but Nora played with it and tended it, anddressed it up in caps and gowns and shawls and carried it around. Itcertainly was a lovely tempered cat. Hanny was divided in her affectionbetween the Deans' dolls and Nora's cat. The play-house was too cold touse now, and Mrs. Dean objected to having it all moved down to hersewing-room. But Mr. Theodore's room had a delightful grate, a big oldlounge, a generous centre-table where the girls used to play houseunder the cover, and such piles of books everywhere, so many pictures onthe wall, such curious pipes and swords and trophies from differentlands. You really never knew whether it was cleared up or not, and thevery lawlessness was attractive. 

Sometimes they sat in the big rocker, that would hold both, and theywould divide the cat between them and sing to her. Occasionally kittywould tire of such unceasing attention, and emit a long, appealingm-i-e-u. If Mr. Theodore was there--and he never seemed to mind thelittle girls playing about--he would say, "Children, what are you doingto that cat?" and they would no longer try to divide her, but let hercurl up in her own fashion. 

"Oh, mother!" said the little girl, one rainy afternoon when she had tostay in, "couldn't we have a Sunday cat that didn't have to stay out inthe stable and catch mice for a living? Nora's is so nice and cunningand you can talk to it just as if it was folks. And you can't quite makedolls, folks. You have to keep making b'lieve all the time. "

"Martha doesn't like cats. And Jim would torment it and plague youcontinually. And you know I wouldn't let Jim's little dog come in thehouse. "

"But so many people do have cats. "

"There's hardly room with so many folks. You wait until Christmas andsee what Santa Claus brings you, " said her mother cheerily. 

There came a little snow and the boys brought out their sleds. For twodays the air was alive with shouts and snowballing, and then it was likea drift of gray sand alongside of the street gutter. But winter hadfairly set in. Stoves were up. 

In the back room at the Underhills' they had a fire of logs on thehearth, and it was delightful. 

Ben was tormented more and more. The boys knocked off his cap in thegutter and made up rhymes about him which they sang to any sort of tune. This was one:

 "Benjamin Franklin Underhill, Was a little boy too awfully still: Forty bears came out of the wood, And ate up the boy so awfully good. "

"Come out from under that hill, " while some boy would reply, "Oh, hedassent! He's afraid his shadder'll meet him in the way. "

One day he came home with his pocket all torn out. Perkins had slipped acrooked stick in it and given it what the boys called a "yank. "

"Go in and ask your mother for a needle and thread. You'll make a goodtailor!" he jeered. 

"What is all this row about?" asked his mother, who was in the frontbasement. 

Ben held out his jacket ruefully, and said, "Perkins never would leavehim alone. "

Jim had complained and said Ben always showed the white feather. Mrs. Underhill couldn't endure cowards. She was angry, too, to see his nicewinter jacket in such a plight. 

"Benny Frank, you just march out and thrash that Perkins boy, or I'llthrash you! I don't care if you are almost as tall as I am. A great boyof fifteen who can't take his own part! I should be ashamed! Marchstraight out!"

She took him by the shoulder and turned him round, whisked him out inthe area before he knew where he was. She would not have him so meek andchicken-hearted. 

Ben stood a moment in surprise. Jim had been scolded for his pugnacity. Perkins was always worse when Jim wasn't around. 

"Go on!" exclaimed his mother. 

Ben walked out slowly. The boys were down the street. If they would onlygo away. He passed the Whitneys and halted. He could rescue hounded catsand tormented dogs, and once had saved a little child from being runover. But to fight--in cold blood!

"Oh, here comes my Lady Jane!" sang out some one. 

 "She's quite too young-- To be ruled by your false, flattering tongue. "

"Sissy, wouldn't your mother mend your coat? Keep out of the way of theragman!"

Perkins was balancing himself on one foot on the curbstone. 

"Come on, Macduff!" he cried tragically. 

Macduff came on with a quick step. Before the boys could think he strodeup to Perkins and with a well-directed blow landed him in the sloppydébris of snow and mud, where the children had been making a pond. Andbefore he could recover Ben was upon him, roused to his utmost. The boyswere nearly of a size. They rolled over and over amid the plaudits oftheir companions, and Ben, who hated dirt and mud and all untidiness, didn't mind now. He kept his face pretty well out of the way, andpresently sat on his adversary and held one hand, grasping at the other. 

The boys cheered. A fight was a fight, if it was between the bestfriends you had. 

"Beg, " said Ben. 

"I'll see you in Guinea first!"

Ben sat still. The kicks were futile. With such a heavy weight breathingwas a difficult matter. 

"You--you--if you'd said fight I'd a-known----" and Perkins gasped. 

"Oh, let up, Ben. You've licked him! We didn't think 'twas in you. Come--fair play. "

"There's a good deal in me, " cried Ben sturdily. "And I'm going to sithere all night till Perkins begs. I've a good seat. You boys keep out. 'Tisn't your fight. And you all know I hate fighting. It may do for wildanimals in a jungle. "

Ben's lip was swelling a little. A tooth had cut into it. But his eyeswere clear and sparkling and his whole face was resolute. Perkins'attempts at freeing his hands grew more feeble. 

"Boys, can't you help a fellow?"

"'Twas a fair thing, Perk. You may as well own up beat. Come, nosnivelling. "

Quite a crowd was gathering. There was no policeman to interfere. 

Perkins made a reluctant concession. Ben sprang up and was off like ashot. His mother met him at the door. 

"Go up-stairs and put on your best clothes, Ben, " she said, "and takethose down to the barn. " She knew he had come off victor. 

"I s'pose I'd had to do it some time, " Ben thought to himself. "Mother'sawful spunky when she's roused. I hope I won't have to go on and lickthe whole crew! I just hate that kind of work. "

As he came down his mother kissed him on the white forehead, but neithersaid a word. 

When he went in to see Mr. Theodore that evening he told him the story. It was queer, but he would not have admitted to any one else hismother's threat. Mr. Theodore laughed and said boys generally had tomake their own mark in that fashion. Then he thought they would try agame of chess, as Ben knew all the moves. 

Jim was surprised and delighted to hear the story the next day. Henodded his head with an air of satisfaction. 

"Ben's awful strong, " he said. "He could thrash any boy of his size. Buthe isn't spoiling for a fight. "

A few days later there came a real snowstorm of a day and a night. Jimsprung the old joke on Hanny "that they were all snowed up, and the snowwas over the tops of the houses. " She ran to the window in hernight-dress to see. Oh, how beautiful it was! The red chimneys grew upout of the white fleece, the windows were hooded, the trees and busheswere long wands of soft whiteness, the clothes-line posts wore pointedcaps. 

"Don't stand there in the cold, " said Margaret. 

They all turned out to shovel snow. The areas were full. The sidewalksall along were being cleared, and it made a curious white wall in thestreet. Mr. Underhill insisted that the boys should level theirs. Somewagons tried to get through and made an odd, muffled sound. Then therewas the joyful jingle of bells. The sun came out setting the world in avivid sparkle, while the sky grew as blue as June. 

Not to have snow for Christmas would have spoiled the fun and been a badsign. People really did believe "a green Christmas would make a fatgraveyard. " It was so much better in the country to have the grain andmeadows covered with the nice warm mantle, for it was warm to them. 

Father Underhill took the little girl to school, for all the walks werenot cleared. Men and boys were going around with shovels on theirshoulders, offering their services. 

"I could earn a lot of money if I didn't have to go to school to-day, "said Jim, with a longing look at the piles of snow. "If it only _was_Saturday!"

But there was no end of fun at school. The boys began two snow-forts, and the snowballing was something tremendous. The air was crisp andcold, and it gave everybody red cheeks. 

Before night the stage sleighs were running, for the omnibuses reallycouldn't get along. Steve came home early to take the boys and Hannyout. Hanny still wore the red cloak and a pretty red hood and lookedlike a little fairy. 

They went over to the Bowery. You can hardly imagine the gay sight itwas. Everything that could be put on runners was there, from the daintycutter to the lumbering grocery box wagon. And oh, the bells on thefrosty air! It was enough to inspire a hundred poets. 

There were four horses to the long sleigh. Steve found a seat and tookthe little girl on his lap, covering her with an extra shawl. The boysdropped down on their knees in the straw. It was a great jam, buteverybody was jolly and full of good-natured fun. Now and then ayoungster threw a snowball that made a shower of snow in the sleigh, butthe passengers shook it off laughingly. 

They went down to the Battery and just walked across. Castle Garden wasa great white mound. Brooklyn looked vague and ghostly. The shipping washuddled in the piers with fleecy rigging, and only a few brave vesselswere breasting the river, bluer still than the sky. And here there wassuch a splendid turnout it looked like a pageant. 

They came up East Broadway. The street lamps were just being lighted. They turned up Columbia Street and Avenue D, and stopped when they cameto Houston Street. A man on the corner was selling hot waffles as fastas half a dozen men could bake them, and a colored woman had a stand ofhot coffee that scented up the air with its fragrance. 

They had to walk up home, but Steve carried Hanny over all thecrossings. It was a regular carnival. The children decided snow in NewYork was ever so much more fun than snow in the country. 

But after a few days they settled to it as a regular thing, though thesleighs were flying about in their tireless fashion, making the airmusical with bells. And Christmas was coming. 

It really _was_ Christmas then. Not to have hung up your stocking wouldhave been an insult to the sweetest, merriest, wisest, tenderest littleman in the world. There were some fireplaces left for him to come down, and he was on hand promptly. 

And such appetizing smells as lurked in every corner of the house! Fruitcake, crullers and doughnuts, and mince pies! Everybody was busy frommorning till night. When Hanny went to the kitchen some one said, "Runup-stairs, child, you'll be in the way here, " and Margaret would hustlesomething in her apron and say, "Run down-stairs, Hanny dear, " until itseemed as if there was no place for her. 

The Dean children were busy, too. But Nora Whitney didn't seem to haveanything to do but nurse dear Old Gray and read fairy stories. Deliatold them Ophelia was to be married Christmas morning, and "they weregoing over to _his_ folks in Jersey to spend a week. "

"But it won't make a bit of difference, " Delia announced. "Frank has asteady beau now and they'll take the parlor. And then, I suppose, it'llbe my turn. I shall just hate to be grown up and have long skirts on anddo up my hair, and be so fussy about everything. When I think of that Iwish I was a boy. "

The little girl wondered if Margaret would get married next Christmas. Her gowns were quite long now, and she did have a grown-up air. Itseemed years since last Christmas. So many things had happened. 

The cousins were to come down from Tarrytown and make a visit, and AuntPatience and Aunt Nancy were to come up from Henry Street for theChristmas dinner. If they only _could_ bring the cat!

"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" some one shouted while it was stilldark. Hanny woke out of a sound sleep. "Merry Christmas, " said Margaretwith a kiss. 

"Oh dear, I shan't get ahead of anybody, " she sighed. "Do you think Icould get up, Peggy?"

"I must light a candle, " Margaret said. 

"Come down and see what's in your stocking, Han!" shouted Jim. 

Margaret sprang out of bed and put on the little girl's warm woollenwrapper and let her go down. She ran eagerly to her mother's room, andher father made believe asleep that she might wake him up. She wantedto wish some one Merry Christmas the first of all. 

Two wax candles were burning in the back room and the fire wascrackling. There were stockings and stockings, and hers were such littlemites that some one had hung a white bag on the brass nail that held thefeather-duster, and marked it "For Hanny. " And a box lay in a chair. 

There was a cruller man with eyes, nose, and mouth. There were candiesgalore, the clarified ones, red and yellow, idealized animals of allkinds. There was an elegant silver paper cornucopia tied with blueribbons. There was a box of beautiful pop-corn that had turned itselfinside out. Ribbon for her hair, a paint-box, a case of Faber pencils, handkerchiefs, a lovely new pink merino dress, a muff that purported tobe ermine, a pair of beautiful blue knit slippers tied with ribbons. These didn't come from Santa Claus, for they had on a card--"With bestlove and a Merry Christmas, from Dolly. " That was Dolly Beekman. Hannylaid them up against her face and kissed them, they were so soft andbeautiful. 

She drew a long breath before she opened the box. Of course it couldn'tbe a real live kitty. John and Steve were coming in at the door. 

"Merry Christmas!" she shouted with the boys They were not so very farahead of her. 

Steve caught her under the arms and held her almost up to the ceiling, it seemed. She was so little and light. 

"Ten kisses before you can come down. "

She paid the ten kisses, and would have given twice the number. 

"I'm trying to guess what is in the box. " She looked perplexed and acrease came between her eyes. 

"It's a chrononhontontholagosphorus!"

"A--what?" Her face was a study. 

The boys shouted with laughter. 

"Yes, Joe sent it. Santa Claus had given his all out, and Joe had toskirmish around sharp to get one. "

"Is it alive?" she asked timidly, her eyes growing larger with somethingthat was almost fright. 

"Oh, Steve!" said Margaret, in an upbraiding tone. "Boys, you're enoughto frighten one. "

Steve untied the string and took off the cover. Hanny had tight hold ofher sister's hand. Steve lifted some tissue paper and tilted up the box. There lay a lovely wax doll with golden hair, a smiling mouth that justbetrayed some little teeth, eyes that would open and shut. She wasdressed in light-blue silk and beautiful lace. Though her mother hadsaid she was too big to have a doll, Joe knew better. 

She was almost speechless with joy. Then she knelt down beside it andtook one pretty hand. 

"Oh, " she said, "I wish you could know how glad I am to have you!There's only one thing that could make me any gladder, that would be tohave you alive!" Steve winked his eyes hard. Her delight was pathetic. 

Then she had to see the boys' Christmas. Benny Frank had a new suit ofclothes, Jim had a pair of boots, which was every boy's ambition then, and an overcoat. And lots of books, pencils, gloves, and the candy itwould not have been Christmas without. 

Mr. Underhill poked up the fire and took the little girl on his knee. Mrs. Underhill put out the candles, for it was daylight, and then wentdown to help get breakfast. Cousin Fannie and Roseann, as Mrs. Eustiswas always called, came in and had to express their opinion ofeverything. Then breakfast was ready. 

John went down in the sleigh for Aunt Patience and Aunt Nancy Archer. They were not own sisters but sisters-in-law and each had a comfortableincome. It did not take very much to make people comfortable then. Theyowned their house and rented some rooms. 

Hanny had to go in and see Josie and Tudie Dean's Christmas and bringthem in to inspect hers. Then Dele and Nora Whitney were her nextcallers. Nora had a silk dress and a gold ring with a prettily setturquoise. 

"The marriage was at ten, " began Dele, "and it was just nothing at all. I wouldn't be married in such a doleful way. She just had on a brownsilk dress with lots of lace, and white gloves, and the minister cameand it was all over in ten minutes. There was wedding-cake and wine. I've brought you in some to dream on. Nora and I are going down toAuntie's in Beach Street where there's to be a regular party and aChristmas tree and lots of fun. After 'Phelia comes back she's going tohave a wedding-party and wear her real wedding-dress. "

Nora thought the doll beautiful. Hanny just lifted it out of the box andput it back. It seemed almost too sacred to touch. 

Jim went out presently to get some Christmas cake. The grocers andbakers treated the children of their customers to what was properly NewYear's cake, and the boys thought it no end of fun to go around and wishMerry Christmas. 

The dinner was at two. Doctor Joseph came in to dine and to becongratulated by the cousins. The little girl's gratitude and delightwas very sweet to him. He put up the piano stool and she played herpretty little exercises for him. Then about four he and Steve went downto the Beekmans, where there was a dancing party in the evening. 

The elders sat and talked, to Benny Frank's great delight. The "oldtimes" seemed so wonderful to the children. Aunt Patience was the elderof the two ladies, just turned seventy now, and had lived in New Yorkall her life. She had seen Washington when he was the first President ofthe United States, and lived in Cherry Street with Mrs. Washington andthe two Custis children. Afterward they had removed to the Macomb House. Everything had been so simple then, people going to bed by nine o'clockunless on very special occasions. To go to the old theatre on JohnStreet was considered the height of fashionable amusement. You saw theSecretaries and their families, and the best people in the city. 

But what amused the children most was the Tea Water Pump. 

"You see, " said Aunt Patience, "we had nice cisterns that caughtrainwater for family use, and we think now our old cistern-water isenough better than the Croton for washing. There were a good many wellsbut some were brackish and poor, and people were saying then they werenot fit to use. The Tea Water pump was on the corner of Chatham andPearl, and particular people bought it at a penny a gallon. It wascarried around in carts, and you subscribed regularly. My, how choicewe were of it!"

"There's a pump down here at the junction that's just splendid!" saidJim, "I used to go for water last summer, it was so good and cold. "

"We miss our nice spring at home, " said Mrs. Underhill, with a sigh. 

"And what else?" subjoined Ben. 

"Oh, the milk did not go round in wagons. There were not half so manypeople to supply. We kept a cow and sold to our neighbors. The milkmenhad what was called a yoke over their shoulders, with a tin can at eachend. They used to cry, 'Milk ho! ye-o!' The garbage man rang his belland you brought out your pail. A few huckster men were beginning to goround, but Hudson Market was the place to buy fresh vegetables that camein every morning. And, oh, there were the chimney-sweeps!"

"We had our chimney swept here, " said Jim. "The man had a long jointedhandle and a wiry brush at the end. "

"But then there were little negro boys who climbed up and down andsometimes scraped them as they went. But several were smothered or stuckfast in London and it was considered cruel and dangerous. You'd hear theboys in the morning with their 'Sweep ho!' and you wouldn't believe howmany variations they could make to it. "

"Poor little boys!" said Hanny. "Didn't they get awful black and sooty?"

The boys laughed. "They were black to begin with, " said Jim. "All theyhad to do was to shake themselves. "

"And how do you suppose Santa Claus keeps so clean?" asked the littlegirl, nothing daunted. 

That was a poser. No one could quite tell. 

"We used to burn out our chimney, " announced Aunt Patience. 

"Burn it out?"

"Yes. We'd take a rather lowering day, or start in just as it wasbeginning to rain. We'd put a heap of straw in the fireplace and kindleit, and the soot would soon catch. Then some one would go up on the roofto see if the sparks caught anywhere. We never let it get very dirty. But presently they passed a law that no one should do it on account ofthe danger. But sometimes chimneys caught fire by accident, " and AuntPatience laughed. 

"Why, it was like the wolf in little Red Riding Hood, " declared Hanny. 

Then they all talked of the old roads and streets and the Collect whichwas a great marshy pond, and the canal through Lispenard's meadows overto the North River, where present Canal Street runs. In the Collectproper there was a beautiful clear lake where people went fishing. Agreat hill stood on Broadway, and had to be cut down more than twentyfeet. 

Father Underhill recalled his first visit to the city when he wasnineteen, and going skating with some cousins. And now it was all gradedand finished streets, houses, and stores. 

But Aunt Patience said it was time to go home, and they planned for theMorgan cousins to come and spend the day. They were to bring the littlegirl with them. 

They had a light supper and then John escorted the ladies home. BennyFrank wanted his father to tell some more incidents of the old times. The little girl was tired and sleepy and ready to go to bed, but she hadone wish saved up for next Christmas already--a set of dishes. 

CHAPTER XI

THE LITTLE GIRL IN POLITICS

A whole week of holidays! Jim and Benny Frank had their mother almostwild, and Martha said "she would be dead in another week. If Christmascame twice a year there would be no money nor no people left. They wouldbe all worn out. "

It was splendid winter weather. Sunny and just warm enough to thaw andsettle the snow during the day and freeze it up again at night. Thenthere came another small fall of snow to whiten up the streets and makethe air gayer than ever with bells. 

The Morgan cousins had to go down and call on Miss Dolly Beekman, andwere very favorably impressed with her. The little girl went with themto Cherry Street and had "just a beautiful time with the kitty, " shetold her mother. Her blue woollen frock was full of white cat-hairs as amemento. She went to tea with the little Dean girls, she spent anafternoon with Nora, and had the little girls in to visit her. Margaretplayed on the piano and they had a charming dance, beside playing "Hotbutter blue beans, " which was no end of fun. 

On New Year's Day everybody had "calls. " Margaret was hardly considereda young lady, but Miss Cynthia came to help entertain. It was reallyvery pleasant. A number of family relatives called in, some of whom theyhad not seen since they came to the city. They were all rathermiddle-aged, though Joe brought in his chum, a very handsome young manwho had graduated with his class but was two years older. Margaret wasquite abashed by Doctor Hoffman's attention to her, and his saying heshould take her good wishes as a happy omen for his New Year. Indeed, she was very glad to have Miss Cynthia come to the rescue in her airyfashion. 

Late in the afternoon the Odells drove down. The little girls wentup-stairs to see the Christmas things and the lovely doll for whom noname had been good enough. John had a fire in his room and it was niceand warm, so he told them they might go up there. They played "mother"and "visiting, " and wound up with a splendid game of "Puss in theCorner. " There were only four pussies and they could have but threecorners, but it was no end of fun dodging about, and if they did squeal, the folks down in the parlor hardly heard them. 

Saturday was Saturday everywhere. It was "Ladies' day" too. But peoplehad to clear up their houses and begin a new week, a new year, as well, for it was 1844. 

The little girl wondered what made the years. Mrs. Craven explained thatthe recurrence of the four seasons governed them, and some ratherlearned reasons the child could not understand. But she said:

"It seems to me the year ought to begin in spring and not the middle ofthe winter. "

Ophelia came home, she was Mrs. Davis now, and they had a grand partywith music and dancing and a supper, and Nora wore her pretty new silkfrock. Then Mrs. Davis went down-town to be near her husband's business, and started housekeeping in three rooms. 

The next great event on the block was a children's party. They werechildren then until they were at least sixteen. Miss Lily Ludlow and hersister had ten dollars sent to each of them as a Christmas gift. Chriswent out straightway and bought a new coat. Lily's was new the winterbefore. There were a great many things she needed, but most of all shewanted a party. She had been to two already. 

"What a silly idea!" said her father. 

But Lily kept tight hold of her idea and her money, and the last ofJanuary, with Chris' help, she brought it about. They took the bedsteadout of the back parlor and changed the furniture around. And though hermother called it foolishness, she baked some tiny biscuits and made abatch of crullers and boiled a ham. Lily bought fancy cakes, mottoes, candies, and nuts, and a few oranges which were very expensive. 

The Underhill boys were invited, of course. Benny said "he didn'tbelieve he would go. He shouldn't know what to do at a party. "

"Why, follow your nose, " laughed Jim. "Do just as the rest do. Don't bea gump!"

"And I hate to be fooling round girls. "

"You don't seem to mind Dele Whitney. You're just cracked about her. "

I don't know how the boys of that day managed without the useful andpithy word "mashed. "

"It's no such thing, Jim Underhill! She's always down-stairs with hermother. I go in to see Mr. Theodore;" yet Ben's face was scarlet. 

"You know you like her, " teasingly. 

"I _do_ like her. And it's awful mean not to ask her when she's in thesame crowd and lives on the block. But she doesn't care. She wouldn'tgo. "

"Sour grapes. " Jim made a derisive face. 

"You shut up about it. "

"Don't get wrathy, Benjamin Franklin. "

When his mother said "Benny Frank, " he thought it the best name in thewhole world. Perhaps part was due to his mother's tone. And Ben was asplendid boy's name. But his schoolmates did torment him. They asked himif he had finished his roll, and if he had any to give away. Theypestered him about flying his kite, and inquired what he said to theKing of France when he went abroad--if it was "_parley vous de donkey_. "If there is anything the average school-boy can turn into ridicule hedoes it. When Jim wanted to be exasperating he gave him his whole name. And then Ben wished he had been called plain John, even if there hadbeen two in the family. 

But the day of the party Jim coaxed him, and Jim could be irresistible. Then Margaret said: "Oh, yes, I think I would go. " She fixed up both ofthe boys, and scented their handkerchiefs with her "triple extract, " andhoped they would have a nice time, insisting that one needn't be afraidof girls. 

Of course they did, especially Jim. He was in for all the fun andfrolic, and the kissing didn't worry him a bit when the "forfeits" wereannounced. He didn't mind how deep he "stood in the well, " nor how highthe tree was from which they "picked cherries. " Ben _could_ rise to anemergency if he was not praying for it every moment. 

Chris was a great card. She could not help wishing that she knew enoughyoung people in her social round to ask to a party. There were enoughyoung ladies, but a "hen party" wasn't much fun. She made herself veryagreeable to the Underhill boys, and wished in the sweetest of tones"that she _did_ know their sister Margaret. "

There were a good many imperfect lessons the next day, but the party wasthe great topic. Hosts of girls were "mad. "

"I couldn't ask everybody. The house wouldn't hold them, " declared Lily. But she took great comfort in thinking she had "paid out" several girlsagainst whom she had a little grudge. And the "left-outs" declared theywouldn't have gone anyhow. It must be admitted that the party didadvance Lily socially. 

The family had hardly recovered from this spasm of gayety when Stepheninsisted that Margaret should go to a Valentine's ball at the AstorHouse, to be given to the ladies by a club of bachelors. He was going totake Dolly. Mrs. Bond would be there, and Dolly came up to coax herprospective mother-in-law. "Margaret had not gone into any society andwas only a school-girl, altogether too young to have her head filledwith such nonsense, " with many more reasons and conjunctions. Dolly wasso sweet and persuasive, and said the simplest white gown would do, young girls really didn't dress much. Then Margaret would have it readyfor her graduation. They would be sure to send her home early and takethe best of care of her. 

Joe said: "Why, of course she must go. It wasn't like being amongstrangers with Dolly and her people. " So the boys and Dolly carried theday. All the while Margaret's heart beat with an unaccustomed throb. Shedid not really know whether she wanted to go or not. 

St. Valentine's Day was held in high repute then. You sent your bestgirl the prettiest valentine your purse could afford, and she laid itaway in lavender to show to her children. Bashful young fellows oftenasked the momentous question in that manner. There were some lovelyones, with original verses written in, for there were young bards inthose days who struggled over birthday and valentine verses, and whowould have scorned second-hand protestations. 

Though Margaret didn't get any valentines the little girl received threethat were extremely pretty. She asked Steve if he didn't send one. 

"Oh, dear, " he answered, as if he were amazed at the question, "I had tospend all my money buying Dolly one. " And Joe pretended to be sosurprised. He had spent his money for Margaret's sash and gloves andbunch of flowers. Even John would not own up to the soft impeachmentand declared, "Your lovers sent them. "

"But I haven't any lovers, " said the little girl, in all innocence. 

She used to read them to her mother, and ask her which she thought camefrom Steve, which from Joe and John. It was quite funny, though, thatNora Whitney had one exactly like one of hers. And even Mr. Theodoredeclared he didn't send them. 

Margaret looked like an angel, the little girl thought. Her whitecashmere frock was simply made, with a lace frill about the neck and atthe edge of the short sleeves. Her broad blue satin sash was elegant. Miss Cynthia came and plaited her beautiful hair in a marvellousopenwork sort of braid, and she had two white roses and a silver arrowin it. Her slippers were white kid, her gloves had just a cream tint, and Miss Cynthia brought her own opera cloak, which was light brocadedsilk, wadded and edged with swans-down. 

Joe looked just splendid, the little girl decided. If she could onlyhave seen Dolly!

The Beekman coach was sent up for Margaret, who kissed her little sisterand went off like Cinderella!

"Oh, do you suppose she will meet the king's son?" asked Hanny, allexcitement. 

"Oh, child, what nonsense!" exclaimed her mother. 

It wasn't the king's son; but young Doctor Hoffman was there, andMargaret danced several times with him. They talked so much about Joethat Margaret felt very friendly with him. 

After that the world ran on in snow, in sunshine, and in rain. The daysgrew longer. March was rough and blowy. Mother Underhill had to go up inthe country for a week, for Grandfather Van Kortlandt died. He had beenout of health and paralyzed for a year or two. Aunt Katrina had beenstaying there, and they would go on in the old house until spring. Shewas grandmother's sister. Of course no one could feel very sorry aboutpoor old Uncle Nickie, as he was called. He had always been ratherqueer, and was no comfort to himself, for he had lost his mind, buteverybody admitted that grandmother had done her duty, and the VanKortlandt children, grown men and women, thanked her for all her goodcare. 

Oh, what fun the children had on the first of April! What rags werepinned to people--what shrieks of "My cat's got a long tail!" And thereon the sidewalk would lay a tempting half-dollar with a string out ofsight, and when the pedestrian stooped to pick it up--presto! how itwould vanish. When one enterprising wight put his foot on it and pickedit up triumphantly the boys called out:

"April fool! That's an awful sell, mister! It's a bad half-dollar. "

They watched and saw him bite it and throw it down. Then they went afterit and had their fun over and over again. Stephen had given thehalf-dollar to Jim with strict injunctions not to attempt to pass it orhe'd get a "hiding, " which no one ever did in the Underhill family. Mrs. Underhill declared "'Milyer was as easy as an old shoe, and she didn'tsee what had kept the children from going to ruin. " Joe always insisted"it was pure native goodness. "

Then they called out to the carters and other wagoners: "Oh, mister, say! Your wheel's goin' round!" And sometimes without understanding thedriver would look and hear the shout. 

They had another trick they played out in the Bowery. Boys had areprehensible trick of "cutting behind, " as the stages had two steps atthe back, and the boys used to spring on them and steal rides. It wassuch a sight of fun to dodge the whip and spring off at the rightmoment. Sometimes a cross-grained passenger who had been a very good boyin his youth would tell. 

On this day they didn't steal the ride. They called out with greatapparent honesty: "Cuttin' behind, driver--two boys!"

Then the driver would slash his whip furiously, and even the passers-bywould enjoy the joke. Of course you could only play that once on eachdriver. 

Altogether it was a day of days. You were fooled, of course; no one wassmart enough to keep quite clear. But almost everybody was good-naturedabout it. Martha found some eggs that had been "blown, " and a potatofilled with ashes, and there were inventions that would have done creditto the "pixies. "

The little girl would not go out to play in the afternoon, and shedidn't even run when Jim said, "Nora wanted her for something special. "But she really had no conscience about fooling her father several times. He pretended to be so surprised, and said, "Oh, you little witch!" Itwas a day on which you had need to keep your wits about you. 

Then with the long days and the sunshine came so many things. Littlegirls skipped rope and rolled hoops, their guiding-sticks tied with abright ribbon. The boys had iron hoops and an iron guider, and they madea musical jingle as they went along. There were kites too, but youdidn't catch Benny Frank flying one. And marbles and ball. In theafternoon the streets seemed alive with children. But what would thosepeople have said to the five-story tenement-houses with their motleycrew! Then Ludlow and Allen and many another street wore such a cleanand quaint aspect, and the ladies sat at their parlor windows in theafternoon sewing and watching their little ones. 

"Ring-a-round-a-rosy" began again. And dear me, there were so manysigns! You must not step on a crack in the flagging or somethingdreadful would happen to you. And you mustn't pick up a pin with thepoint toward you or you would surely be disappointed. If the head wastoward you, you could pick it up and make a wish which would be sure tocome to pass. You must cut your finger-nails Monday morning beforebreakfast and you would get a present before the week was out. And ifyou walked straight to school that morning you were likely to have goodlessons, but if you loitered or stopped to play or were late, bad luckwould follow you all the week. And the little girls used to say:

 "Lesson, lesson, come to me, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, three, Thursday, Friday, then you may Have a rest on Saturday, "

So you see a little girl's life was quite a weighty matter. 

That summer political excitement ran high. Indeed, it had begun in thewinter. A new party had nominated Mr. James Harper for mayor, and inthe spring he had been elected. Mr. Theodore used to pause and discussmen and measures now that it was getting warm enough to sit out on thestoop and read your paper. Country habits were not altogether tabooed. But what impressed his honor the mayor most strongly on the littlegirl's mind was something Aunt Nancy Archer, who was now an earnestMethodist, said when she was up to tea one evening. 

"I did look to see Brother Harper set up a little. It's only natural, you know, and I can't quite believe in perfection. But there he was inclass-meeting, not a mite changed, just as friendly and earnest as ever, not a bit lifted up because he had been called to the highest positionin the city. "

"There's no doubt but he will make a good mayor, " rejoined Mr. Underhill. "He's a good, honest man. And all the brothers are capablemen, men who are able to pull together. I'm not sure but we'll have togo outside of party lines a little. It ought to broaden a man to be in abig city. "

The little girl slipped her hand in Aunt Nancy's. 

"Is he your school-teacher?" she ventured timidly. 

"School-teacher? Why, no, child!" in surprise. 

"You said class----"

"You'll have to be careful, Aunt Nancy. That little girl has aninquiring mind, " laughed her father. 

"Yes. It's a church class. I belong to the same church as BrotherHarper. We're old-fashioned Methodists. We go to this class to tell ourreligious experiences. You are not old enough to understand that. But wetalk over our troubles and trials, and tell of our blessings too, Ihope, and then Brother Harper has a good word for us. He comforts uswhen we are down at the foot of the hill, and he gives us a word ofwarning if he thinks we are climbing heights we're not quite fitted for. He makes a comforting prayer. "

"I should like to see him, " said the little girl. 

"Well, get your father to bring you down to church some Sunday. Do, Vermilye. "

"Any time she likes, " said her father. 

They talked on, but Hanny went off into a little dreamland of her own. She was not quite clear what a mayor's duty was, only he was a greatman. And her idea of his not being set up, as Aunt Nancy had phrased it, was that there was a great handsome chair, something like a throne, thathad been arranged for him, and he had come in and taken a common seat. She was to have a good deal of hero-worship later on, and be roused andstirred by Carlyle, but there was never anything finer than theadmiration kindled in her heart just then. 

After Aunt Nancy went away she crept into her father's lap. 

"Aren't you glad Mr. Harper's our mayor?" she asked. "Did everybody votefor him? Do girls--big girls--and women vote?"

"No, dear. Men over twenty-one are the only persons entitled to vote. Steve and Joe and I voted. And it's too bad, but John can't put in hisvote for President this fall. "

"The mayor governs the city, and the governor, the State. What does thePresident do?"

Her father explained the most important duties to her, and that aPresident was elected every four years. That was the highest office inthe country. 

"And who is going to be our President?" She was getting to be a partywoman already. 

"Well, it looks as if Henry Clay would. We shall all work for him. "

If it only wouldn't come bedtime so soon!

The little girl studied and played with a will. She could skip rope likea little fairy, but it had been quite a task to drive her hoop straight. She was unconsciously inclined to make "the line of beauty. " I don'tknow that it was always graceful, either. 

Some new people moved in the block. Just opposite there was a tall thinwoman who swept and dusted and scrubbed until Steve said "he was afraidthere wouldn't be enough dirt left to bury her with. " She wore fadedmorning-gowns and ragged checked aprons, and had her head tied up withsomething like a turban, only it was grayish and not pretty. She did notalways get dressed up by afternoon. Oh, how desperately clean she was!Even her sidewalk had a shiny look, and as for her door brasses, theyoutdid the sun. 

She had one boy, about twelve perhaps. And his name was John RobertCharles Reed. He was fair, well dressed, and so immaculately clean thatJim said he'd give a dollar, if he could ever get so much moneytogether, just to roll him in the dirt. His mother always gave him hisfull name. He went to a select school, but when he was starting away inthe morning his mother would call two or three times to know if he hadall of his books, if he had a clean handkerchief, and if he was sure hisshoes were tied, and his clothes brushed. 

And one day a curious sort of carriage went by, a chair on wheels, and aman was pushing it while a lady walked beside it. In the chair was amost beautiful girl or child, fair as a lily, with long light curls andthe whitest of hands. Hanny watched in amazement, and then went in totell her mother. "She looks awful pale and sick, " said Hanny. 

Josie Dean found out presently who she was. She had come to one of thehouses that had the pretty gardens in front. She had been very ill, andshe couldn't walk a step. And her name was Daisy Jasper. 

Such a beautiful name, and not to be able to run and play! Oh, howpitiful it was!

The little girl had her new spring and summer clothes made. They werevery nice, but somehow she did not feel as proud of them as she had lastsummer. Her father took her to Aunt Nancy's church one Sunday. It wasvery large and plain and full of people. Aunt Nancy sat pretty well up, but they found her. There seemed a good many old men and women, Hannythought, but the young people were up in the galleries. She thought thesinging was splendid, it really went up with a shout. People sang inearnest then. 

When they came out everybody shook hands so cordially. Aunt Nancy waiteda little while and then beckoned a tall, kindly looking man, who wasabout as old as her father, though there was something quite differentabout him. He shook hands with Sister Archer, and she introduced him. Hesaid he was very glad to see Mr. Underhill among them, and smiled downat the little girl as he took her small hand. She came home quitedelighted that she had shaken hands with the mayor. Then one day Stevetook her and Ben down to Cliff Street, through the wonderfulprinting-house, small in comparison to what it is to-day. They met themayor again and had a nice chat. 

The next great thing to Hanny was Margaret's graduation. She had beenstudying very hard to pass this year, for she was past eighteen, and shewas very successful. Even Joe found time to go down. She wore her prettywhite dress, but she had a white sash, and her bodice had been turned inround the neck to make it low, as girls wore them then. Hanny thoughther the prettiest girl there. She had an exquisite basket of flowerssent her, beside some lovely bouquets. Annette Beekman graduated too, and all the Beekman family were out in force. 

There were some very pretty closing exercises in the little girl'sschool, and at Houston Street Jim was one of the orators of the day, anddistinguished himself in "Marco Bozzaris, " one of the great poems ofthat period. 

After that people went hither and thither, and when schools opened andbusiness started up the Presidential campaign was in full blast. Therewas Clay and Frelinghuysen, Polk and Dallas, and at the last moment theNationals, a new party, had put up candidates, which was considered badfor the Whigs. Still they shouted and sang with great gusto:

 "Hurrah, hurrah, the country's risin' For Harry Clay and Frelinghuysen!"

The Democrats, Loco-Focos, as they were often called in derision, werevery sure of their victory. So were the Whigs. The other party did notreally expect success. There were parades of some kind nearly everynight. Even the boys turned out and marched up and down with fife anddrum. There was no end of spirited campaign songs, and rhymes of everydegree. The Loco Foco Club at school used to sing:

 "Oh, poor old Harry Clay! Oh, poor old Harry Clay! You never can be President For Polk stands in the way. "

Nora Whitney used to rock in the big chair with kitty in her arms, andthis was her version:

 "Oh, poor old pussy gray! Oh, poor old pussy gray! You never can be President For Polk stands in the way. "

This didn't tease the little girl nearly so much, for she knew no matterhow sweet and lovely and good a cat might be, it could only aspire tothat honor in catland. She did so hate to hear Mr. Clay called old andpoor when he was neither. To her he was brave Harry of the West, thehero of battle-fields. 

Jim had a rather hard time as well. He thought, with a boy's loyalty, his people must be right. But there was Lily, who, with all _her_people, was a rabid Democrat. He quite made up his mind he wouldn't keepin with her, but the two girls he liked next best had Democraticaffiliations also. 

Then the Whigs had a grand procession. Perhaps it would have been thepart of wisdom to wait until the victory was assured, but the leadersthought it best to arouse enthusiasm to the highest pitch. 

Stephen had joined with some friends and hired a window down Broadway. The little girl thought it a very magnificent display. Such bands ofstrikingly dressed men marching to inspiriting music, their torchesflaring about in vivid rays, such carriage loads, such wagonsrepresenting different industries, and there was the grand Ship ofState, drawn by white horses, four abreast, and gayly attired, in whichHenry Clay was to sail successfully into the White House. After thatimposing display the little girl had no fear at all. Jim was verytoploftical to Miss Lily for several days. 

Then came the fatal day. There were no telegraphs to flash the news allover the country before midnight. A small one connected Baltimore andWashington, but long distance was considered chimerical. 

So they had to wait and wait. Fortunes varied. At last reliable accountscame, and Polk had stood in the way, or perhaps Mr. Binney, the thirdcandidate, had taken too many votes. Anyhow, the day was lost to braveHarry of the West. 

The little girl was bitterly disappointed. She would have liked all thefamily to tie a black crape around their arms, as Joe had once when hewent to a great doctor's funeral. Dele teased her a good deal, and Norasang:

 "Hurrah, old pussy gray! Hurrah, old pussy gray! We've got the President and all, And Polk has won the day. "

Then the Democrats had _their_ grand procession. The houses wereilluminated, the streets were full of shouting children. Even the boyshad a small brigade that marched up and down the street. And oh, grief, Jim marched with them!

"I wouldn't be such a turn-coat!" declared the little girl angrily. "I'mashamed of you, James Underhill. I shall always feel as if you wasn't mybrother any more. "

"Sho!" returned Jim. "Half the boys turning out have Whig fathers! Therewouldn't have been enough for any sort of procession without us. Andthey promised to cry quits if we would turn out. It don't mean anythingbut fun!"

She took her trouble to her father. "You are sorry we have been beaten?"she said excitedly. 

"Yes, pussy, very sorry. I still think we shall be sorry that Clay isn'tPresident. "

"I'm sorry all the time. And when he was so good and splendid, whydidn't they put him in?"

"Well, a great many people think Mr. Polk just as splendid. "

"Oh, the Democrats!" she commented disdainfully. 

"More than half the votes of the country went against our Harry of theWest. One side always has to be beaten. It's hard not to belong to thewinning side. But we won four years ago, and we did a big lot ofcrowing, I remember. We shouted ourselves hoarse over the announcementthat:

 'Tippecanoe and Tyler too! Were bound to rule the country through. '

We drove our enemies out of sight and erected Log Cabins on their ruins. We had a grand, good time. And then our brave and loyal Tippecanoe died, and some of us have been rather disappointed in Mr. Tyler. We will allhope for the best. There are a good many excellent men on both sides. Iguess the country will come out all right. "

There really were tears in her eyes. 

"You see, my little girl, we must make up our minds to occasionaldefeat, especially when we go into politics, " and there was the shrewdlaughing twinkle in his eye. "It is supposed to be better for thecountry to have the parties about evenly divided. They stand more ontheir good behavior. And we will hope for better luck next time. "

"But _you_ couldn't turn round and be a Democrat, could you?" she asked, with a sad entreaty. 

"No, dear, " he replied gravely. 

"I'm glad we have Mayor Harper left. Can the new President put him out?"

"No, my dear. "

They kissed each other in half-sorrowful consolation. But alas! nextyear even Mayor Harper had to go out. 

CHAPTER XII

A REAL PARTY

The little girl would have felt a great deal better if Lily Ludlow hadnot been on the other side. Lily was growing into a very pretty girl. They were wearing pantalets shorter now, and she noticed that Lily worehers very short. Then aprons were made without bibs or shoulder bands, and had ruffles on the bottom. They were beginning to go farther around, almost like another skirt. Lily had two white ones. She walked up anddown the block with a very grand air. Then Miss Chrissy met Margaret atthe house of a mutual acquaintance, and invited her very cordially tocall on her, and Margaret did the same. Miss Chrissy lost no time, butcame card-case in hand, and made herself very agreeable. 

"Would you like to go down and call on Jim's girl?" Margaret askedsmilingly. Ben always called her that. 

"No, " replied Hanny, with much dignity. "I don't like her. She called me'queer' the first time she saw me, and I shouldn't think of callingNora queer, no matter how she looked. If Jim wants her he may have her, but I _do_ hope they won't live in New York. "

The temper was so unusual and so funny that Margaret let it go without aword. 

Everything came back to its normal state. Mr. Theodore and her fatherand Steve remained the same good friends. The party transparencies andemblems were taken down. It seemed to her that people had not been asdeeply disappointed as they ought to be. She was very loyal and faithfulin her attachments, and no doubt you think quite obstinate in herdislikes. 

But something else happened that aroused her interest. Indeed, therewere things happening all the time. Miss Jane Underhill, up at Harlem, was dead and buried, and Margaret had taken a great interest in MissLois. Cousins had been going and coming. Mrs. Retty Finch had a littleson, and Aunt Crete had come down and spent a week with hersister-in-law. But this distanced them all--Steve and Dolly Beekman weregoing to be married! The Beekmans had been staying up in the countryhouse. All the girls had been married there. 

There were to be five bridesmaids. Annette and Margaret were among them. Joe was to be best man and stand with Miss Annette. Doctor Hoffman wasto stand with Margaret. There was a Gessner cousin, a Vandam cousin, and Dolly's dear friend, Miss Stuyvesant. All the bridesmaids were to begowned in white India mull, and Dolly was to have a white brocaded silk, and a long veil that her grandmother had worn. Hosts and hosts offriends were invited. The house would be big enough to take them all in. 

Miss Cynthia made the little girl a lovely dress. First she took herpink merino for a slip. Then there were lace puffs divided by insertion, a short baby waist, short sleeves, pink satin bows on her shoulders, with the long ends floating almost like wings, and a narrow pink ribbonaround her waist with a great cluster of bows and ends. She was to haveher hair curled all around, and to stand and hold Dolly's bouquet whileshe was being married. I suppose now we would call her a maid of honor. 

No one could say that Mr. Peter Beekman had ever given a mean wedding. He liked Stephen very much, and Dolly could almost have wheedled themoon out of him if she had tried. He teased Annette by telling her shewould have to be an old maid, and stay home to take care of her fatherand mother. 

Grandmother Van Kortlandt came down. She laid off her mourning and woreher black velvet gown with its English crown point lace. GrandmotherUnderhill came too, but she wore black silk with her pretty fine lacefichu that she had been married in herself. Uncle David, and AuntEunice, who wore a gray satin that had been made for her eldest son'swedding. There were Underhill cousins by the score, some Bounetts fromNew Rochelle, some Vermilyeas, for no one really worth while was to beslighted. 

The day had been very fine and sunny. That was a sign the bride would bemerry and happy and pleasant to live with. And when the evening fell thegreat lawn was all alight with Chinese lanterns that a second cousin inthe tea trade had sent Dolly. All the front of the big old house wasilluminated. It was square, with a great cupola on top of the secondstory, and that was in a blaze of light as well. 

The Underhills all went up early. Steve was very proud of his mother, who had a pretty changeable silk, lilac and gray, and Joe had given hera collar and cuffs of Honiton lace, to wear at his wedding, he said. 

They went in to see the bride when she was dressed. Of course she wasbeautiful, a pretty girl couldn't look otherwise in her wedding gear. Her veil was put on with orange blossoms and buds, and delicatelyscented. There was a wreath of the same over one shoulder and across herbosom. Her hair was done in a marvellous fashion, and looked like agolden crown. 

How the carriages rolled around and the silks rustled up and down thestairs. There were gay voices and soft laughs, and presently word wassent that the Reverend Dr. De Witt had arrived. Then the immediatefamily went down. Dolly stooped and kissed Hanny and told her she mustnot feel a mite afraid. The young men filed out. Stephen took Dolly, just putting her white-gloved hand on his arm as if it was the mostprecious thing in the world. Joe, smiling and really much handsomer thanStephen, though you couldn't persuade Dolly to any such heresy; thenDoctor Hoffman and the others. They seemed to float down the broadstairs. The rooms were very large, but oh, how full they were! Theprocession walked through the back parlor; Stephen and Dolly and thelittle girl went straight up to Dr. De Witt, who stood there in his gownand bands, a sweet, reverential old man. The bridesmaids and groomsmenmade a half-circle around. There was some soft beautiful music, then asilence. Dr. De Witt began. Dorothea Beekman and Stephen DecaturUnderhill promised each other and all the world, to love and cherish, and live together according to God's holy ordinance all their lives. 

The little girl held the flowers and listened attentively. She had anidea there must be a great deal more to it and was almost disappointed, for she could not understand that it included all one's life. Dr. DeWitt bent over and kissed the bride with solemn reverence. Then Stephenkissed his wife. There was a great deal of kissing afterward, for thenew husband kissed the bridesmaids, and the groomsmen had a right tokiss the bride. The mothers had their turn next, and afterward all waslaughing confusion. 

In the midst of this Philip Hoffman leaned over Margaret. 

"I believe you kiss the bridesmaid, too, " he said, in a serious fashion, and touched her soft red lips with his. Margaret's face was scarlet, andher breath seemed taken away. 

They made a pretty semicircle afterward, and all the guests came up withgood wishes. There were so many elegantly dressed people that the littlegirl was half dazed. I forgot to tell you that she wore her string ofgold beads, and they always had a wedding flavor after that. 

Presently the procession re-formed and went out to the dining-room, where the table ought to have groaned, if tables ever do. There weresome immaculate black waiters who handed one thing after another. Thebride cut the cake of both kinds--pound cake like gold, and fruit cakerich enough to give you indigestion. And this wasn't the regular supper. 

The bride had to grace the head of every table. What merry quips andjests there were! People were really gay and happy in those days. No onethought of being bored, they had better manners and kindlier hearts, andenjoyment was a duty as well as pleasure. The musicians were playingsoftly in the hall. By and by the elder people, who had a long drive totake and who had passed their dancing days long ago, began to saygood-by to the bridal couple. In the upper hall a table was piled withwhite boxes tied with narrow white ribbon, containing a bit of thebride's cake, and a maid stood there handing them to the guests. You putsome under your pillow and dreamed on it. If the dream was delightfulyou might look for it to come true. If it was disagreeable you felt sureyou didn't believe in such nonsense. 

Then the dancing commenced. There were three large rooms devoted tothis. Several of the old men went up-stairs to Mr. Beekman's specialroom to have a smoke and a good game of cards. But oh, how merry theywere down-stairs! They danced with the utmost zest because they reallyliked to. 

The little girl danced, too. Steve took her out first, and she wentthrough a quadrille very prettily. Then it was Joe, and after thatDoctor Hoffman begged her mother to let her dance just once with him, and though she was a little afraid, she enjoyed it very much. Dollyintroduced her to ever so many people, and said she was her littlesister. 

"Am I really?" said Hanny, a little confused. 

"Why, yes, " laughingly. "And one reason why I wanted to marry Stephenwas because he had so many brothers. Now they are all mine, five ofthem. "

The little girl studied a moment. "It's queer, " she said with a smile, "but I have one more than you. And are you going to have Margaret, too?"

"Yes, and your mother and father. But I am going to be very good and nottake them away. Instead, I shall come to see you and have my littlepiece. I'm quite in love with Benny Frank. And Jim's a regularmischief. "

Jim did wish, when he saw all the pretty girls, that he was a grown manand could dance. Ben found some men to talk to, and Mr. Bond, who was ina large jewelry establishment, told him about some rare and preciousstones. Old Mrs. Beekman made much of them and said she envied Mrs. Underhill her fine boys. 

There was supper about midnight. Cold meats of all kinds, salads, fruits, and ice cream, to say nothing of the wonderful jellies. Tea andcoffee, and in an anteroom a great bowl of punch. 

After that Mrs. Underhill gathered her old people and her young people, and said they must go home. Joe promised he would look out for George, and Margaret was to stay to the bridesmaid's breakfast the next morning. 

Dolly slipped a ring on the little girl's finger. 

"That's a sign you are _my_ little sister for ever and ever, " she said, with a kiss. 

"Can't I ever grow big?" asked Hanny seriously. 

Mr. Beekman laughed at that. 

"You must come _down_ and see me, " he exclaimed. "We're going to movenext week, and we always take Katchina. Come and have a good time withus. "

The little girl was asleep in grandmother's arms when they reached home. And the old lady gently took off her pretty clothes and laid her in thebed. 

"She's by far the sweetest child you've got, Marg'ret, " she said to Mrs. Underhill. 

That was not the end of the gayeties. Relatives kept giving parties, andthe bridesmaids were asked. Margaret began to feel as if she knew DoctorHoffman very well. He liked Annette, too. Perhaps he would marryAnnette. They had all been saying, "One wedding makes many. "

It seemed so queer to be without Stephen. The little girl began torealize that they had somehow given him away, and she did not quiteenjoy the thought. He and Dolly came down and stayed two days, and, oh, dear! Dolly was the sweetest and merriest and funniest being alive. Sheplayed such jolly tunes, she sang like a bird, and whistled like abobolink, could play checkers and chess and fox and geese, and shebrought Jim a backgammon board. 

They talked a good deal about building a house way up-town. Mr. Beekmanhad offered Dolly a lot. John said it was going to be the finest part ofthe city. Stephen couldn't really afford to build, but they would liketo begin in their own home. Property was getting so high down-town thatyoung people like them, just beginning life, must look around andconsider. 

"You just go up-town, you can't miss it. And Mayor Harper is going tomake a beautiful place of Madison Square. The firm I am with count onthat being the fine residential part, " declared John. 

"We can't afford much grandeur on the start, " says Dolly, with charmingfrankness. "When we get to be middle-aged people, perhaps----"

Mrs. Underhill is very glad to have her so prudent. She will make a finewife for Stephen. 

Stephen took his new wife up to Yonkers to spend a Sunday, so that AuntCrete would not feel slighted. She seemed quite an old lady. And thoughit was cold and blustering they walked up on the hill where father's newhouse was to be built, by and by, a lovely place for the children andgrandchildren to cluster around a hearthstone. 

Meanwhile Margaret was learning to cook and bake and keep house. Shepractised her music diligently, she kept on with her French, and shebegan to read some books Dr. Hoffman had recommended. There were callsto make and invitations to tea, and a Christmas Eve party at one of herschoolmate's. Joe said she must let him know when she wanted an escort, and John was ready to go for her at any time. 

It did not seem possible that Christmas _could_ come around so soon. Santa Claus was not quite such a real thing this year, so many giftscame to the little girl by the way of the hall door. But she hung up herstocking all the same, and had it full to the topmost round. There was abeautiful set of dishes, and they came with best love from "Dolly andStephen. " There was cloth for a pretty new winter coat, blue-and-blackplaid, some squirrel fur to trim it with, and a squirrel muff. 

Among the gifts bestowed on Margaret was a box of lovely hothouseflowers. There was only "Merry Christmas" on the card. 

Stephen and Dolly came to the Christmas dinner, but they strenuouslydenied any knowledge of it. Mrs. Underhill had all her family together, and she was a happy woman. In truth she was very proud of Stephen'swife. 

Grandmother Van Kortlandt had come to make a visit. Aunt Katrina wasdown also staying with her son, as the two old ladies found it ratherlonesome now that there were no active duties demanding their attention. And Grandmother Underhill had sent the little girl her Irish chainbedquilt, finished and quilted. 

The Dean children came in during the afternoon to exchange notes andtell a grand secret. Their aunt and two cousins were coming fromBaltimore. Bessy was quite a big girl, fourteen, and Ada was ten. Theirmother had said they might have a real party of boys and girls, not justa little tea party and playing with dolls; but real plays with forfeits. 

"You know I've just studied with all my might and main, and mother saidif I had all my lessons and a good record that I could have the thing Iwanted most, if it didn't cost too very much. And I said I wanted a realparty. "

"It will be just splendid!" declared Hanny. 

"And we've been counting up. We have seven cousins to ask. And the girlsat school--some of them. I wish we knew some more boys. Oh, do you thinkJim would come?"

"I'll ask him if you would like. "

"Oh, just coax him. I suppose Benny Frank will feel that he's too old. But he's so nice. Oh, do you s'pose John Robert Charles' mother wouldlet him come? Oh, there! I promised to call him Charles, but I thinkRobert's prettier, don't you? And mother said she'd write theinvitations on note-paper. And she has some lovely little envelopes. "

That did look like a party. 

"I think John Robert Charles is real nice, " said Hanny timidly. "But Iam afraid of his mother. "

"Oh, so is he, awful! Yet she isn't real ugly to him, only cross, and sodreadful particular. She makes him go out and wipe his feet twice, andwear that queer long cloak when it rains, and that red woollen tippet. She bought red because it was healthy; he said so. He wantedblue-and-gray. She lets him come over to our house sometimes, and he cansing just splendid. But the boys do make fun of him. "

Poor John Robert Charles often thought his life was a burden on accountof his name and his mother's great virtue of cleanliness. He was notallowed to play with the boys. Ball and marbles and hopscotch weretabooed. He could walk up and down and do errands, and that with goingto school was surely enough. Then she exaggerated him. His white collarswere always broader; if trousers were a little wide, his were regularsailor's. She bought his Sunday suit to grow into, so by the secondwinter it just fitted him. His every-day clothes she made. And oh, shecut his hair!

It is very hard to be the daughter of such a mother, a rigid, uncompromising woman with no sense of the fitness of things, of harmonyor beauty, or indulgence in little fancies that are so much to a child. Quite as hard to be the son. Charles had everything needful to keep himwarm, in good health, and books for study. When it rained hard he hadsix cents to ride in the omnibus. And he did have the cleanest house, and the cleanest clothes, and, his mother thought, a very nice time. 

Luckily there were no boys this end of the block. They were quite grownup, or little children. But there were enough below to torment the poorlad. In the summer when the charcoal man went by they would sing out:

"John Robert Charles, what did you have for breakfast?" and the refrainwould be, "Charcoal. "

"What did you have for dinner?" "Charcoal. "

"How do you keep so clean?" "Charcoal. "

Early this autumn the boy had made a protest. Day after day he said itover to himself until he thought he had sufficient courage. 

"Mother, why don't you call me just Charles, as my father does?"

His mother's surprise almost withered him. "Because, " when she hadfound her breath, "John is after _my_ father, who was an excellent man, and Robert was for the only brother I ever had, and Charles for yourgrandfather Reed. If you grow up as good as any of them you'll have nooccasion to find fault with your name. "

Yet boys at school called him Bob, and he really did enjoy it. He wentto a very nice, select school where there were only twenty boys. 

He had made quite an acquaintance with the Dean girls. He could playhouse, and they had such delightful books to read. 

"And the party must be some time next week. Thursday, mother thought, would be convenient. I should give the invitations out on Monday, " Josiesaid. "And, oh, try to coax Jim. "

The cousins came. Hanny saw them on Sunday, and on Monday two littlegirls went round with a pretty basket and left pale-green missives atthe houses of friends. There was one for Ben also. 

"H-m-m, " ejaculated Jim. "A baby party. Will they play with dolls?"

"Oh, Jim! it's going to be a real party with refreshments. Of coursethere won't be dolls. "

"Washington pie and round hearts. "

The tears rushed to Hanny's eyes. 

"Never mind about him, " said Ben, "I'll go. I'll be your beau. And seehere, Hanny, it's polite to answer an invitation. Now you write yoursand I'll write mine, and I'll leave them at the door. "

Hanny smiled and went up-stairs for her box of paper. 

Jim gave a whistle and marched off; but when he saw the pretty Baltimorecousin, he reconsidered, though he was afraid Lily Ludlow would laugh athim when she heard of it. 

Margaret dressed the little girl in her pretty blue cashmere, and shefelt very nice with her two brothers. Most of the children were ten andtwelve, but the two cousins were older. Bessie Ritter was quite used toparties and took the lead, though the children were rather shy at first. 

They played "Stage-coach, " to begin with. When the driver, who stood inthe middle of the room, said, "Passengers change for Boston, " every onehad to get up and run to another seat, and of course there was one whocould not find a seat, and he or she had to be driver. That broke up thestiffness. Then they had "Cross Questions, " where you answered for yourneighbor, and he answered for you, and you were always forgetting andhad to pay a forfeit. Of course they had to be redeemed. 

Charles Reed came, though his mother couldn't decide until the lastmoment. He looked very nice, too. He had to sing a song, and really, hedid it in a manly fashion. 

But the little girl thought "Oats, peas, beans, " the prettiest of all. It nearly foreshadowed kindergarten songs. The children stood in a ringwith one in the middle, and as they moved slowly around, sang:

 "Oats, peas, beans, and barley grows, 'Tis you nor I nor nobody knows How oats, peas, beans, and barley grows. Thus the farmer sows his seeds, Thus he stands and takes his ease, Stamps his foot and claps his hands And turns around to view his lands; A-waiting for a partner, A-waiting for a partner, So open the ring and take one in, And kiss her when you get her in. "

The children had acted it all, sowing the seed, taking his ease, stamping, clapping hands, and whirling around. They looked very prettydoing it. Bessy Ritter had asked Ben to stand in first and he hadobligingly consented. Of course he chose her. Then the children sangagain:

 "Now you're married you must obey, You must be true to all you say, You must be kind, you must be good, And keep your wife in kindling-wood. The oats are gathered in the barn, The best produce upon the farm, Gold and silver must be paid, And on the lips a kiss is laid. "

The two took their places in the ring, and Jim next sacrificed himselffor the evening's good and chose another of Josie's cousins. Then JohnRobert Charles manfully took his place and chose Josie Dean. So theywent on until nearly all had been chosen. Then Mrs. Dean asked them outto have some refreshments. They were all very merry indeed. Mr. Deansang some amusing songs afterward, and they all joined in several schoolsongs. 

"I've just been happy through and through, " admitted Charles. "I wish Icould give a party. You should come and plan everything, " he whisperedto Josie. 

It was time to go home then. There was a Babel of talk as the littlegirls were finding their wraps, mingled with pleasant outbursts oflaughter. Mr. Dean was to take some of the small people home, and Jimobligingly offered his escort. It had not been so _very_ babyish. 

Ben wrapped his little sister up "head and ears, " and ran home with her. How the stars sparkled!

"It's been just splendid!" she said to her mother. "Don't you think Imight have a party some time, and Ben and all of us?"

"Next winter, may be. "

Her father looked up from his paper and smiled. She seemed to have growntaller. What if, some day, he should lose his little girl!

The very next day Mr. Whitney announced that he was going to take theDeans and their cousins and Nora to the Museum. He wanted the littlegirl to go with them. Delia was visiting in Philadelphia. He promised, laughingly, to have them all home in good season. 

CHAPTER XIII

NEW RELATIONS

New Year's Day was gayer than ever. The streets were full of throngs ofmen in twos up to any number, and carriages went whirling by. There wereno ladies out, of course. Margaret had two of her school friendsreceiving with her, one a beautiful Southern girl whose father was inCongress, and who was staying on in New York, taking what we should calla post-graduate course now, perfecting herself in music and languages. Margaret was a real young lady now. Joe had taken her to severalparties, and there had been quite a grand reception at the Beekmans'. 

The little girl was dressed in her blue cashmere and a dainty whiteSwiss apron ornamented with little bows like butterflies. Miss Butlerthought she was a charming child. She stood by the window a good deal, delighted with the stir and movement in the street, and she looked verypicturesque. Her hair, which was still light, had been curled all roundand tied with a blue ribbon instead of a comb. Her mother said "it wasfoolishness, and they would make the child as vain as a peacock. " But Ithink she was rather proud of the sweet, pretty-mannered little girl. 

There was one great diversion for her. About the middle of the afternoontwo gentlemen called for her father. One was quite as old, with ahandsome white beard and iron-gray hair, very stylishly dressed. He worea high-standing collar with points, and what was called a neckcloth ofblack silk with dark-blue brocaded figures running over it, and ahandsome brocaded-velvet vest, double-breasted, the fashion of thetimes, with gilt buttons that looked as if they were set with diamonds, they sparkled so. Over all he had worn a long Spanish circular which hedropped in the hall. The younger man might have been eighteen or twenty. 

Ben was waiting on the door. He announced "Mr. Bounett and Mr. EugeneBounett. "

"We hardly expected to find any of the gentlemen at home, " began theelder guest. "We are cousins, in a fashion, and my son has met thedoctor----"

"Father is at home, " said Margaret in the pause. "Hanny, run down-stairsand call him. "

"Miss Underhill, I presume, " exclaimed the young man. "I have seen yourbrother quite often of late. And do you know his chum, Phil Hoffman?Doctor, I ought to say, " laughingly. 

"Oh, yes, " and Margaret colored a little. 

Then her father came up. These were some of the Bounetts from NewRochelle, originally farther back from England and France in the time ofthe Huguenot persecution. Mr. Bounett's father had come to New York ayoung man seventy odd years ago. Mr. Bounett himself had married for hisfirst wife a Miss Vermilye, whose mother had been an Underhill fromWhite Plains. And she was Father Underhill's own cousin. She had beendead more than twenty years, and her children, five living ones, wereall married and settled about, and he had five by his second marriage. This was the eldest son. 

They talked family quite a while, and Mrs. Underhill was summoned. Theyoung man went out in the back parlor where the table stood in itspretty holiday array, and was introduced to Margaret's friends. Theyhunted mottoes, which was often quite amusing, ate candies and almondsand bits of cake while the elder people were talking themselves intorelationship. Eugene explained that his next younger brother was Louis;then a slip of a girl of fifteen and two young cubs completed the secondfamily. But the older brothers and sisters were just like own folks;indeed he thought one sister, Mrs. French, was one of the most charmingwomen he knew, only she did live in the wilds of Williamsburg. Francescawas married in the Livingston family and lived up in Manhattanville. How any one could bear to be out of the city--that meant below TenthStreet--he couldn't see!

"Is that little fairy your sister?" he asked. "Isn't she lovely!"

Margaret smiled. She thought Mr. Eugene very flattering. Then the otherscame out, and Mr. Bounett took a cup of black coffee and a very daintysandwich. He left sweets to the young people. And now that they hadbroken the ice, he hoped the Underhills would be social. They, theBounetts, lived over in Hammersley Street, which was really acontinuation of Houston. And they might like to see grandfather, who wasin his ninetieth year and still kept to his old French ways andfashions. 

Miss Butler was very enthusiastic about the callers. "Why, you are quiteFrench, " she said, "only _they_ show it in their looks. "

"We have had so much English admixture, " and Father Underhill laughedwith a mellow sound. "But I've heard that my great grandmother was auseless fine lady when they came to this country, and had never dressedherself or brushed her hair, and had to have a lady's maid until shedied. She never learned to speak English, or only a few words, but shecould play beautifully on a harp and recite the French poets so wellthat people came from a distance to see her. But her daughters had agreat many other things to learn, and were very smart women. My owngrandmother could spin on the big wheel and the little wheel equal toany girl when she was seventy years old. "

"How delightfully romantic!" cried Miss Butler. 

"There's a big wheel in the garret at Yonkers, and a little wheel, and afunny reel, " said Hanny, who was sitting on Miss Butler's lap, "and weused to play the reel was a mill, and make believe we ground corn. "

"I've done many a day's spinning!" exclaimed Mrs. Underhill. "TheHunters raised no end of flax, and we spun the thread for our bed andtable linen. One of our neighbors had a loom and did weaving. Cottongoods were so high we were glad to keep to linen. Ah, well, the world'schanged a deal since my young days. "

They were disturbed by an influx of guests. The fashionable young mencame late in the afternoon and evening. The gilt candelabrum on themantel was lighted up, and it had so many branches and prisms it wasquite brilliant. Then there were sconces at the side of the wall tolight up corners, and these have come around again, since people realizewhat a soft, suggestive light candles give. The Underhills had no gas intheir house, it was esteemed one of the luxuries. Even the outskirts ofthe city streets were still lighted with oil. 

Steve came in and teased the girls and begged them to eat philopenaswith him. He seemed to find so many. And he said the best wish he couldgive them for 1845 was that they might all find a good husband, as goodas he was making, and if they didn't like to take his word they were atliberty to go and ask his wife. 

Quite in the evening the two doctors called, and Joe announced that hewas going to have a Christian supper and a cup of tea, so that he wouldbe able to attend to business to-morrow, as half the city would be illfrom eating all manner of sweet stuff. After he had chaffed the girls awhile he took Doctor Hoffman down-stairs, "out of the crowd, " he said, and Mrs. Underhill gave them a cup of delicious tea. She and Martha werekept quite busy with washing dishes and making tea and coffee. Joe hadrequested last year that they should not offer wine to the callers. 

He went out in the kitchen to have a talk with his mother about theBounetts. Dr. Hoffman played with his spoon and would not have anothercup of tea. Mr. Underhill wondered why he did not go up-stairs and havea good time with the girls. They could hear the merry laughter. 

"Mr. Underhill----" he began presently. 

"Eh--what?" said that gentleman, rather amazed at the pause. 

Doctor Hoffman cleared his throat. There was nothing at all in it, thetrouble was a sort of bounding pulsation that interfered with hisbreath, and flushed his face. 

"Mr. Underhill, I have a great favor to ask. " He rose and came near sothat he could lower his voice. "I--I admire your daughter extremely. Ishould choose her out of all the world if I could----"

Father Underhill glanced up in consternation. He wanted to stop theyoung man from uttering another word, but before he could collect hisscattered wits, the young man had said it all. 

"I want permission to visit her, to see--if she cannot like me wellenough to some day take me for a husband. I have really fallen in lovewith her. Joe will tell you all you want to know about me. I'm steady, thank Heaven, and have a start in the world beside my profession. Iwanted you to know what my intentions were, and to give me theopportunity of winning her----"

"I never once thought----" The father was confused, and the lover nowself-possessed. 

"No, I suppose not. Of course, we are both young and do not need to bein a hurry. I wanted the privilege of visiting her. "

"Yes, yes, " in embarrassed surprise. "I mean----"

"Thank you, " said the lover, grasping his hand. "I hope to win yourrespect and approval. Joe and I are like brothers already. I admire youall so much. "

Hanny came flying in with pink cheeks and eager eyes. 

"Where is Joe? Margaret wants him--she said I must ask them if theywouldn't please to like to dance a quadrille, and come up-stairs whenthey had finished their tea. "

Joe was sitting astride a chair, tilting it up and down and talking tohis mother. 

"Oh, yes, your royal highness. Phil, if you have finished your tea----"and Joe laughed, inwardly knowing some other business had been concludedas well. 

They had a delightful quadrille. Then Miss Butler sang a fascinatingsong--"The Mocking-Bird. " Two of the gentlemen sang several of thepopular airs of the day, and the party broke up. The little girl hadgone to bed some time before, though she declared she wasn't a bittired, and her eyes shone like stars. 

The very next day it snowed, so the ladies could have no day at all. There was sleigh-riding and merry-making of all sorts. One day Dr. Hoffman came and took Margaret and her little sister out in a daintycutter. Then he used to drop in St. Thomas' Church and walk home withher evenings. Father Underhill felt quite guilty in not forewarning hiswife of the conspiracy, but one evening she mistrusted. 

"Margaret is altogether too young to keep company, " she declared in anauthoritative way. 

"Margaret is nineteen, " said her father. "And you were only twenty whenI married you. "

"That's too young. "

"Seems to me we were far from miserable. As I remember it was a veryhappy year. "

"Don't be silly, 'Milyer. And you're so soft about the children. Youhaven't a bit of sense about them. "

In her heart she knew she would not give up one year of her married lifefor anything the world could offer. 

"Margaret knows no more about housekeeping than a cat, " she continued. 

"Well, there's time for her to learn. And perhaps she will not reallylike the young man. "

"She likes him already. 'Milyer, you're blind as a bat. "

"Well, if they like each other--it's the way of the world. It's beengoing on since Adam. "

"It's simply ridiculous to have Margaret perking herself up for beaux. "

"I guess you'll have to let the matter go Hoffman is well connected anda nice young fellow. "

Yes, she had to let the matter go on. She was unnecessarily sharp withMargaret and pretended not to see; she was extremely ceremonious withthe young man at first. She didn't mean to have him coming to tea onSunday evenings, a fashion that still lingered. But Dolly was very goodto the young lovers, and they had so many mutual friends. Then Margaretwas quite shy, she hardly knew what to make of the attentions that wereso reverent and sweet. She couldn't have discussed them with a singlehuman being. 

Mr. And Mrs. Underhill had called on their new cousins in HammersleyStreet. And on Washington's Birthday he took the little girl and Benover. 

The street was still considered in the quality part of the town. The rowwas quite imposing, the stoops being high, the houses three stories anda half, with short windows just below the roof. The railing of the stoopwas very ornate, the work around the front door and the fanlight at thetop being of the old-fashioned decorative sort. They were ushered intothe parlor by a young colored lad. 

It was a very splendid room, the little girl thought, with a high, frescoed ceiling and a heavy cornice of flowers and leaves. The sidewalls were a light gray, but they were nearly covered with pictures. The curtains were a dull blue and what we should call old gold, andswept the floor. There was a mirror from floor to ceiling with anextremely ornamental frame, the top forming a curtain cornice over thewindows. At the end of the room was the same kind of cornice andcurtains, but no glass. The carpet had a great medallion in the centerand all kinds of arabesques and scrolls and flowers about it. Thefurniture was rather odd, divans, chairs, ottomans and queer-lookingtables, and the little girl came to know afterward that two or threepieces had been in the royal palace of Versailles. 

A very sweet, dark-eyed, dark-haired woman came through the curtain. 

"I am Mrs. French, " she said, in a soft tone, "and I am very glad to seeyou. Is this the little girl of whom I have heard so much? Be seated, please. Father is out, and he will be very sorry to miss you. "

She dropped on an ottoman and drew the little girl toward her. 

"Let me take off your hat and coat. There are some children who will beglad to see you. Mother will be up in a few moments. Do you know that Ihave been seriously considering a visit to you? Father and Eugene havetalked so much about you. "

"And your grandfather----"

"He is very well to-day. I was in his room reading to him. He will bepleased you have come. "

Mrs. Bounett came in with her daughter, a rather tall, lanky girl offifteen, very dark, and with a great mop of black hair that was tied atthe back without being braided. She looked as if she had outgrown herdress. 

This was Miss Luella. After a moment she came over to Ben, and asked himwhere he went to school, and if he had any pets. They had a squirrel andsome guinea-pigs and a parrot that could talk everything. Didn't he wantto see them?

Hanny looked eager as well. 

"Can I take her?" asked Lu. 

"The boys are down-stairs. Don't be rough. "

It was rather dark. Lu caught Hanny in her arms and whisked her down tothe dining-room. The boys were thirteen and eleven, and were playingcheckers on the large dining-table. Everything looked so immensely bigto Hanny. The shelves of the sideboard were full of glass and silver andqueer old blue china; the chairs had great high backs and wereleather-covered. 

"We want to see the guinea-pigs, " said Lu. "But I'll take her out to seethe parrots first. "

There was a fat colored woman in the kitchen who suggested Aunt Mary. They went through to a little room under the great back porch, made inthe end of the area. 

There were two parrots and a beautiful white paroquet. Polly was sulky. "Mind your business!" was all she would say. Dan soon began to be quitesociable, declaring "He was glad to see them, and would like to havesome grapes. "

"You shut up!" screamed Polly. 

"I'll talk as much as I like. "

"No, you won't. I'll come and choke you. "

"Do if you dare!"

Then they shrieked at each other with the vigor of fighting cats. Pollyrustled around her cage as if she would be out the next moment. Hannyclung to Lu and was pale with fright. 

"They can't get out. They'd tear each other to pieces when they're mad, and sometimes they're sweet as honey. Pa's going to sell one of them, but we can't decide which must go. Polly talks a lot when she's in themood. I don't know what's ruffled her so. Polly, my pretty Polly, singfor me, and the first time I go out I'll buy you some candy with lots ofpeanuts in it--lots--of--peanuts, " lingeringly. 

"Polly sing! Oh, ho! ho! Polly can't sing no more'n a crow, " squeakedout Dan. 

"Can too, can too!"

"Pretty Polly! Polly want a cracker. Polly sing for her dear Dan. Oh, boo hoo!"

Polly screamed in a tearing rage. 

The young colored lad entered. "Miss Lu, de birds disturb yer gramper. Lemme take Polly. You bad bird, you're goin' in a dungeon. "

With that he whisked Polly off. Dan laughed gleefully. The boys came, and Dan went through his stock accomplishments, much to their delight. 

"But Polly's a sight the funniest, " declared Lu. "Only she has such ahorrid temper and it just grows worse. We had a monkey and that got tobe so awful bad. Now let's go and see the guinea-pigs. "

They were up on the top floor. "We had them down cellar, " explained oneof the boys, "but some of them died. 'Gene said 'twas too dark anddamp. "

The children trudged up-stairs. There was a pen in a small room whichseemed a receptacle for all sorts of broken toys. Ah, how pretty thelittle things were; black-and-yellow-spotted, bright-eyed, andsoft-coated, with a tiny sort of squeak, and tame enough to be caught. Lu offered one to Hanny, but she drew back in half fear. Then theybrought in the squirrel, and he was a handsome fellow with beady eyesand a bushy tail, and when they let him out he ran up on any one'sshoulder. 

"If it was only warm, we'd go out and have a swing. Oh, don't you wanta ride? Here's our horse. We don't care much for it now, though insummer we have it out-of-doors. "

Hanny was speechless with amaze. She had never seen so large a one inthe stores. He was covered with real hair, had a splendid mane and tailand beautiful eyes. His silver-mounted red trappings were extremelygorgeous. 

"He's magnificent!" declared Ben. "Hanny, just try him. Don't be alittle 'fraid-cat!" as she hung back. 

"See here!" Lu sprang on and took an inspiriting gallop. The horseworked with springs and seemed fairly alive. Afterward Hanny venturedand found it exhilarating. Oh, if she could only have one!

"I suppose it cost a good deal, " she questioned timidly. 

Jeffrey laughed. "'Gene picked it up at an auction where people werebeing sold out, and he got it for a song, " he said. "But we've outgrownit. I'd like a real pony. I wish pa'd keep a horse. "

"We have two, " said the little girl. 

"Pshaw now! you're joking. "

"No, " rejoined Ben quietly. "We brought them down from the farm. Fatherand Steve needed them. "

"Do you own a farm, too?" Jeffrey asked in amaze. "Why, you must beall-fired rich!"

"No, we're not so very rich, " said Ben soberly. "Our house in FirstStreet isn't nearly as big and as handsome as this. But we did have abig one in the country. Uncle lives there now, and we have a hundredacres of land. "

"Jiminy!" ejaculated the young boy. 

"Chillen! Chillen, please bring de company down to your gramper. "

"Oh, I'm 'fraid you're going away, " said Lu. "You're awful sweet! I justwish I had a little sister. I wish you'd come and stay a week. But Is'pose you'd feel like a cat in a strange garret. I'd be real good toyou, though. "

She caught Hanny in her arms and fairly ran down-stairs with her. 

"You're the littlest mite of a thing! Why, you're never nine years old!You're just like a doll!"

"Oh, please let me walk, " entreated Hanny. 

Their mother stood in the lower hall. 

"You boys go down-stairs or in the parlor. So many children confusegrandpa. Lu, you look too utterly harum-scarum. Do go and brush yourhair. "

Between the parlor and the back room was a space made into a library onone side and some closets on the other. Sliding doors shut this from theback room. This was large, with a splendid, high-post bedstead that hadyellow silk curtains around it, a velvet sofa, and over by the windowsome arm-chairs and a table. And out of one chair rose a curious littleold man, who seemed somehow to have shrunken up, and yet he was agentleman from head to foot. His hair was long and curled at the ends, but it looked like floss silk. His eyes were dark and bright, his facewas wrinkled, and his beard thin. Hanny thought of the old man at theBowling Green who had been in the Bastille. His velvet coat, very muchcut away, was faced with plum-colored satin, his long waistcoat was offlowered damask, his knee-breeches were fastened with silver buckles, and his slippers had much larger ones. There really were some diamondsin them. His shirt frill was crimped in the most beautiful manner, andthe diamond pin sparkled with every turn. 

"This is grandpa, " said Mrs. French. "We are all very proud of him thathe has kept his faculties, and we want him to live an even hundredyears. "

The old man smiled and shook his head slowly. He took Hanny's hand, andhis was as soft as a baby's. He said he was very glad to see them both;he and their father had been talking over old times and relationships. 

His voice had a pretty foreign sound. It was a soft, trained voice, butthe accent was discernible. 

"And you were here through the War of the Revolution, " said Ben, whohad been counting back. 

"Yes. My father had just died and left nine children. I was the oldest, and there were two girls. So I couldn't be spared to go. The British sosoon took possession of New York. But in 1812 I was free to fight forliberty and the country of my adoption. We were never molested nor badlytreated, but of course we could give no aid to our countrymen. It was along, weary struggle. No one supposed at first the rebels could conquer. And all that is seventy years ago, seventy years. "

He leaned back and looked weary. 

"You must come down some Saturday morning when he feels fresh and hewill tell you all about it, " said Mrs. French. "His memory is excellent, but he does get fatigued. "

"I wonder if you ever saw the statue of King George that was in BowlingGreen, " Hanny asked, with a little hesitation. "They made bullets ofit. "

"Ah, you know that much?" He smiled and leaned over on the arm of thechair. "Yes, my child. The soldiers met to hear the Declaration ofIndependence read for the first time. Washington was on horseback withhis aides around him. The applause was like a mighty shout from onethroat. Then they rushed to the City Hall and tore the picture of theking from its frame, and then they dragged the statue through thestreets. Yes, its final end was bullets for the rebels, as they werecalled. As my daughter says, come and see me again, and I will tell youall you want to hear. You are a pretty little girl, " and he pressedHanny's hand caressingly. 

Then they said good-by to him and went back to the parlor. 

"He always dresses up on holidays, " said Mrs. French smilingly, "thoughhe continues to wear the old-fashioned costume. He has had a number ofcalls to-day. People are still interested in the old times. And believeme, I shall take a great deal of pleasure in continuing theacquaintance. You may expect me very soon. "

Luella kissed Hanny with frantic fervor and begged her to come again. She was so used to boys, she cared nothing about Ben. 

The little girl had so much to tell Jim, who had been skating. Thequarrelling parrots, the beautiful house, the queer little guinea-pigs, and the splendid hobby-horse that they didn't seem to care a bit about. "And Lu is a good deal like Dele, only not so nice or so funny, and herhair is awful black. She ran down-stairs with me in her arms and I was'most frightened to death. I don't believe I would want to be her littlesister. And the grandpa is like a picture of the old French people. Andto think that he doesn't read English very well and always uses hisFrench Bible. There were so many foreign people in New York at thattime, I s'pose they couldn't all talk English. "

"And they had preaching in Dutch after 1800 in the Middle Dutch Church, "said Jim. "And even after the sermons were in English the singing had tobe in Dutch. Aunt Nancy said the place used to be crowded just to hearthe people sing. "

"It's queer how they could understand each other. Do you suppose thechildren had to learn every language?"

Jim gave a great laugh at that. 

CHAPTER XIV

JOHN ROBERT CHARLES

The new President was inaugurated on the fourth of March. The littlegirl sighed to think how many Democratic people there were on her block. They put out flags and bunting, and illuminated in the evening. They hadtremendous bonfires, and all the boys waived personal feeling and dancedand whooped like wild Indians. No healthy, well-conditioned boy couldresist the fragrance of a tar barrel. 

Miss Lily Ludlow wore a red, white, and blue rosette with a tinyportrait of Mr. Polk in the centre. The public-school girls often walkedup First Avenue and met Mrs. Craven's little girls going home. Lily usedto stare at Hanny in an insolent manner. She and her sister could notforgive the fact that Miss Margaret had not called. 

And now the talk was that Miss Margaret Underhill had a beau, a handsomeyoung doctor. 

"They do think they're awful grand, " said Lily to some of her mates. "But they take up with that Dele Whitney, who sometimes does thewashing on Saturdays. It's a fact, girls; and the sister works in anartificial-flower place down in Division Street. And the Underhillsthink they're good enough to company with. "

But the fact remained that the Underhills kept a carriage, and that Mr. Stephen had married in the Beekman family, and Chris had heard that Dr. Hoffman was considered a great catch. She was almost twenty and hadnever kept company yet. Young men called at the house, to be sure, andattended her home from parties, but the most desirable ones seemedunattainable. 

Her mother fretted a little that she didn't get to doing something. Herewere girls earning five or six dollars a week, and her father's wageswere so small it was a pinch all the time. 

"I'm sure I make all our dresses and sew for father, and do lots ofhousework, " replied Chris, half-crying. 

There were people even then who considered it more genteel not to workout of the house. And since servants were not generally kept, adaughter's assistance was needed in the household. 

And to crown the little girl's troubles her dear mayor was retired toprivate life and a Democrat ruled in his stead. 

But there were the new discoveries to talk about, and the reduction ofpostage due to the old administration. Now you could send a letterthree hundred miles for five cents. Hanny wrote several times a year toher grandmother Underhill, so this interested her. At the end of thecentury we are clamoring for penny postage, and our delivery is free. Then they had to pay the carrier. 

The electro-magnetic telegraph was coming in for its share of attention. Scientific people were dropping into the old University of New York, where Mr. Morse was working it. The city had been connected withWashington. There were people who believed "there was a humbuggingfellow at both ends, " and that the scheme couldn't be made to work. Itwas cumbersome compared to modern methods. And Professor John W. Drapertook the first daguerreotype from the roof of that famous building. Thatwas the greatest wonder of the day. What was more remarkable, a pictureor portrait could be copied in a few moments. Then there was a hint ofwar with Mexico, and the Oregon question was looming up with itscabalistic figures of "54, 40, or fight. " Indeed, it seemed as if warwas in the air. 

Children too had trials, especially John Robert Charles. He had beenallowed to go to Allen Street Sunday-school with the Dean children, andhe went over on Saturday afternoon to study the lesson. Hanny used tocome in, and occasionally they had a little tea. They played in theyard and the wide back area. The boys did tease him; the target was toogood to miss. Hanny sympathized with him, for he was so nice andpleasant. They couldn't decide just what name to call him. Bob did wellenough for the boys, but it was a little too rough for girls. 

His mother still made him put on a long, checked pinafore to come tomeals. His father used a white napkin. And he did wipe dishes for her, and help with the vegetables on Saturday. He could spread up a bed asneatly as a girl, but he kept these accomplishments to himself. 

There was another excitement among the small people. Mr. Bradbury, whofor years was destined to be the children's delight, was teachingsinging classes and giving concerts with his best pupils. Mrs. Deandecided to let the girls go to the four o'clock class. Hanny would jointhem. They could study the Sunday lesson before or afterward. 

"If I only could go, " sighed the boy. The tears came into his eyes. 

"And you can sing just lovely!" declared Tudie. 

Josie stood up with a warmly flushing face. 

"I do believe I'd raise an insurrection. It isn't as if you wanted to doanything wicked, like swearing or stealing. And my father said God gavebeautiful voices to people to sing with. "

"But if I asked mother she wouldn't let me go. And--I couldn't run away. You see that would be just for once. Perhaps then I wouldn't be let tocome over here, afterward, " the boy replied sadly. 

"Couldn't you coax?" asked Hanny. 

"I could just ask, and she'd say no. "

Hanny felt so sorry for him. He was very fair and had pretty, but rathertimid eyes. 

"You can't raise an insurrection when you know for certain it'll be putdown the next moment, " the boy added. 

"Well, " Josie drew a long breath and studied. 

"I'd ask my father, " said Hanny. 

"And he'd say, 'Ask your mother; it's as she says. ' Most everything _is_as mother says. "

"Then I'd put my arms around his neck and coax. I'd tell him I wanted tobe like other boys. They think it's queer----"

Hanny stopped, very red in the face. 

"Oh, you needn't mind. I know they laugh at me and make fun of me. Butmother's so nice and clean, only I wish she'd dress up as your mothersdo, and take a walk sometimes and go to church. And she cooks suchsplendid things and makes puddings and pies, and she lets me sit andread when I'm done my lessons. I have all the Rollo books, and fatherhas Sir Walter Scott, that he's letting me read now. It's only thatmother thinks I'll get into bad things and meet bad boys and get myclothes soiled. Oh, sometimes I'm so tired of being nice! Only youwouldn't want me to come over here if I wasn't. "

That was very true. 

"But there are a great many nice boys. Ben's just lovely, only he isgrowing up so fast, " said the little girl, with a sigh. "And though Jimteases, he is real good and jolly. He doesn't keep his hands clean, andmother scolds him a little for that. "

They could not decide about the insurrection. Presently it was time forCharles to go home. He was always on the mark lest he should not beallowed the indulgence next time. The poor boy had been moulded into thestraight line of duty. 

The girls went out to swing. They could all three sit in at once. Andthey often talked all at once. 

"It's just awful mean!"

"If we only could do something!"

"Girls!" Josie put her foot so firmly on the ground it almost tippedthem out. "Girls, let _us_ see Mr. Reed and ask him. "

They all looked at each other with large eyes. 

"It couldn't be wrong, " began Josie; "because I've asked _your_ father, Hanny, to let you come up to our stoop. "

"No, it couldn't be, " said the chorus in firm approval. 

"Then let's do it. He always comes up First Avenue about half-past fiveon Saturdays. Now if we were to walk down----"

"Splendid!" ejaculated Tudie. 

"And I'll ask mother if we can't go out for a little walk. "

"We mustn't wait too late. "

Tudie ran in to look at the kitchen clock. It was twenty minutes pastfive. 

"I'll go and ask. "

"Why, isn't your own sidewalk good enough?" was Mrs. Dean's inquiry. "Well--yes, you may do an errand for me down at the store. I want apound of butter crackers. Don't go off the block. "

They put on their bonnets. Hanny's was a pretty shirred and ruffled bluelawn. They twined their arms around each other's waists, with Hanny inthe middle and walked slowly down to the store. Tudie kept watch whileher sister was making the purchase. Then they walked up, then down, looking on the other side lest they should not see him. Up and downagain--up with very slow steps. What if they _should_ miss him!

They turned. "Hillo!" cried a familiar voice. 

"Oh, Mr. Reed!" They blocked his way in a manner that amused him. Helooked from one to the other, and smiled at the eager faces. 

"Oh, Mr. Reed--we wanted to--to----"

"To ask you----" prompted Tudie. 

Josie's face was very red. It was different asking about a boy. She hadnot thought of that. 

"We want Charles to go to singing-school with us next Saturday. Mr. Bradbury said we might ask all the _nice_ children we knew. "

Hanny had crossed the Rubicon in a very lady-like manner. 

Mr. Reed laughed pleasantly, but they knew he was not making fun ofthem. 

"Why, yes; I haven't any objection. It will be as his mother says. "

They all looked blank, disappointed. 

"If _you_ would say it, " pleaded Josie. "Then we should be sure. "

"Well, I will say it. He shall go next Saturday. He has a nice voice, and there is no reason why he should not be singing with the rest ofyou. "

"Oh, thank you a thousand times. "

"It's hardly worth that. " Mr. Reed was a little nettled. Had Charles putthem up to this?

They were at the corner and turned down their side of the street, nodding gayly. 

"You see it was just as easy as nothing, " remarked Josie complacently. 

Mr. Reed entered his own area, wiped his feet, and hung up his hat. Hewent out in the back area and washed his hands. Every other day a cleantowel was put on the roller. The house was immaculate. The supper-tablewas set. Mrs. Reed was finishing a block of patchwork, catch-up work, when she had to wait two minutes. She went out in the hall taking thelast stitch, and called up the stairway:

"John Robert Charles!"

Meals were generally very quiet. Charles had been trained not to speakunless he was spoken to. Once or twice his father looked at him. Apinafore was rather ridiculous on such a big boy. How very large hiswhite collar was! His hair looked too sleek. He was a regular MissNancy. 

He helped his mother take out the dishes and wiped them for her. 

"Come out on the stoop, Charles, " said his father afterward, as hepicked up his paper. 

Mrs. Reed wondered if Charles had committed some overt act that she knewnothing about. _Could_ anything elude her sharp eyes?

Mr. Reed pretended to be busy with his paper, but he was thinking of hisson. In his early years the child had been a bone of contention. Hismother always knew just what to do with him, just what was proper, andwould brook no interference. What with her cleanliness, her inordinatelove of regularity and order, she had become a domestic tyrant. He hadyielded because he loved peace. There was a good deal of comfort in hishouse. He went out two or three evenings in the week, to the lodge, tohis whist club, and occasionally to call on a friend. Mrs. Reed neverhad any time to waste on such trifling matters. He had not thought muchabout his boy except to place him in a good school. 

"Charles, couldn't you have asked me about the singing-school?" he saidrather sharply. 

"About--the singing-school?" Charles was dazed. 

"Yes. It wasn't very manly to set a lot of little girls asking a favorfor you. I'm ashamed of you!"

"Oh, father--who asked? We were talking of it over to Josie Dean's. Iknew mother wouldn't let me go. I--I said so. " Charles' fair face wasvery red. 

"You put them up to ask!"

"No, I didn't. They never said a word about it. Why, I wouldn't haveasked them to do it. "

Mr. Reed looked suspiciously at his son. 

"You don't care to go?"

"Yes, I do, very much. " The boy's voice was tremulous. 

"Why couldn't _you_ ask me?"

"Because you would leave it to mother, and she would say it was notworth while. "

"Was that what you told them?" Mr. Reed was truly mortified. No manlikes to be considered without power in his own household. 

"I--I think it was, " hesitated the boy. The girls had started aninsurrection, sure enough. Well, the poor lad had no chance before. Itwas not a hope swept away, there had been no hope. But now he gave up. 

"Don't be a fool nor a coward, " exclaimed his father gruffly. "Here, getyour hat and go straight over to the Deans'. Tell them your _father_says you can go to singing-school next Saturday afternoon, that he willbe very glad to have you go. And next time you want anything ask me. "

If the boy had only dared clasp his father's hand and thank him, but hehad been repressed and snipped off and kept in leading-strings too longto dare a spontaneous impulse. So he walked over as if he had beenfollowing some imaginary chalk line. The Deans were all up in the backparlor. He did his errand and came back at once, before Josie and Tudiehad recovered from their surprise. 

Nothing else happened. Mrs. Reed went out presently to do theSaturday-night marketing. She preferred to go alone. She could makebetter bargains. When she returned Mr. Reed lighted his cigar and took astroll around the block. There was no smoking in the house, hardly inthe back yard. 

Saturday noon Mrs. Reed said to her son:

"You are to go to singing-school this afternoon. If I hear of yourloitering with any bad boys, or misbehaving in any way, that will endit. "

The poor lad had not felt sure for a moment. Oh, how delightful it was!though a boy nudged him and said, "Sissy, does your mother know you'reout, " and two or three others called him "Anna Maria Jemima Reed. "

However, as Mr. Bradbury was trying voices by each row, the sweetness ofCharles' struck him, and he asked him to remain when the others weredismissed. One other boy and several girls were in this favored class, and next week they had the seats of honor. 

The next great thing for all the children was the May walk. All theSunday-schools joined in a grand procession and marched down Broadway toCastle Garden. There was a standard-bearer with a large banner, andseveral smaller ones in every school. The teachers were with theclasses, the parents and friends were to be at the Garden. Most of thelittle girls had their new white dresses, the boys their summer suitsand caps. For May was May then, all but Quaker week, when it was sureto rain. 

A pretty sight it was indeed. The bright, happy faces, the white-robedthrong, and almost every girl had her hair curled for the occasion. There was a feeling among some of the older people that curls were vainand sinful, but they forgave them this day. 

The audience was ranged around the outside. The little people marchedin, and up the broad aisle, singing:

 "We come, we come, with loud acclaim, To sing the praise of Jesus' name; And make the vaulted temple ring With loud hosannas to our King. "

The platform--they called it that on such occasions--was full ofclergymen and speakers for the festival. Some of the older eminentdivines, some who were to be eminent later on, some of the highdignitaries of the city; and they could hardly fail to be inspired atthe sight of the sweet, happy, youthful faces. 

And how they sang! The most popular thing of that day was:

 "There is a happy land-- Far, far away. "

It was fresh then and had not been parodied to everything. No doubt itwould have shocked some of the sticklers if they had known that thewords and tune were, in a measure, adapted from a pretty opera song:

 "I have come from a happy land, Where care is unknown; And first in a joyous band I'll make thee mine own. "

There were many other hymns that appealed to the hearts of the childrenof those days. "I Think When I Read that Sweet Story of Old, " and "JesusLoves Me, this I Know. "

There were speeches, short and to the point, some with a glint of humorin them, and then hymns again. Perhaps we have done better since, butthe grand enthusiasm of that time has not been reached in laterreunions. 

It seemed to the little girl that this really was the crowning glory ofher life. She could not have guessed under what circumstances she was torecall it, indeed this day had no future to her. At first her mother hadinsisted the walk was too long, but Steve said he and Dolly would bringher home in the carriage. Margaret promised to get her new white dressdone, and it was to be tucked almost up to the waist. Her mother gave inat last, and went down to see the children, being delighted herself. 

Aunt Eunice was there, too. She had come to the city for thelong-talked-of visit, and next week was to be Quaker Meeting. She hadnot been to one in years. Indeed, she could hardly call herself aFriend. She had married out of the faith and said _you_ oftener than_thee_, but she kept to the pretty, soft gray attire and plain bonnet. 

Hanny and the Deans and Nora thought her "just lovely. " Hanny went tothe Friends' Meeting-House with her on Sunday afternoon, down in HesterStreet. It was severely plain, and the men sat on one side, the women onthe other, while a few seats were reserved for any of the world's peoplethat might stray in. The men looked odd, Hanny thought, with their longhair just "banged" across the forehead and falling over their collars. The coats were queer, too, and they kept on their hats, which shockedher a little at first. 

Oh, how still it was! Hanny waited and waited for the minister, but shecould not see any pulpit. There was no singing, only that solemnsilence. If she had been a little Quaker girl she would have beenthinking of her sins, and making new resolves. Instead she watched thefaces. Some were very sweet; many old and wrinkled. 

Suddenly an old gentleman arose and talked a few moments. When he satdown a tall woman laid off her hat and, standing up, began to speak in amore vigorous manner than the brother. She seemed almost scolding, Hanny thought. After her, another silence, then a lovely old lady with asoft voice told of the blessings she had found and the peace they oughtall to seek. 

Everybody rose and went out quietly. 

"It doesn't seem a real church, Aunt Eunice, " said Hanny. "And there wasno minister. "

"Oh, child, it isn't! It's just a meeting. It did not seem veryspiritual to-day. "

"If they only had some singing. "

Aunt Eunice smiled, but made no reply. Hanny decided she did not want tobe a Friend. 

They went down to visit Aunt Nancy and Aunt Patience, and Margaret tookAunt Eunice up to see Miss Lois Underhill, who had gone on living alone. She said she could never take root in any other place, and perhaps itwas true. Her kindly German neighbor looked after her, but she was verygrateful for a visit. 

Steve was building his new house and they thought to get in it by thefall. It was on the plot Dolly's father had given her at TwentiethStreet near Fifth Avenue. The Coventry Waddells, who were really theleaders of fashionable society, were erecting a very handsome andpicturesque mansion on Murray Hill, between Fifth and Sixth avenues onThirty-eighth Street. The grounds took the whole block. There weretowers and gables and oriels, and a large conservatory that was tocontain all manner of rare plants, native as well as foreign. Buteverybody thought it quite out in the country. 

Steve laughingly said they would have fine neighbors. The Waddells werenoted for their delightful entertaining. 

They took Aunt Eunice a walk down Broadway to show her the sights. The"dollar side" had become the accepted promenade. Already there were somequite notable people who were pointed out to visitors. You could see Mr. N. P. Willis, who was then at the zenith of his fame. When aSunday-school entertainment wanted to give something particularly fine, the best speaker recited his poem, "The Leper, " which was consideredvery striking. There was Lewis Gaylord Clark, of _The Knickerbocker_, who wrote charming letters, and these two were admitted to be veryhandsome men. There was George P. Morris, whose songs were sungeverywhere, and not a few literary ladies. There was the Broadway swellin patent-leather boots and trousers strapped tightly down, in the stylethe boys irreverently called pegtops. He had a high-standing collar, afancy tie, a light silk waistcoat with a heavy watch-chain and seal, acoat with large, loose sleeves, a high hat, and carried his cane underhis arm, while, as one of the writers of the day said, "he ambled alongdaintily. "

Then you might meet the Hammersley carriage with its footman and liverythat had made quite a talk. Young and handsome Mrs. Little, whosemarriage to an old man had been the gossip of the season, sat in elegantstate with her coachman in dark blue. Now one hardly notes the handsomeequipages, or the livery either. 

But the "Bowery boy" was as great a feature of the time as the Broadwayswell. He, too, wore a silk hat, and it generally had a three-inchmourning band. His hair was worn in long, well-oiled locks in front, combed up with a peculiar twist. He wore a broad collar turned over, anda sailor tie, a flashy vest with a large amount of seal and chain, andwide trousers turned up. His coat he carried on his arm when the weatherpermitted, and he always had a cigar in the lower corner of his mouth. He walked with a swagger and a swing that took half the sidewalk. He ran"wid de machine, " and a fire was his delight; to get into a fight hissupreme happiness. He really did not frequent the Bowery so much as theside streets. There were little stores where cigars and beer were sold, something stronger perhaps, and they were generally kept by some oldlady who could also get up a meal on a short notice after a fire. Onsummer nights they had chairs out in front of the door, and tilting backon two legs would smoke and take their comfort. For diversion they wentto Vauxhall Garden or the pit of the Bowery Theatre. Yet they were quitea picturesque feature of old New York. 

Bowery and Grand Street were the East Side's shopping marts. Stewart wasbuilding a marble palace at the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street. You went to Division and Canal streets for your bonnets. There were afew private milliners who made to order and imported. 

There were sails and short journeys to take even then. Elysian Fieldshad not lost all its glory. And yet the little girl was quitedisappointed in her visit to it. She had lived in the country, you know, she had looked off the Sound at Rye Beach and seen the Hudson fromTarrytown and Sleepy Hollow, and really there were lovely spots up theold Bloomingdale road. And she had pictured this as beyond all. 

Aunt Eunice was very much struck with the changes. Her surprise reallydelighted the little girl. They took her over in Hammersley Street. OldMr. Bounett seemed quite feeble, and though he was not in his courtattire, he had a ruffled shirt-front and small-clothes. Aunt Eunicethought him delightful. It seemed queer to think of a French quarter inNew York in the old part of the last century where people met and readfrom the French poets and dramatists, and almost believed whencivilization set in earnestly, French must be the polite language of theday. 

The little girl felt quite as if she was one of the hostesses of thecity. She knew so many strange things and could find her way about sowell. And yet she was only ten years old. 

Aunt Eunice thought her a quaint, delightful little body, and wise forher years. But she _was_ small. Nora Whitney had outgrown her and theDean children were getting so large. As for the boys, they grew likeweeds, and the trouble now was what to do with Ben. There was no freeacademy in those days, but the public school gave you a good andthorough education in the useful branches. 

CHAPTER XV

A PLAY IN THE BACK YARD

The pretty block in First Street that had been so clean and genteel, aword used very much at that time, was fast changing. The lower part onthe south side was rilling up with undesirable people, some foreignerswho crowded three families into a house. Houston Street was growinggaudy and common with Jew stores. And oh, the children! There was alarge bakery where they sold cheap bread, and in the afternoon therereally was a procession coming in and going out. 

Chris and Lily Ludlow had teased their mother to move. The place wascomfortable and near their father's business, so why should they? Butthe girls Lily was intimate with had moved away, and she hated to goaround Avenue A to school. 

There were changes at the upper end as well. The Weirs had gone fromnext door, and two families with small children had taken the house. Thebabies seemed so pudgy and untidy that the little girl did not fancythem much. Frank Whitney was married with quite a fine wedding-party, and had gone to Williamsburg to live. Mrs. Whitney had rented two roomsin the house to a dressmaker. Delia was almost grown up. She had shotinto a tall girl, though she would have her dresses short; she despisedyoung ladyhood. She was smart and capable. She helped with the meals;often, indeed, her mother did not come down until breakfast was ready, when she had had a "bad night. " That was when she read novels in beduntil two or three o'clock. Delia swept the house--she often did wash onSaturday, though her brother scolded when she did it. She was the samejolly, eager, careless girl, and delighted in a game of tag, but shecould so easily outrun the smaller children. She and Jim sometimes racedround the block, one going in one direction, one in the other, and Jimdidn't always beat, either. 

Then she would sit out on the stoop with a crowd of children and tellwonderful stories. She didn't explain that they were largely made up"out of her own head. " Next door above the Deans two new little girlshad come, very nice children, who played with dolls. There was quite anarray when five little girls had their best dolls out. Nora generallybrought Pussy Gray, and they were always entertained with her talking. 

Some boys had invaded the Reed's side of the block. Charles had strictinjunctions not to parley with them. But one went in an office aserrand boy, and the other quite disdained Jane Robertine Charlotte, ashe called him. It did begin to annoy Mr. Reed to have his son made thebutt of the street. He was a nice, obedient, upright, orderly boy. Whatwas lacking? In some respects he was very manly. Mr. Reed suddenlyconcluded that a woman wasn't capable of bringing up boys, and he musttake him in hand. 

For two weeks Mrs. Reed had been threatening to cut his hair. The boyssaid, "Sissy, why don't your mother put your hair up in curl papers?" Itlooked so dreadful when it was first cut that Charles always spent theseweeks between Scylla and Charybdis. He knew all about the rock and thewhirlpools. But something had been happening all the time, even to thisSaturday afternoon, when all the silver had to be scoured. Mr. Reedinspected his son as he sat at the supper-table. He had a ratherpoetical appearance with his long hair curling at the ends, but it wasno look for a boy. 

"Don't you want to take a walk down the street with me?" said hisfather. 

Charles started as if he had been struck. 

"I'm dead tired and I want him to wipe my dishes. I haven't been off myfeet since five o'clock this morning only at meal-time. Then he must goto the store. "

"I'll wait until then. "

Mrs. Reed looked sharply at them. Had Charles done something that hadescaped her all-sided vision and was his father going to take him totask? Or was there a conspiracy?

"What do you want him for?" she inquired sharply. 

"Oh, I thought we'd walk down the street. "

"Smoking a cigar, of course, " as Mr. Reed took one out of his case. "Itcertainly won't be your fault if the child hasn't every bad tendencyunder the sun. I've done _my_ best. And you know smoking is a vilehabit. "

Mr. Reed had long ago learned the wisdom of silence, which was evenbetter than a soft answer. 

Charles put on a pinafore that hung in the kitchen closet. He could drydishes beautifully. 

"You've been cutting behind on stages, " said his mother. "Some one hastold your father. "

"No, I haven't. Upon my word and honor. "

"That's next to swearing, John Robert Charles. How often have I told youthese little things lead to confirmed bad habits. "

John Robert Charles was silent. 

"Well, you've done something. And if your father does once take you inhand----"

The boy trembled. This awful threat had been held over him for years. Nothing _had_ come of it, so it couldn't as yet be compared to Mrs. JoeGargery's "rampage. "

Mr. Reed sat comfortably on the front stoop smoking and reading. Thewind drove the smoke straight down the street, and not into the house. How it could get in with the windows shut down was a mystery, but itseemed to sometimes. 

Charles brushed his hair and washed his hands. 

"I _must_ cut your hair. I ought to do it this very night, tired as Iam. Now brush your clothes and go out to your father. I'll be thinkingup what I want. Pepper is one thing. Go down to the old man's and getsome horseradish. If there is anything else I'll come out and tell you. "

Charles went reluctantly out to the front stoop. 

"Hillo!" said his father cheerfully. "You through?"

That did not sound very threatening. 

"We are to get pepper and horseradish. "

Mr. Reed nodded, folded his paper and, slipping it into his pocket, settled his hat. 

"Mother may think of something else. "

She positively couldn't. She considered that it saved time to do errandswhen you were going out, and she spent a great deal of time trying tothink how to save it. 

They walked down First Avenue past Houston Street. Almost at the end ofthe next block there was a barber-pole with its stripes running round. The barber-pole and the Indian at the cigar shops were features of thatday, as well. 

"Wouldn't you like to have your hair cut, Charles?" inquired his father. 

The world swam round so that Charles was minded to clutch thebarber-pole, but he bethought himself in time that it was dusty. Helooked at his father in amaze. 

"Oh, don't be a ninny! No one will take your head off. Come, you're bigenough boy to go to the barber's. "

The palace of delight seemed opening before the boy. No one can rightlyunderstand his satisfaction at this late day. The mothers, you see, usedto cut hair as they thought was right, and nearly every mother had adifferent idea except those whose idea was simply to cut it off. 

They had to wait awhile. Charles sat down in a padded chair, had a largewhite towel pinned close up under his chin, his hair combed out with thesoftest touch imaginable. The barber's hands were silken soft; hismother's were hard and rough. Snip, snip, snip, comb, brush, sprinklesome fragrance out of a bottle with a pepper-sauce cork--bulbs andsprays had not been invented. Oh, how delightful it was! He really didnot want to get down and go home. 

Mr. Reed had been talking to an acquaintance. The other chair beingvacant, he had his beard trimmed. He was not sure whether he would haveit taken off this summer, though he generally did. He turned his head alittle and looked at his son. He wasn't as poetical looking, but really, he was a nice, clean, wholesome, and--yes--manly boy. But he blushedscarlet. 

"That looks something like, " was his father's comment. What a nice broadforehead Charles had!

"He's a nice boy, " said the barber in a low tone. "Boy to be proud of. Iwish there were more like him. "

Mr. Reed paid his bill and they went to the store. Then they strolled ondown the street. But Charles was in distress lest the pungent berry andodoriferous root should take the barber's sweetness out of him. He waspuzzled, too. It seemed to him he ought to say something grateful to hisfather. He was so very, very glad at heart. But it was so hard to talkto his father. He always envied Jim and Ben Underhill their father. Hehad found it easy to talk to him on several occasions. 

"I must say you are improved, " his father began presently. "You motherhas too much to do bothering about household affairs. And you're gettingto be a big boy. Why don't you find some boys to go with? There arethose Underhills. You're too big to play with girls. "

"But mother doesn't like boys, " hesitatingly. 

"You should have been a girl!" declared his father testily. "But sinceyou're not, do try to be a little more manly. "

The father hardly knew what to say himself. And yet he felt that he didlove his son. 

They were just at the area gate. Charles caught his father's hand. "I'mso glad, " breathlessly. "The boys have laughed at me, and you--you'vebeen so good. "

Mr. Reed was really touched. They entered the basement. Mrs. Reed, likeMrs. Gargery, still had on her apron. Charles put the pepper in thecanister, his mother took care of the horseradish. Then he sat down withhis history. 

"For pity's sake, Abner Reed, what have you done to that child! He lookslike a scarecrow! He's shaved thin in one place and great tufts left inanother. I was going to cut his hair this very evening. And I'll trim itto some decency now. "

She sprang up for the shears. 

"You will let him alone, " said Mr. Reed, in a firm, dignified tone. "Heis quite old enough to look like other boys. When I want him to go tothe barber's I'll take him. You will find enough to do. Charles, get alamp and go up to your own room. "

"I don't allow him to have a lamp in his room. He will set somethinga-fire. "

"Then go up in the parlor. "

"The parlor!" his mother shrieked. 

"I'll go to bed, " said Charles. "I know my lesson. "

There was a light in the upper hall. On the second floor were thesleeping-chambers. Charles' was the back hall room. He could see verywell from the light up the stairway. 

What happened in the basement dining-room he could not even imagine. Hisfather so seldom interfered in any matter, and his mother had a way oftalking him down. But Charles was asleep when they came to bed. 

Still, he had a rather hard day on Sunday. His mother was coldly severeand captious. Once she said:

"I can't bear to look at you, you are so disfigured! If _that_ is whatyour father calls style----" and she shook her head disapprovingly. 

He went to church and Sunday-school, and then his father took him up toTompkins Square for a walk. It seemed as if they had never beenacquainted before. Why, his father was real jolly. And it was a niceweek at school after the boys got done asking him "Who his Barber was?"He could see the big B they put to it. 

On Saturday afternoon Mrs. Reed had to go out shopping with a cousin. She was an excellent shopper. She could find flaws, and beat down, andget a spool of cotton or a piece of tape thrown in. When Charles camehome from singing-school he was to go over to the Deans and play in theback yard. He was not to be out on the sidewalk at all. 

They were going to have a splendid time. Elsie and Florence Hay wouldbring their dolls. Even Josie envied the pretty names, though sheconfessed to Hanny that she didn't think Hay was nice, because it madeyou think of "hay, straw, oats" on the signs at the feed stores. But thegirls were very sweet and pleasant. Nora had come in with the catdressed in one of her own long baby frocks. 

Hanny ran in to get her doll. It was still her choice possession, andhad been named and unnamed. Her mother began to think she was too big toplay with dolls, but Margaret had made it such a pretty wardrobe. 

Ben sat at the front basement window reading. Mr. And Mrs. Underhill hadgone up to see Miss Lois, who was far from well. Margaret was out on"professional rounds, " which Ben thought quite a suggestive littlephrase. Martha was scrubbing and of course he couldn't talk to her. Hehad cut the side of his foot with a splinter of glass, and his motherwould not allow him to put on his shoe. 

Hanny brought down her doll. Ben looked rather wistfully at her. 

"I wish you'd come in too. We're going to have such a nice time, " shesaid in a soft tone. 

"I'd look fine playing with dolls. "

"But you needn't really play with dolls. Mrs. Dean doesn't. She's thegrandmother. We go to visit her, and she tells us about the old times, just as Aunt Nancy and Aunt Patience do. Of course she wasn't therereally, she makes believe, you know. And you might be the--the----"

"Grandfather who had lost his leg in the war. "

Ben laughed. He had half a mind to go. 

"Oh, that would be splendid. And you could be a prisoner when theBritish held New York. There'd be such lots to talk about. You couldwear John's slipper, you see----"

She smiled so persuasively. She would never be as handsome as Margaret, but she had such tender, coaxing eyes, and such a sweet mouth. 

"Well, I'll bring my book along. " It was one of Cooper's novels thatboys were going wild over just then. "Do you really think they'd like tohave me?"

"Oh, I know they would, " eagerly. 

Ben had to walk rather one-sided. Joe said he must not bear any weighton the outside of his foot to press the wound open. 

"I've brought Ben, " announced the little girl. "And he's going to be aRevolutionary soldier. "

"We are very glad to see him, " and Mrs. Dean rose. She had a whitekerchief crossed on her breast, and a pretty cap pinned up for theoccasion. 

The yard was shady in the afternoon. There was a piece of carpet spreadon the grass, and some chairs arranged on it, and two or three rugs laidaround. On the space paved with brick stood the table, and two boxeswere the dish closets. There were some cradles, and a bed arranged onanother box. It really was a pretty picture. 

Josie and Charles were generally the mother and father of one household. Charles blushed up to the roots of his hair. He liked playing with thegirls, when he was the only boy, with no one to laugh at him. 

"Now you mustn't mind me or I shall go back home and stay all alone, "said Ben. That appealed to everybody's sympathy. "I'm coming over hereto talk to grandmother about what we did when we were young. "

Grandmother had some knitting. People even then knit their husband'swinter stockings because they wore so much better. "And Mrs. Pennypacker, you might come and call on us. "

Nora laughed. That was Ben's favorite name for her when she had the cat. 

The soft gray head and the gray paws looked rather queer out of the longwhite dress. Pussy Gray had a white nose and his eyes were fastened inwith a black streak that looked like a ribbon. 

"How is your son to-day?" Ben inquired. 

"He is pretty well, except he's getting some teeth. Ain't you, darling?"and Nora hugged him up. 

"Wow, " said Kitty softly. 

"Have you had the doctor?"

"No-o, " answered Kitty, looking up pathetically. 

"I'm afraid I've neglected him, " explained Mrs. Pennypacker. "You poordarling! But your mother has been so busy. "

"Meaow, " said Kitty resignedly. 

"Are you hungry, dear? Would you like a bit of cold chicken? He has tohave something to keep up his strength. Teething is so hard onchildren. "

"Me-e-a-ow, " returned Kitty, with plaintive affirmation. 

Mrs. Pennypacker went over to the table and gave him a mouthful ofsomething. If it wasn't chicken it answered the purpose. Then she satdown to rock him to sleep and asked Ben in what battle he had lost hisleg. 

Ben thought it was the battle of White Plains. He was very young at thetime. 

"How hard it must be to have a wooden leg, " sighed Nora. "And of courseyou can't dance a bit. "

"Oh, no, indeed!"

"Did they treat you very badly when you were a prisoner?"

"Dreadful, " answered Ben. "They didn't give us half enough to eat. "

"That was terrible. I hope you'll be contented here, where everything isso nice and cheerful. I am going to see Mr. And Mrs. Brown now. "

"Please give them my compliments and tell them I should be very happy tohave them call. "

Charles had been watching Ben furtively with an apprehension that thereal enjoyment of the afternoon would be spoiled. And no doubt he wouldtell the Houston Street boys "all about it. " He was hardly prepared tosee Ben enter so into the spirit of the "make believe. "

Then Ben and Mrs. Dean had a little talk that might have been consideredan anachronism, since it was about the foot still fast to his body. Hehad stepped on a piece of glass in the stable, and it had gone throughthe old shoe he had on for that kind of work. But Joe had seen it thatmorning and thought it would get along all right. 

They were talking very eagerly over the other side of the city. Andpresently quite a procession came to call on the old veteran. Ben andCharles fell into a discussion about some battles, and the misfortune itwas to the country to lose New York so early in the contest. Theycompared their favorite generals and discussed the prospect of war withMexico that was beginning to be talked about. And Mr. Brown said he hadsome cousins who were very anxious to see an old soldier of theRevolution. Could he bring them over?

Then Elsie and Florence Hay came. Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Pennypacker askedhim to tea and he said he should be glad to accept. 

Mrs. Dean thought they had better have their tea in the dining-room, butJosie said let them spread the cloth on the coping of the area, andbring the chairs and benches just inside. Charles said that would be asort of Roman feast and the guests would make believe there werecouches. They put down papers and then a cloth, and Josie brought outher dishes. Grandmother held the Pennypacker baby, who certainly was thebest cat in the world and settled himself down, white dress and all. 

Ben asked Charles if he was studying Roman history, and found he wasreading the Orations of Cicero in Latin, and knew a great deal aboutGreece and Rome. He had read most of Sir Walter Scott's novels, andliked "Marmion" beyond everything. 

"What was he going to do--enter college?"

"Mother wants me to. Father says I may if I like. "

He colored a little, but did not say his mother had set her heart on hisbeing a minister because his Uncle Robert, who died, had intended toenter that profession. Ben said the boys, John and the doctor, wantedhim to go, but he wished he could be a newspaper man like Nora's father. His mother thought it a kind of shiftless business. They talked overtheir likes and dislikes in boy fashion, and Charles enjoyed itimmensely. He thought it would be just royal to have a big brother whowas a doctor, and a little sister like Hanny. 

Meanwhile the little women had been very much engrossed with theirchildren and their tea party, and the prospect of a grandmother and anold soldier coming to visit them. 

"And Mr. Brown is so heedless, " said Mrs. Brown. "He ought to be here togo to the store, but he's off talking and men are _so_ absent-minded. "

Elsie said she'd go to the store, which was the closet in the basement. 

Then the company came, and the old soldier limped dreadfully. Mrs. Brownscolded her husband a little, and then excused him, and everybody wasseated in a row. There was a plate of thin bread-and-butter, some smokedbeef cut in small pieces, some sugar crackers, quite a fad of that day, and a real cake. Mrs. Dean had given them half of a newly baked one. 

It was quite a tea. Mr. Dean came home in the midst of it andsympathized warmly with the hero of 1776, and was extremely courteous tograndmother. The little girls cleared away the dishes, put theirchildren to bed, had a fine swing and played "Puss in the Corner" withtwo sets. 

Mr. Reed came in for Charles. 

"I wish you'd come over and see my boy, " he said to Ben. "He's a ratherlonely chap, having no brothers or sisters. "

"Let him come over to our house, " returned Ben cordially. "We have agood supply. "

Then everybody dispersed. They'd had such a good time, and were eager intheir acknowledgments. 

"Why, I quite like John Robert Charles, " said Ben. "He's a real smartfellow. "

"If you would please not call him all those names, " entreated Hanny. "Hedoesn't like them. "

"Well, I should say not. I'd like just plain Bob. He wants thegirlishness shaken out of him. "

"But he's so nice. And if he should come over please don't let Jimplague him. "

"Oh, I'll look out. "

It was a week before Ben could put on his shoe, and of course it was notwisdom for him to go to school. He went down-town in the wagon and didsome writing and accounts for Steve, and read a great deal. Mr. Reed andCharles sauntered over one evening. Hanny was sitting out on the stoopwith "father and the boys, " and gave Charles a soft, welcoming smile. Margaret was playing twilight tunes in a gentle manner, and the dulcetmeasures fascinated the boy, who could hardly pay attention to what Benwas saying. 

"Do you want to go in and hear her?" Hanny asked, with quick insight asshe caught his divided attention. 

"Oh, if I could!" eagerly. 

"Yes. " Hanny rose and held out her hand, saying: "We are going in toMargaret. "

The elder sister greeted them cordially. After playing a little sheasked them if they would not like to sing. 

They chose "Mary to the Saviour's Tomb" first. It was a great favoritein those days. The little girl liked it because she could play and singit for her father. She was taking music lessons of Margaret's teachernow, and practised her scales and exercises with such assiduity that shehad been allowed to play this piece. She did sometimes pick out tunes, but it was after the real work was done. 

"Your boy has a fine voice, " said John to Mr. Reed. 

The father was not quite sure singing was manly. He had roused to thefact that Charles was rather "girly, " and he wanted him like other boys. 

"He is a good scholar, " his father returned in half protest. "Standshighest in his class. "

"Going to send him to college?"

"I don't just know, " hesitatingly. 

"Has he any fancy for a profession? He'd make an attractive minister. "

"I don't know as I have much of a fancy for that. "

Mr. Reed knew it was his wife's hope and ambition, but it had neverappealed to him. 

"The boys want Ben to go to college, " said John, the "boys" standing forthe two older brothers. 

"I don't want to be a lawyer nor a doctor, " subjoined Ben decisively. "And I shouldn't be good enough for a minister. There ought to be someother professions. "

"Why, there are. Professorships, civil engineering, and so on. "

While the men discussed future chances, the children were singing, andtheir sweet young voices moved both fathers curiously. Mr. Reed decidedthat he would cultivate his neighbor, even if Charles had not made muchheadway with Ben and Jim. 

CHAPTER XVI

DAISY JASPER

What to do with Ben was the next question of importance. He was fond ofbooks, an omnivorous reader, in fact, a very fair scholar, and, with acertain amount of push, could have graduated the year before. He reallywas not longing for college. 

There was only one line of horse-cars, and that conveyed the passengersof the Harlem Railroad from the station on Broome Street to thesteam-cars up-town. Only a few trains beside the baggage and freight carswere allowed through the city. Consequently a boy's ambition had notbeen roused to the height of being a "car conductor" at that period. Agood number counted on "running wid de machine" when they reached theproper age, but boys were not allowed to hang around the engine-houses. Running with the machine was something in those days. There were nosteam-engines. Everything was drawn by a long rope, the men ranged oneither side. The force of the stream of water was also propelled by mainstrength, and the "high throwing" was something to be proud of. Therewas a good deal of rivalry among the companies to see who could get to afire the first. Sometimes, indeed, it led to quite serious affrays iftwo parties met at a crossing. "Big Six" never gave up for any one. "Forty-one" was another famous engine on the East side. Indeed they hada rather menacing song they sometimes shouted out to their rivals, whichcontained these two blood-curdling lines:

 "From his heart the blood shall run By the balls of Forty-one. "

Later on the fights and disturbances became so bitter that the policehad to interfere, and as the city grew larger some new method ofexpediting matters had to be considered. But the "fire laddies" were abrave, generous set of men, who turned out any time of day or night anddragged their heavy engines over the rough cobble-stones with a spiritand enthusiasm hard to match. They received no pay, but were exempt fromjury duty, and after a number of years of service had certain privilegesgranted them. Jim counted strongly on being a fireman. John hadsometimes gone to fires but was not a "regular. "

But all differences were forgotten in the "great fire, " as it was calledfor a long time. There had been one about ten years before that haddevastated a large part of the city. And in February of this year therehad been quite a tragic one in the Tribune Building. There was a fiercedrifting snowstorm, so deep it was impossible to drag the enginesthrough it, and some of the hydrants were frozen. Men had jumped fromthe windows to save their lives, and there had been quite a panic. 

Early in the gray dawn of July nineteenth, a watchman discovered flamesissuing from an oil store on New Street. A carpenter shop next door wassoon in flames. A large building in which quantities of saltpetre wasstored caught next. A dense smoke filled the air, and a sudden explosivesound shot out a long tongue of flame that crossed the street. Atintervals of a few moments others followed, causing everybody to fly fortheir lives. And at last one grand deafening burst like a tremendousclap of thunder, and the whole vicinity was in a blaze. Bricks andpieces of timber flew through the air, injuring many people. Then thefire spread far and wide, one vast, roaring, crackling sheet of flame. One brave fireman and several other people were killed, and Engine 22was wrecked in the explosion. 

It was said at first that powder had been stored in the building, but itwas proved on investigation that the saltpetre alone was the dangerousagent. Three hundred and forty-five buildings were destroyed, at a loss, it was estimated, of ten millions of dollars. For days there was animmense throng about the place. The ruins extended from Bowling Green toExchange Place. 

A relic of Revolutionary times perished in this fire. The bell of thefamous Provost prison, that had been used by the British during theiroccupancy of the city, had been removed when the building was remodelledand placed on the Bridewell at the west of the City Hall, and used for afire-alarm bell. When the Bridewell had been destroyed it wastransferred to the cupola of the Naiad Hose Company in Beaver Street. Itrang out its last alarm that morning, for engine house and bell perishedin the flames. 

Stephen had been very fortunate in that he was out of the fire district. He took Margaret and Hanny down to view the great space heaped withblackened débris, and when a fire alarm was given the little girl usedto shiver with fright for months afterward. 

And now schools were considering their closing exercises, and parents ofbig boys were puzzled to know just where to start them in life. Bendeclared his preference at last--he wanted to be some sort of anewspaper man. 

They called Mr. Whitney in to council. He was not quite sure he wouldrecommend beginning there. It would be better to learn the tradethoroughly at such a place as the Harpers'. Then there would always besomething to fall back upon. Steve did not cordially approve, and Dr. Joe was quite disappointed. He was ready to help Ben through college. 

Newspaper people did not rank as high then as now. There was a good dealof what came to be called Bohemianism among them, and it was not of theartistic type. For the one really good position there were a dozenprecarious ones. 

Aunt Nancy Archer rather amused them with another objection. She wasn'tat all sure the publishing of so many novels was conducive to theadvancement of morals and religion. She never could quite understand howso good a man as Brother Harper could lend it countenance. When she wasyoung the girls of her time were reading Hannah More. And there was Mrs. Chapone's letters, and now Charlotte Elizabeth and Mrs. Sigourney. 

"Did you know Hannah More wrote a novel?" inquired John, with a halfsmile of his father's humor. "And Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Edgeworth andCharlotte Elizabeth's stories are in the novel form. "

"But they have a high moral. And there are so many histories for youngpeople to read. They ought to have the real truth instead of sillymake-believes and trashy love stories. "

"There are some histories that would be rather terrible reading foryoung minds, " said John. "I think I'll bring you two or three, AuntNancy. "

"But histories are _true_. "

"There are a great many sad and bitter truths in the world. And thestories must have a certain amount of truth in them or they would nevergain a hearing. Do we not find some of the most beautiful stories in theBible itself?"

"Well, I can't help thinking all this novel reading is going to do harmto our young people. Their minds will get flighty, and they will loseall taste and desire for solid things. They are beginning to despisework already. "

"Aunt Nancy, " said Ben, with a deprecating smile, "the smartest girl Iknow lives just below here. She does most all the housekeeping, she canwash and iron and sweep and sew, and she reads novels by the score. Shejust races through them. I do believe she knows as much about Europe asany of our teachers. And I never dreamed there had been such tremendousconquests in Asia, and such wonderful things in Egypt until I heard hertalk about them; and she knows about the great men and generals andrulers who lived before the Christian era, and at the time Christ wasborn----"

Aunt Nancy gasped. 

"Of course there were Old Testament times, " she returned hesitatingly. 

"And I am not sure but Mayor Harper is doing a good work indisseminating knowledge of all kinds. I believe we are to try all thingsand hold fast to that which is good, " said John. 

He brought Aunt Nancy the history of Peter the Great and the famousCatharine of Russia, but she admitted that they were too cruel and tooterrible for any one to take pleasure in. 

Mrs. Underhill and Margaret went to the closing exercises of HoustonStreet school. Jim as usual had a splendid oration, one of PatrickHenry's. Ben acquitted himself finely. There was a large class of boyswho had finished their course, and the principal made them an admirableaddress, in which there was much good counsel and not a little judiciouspraise as well as beneficial advice concerning their future. 

But at Mrs. Craven's there was something more than the ordinaryexercises. The front parlor was turned into an audience-room, and aplatform was raised a little in the back parlor almost like a stage. There was a dialogue that was a little play in itself, and displayed theknowledge as well as the training of the pupils. Some compositions wereread, and part of a little operetta was sung quite charmingly by thegirls. Then there was a large table spread out with specimens ofneedlework that were really fine; drawing, painting, and penmanship thatelicited much praise from the visitors. 

The crowning pleasure was the little party given in the evening, towhich any one was at liberty to invite a brother or cousin, or indeed aneighbor of whom their mother approved. And strange to relate, therewere a good many boys who were really pleased to be asked to the "girls'party. " Charles Reed came and had a delightful time. Josie had waylaidMr. Reed again and told him all about it, and hoped he would let Charlescome, and he said he would be very happy to. Mrs. Reed did not approveof parties for children, and Charles had been but to very few. 

Mr. Underhill and Dr. Joe went down to the Harpers', having decided toplace Ben there to learn a trade. Thinking it all over, he resolved toacquiesce, though he told Hanny privately that some day he meant to havea newspaper of his own and be the head of everything. But he supposed hewould have to learn first. 

Margaret and Hanny went with them, and found many changes since theirfirst visit. The making of a book seemed a still more wonderful thing tothe child, but how one could ever be written puzzled her beyond all. Acomposition on something she had seen or read was within the scope ofher thought, but to tell about people and make them talk, and havepleasant and curious and sad and joyous happenings, did puzzle hergreatly. 

Ben was not to go until the first of September. So he would help Steve, go to the country for a visit, and have a good time generally before hebegan his life-work. Stephen's house was approaching completion, and itwas wonderful to see how the rows of buildings were stretching out, asif presently the city would be depleted of its residents. One wonderedwhere all the people came from. 

John Robert Charles had grown quite confidential with his father andbegan to think him as nice as Mr. Underhill--not as funny, for Mr. Underhill had a way of joking and telling amusing stories and teasing alittle, that was very entertaining, and never sharp or ill-natured. 

He had carried off the honors of his class and was proud of it. Mr. Reedshowed his satisfaction as well. Mrs. Reed was rather doubtful andsevere, and thought it her duty to keep Charles from undue vanity. Shewas in a fret because she had to go away and leave the house and waste awhole month. 

"I don't want to go, " said Charles to his father. "It's awful lonesomeup there in the mountains, and there's no one to talk to. Aunt Rhoda'sdeaf, and Aunt Persis hushes you up if you say a word. And the oldgardener is stupid. There are no books to read, and I do get so tired. "

"Well, we'll see, " replied his father. 

To his wife Mr. Reed said: "Why do you go off if you don't want to?"

"I won't have Charles running the streets and getting into bad company, and wearing out his clothes faster than I can mend them, " she repliedshortly. 

It would not be entertaining for Charles in his office, and he didn'tjust see what the boy could do. But he met a friend who kept a sort offancy toy store, musical instruments and some curios, down Broadway, andlearned that they were very much in want of a trusty, reliable lad whowas correct in figures and well-mannered. A woman came in the morning tosweep the store and sidewalk, to wash up the floor and windows, and dothe chores. So there was no rough work. 

"I'll send my boy down and see how you like him. I think he would fancythe place, and during the month you might find some one to take itpermanently. There seems to be no lack of boys. "

"You can't always find the right sort, " said Mr. Gerard. "Yes, I shallbe glad to try him. "

Mr. Reed did not set forth the matter too attractively to his wife, noteven to Charles, who had learned to restrain his enthusiasm before hismother. And though she made numerous objections, and the thought of badcompany seemed to haunt her, she reluctantly decided to let him try itfor a week. He would go down in the morning with his father, so he couldnot possibly begin his day in mischief. 

Charles was delighted. The city was not over-crowded then. The Park gave"down-town" quite a breathing space. 

Now a boy would think it very hard not to have any vacation after elevenmonths of study. He would be so tired and worn and nervous that tenweeks would be none too much. The children then studied hard and playedhard and were eager to have a good time, and generally did have it. Andnow Charles was delighted with the newness of the affair. He walked upat night fresh and full of interest, and was quite a hero to the girlsover on Mrs. Dean's stoop. 

"I hope you will bring them down even if you shouldn't want to buyanything. Mr. Gerard said the stock was low now, as it is the dullestseason of the year. But there are such beautiful articles for gifts, china cups and saucers and dainty pitchers and vases, and sets likeyours, Josie, some ever so much smaller, and a silver knife and fork andspoon in a velvet case, and lovely little fruit-knives and nut-picks andever so many things I have never heard of. And musical instruments, flutes and flageolets and violins, and oh, the accordeons! There areGerman and French. Oh, I wish I _could_ own one. I know I could soonlearn to play on it!" declared Charles eagerly. 

In that far-back time an accordeon really was considered worth one'swhile. A piano was quite an extravagance. A good player could evoke realmusic out of it, and at that period it had not been handed over to thesaloons. In fact, saloons were not in fashion. 

The children listened enchanted. It was a great thing to know any one insuch a store. Mrs. Dean promised to take them all down. 

Hanny had a new source of interest. Dr. Joe had told her a very movingstory when he was up to tea on Sunday evening, about a little girl whohad been two months in the hospital and who had just come home for goodnow, who lived only a little way below them. It was Daisy Jasper, whomthey had seen a little while last summer in a wheeling chair, and whohad disappeared before any one's curiosity could be satisfied. She wasan only child, and her parents were very comfortably well off. WhenDaisy was about six years old, a fine, healthy, and beautiful littlegirl, she had trodden on a spool dropped by a careless hand and fallendown a long flight of stairs. Beside a broken arm and some bruises shedid not seem seriously injured. But after a while she began to complainof her back and her hip, and presently the sad knowledge dawned uponthem that their lovely child was likely to be a cripple. Variousexperiments were tried until she became so delicate her life appearedendangered. Mr. Jasper had been attracted to this pretty row of housesstanding back from the street with the flower gardens in front. Itseemed secluded yet not lonely. She grew so feeble, however, that thedoctors had recommended Sulphur Springs in Virginia, and thither theyhad taken her. When the cool weather came on they had gone farther southand spent the winter in Florida. She had improved and gained sufficientstrength, the doctors thought, to endure an operation. It had beenpainful and tedious, but she had borne it all so patiently. Dr. Mott andDr. Francis had done their best, but she would always be a littledeformed. The prospect was that some day she might walk without acrutch. Joe had seen a good deal of her, and at one visit he had toldher of his little sister who was just her age, as their birthdays werein May. 

Hanny had cried over the sorrowful tale. She thought of her early storyheroine, "Little Blind Lucy, " whose sight had been so marvellouslyrestored. But Daisy could never be quite restored to straightness. 

After supper Joe had taken her down to call on Daisy. Oh, how pretty thegardens were, a beautiful spot of greenery and bloom, such a change fromthe pavements! A narrow brick walk ran up to the house, edged with rowsof dahlias just coming into bloom. On the other side there were circlesand triangles and diamond-shaped beds with borders of small flowers, oran entire bed of heliotrope or verbena. The very air was fragrant. Upnear the house was a kind of pavilion with a tent covering to shield onefrom the sun. 

Daisy, with her mother and aunt, were sitting out here when Dr. Joebrought his little sister. Daisy's chair was so arranged that the backcould be adjusted to any angle. It was of bamboo and cane with a softblanket thrown over it, a pretty rose color that lighted up the palelittle girl whose languor was still perceptible. 

After a little Mrs. Jasper took Dr. Joe into the house, as she wanted toquestion him. Then Hanny and Daisy grew more confidential. Daisy askedabout the children in the neighborhood and thought she would like to seeNora and Pussy Gray. She was very fond of cats, but theirs, a very goodmouser, was bad-tempered and wanted no petting. And then the Dean girlsand Flossy and Elsie Hay, and last but not least of all, Charles Reedwith his beautiful voice. 

"I do so dearly love music, " said Daisy longingly. "Auntie plays but shedoesn't sing. Mamma knows a good many old-fashioned songs that arelovely. When I am tired and nervous she sings to me. I don't suppose Ican ever learn to play for myself, " she ended sadly. 

Hanny told her she was learning and could play "Mary to the Saviour'sTomb" for her father. And there were the boys and Stephen and her lovelymarried sister Dolly and her own sister Margaret. 

"Oh, how happy you must be!" cried Daisy. "I should like such a lot ofpeople. I never had any brothers or sisters, and I _do_ get so lonesome. And the doctor is so pleasant and sweet; you must love him a greatdeal. "

"I can't tell which one is best. Steve teases and says funny things, andis--oh, just as nice as any one can be! And John is splendid, too. AndBen is going to learn to make books, and I can have all the books Iwant. "

Daisy sighed. She was very fond of reading, but it soon tired her. 

"I should so like to see you all. You know I've never been much withchildren. And I like live people. I want to hear them talk and sing andsee them play. One gets tired of dolls. "

"If you would like I will bring Nora and Pussy Gray. And I know Josie'smother will let them come. If you could be wheeled up on our sidewalk. "

"Oh, that would be delightful!" and the soft eyes glowed. 

Hanny had taken Nora the very next afternoon, and Pussy Gray had beenjust too good for anything. Daisy had to laugh at the conversationsbetween him and Nora. It really did sound as if he said actual words. And they told Daisy about the time they went to the Museum and had adouble share for their money. Daisy laughed heartily, and her palecheeks took on a pretty pink tint. 

"You are so good to come, " said Mrs. Jasper. "My little girl has had somuch suffering in her short life that I want her to have all thepleasure possible now. "

Josie and Tudie Dean had been out spending the day, and really, therewas so much to tell that it was nine o'clock before it was alldiscussed. Charles was very much interested in Daisy Jasper. 

"You know I can tell just how she feels about not having any brothersand sisters, " he exclaimed. "I've wished for them so many times. And I_do_ think Hanny is the luckiest of the lot; she has so many. It is likea little town to yourself. "

"I'm so glad it is vacation, " declared Josie. "If we were going toschool we wouldn't have half time for anything. "

Mr. Underhill came for his little girl. While he was exchanging a fewwords with Mr. Dean Hanny caught one hand in both of hers and hoppedaround on one foot. She was so glad she could do it. Poor Daisy, withher beautiful name, who could never know the delight of exuberantspirits. 

Hanny's thoughts did not take in the long word, but that was what shefelt in every fibre of her being. 

Charles wondered how she dared. He was frightened when he caught hisfather's hand with an impulse of gratitude. But in pure fun!

There was quite a stir with the little clique in the upper end of theblock. Mrs. Underhill, Mrs. Dean, and Margaret called on their neighbor, and the wheeled chair came up the street a day or two after. It had togo to the corner and cross on the flagging, as the jar would have beentoo great on cobble stones. They had a young colored lad now who keptthe garden in order, did chores, and waited upon "Missy" as he calledher. 

The sidewalk was generally sunny in the afternoon, but this day it wassoft and gray without being very cloudy. The chariot halted at theUnderhills'. The little girls brought their dolls to show Daisy, theirvery best ones, and Nora dressed up Pussy Gray in the long white babydress, and pussy was very obliging and lay in Daisy's arms just like areal baby. The child felt as if she wanted to kiss him. 

What a pretty group of gossips they were! If Kate Greenaway had beenmaking pictures then, she would have wanted them, though their attirewas not quite as quaint as hers. They went up and down the steps, theytold Daisy so many bright, entertaining things, and the fun they hadwith their plays. Josie's party was described, the closing exercises atschool, and the many incidents so important in child life. Sometimes twoor three talked together, or some one said, "It's my turn, now let me. "They referred to Charles so much it really piqued Daisy's curiosity. 

"Jim calls him a 'girl-boy, ' because he plays with us, " said Hanny, "andin some ways I like girl-boys best. Ben is a sort of girl-boy. I'm goingto bring him over to see you. Jim's real splendid and none of the boysdare fight him any more, " she added loyally. 

"And first, you know, " began Tudie in a mysteriously confidentialmanner, "we thought it so queer and funny. His mother called him JohnRobert Charles. And she used to look out of the window and ask him if hehad his books and his handkerchief, and tell him to come straight homefrom school, and lots of things. Oh, we thought we wouldn't have herfor our mother, not for a world!"

"How did he come by so many names?" Daisy smiled. 

"Well, grandfather and all, " replied Tudie rather ambiguously. "Hisfather calls him Charles. It sounds quite grand, doesn't it? We allwanted to call him Robert. And Hanny's big sister sings such a lovelysong--"Robin Adair. " I'd like to call him that. "

"I should so like to hear him sing. I'm so fond of singing, " said Daisyplaintively. 

"Now if we were in the back yard we could all sing, " rejoined Josie. "But of course we couldn't in the street with everybody going by. "

"Oh, no!" Yet there was a wistful longing in Daisy's face, that wasbeginning to look very tired. 

There were not many people going through this street. Houston Street wasquite a thoroughfare. But the few who did pass looked at the merry groupof girls and at the pale invalid whose chair told the story, and gavethem all a tender, sympathetic thought. 

All except Lily Ludlow. She was rather curious about the girl in thechair and made an errand out to the Bowery. When Hanny saw who wascoming she turned around and talked very eagerly to Elsie Hay, andpretended not to know it. Lily had her President, and Jim admired her, that was enough. 

"You're very tired, Missy, " Sam said presently. 

"Yes, " replied Daisy. "I think I'll go home now. And will you all cometo see me to-morrow? Oh, it is so nice to know you all! And Pussy Grayis just angelic. Please bring him, too. "

They said good-by. For some moments the little girls looked at eachother with wordless sorrow in their eyes. I think there were tears aswell. 

CHAPTER XVII

SOME OF THE OLD LANDMARKS

"Yes, all of us, " said Ben. "We can tuck in the Deans. I only wishCharles could go. Well, the house won't run away. And Mr. Audubon hastravelled all over the world. Mr. Whitney wrote an article about him. That's the work I'd like to do--go and see famous people and write aboutthem. "

Interviewing was not such a fine art in those days. Ben had enough of itlater on. 

Dr. Joe had asked Mr. Audubon's permission to bring a crowd of childrento see him and his birds. He was getting to be quite an attraction inthe city. 

When they packed up they found a crowd sure enough. But Dr. Hoffman tookMargaret and the little girl with him, as Charles had been allowed ahalf day off for the trip. The drive was so full of interest. They wentup past the old Stuyvesant place and took a look at the pear-tree thathad been planted almost two hundred years ago and was still bearingfruit. Then they turned into the old Bloomingdale Road, and up bySeventy-fifth Street they all stopped to see the house where LouisPhilippe taught school when he was an emigrant in America. And now hewas on the throne, King of the French people, a grander and greaterposition, some thought, than being President of the United States. 

"For of course, " said Jim, "he can stay there all his life, and thePresident has only four years in the White House. After all, it is a bigthing to be a king. "

And in a little more than two years he was flying over to England forrefuge and safety, and was no longer a king. Mr. Polk was still in theWhite House. 

It was an odd, low, two-story frame house where royalty had beenthankful to teach such boys as Ben and Jim and Charles. There was asteep, sloping roof with wide eaves, a rather narrow doorway in themiddle of the front, carved with very elaborate work, and an old knockerwith a lion's head, small but fierce. The large room on one side hadbeen the schoolroom, and the board floor was worn in two curious rowswhere the boys had shuffled their feet. The fireplace was what mostpeople came to see. It was spacious and had a row of blue and whiteAntwerp tiles with pictures taken from the New Testament. They weresmoked and faded now, but they still told their story. The mantelpieceand the doors were a mass of the most elaborate carving. 

There were still some old houses standing in New York that had beenbuilt with bricks brought from Holland. Charles was very much interestedin these curiosities and had found one of the houses down in PearlStreet. 

Then they drove up through McGowan's Pass, where Washington had plannedto make a decisive stand at the battle of Harlem Heights. There was theledge of rock and the pretty lake that was to be Central Park some day. It was all wildness now. 

There was so much to see that Dr. Joe declared they had no more time tospend following Washington's retreat. 

"But it was just grand that he should come back here to be inauguratedthe first President of the United States, " said Charles. "I am proud ofhaving had that in New York. "

"The city has a great many famous points, " said Dr. Joe; "but we seem tohave lost our enthusiasm over them. Beyond there, " nodding his head overeast, "is the Murray House that can tell its story. Handsome Mrs. Murray, and she was a Quaker, too, made herself so charming in herhospitality to the British generals that she detained them long enoughfor Silliman's brigade to retreat to Harlem. Washington was awaitingthem at the Apthorpe House, and they had left that place not more thanfifteen minutes when the British came flying in the hot haste ofpursuit. So but for Mrs. Murray's smiles and friendliness they mighthave captured our Washington as well as the city. "

"That was splendid, " declared Charles enthusiastically. 

"And maybe as a boy Lindley Murray might have thought up his grammarthat he was to write later on to puzzle your brains, " continued Dr. Joe. 

"Well, that is odd, too. I'll forgive him his grammar, " said Ben, with atwinkle in his eye. 

"And if we don't go on we will have no time for Professor Audubon andthe birds. But we could ramble about all day. "

"I didn't know there were so many interesting things in the city. Theyseem somehow a good ways off when you are studying them, " repliedCharles. 

He really wished Hanny was in the carriage. She was so eager about allthese old stories. 

Then they went over to Tenth Avenue. There was the old Colonial house, with its broad porch and wide flight of steps. It was country then withits garden and fields, its spreading trees and grassy slopes. 

And there was Professor Audubon on the lawn with his wife and twolittle grandchildren. He came and welcomed the party cordially. He hadmet both doctors before. He was tall, with a fine fair face and longcurling hair thrown back, now snowy white. Once with regard to thewishes of some friends while abroad he had yielded and had it cut"fashionable, " to his great regret afterward, and the reminiscence wasrather amusing. His wide white collar, open at the throat, added to hispicturesque aspect. Then he had a slight French accent that seemed torender his hospitality all the more charming. 

Ben and Charles knew that he had been nearly all over the Continent, andhad hardships innumerable and discouragements many, and had in spite ofthem succeeded in writing and illustrating one of the most magnificentof books. And when they trooped into the house and saw the stuffed birdsand animals, the pictures he had painted, and the immense folio volumesso rich with drawings, it hardly seemed possible that one brain couldhave wrought it all. 

Everything, from the most exquisite hummingbird to an eagle and a wildturkey. There was no museum of natural history then. Mr. Barnum'scollection was considered quite a wonder. But to hear this soft-voicedman with his charming simplicity describe them, was fascination itself. 

The little girl really wavered in her admiration for Mayor Harper. Hehad been her hero _par excellence_ up to this time. A man who couldgovern a city and make boots had seemed wonderful, but here was a manwho could keep the birds quite as if they were alive. You almostexpected them to sing. 

He was very fond of children and Mrs. Audubon was hardly lessdelightful. They could not see half the treasures in such a brief while, and they were glad to be invited to come again. Ben did find his way upthere frequently, and Charles gleaned many an entertaining bit ofknowledge. When the little girl went again, the tender, eager eyes hadlost their sight, and the enthusiasm turned to a pathos that was sorrowitself. But there was no hint of it this happy day, which remained oneof their most delightful memories. 

Now that they were so near, Margaret said they must go and see MissLois. Dr. Joe was quite a regular visitor, for Miss Lois was growingmore frail every week. Josie and Tudie thought they would like to seeanother old house, and a harp "taller than yourself. " Charles was muchinterested. Jim had his mind so full of birds and hunting adventures hecould think of nothing else, and said he would rather walk around. 

Miss Lois was quite feeble to-day, and said Margaret must be thehostess. They went into the old parlor and examined the quaint articlesand some of the old-fashioned books. Josie wished they might try theharp and see how it would sound, but no one would propose it if MissLois was so poorly. 

"It's very queer, " said Hanny. "She played for me once. The strings arerusted and broken, and it sounds just like the ghost of something, as ifyou were going way, way back. I didn't like it. "

The German woman was out in the kitchen and gave them each a piece ofcake. There was a quaint old dresser with some pewter plates and apitcher, and old china, and a great high mantel. 

"You seem way out in the country, " said Charles. "But it's pretty, too. And the trees and the river and Fort Washington. Why, it's been like anexcursion. I am so glad you asked me to come. "

Margaret entered the room. "She wants to see you, Hanny, " she saidquietly. "And when she is stronger she would like the little girls tocome again. "

Hanny went into the chamber. Miss Lois was sitting up in the big rocker, but her face was as white as the pillow back of her head. And oh, howthin her hands were! strangely cold, too, for a summer day. 

"I'm very glad you came again, little Hanny, " she said. "I had beenthinking of you and Margaret all day, and how good it was of your fatherand you to hunt me up as you did. You've given me a deal of happiness. Tell him I am thankful for all his kindness. Will you kiss me good-by, dear? I hope you'll be spared to be a great comfort to every one. "

Hanny kissed her. The lips were almost as cold as the hands. And thenshe went out softly with a strange feeling she did not understand. 

It was late enough then to go straight home. Dr. Joe had a little talkwith his mother, and the next day he took her up to Harlem. The childrenwent over to Daisy's in the afternoon and told her about "everything. "Mrs. Jasper insisted upon keeping them to supper. 

Her mother had not returned when the little girl went to bed. It seemedso strange the next morning without her. Margaret was very quiet andgrave, so the little girl practised and sewed, and then read a while. Inthe afternoon her mother came home and said Miss Lois had gone to bewith her sister and her long-lost friends in the other country. 

A feeling of awe came over her. No one very near to her had died, andthough she had not seen so very much of Miss Lois, for her mother hadgone up quite often without her, the fact that she had been there solately, had held her poor nerveless hand, had kissed her good-by in analmost sacred manner when she was so near death, touched her. Did sheknow? Hanny wondered. What was death? The breath went out of yourbody--and her old thoughts about the soul came back to her. It was sodifferent when the world was coming to an end. Then you were to becaught up into heaven and not be put into the ground. She shrank fromthe horrible thought of being buried there, of being so covered that younever could get out. She decided that she would not so much mind if theworld did come to an end. 

"Margaret, " she said, "was it dreadful for Miss Lois to die?"

"No, dear, " returned her sister gently. "If we were all in anothercountry, the beautiful heaven, and you were here all alone, would younot like to come to us? That was the way Miss Lois felt. It is so muchbetter than living on here alone. And then when one gets old--no, dear, it was a pleasant journey to her. She had thought a great deal about it, and had loved and served God. This is what we all must do. "

"Margaret, what must I do to serve Him?"

"I think trying to make people happier is one service. Being helpful andobedient, and taking up the little trials cheerfully, when we have to dothe things we don't quite like. "

"I wish you would tell me something hard that I do not like to do. "

"Suppose I said I would not go out and play with the girls thisafternoon. "

"I'd rather not of myself, " said Hanny. "I feel like being still andthinking. "

Margaret smiled down in the sweet, serious face. There was no trial shecould impose. 

"Then think of the beautiful land where Miss Lois has gone, where no onewill be sick or tired or lonely, where the flowers are always bloomingand there is no winter, where all is peace and love. "

"But I don't understand--how you get to heaven, " said the puzzled child. 

"No one knows until the time comes. Then God shows us the way, andbecause He is there we do not have any terror. We just go to Him. It isa great mystery. No one can quite explain it. "

Elsie Hay came for her, but she said she was not going out, that she didnot feel like playing. She brought her sewing, and in her mind wanderedabout heaven, seeing Miss Lois in her new body. 

They did not take her to the funeral. She went over to Daisy Jasper'sand read to her, wondering a little if Daisy would be glad to go whereshe would be well and strong and have no more pain. But then she wouldhave to leave her father and mother who loved her so very much. 

Miss Lois had left some keepsakes to Margaret. Two beautiful oldbrocaded silk gowns that looked like pictures, some fine laces, and apretty painted fan that had been done expressly for her when she wasyoung. A white embroidered lawn for Hanny, a pearl ring and six silverspoons, besides some curious old books. Mrs. Underhill was to takewhatever she liked, and dispose of the rest. The good German neighborwas to have the house and lot for the care she had taken of both ladies. Mr. Underhill had arranged this some time before, so there would be notrouble. 

Everything in the house was old and well worn. There was a little chinaof value, and the rest was turned over to the kindly neighbor. 

Margaret and Hanny went up to visit grandmother, both grandmothers, indeed. The old Van Kortlandt house was a curiosity in its way, andthough Hanny had seen it before she was not old enough to appreciate it. The satin brocade furniture was faded, the great gilt-framed mirrorstarnished, and all the bedsteads had high posts and hanging curtains, and a valance round the lower part. Aunt Katrina was there and a cousinRhynders, a small, withered-up old man who played beautifully on ajewsharp, and who sang, in a rather tremulous but still sweet voice, songs that seemed quite fascinating to Hanny, pathetic old ballads suchas one finds in "The Ballad Book" of a hundred years ago. There was anold woman in the kitchen who scolded the two farmhands continually; abeautiful big dog and a cross mastiff who was kept chained, as well asnumerous cats, but Grandmother Van Kortlandt despised cats. 

It was delightful to get home again, though now Elsie and Florence hadgone to see their grandmother, and the Deans were away also. But DaisyJasper kissed her dozens of times, and said she had missed her beyondeverything and she would not have known how to get along but for Dr. Joe. Hanny had so much to tell her about the journey and her relatives. 

"And I haven't even any grandmother, " said Daisy. "There is one familyof cousins in Kentucky, and one in Canada. So you see I am quitedestitute. "

Both little girls laughed at that. 

Dr. Joe said Daisy was really improving. She walked about with hercrutch, but they were afraid one leg would be a little short. 

Charles came over to see Hanny that very evening. He certainly had growntaller, and had lost much of his timidity. He really "talked up" to Jim. He was so fair and with the sort of sweet expression that was consideredgirlish, and kept himself so very neat, that he was different from mostboys. I don't suppose his mother ever realized how much mortificationand persecution it had cost him. 

She still toiled from morning to night. Charles began to wish she wouldwear a pretty gown and collar and a white apron at supper time insteadof the dreadful faded ginghams. Everything had a faded look with her, she washed her clothes so often, swept her carpets, and scrubbed heroil-cloths so much. The only thing she couldn't fade was thewindow-glass. 

Charles and his father had grown quite confidential. They had talkedabout school and college. 

"Though I am afraid I don't want to be a minister, " said Charles, drawing a long breath as if he had given utterance to a very wickedthought. 

"You shall have your own choice about it, " replied his father firmly. "And there's no hurry. "

It had been such a pleasure to walk down-town every morning with hisfather. Broadway was fresh and clean, and the breeze came up from theriver at every corner. There were not so many people nor factories, andthere were still some lots given over to grassy spaces and shrubs. Walking to business was considered quite the thing then. 

He had a great deal to tell Hanny about "our" store, and what "we" weredoing. The new beautiful stock that was coming in, for then it took fromtwelve to sixteen days to cross the ocean, and you had to order quite inadvance. He had learned to play several tunes on the accordeon, and hehoped his father would let him take his four weeks' wages and buy one. And Mr. Gerard had said he should be very happy to have all the girlsand their mothers come down some afternoon. 

"And if Daisy only could go!"

"Isn't she beautiful?" said Charles. "She looks like an angel. Her shortgolden hair is like the glory they put around the saints and theSaviour, an aureole they call it. "

"What a beautiful word. "

"I thought at first she would die. But your brother is sure she willlive now. Only it's such a pity----" the boy's voice faltered a littlefrom intense sympathy. 

Hanny sighed too. She knew what he meant to say. But the childrenrefrained from giving it a name. "Hanny, I think it's just splendid tobe a doctor. To help people and encourage them when you can't cure them. He said one night when he stopped at the Deans that she might have beendreadfully deformed, and now it will not be very bad, that when herlovely hair gets grown out again it will not show much. I'm so glad. "

They had cut the golden ringlets close to her head, for she could not bedisturbed during those critical weeks in the hospital. 

When the Deans came home there was great rejoicing. And since there wassuch a little time left for Charles to stay in the store they could notwait for Elsie and Flossie. 

"If we _could_ take Daisy, " Hanny said to Joe. He dropped in nearlyevery evening now. The city was very healthy in spite of August weather, and young doctors were not wont to be overrun with calls. 

"I don't see why you shouldn't. It would be the best thing in the worldfor her to go out, and to be with other children and have some interestsin common with them. Yes, let us go down and see. "

The family were all out on the stoop and the little paved court. Theywere so screened from observation. Dr. Joe came and stood by Daisy'schair, while Hanny sat on a stool and held the soft hand. Then hepreferred the children's request. 

"Oh, it would be lovely!" Then the pale face flushed. "I don't believeI--could. "

"Why not?" asked Dr. Joe. 

There was no immediate answer. Mrs. Jasper said hesitatingly: "Would itbe wise, doctor? One cannot help being--well, sensitive. "

"Yet you do not want to keep this little girl forever secluded. Thereare so many enjoyable things in the world. It is not even as if Daisyhad brothers and sisters who were coming in hourly with all manner offreshness and fun. "

"I can't bear people to look at me so. I can almost hear what theysay----"

Daisy's voice broke in a short sob. 

"My dear child, " Dr. Joe took the other hand and patted it caressingly. "It is very sad and a great misfortune, but if you had to remember thatit came from the violence of a drunken father, or the carelessness of aninefficient mother, it would seem a harder burden to bear. We can't tellwhy God allows some very sad events to happen, but when they do come wemust look about for the best means of bearing them. God has seen fit tomake a restoration to health and comparative strength possible. I thinkHe means you to have some enjoyment as well. And when one gets used tobearing a burden it does not seem so heavy. Your parents are prosperousenough to afford you a great many indulgences, and you must not refusethem from a spirit of undue sensitiveness. And then, my little girl, Godhas given you such a beautiful face that it cannot help but attract. Can't you be brave enough to take the pleasures that come to you withoutdarkening them by a continual sense of the misfortune?"

Daisy was crying now. Dr. Joe pressed the small figure to his heart, andkissed her forehead. He had been unusually interested in the case, buthe knew now some effort must be made, some mental pain endured, or herlife would drop to weariness. Mrs. Jasper was very sensitive to commentherself. 

Mr. Jasper began to walk up and down the path. 

"Yes, doctor, " he exclaimed; "what you say is true. You have been such agood friend to my little girl. We want her to be happy and to have somecompanionship. The children up your way have been very kind andsympathetic. I like that young lad extremely. It is only at first thatthe thing seems so hard. Daisy, I think I would go. "

He came and kissed his unfortunate little girl. 

"Oh, do!" entreated Hanny softly. "You see, it will be like the ladiesof long ago when they went out in their chairs. There's some pictures inthe old books Miss Lois sent us, and the funny clothes they wore. I'llbring them over some day. I read about a lady going to Court in herchair. And there were two or three pretty maids to wait on her. We'llmake believe you are the Countess Somebody, and we are the ladies inwaiting. And we'll all go to the Palace. The King will be out; they'realways on hunting expeditions, and the Prince, that will be Charles, there was a bonnie Prince Charlie once, will take us about and show usthe lovely things in the Palace----"

Hanny had talked herself out of breath and stopped. 

Mr. Jasper laughed. "Upon my word, Miss Hanny, you would make a goodstage manager. There, could you have it planned out any nicer, Daisy? Ishall have to be on hand to see the triumphal procession as it goes downBroadway. "

Hanny's imagination had rendered it possible. 

Joe swung her up in his strong arms. 

"We think a good deal of our Hanny, " he said laughingly. "If she wassmaller she might be exhibited along with Tom Thumb, but she's spoiledthat brilliant enterprise, and yet she stays so small that we begin tothink she's stunted. "

"Oh, Joe, do you really?" she cried. 

"We shall have to call her the little girl all her life. And you knowshe's bothered a good deal about her name, which isn't at all pretty, but she takes it in good part, and puts up with it. "

"I call her Annie sometimes, " said Daisy. 

 "Ann is but plain and common, And Nancy sounds but ill; While Anna is endurable, And Annie better still, "

repeated Dr. Joe. "So you see we all have some trials. To be a littlemite of a thing and to be called Hanneran is pretty bad. And now, littlemite, we must go back home. When will the cavalcade start? I must be onhand to see it move. "

"About three, Charles said. Oh, it will be just delightful!"

Now that Hanny had been put down she hopped around on one foot for joy. 

They said good-night and walked up home. 

"Don't you think I _will_ grow some, Joe?" she asked, with a prettydoubt in her tone. "I did grow last year, for mother had to let down myskirts. "

"I don't want you to grow too much. I like little women, " he answered. 

The cavalcade, as Dr. Joe called it, did start the next day. Daisy'smother and her Aunt Ellen went, Mrs. Dean and Margaret, and four littlegirls, including Nora Whitney, who was growing "like a weed. " They wentout to Broadway and then straight down. Of course people looked at them. The children were so merry, and really, Daisy in her chair with hercolored attendant was quite an unusual incident. Aunt Ellen had let hercarry her pretty dove-colored sunshade. It was lined with pink and had ajoint in the handle that turned it down and made a shelter from toocurious eyes. There were a good many people out. It was not necessarythen to go away for the whole summer in order to be consideredfashionable. People went and came, and when they were home theypromenaded in the afternoon without losing caste. 

Stores were creeping up Broadway. "Gerard & Co. " was on the block abovethe Astor House, a very attractive notion and fancy store. The windowwas always beautifully arranged, and the cases were full of temptingarticles. There were seats for customers, and across the end of the longstore pictures and bijou tables and music-boxes were displayed. In asmall anteroom there was a workshop where musical instruments, jewelryand, trinkets were repaired. 

Sam lifted out his young mistress and carried her in. Charles cameforward to receive his guests, and though he flushed and showed someembarrassment, acquitted himself quite creditably. Mr. Gerard, with hisFrench politeness, made them very welcome and took a warm interest atonce in Daisy. She sat by the counter with Sam at her back, and lookedquite the countess of Hanny's description. Mr. Gerard brought her somerare and pretty articles to examine. The others strolled around, thechildren uttering ejaculations of delight. Such elegant fans and cardcases and mother-of-pearl _portemonnaies_ bound with silver and steel!Such vases and card receivers--indeed, all the pretty bric-a-brac, as weshould term it nowadays. 

But the greatest interest was aroused by the music-boxes. The childrenlistened enchanted to the limpid tinkle of the tunes. It was likefairy-land. 

"Oh, " cried Daisy, with a long sigh of rapture; "if I only could have amusic-box! Then I could play for myself. And it is so beautiful. Oh, mamma!"

Mrs. Jasper inquired prices. From twenty-four dollars to beyond onehundred. There was one at forty dollars that played deliciously, andsuch a variety of tunes. 

"And when you tire of them you can have new music put in, " explained Mr. Gerard. 

"And you don't have to learn all the tiresome fingering, " commentedHanny. 

"If I had a piano I shouldn't ever think it tiresome, " said Charles. 

"Oh, yes, you would, even when you loved it and tried to learn with allyour might. Tunes give you a joyful sort of feeling, " and Hanny's eyessparkled. 

"And you could dance to this, " Tudie whispered softly, while her eyesdanced unmistakably. 

Mrs. Jasper examined several of them and listened to the tunes. Theycame back to that for forty dollars. 

"We will have to talk to papa. He thought he might drop in. "

The children did not tire of waiting. Hanny thought she might spend awhole day looking over everything, and listening to the dainty, enchanting music. But Mrs. Dean said she _must_ go. 

Just at that instant Mr. Jasper arrived, having been detained. His wifespoke in a little aside, and he showed his interest at once. Why, yes, amusic-box could not fail to be a great delight to Daisy. 

Mr. Gerard wound up two or three of them again. Then the ladies decidedthey would ride up in the stage with the children. Mr. Jasper and Samwould see to Daisy's safety. 

And the result was that Mr. Jasper bought the music-box, ordering itsent home the next day. Daisy was speechless with joy. Sam carried herout and put her into her chair. 

"I don't believe I shall ever be afraid to go out again, " she saideagerly. Indeed she did not mind the eyes that peered at her now. Somewere very pitying and sympathetic. 

As Charles was putting away many of the choice articles for the nightMr. Gerard slipped a dollar into his hand. 

"That's your commission, " he said smilingly, "on unexpected goodfortune. And I shall be so sorry to lose you. I wish it was the first ofAugust instead of the last, or that you didn't want to go back toschool. "

CHAPTER XVIII

SUNDRY DISSIPATIONS

The schools were all opened again. Hanny wasn't too big to go to Mrs. Craven's, indeed her school commenced with some girls two or three yearsolder. Ben went to work, starting off in the morning with John. Jim feltrather lonely. 

His best girl had been undeniably "snifty" to him. Something _had_happened to her at last. Through a friend her father had secured aposition in the Custom House. It was not very high, but it had anexalted sound. And instead of the paltry five hundred dollars he earnedat the shoe store, the salary was a thousand. They were going to movearound in First Avenue. Hanny was sorry that it was a few doors aboveMrs. Craven's. If Lily had only gone out of the neighborhood!

Of course she disdained the public school. She was going to Rutgers. Sheheld her head very high as they went back and forth during the removal, and stared at Hanny as if she had never known her. 

But there were so many things to interest Hanny. Sometimes she read thepaper to her father, and it was filled with threats and excitements. Inthe year before, the independence of Texas had been consented to byMexico on condition that her separate existence should be maintained. But on the Fourth of July, at a convention, the people had accepted someterms offered by the United States, and declared for annexation. Forfear of a sudden alarm General Zachary Taylor had been sent with an armyof occupation, and Commodore Connor with a squadron of naval vessels tothe Gulf of Mexico. The talk of war ran high. 

Then we were in a difficulty with England about some Oregon boundaries. "The whole of Oregon or none, " was the cry. England was given a year'snotice that steps would be taken to bring the question to a settlement. Timid people declared that wild land was not worth quarrelling about. 

If you could see an atlas of those days I think you would be rathersurprised, and we are all convinced now that geography is by no means anexact science. The little girl and her father studied it all out. Therewas big, unwieldy Oregon. There were British America and RussianAmerica. There were Nova Zembla and Spitzbergen, and though there weredreams of an open Polar Sea, no one was disturbing it. We had a greatAmerican Desert, and some wild lands the other side of the RockyMountains. An intrepid young explorer, John Charles Frémont, haddiscovered an inland sea which he had named Salt Lake, and then gone upto Fort Vancouver on the Columbia River. 

He had started again now to survey California and Oregon. We thoughtKansas and Nebraska very far West in those days, and the Pacific coastwas an almost unknown land. We had just ratified a treaty with China, after long obstinacy on their part, and Japan was still The HermitKingdom and the Mikado an unknown quantity. 

And so everybody was talking war. But then it was so far away one didn'treally need to be frightened unless we had war with England. 

There were various other matters that quite disturbed the little girl. It had not seemed strange in the summer to have Dr. Hoffman come andtake Margaret out driving, or for an evening walk. But now he began tocome on Sunday afternoon and stay to tea. Mrs. Underhill was very chattyand pleasant with him. She had accepted the fact of Margaret'sengagement, and to tell the truth was really proud of it. Already shewas beginning to "lay by, " as people phrased it, regardless of LindleyMurray, for her wedding outfit. There were a few choice things of CousinLois' that she meant for her. Pieces of muslin came in the house andwere cut up into sheets and pillow-cases. They were all to be sewedover-seam and hemmed by hand. A year would be none too long in which toget ready. 

Josie one day said something about Margaret being engaged. Hanny made noreply. She went home in a strange mood. To be sure, Steve had marriedDolly, but that was different. How could Margaret leave them all and goaway with some one who did not belong to them! She could not understandthe mystery. It was as puzzling as Cousin Lois' death. She did not knowthen it was a mystery even to those who loved, and the poets who wroteabout it. 

Her mother sat by the front basement window sewing. Martha was finishingthe ironing and singing:

 "O how happy are they Who their Saviour obey And have laid up their treasure above. "

Martha had been converted the winter before and joined the Methodistchurch in Norfolk Street. The little girl went with her sometimes to theearly prayer-meeting Sunday evening, for she was enraptured with thesinging. 

But she went to her mother now, standing straight before her with large, earnest eyes. 

"Mother, " with a strange solemnity in her tone, "are you going to letMargaret marry Dr. Hoffman?"

"Law, child, how you startled me!" Her mother sewed faster than ever. "Why, I don't know as I had much to do with it any way. And I supposethey'd marry anyhow. When young people fall in love----"

"Fall in love. " She had read that in some of the books. It must bedifferent from just loving. 

"Don't be silly, " said her mother, between sharpness and merriment. "Everybody falls in love sooner or later and marries. Almost everybody. And if I had not fallen in love with your father and married him, youmightn't have had so good a one. "

"Oh, mother, I'm so glad you did!" She flung her arms about her mother'sneck and kissed her so rapturously that the tears came to her mother'seyes. Why, she wouldn't have missed the exquisite joy of having thislittle girl for all the world!

"There, child, don't strangle me, " was what she said, in an unsteadyvoice. 

"But Dr. Hoffman isn't like father----"

"No, dear. And Margaret isn't like me, now. They are young, and maybewhen they have been married a good many years they will be just ashappy, growing old together. And since Margaret loves him and he lovesher--why, we are all delighted with Dolly. She's just anotherdaughter. "

"But we have a good many sons, " said the little girl, without seeing thehumor of it. 

"Yes, we didn't really need him, just yet. But he's Joe's dear friendand a nice young man, and your father is satisfied. It's the way of theworld. Little girls can't understand it very well, but they always dowhen they're grown up. There, go hang up your bonnet, and then you mayset the table. "

Yes, it was a great mystery. Margaret seemed suddenly set apart, madesacred in some way. Hanny's intensity of thought had no experience toshape or restrain it. All the girls had liked Charles, --perhaps if therehad been several boys and spasms of jealousy between the girls, shemight have been roused to a more correct idea. But though they had madehim the father, a lover had been quite outside of their simple category. 

Margaret came down presently. She had on her pretty brown merino trimmedwith bands of scarlet velvet, and at her throat a white bow just edgedwith scarlet. Her front hair was curled in ringlets. 

"Mother, can't we have supper quite soon, or can't I? The concert beginsat half-past seven and we want to be there early and get a good seat. Dr. Hoffman is coming at half-past six. "

Father came in. Mrs. Underhill jumped up and brought in the tea. Jimcame whistling down the area steps. They did not need to wait for Johnand Benny Frank. 

Hanny looked at her sister quite as if she were a new person, with somesolemn distinction. How had she come to love Dr. Hoffman?

She had not settled it when she went to bed alone. There was a drearyfeeling now of years and years without Margaret. 

That was Friday, and the following Sunday Dr. Hoffman marched into theparlor with a vital at-home step. Margaret was up-stairs. Hanny sat inher little rocker reading her Sunday-school book. He smiled and cameover to her, took away her book, and clasping both hands drew her up, seated himself, and her on his knee before she could make anyresistance. 

"Hanny, " he began, "do you know you are going to be my little sister? Ican't remember when I had a _little_ sister, mine always seemed big tome. And I am very glad to have you. You are such a sweet, dear littlegirl. Won't you give me a word of welcome?"

Something in his voice touched her. 

"I wasn't glad on Friday, " she said slowly. "I don't want Margaret to goaway----"

"Then you will have to take me in here. "

"There's Stephen's room, " she suggested naïvely. 

"Yes, that would do. But I'm not going to take Margaret away in a long, long time. "

"Oh!" She was greatly relieved. 

"But I want you to love me, " and he gave her a squeeze, wondering howshe could have kept so deliciously innocent. "Won't you try? You willmake Margaret ever so much happier. We should be sad if you didn't loveus, and now if you love one, you must love the other. "

Then Margaret came down, and she said the same thing, so what couldHanny do but promise. And it seemed not to disturb any one else. Whenshe spoke of the prospect to her father, he said with a laugh and a hug:"Well, I have my little girl yet. "

Dolly and Stephen took possession of their new abode and had a"house-warming, " a great, big, splendid party almost as grand as thewedding. And what a beautiful house it was! There was a bathroom andmarble basins, and gas in every room, and pretty light carpets withflowers and green leaves all over them. There was music and dancing anda supper, and old Mr. Beekman walked round with her and told herKatschina wasn't well at all, and he was afraid he should lose her. Dolly said she was to come up on Friday after school and stay untilMonday morning. Would Margaret and Dr. Hoffman have a house like thissome time?

She had more lessons to learn now. And grammar was curiously associatedwith Mrs. Murray being so sweet and attentive to the British officerswhile the Federal soldiers stole along--she could fairly see them withher vivid imagination. History began to unfold the great world beforeher. Another thing interested her, and this was that every pleasant dayDaisy Jasper came to school for the morning session. She was verybackward, of course, for she had never been to school at all. She couldwalk now without her crutch, but Sam was always very careful of her. TheJasper house became the rendezvous for the girls, as the Deans' hadbeen. Even bonnie Prince Charlie was allowed to go there. Daisy loved soto see them dance to the music of her wonderful box. But Charles had notbeen able to buy his accordeon. He needed a new suit of clothes if hehad any money to throw away, and Mrs. Reed insisted this should be putin the bank when his father said he could buy him all the clothes heneeded. 

Some of the girls at school were making pretty things for a fair to beheld in the basement of the Church of the Epiphany in Stanton Street, and they begged Hanny to help. They were to have a fair at Martha'schurch also, and the little fingers flew merrily. Hanny had found a newaccomplishment, and she was very proud to bring it into the school. Thiswas crocheting. Next door to the stable in Houston Street lived a verytidy German family with a host of little children. The man did cobbling, mending boots and shoes. His wife did shoe binding and stitching leather"foxings" on cloth tops for gaiters. Button shoes had not come in. Theyeither laced in front or at the side. And very few ladies wore anythinghigher than the spring heel, as it was called. To be sure, some of themdid wear foolishly thin shoes, but there were rubbers unless youdisdained them; and they were real India-rubber, and no mistake, ratherclumsy oftentimes, but they lasted two or three years. 

The little German girls, Lena and Gretchen, took care of the babies anddid the work. It seemed to Hanny they were always busy. Lena knitstockings and mittens and caps, and her small fingers flew like birds. One day she was doing something very beautiful with pink zephyr and anivory needle with a tiny hook at the end. 

"Oh, what is it?" cried Hanny eagerly. 

"Lace. Crocheted lace. A lady on Grand Street will give me ten cents ayard. It is for babies' petticoats. And you can make caps and hoods andfascinators. It plagued me a little at first, but now I can do it sofast, much faster than knitting it. And I am to have all the work I cando. "

"Oh, if I could learn!" cried Hanny. 

"I'll show you because you are so good to us. Your boy brought mothersuch a package of clothes. But I am not going to teach the girls aroundhere. They will be wanting to do it for the stores. You can make lacewith cotton thread and oh! elegant with silk. That is worth a gooddeal. "

Hanny bought her needle and worsted. At first she was "bothered" aswell. But she was an ingenious little girl, and when you once had the"knack" there were such infinite varieties to it. And oh, it was sofascinating! She hardly had time to study her lessons, and one day shedid actually miss in her definitions. But she begged Mrs. Craven to lether study them over and recite after school, for she knew her fatherwould feel badly about the imperfect mark. 

When she had made two yards of beautiful pink lace she showed it toMargaret. She meant to make two yards of blue and give them both to KatyRhodes for her table at the Fair. Margaret was very much pleased andsaid she must learn herself. Daisy Jasper did a little, too. She waslearning very rapidly and had a wonderful genius for drawing. 

Oh, dear! how busy they were. They were happy and interested, andalmost forgot to take out their dolls, or read their story-books. Marthasaid: "You might do something for my fair, too, " and Margaret promised. 

Jim _did_ feel a little sore that Lily Ludlow did not ask him to herparty, which was quite a grand affair. She announced that she had brokenwith the public-school crowd, and was going to have all new friends. Butthe very next week she met Jim at another party, and he was so handsomeand manly that she really regretted her haste. Jim was very proud anddignified, and never once danced with her nor chose her in any of thegames. 

Dolly and Stephen came home to the Thanksgiving dinner. If Hanny had notbeen so much engrossed she might have considered herself left out ofsome things, only her father never left her out. And Ben brought homesuch tempting books that she did wish she could sit up like the othersand not have to go to bed at nine. 

The Epiphany fair came first, the week before Christmas. TheSunday-school room was all dressed with greens, and tables arranged overthe tops of the seats with long boards, covered with white cloths. Andoh, the lovely articles! Everything it seemed that fingers could make, useful or ornamental, from handsomely dressed dolls to pincushions, fromwhite aprons with lace and ribbon bows on the dainty pockets down tounromantic holders. Everybody laughed and chatted and were as gay as gaycould be. 

In the back room that was rented out for a day school--indeed, thelittle girl had come quite near being sent here--there were tables forrefreshments. The coffee and tea had a delightful fragrance, and thedifferent dishes looked wonderfully tempting. 

It was Hanny's first fair, but people didn't expect to take children outeverywhere then, or indeed to go themselves. There was more home life, real family life. Her father was her escort, and her mother had said:"Now don't make the child sick by feeding her all kinds of trash, or shecan't go out again this winter. " So you see they had to be careful. Butthey had some delightful cake and cream, and he bought her a pound ofcandy tied up in a pretty box, and the loveliest little work-basket witha row of blue silk pockets around the inside. 

Katy Rhodes was waiting at a table with her mother, but she found anopportunity to whisper to Hanny "that her lace had sold the very firstthing, and there had been such a call for it she just wished they hadhad a hundred yards. "

That pleased the child very much. 

"It was like a store, " said Hanny to her mother; "only everybody seemedto know everybody, and there were all kinds of things. So many peoplecame for their suppers they must have made lots of money. And I'm astired as I can be, only it _was_ beautiful. "

Martha's church was to have their Christmas Sunday-school anniversary, and Charles Reed was to sing a solo with a chorus of four voices. TheDeans and half the people in the street went. Margaret and Dr. Hoffman, and this time John and Ben took the little girl. Mother had been up atSteve's all day. 

There was a large platform at the end of the church, and crowds ofpretty children dressed in white, ranged in tiers one above another. After a prayer and singing by the congregation the real exercises began. The body of children sang some beautiful hymns, then there were severalspirited dialogues, and separate pieces, very well rendered indeed. Whenit came "bonnie Prince Charlie's" turn, he seemed to hesitate a moment. Hanny thought she would be frightened to death before all the people. Ithink Charles would have been a year ago. 

The piano began the soft accompaniment. After the first few notes thesweet young voice swelled out like the warble of a bird. People weresilent with surprise and admiration. The fair, boyish face and slimfigure looked smaller there on the platform. The face had a youthfulsweetness that nowadays would be pronounced artistic. 

The chorus came in beautifully. There were three verses in the solo, andreally, I do not know as the audience were to blame for applauding. Theboy had to come out and sing again, this time a pretty Christmas carolthat they had practised at singing-school. 

When the exercises were finished the children were all taken down-stairsand they looked very pretty flitting about. There was another surprise, one that greatly interested the little girl. In one prettily arrangedbooth were two curious small beings who had a history. They had alreadybeen in Sunday-school on two occasions. A missionary to China, seeingthese little girls about to be sold, had rescued them by buying themhimself. He had brought them back on his return, and now kindly disposedpeople were making up a sum to provide them with a home and educatethem. 

Hanny pressed forward holding John's hand tightly. They were sostrange-looking. The larger and older one was not at all pretty, but theyounger one had a sweet sort of shyness and was not so stolid. Theiryellow-brown skins, oblique dark eyes, black brows, and black hair doneup in a remarkable fashion with some long pins, and their Chinese attireseemed very curious. The gentleman with them said there were hundredsof little girls sold in China, and that women bought them for futurewives for their sons, and treated them like bond slaves. Thesechildren's feet had not been cramped, this was done mainly to the higherorders. He had some Chinese shoes worn by grown women, and they weresuch short, queer things, like some of the pincushions made for theFair. 

We didn't suppose then the Chinese would come and live with us and havea Chinatown in the heart of the city; do our laundry work and takepossession of our kitchens; that the blue shirts and queer pointed shoeswould be a common sight in our streets. So the Chinese children were acuriosity. Indeed, several years elapsed before Hanny saw anotherinhabitant of the Flowery Kingdom. 

"Don't you want to put something in the box?" John held out a quarter tothe little girl. 

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. Then she shook hands with the smallChinese maidens, and she felt almost as if she had been to a foreigncountry. 

If Mrs. Reed had been present she would have marched Charles home inshort order. She did not believe in praising children, or anybody elsefor that matter. Everybody, in her opinion, needed a strict hand. Shehardly approved of the singing-school, and if she had really understoodthat Charles would stand out alone facing the audience, and then beapplauded for what he had done, and go into the fair and be praised and"treated, " she would have been horrified and put him on the strictestsort of discipline for the next month. 

Charles had endeavored to persuade his mother to go, but she wanted toget the turkey ready for the Christmas dinner, and had no time for suchtrifling things. No woman had who did her duty by her house and herfamily. The harder and stonier and more rigid the discipline was, themore virtue it contained, she thought. There was no especial end in viewwith her; it was the way all along that one had to be careful about andmake as rough as possible. 

Mr. Reed was secretly proud of his boy. He had a misgiving that all thispraise and attention was not a good thing, but the boy looked so happy, and it was Christmas Eve, with the general feeling of joy in the air. Hewas curiously moved himself. Perhaps happiness wasn't such a weak andsinful thing after all. It did not seem to ruin the Underhill family. 

But he said to Charles as they were nearing home: "I wouldn't make muchfuss about the evening. Your mother thinks such things rather foolish. "

They all returned in a crowd, laughing and talking and saying merrygood-nights. Martha had the key of the basement and they trooped in. Indeed, Martha was so much one of the family that Dr. Hoffman paid her adeal of respect. 

Father was up-stairs in the sitting-room reading his paper. He glancedup and nodded. 

"Oh!" cried Hanny, "where's mother? The house looks so dark and dull andnot a bit Christmassy. It was all so splendid, and oh, Father! Charlessung like an angel, didn't he, Margaret? They made him sing over again, and he looked really beautiful. And there were two Chinese girls at thefair, such queer little things, " she flushed, for the word recalled LilyLudlow. "Their hands were as soft as silk, and when they talked--well, you can't imagine it! It sounded like knocking little blocks all aroundand making the corners click. But where _is_ mother?"

"Mother is going to stay up to Steve's all night. They wanted her tohelp them. "

"Oh, dear! It won't be any Christmas without her, " cried the little girlruefully. 

"Oh, she'll be home in the morning, likely. "

"Hanny, it is after eleven, and you must go to bed, " said Margaret. 

"I'd just like to stay up all night, once. And can't I hang up mystocking?"

"I'll see to that. Come, dear. And boys, go to bed. "

CHAPTER XIX

WHEN CHRISTMAS BELLS WERE RINGING

The boys tried to be merry with a big M to it, on Christmas morning. Butsomething was lacking. The stockings hung in a row, and there were pilesof gifts below them. Books and books and books! They were all too oldfor playthings now. Hanny had two white aprons ruffled all round, and apretty pair of winter boots. They were beginning to make them higher inthe ankle and more dainty, and stitching them in colors. These were donewith two rows of white. She had a set of the Lucy books that all littlegirls were delighted with. Oh, I do wonder what they would have said toMiss Alcott and Susan Coolidge and Pansy! But they were very happy inwhat they had. Jim was delighted with two new volumes of Cooper. Ben hada splendid pair of high boots, and three new shirts Margaret and thelittle girl had made for him. 

But, oh, dear! what was it all without mother! They missed her bright, cheery voice, her smile and her ample person that had a warm buoyantatmosphere. They would have been glad to hear her scold a little aboutthe litter of gifts around, and their lagging so when breakfast wasready. 

To make the little girl laugh her father told her that once a man wasdriving along a country road when he saw seven children sitting on thedoorstep crying, and seven more on the fence. Startled at so much griefhe paused to inquire what had happened, and with one voice theyanswered:

"Our mother's gone away and left us all alone!"

"There's only seven of us with Martha, and I am not crying, " said thelittle girl spiritedly. 

Joe dropped in just as they were seated at the table, and whisperedsomething to his father and Margaret. He seemed very merry, and Mr. Underhill gave a satisfied nod. He brought Margaret a beautiful cameobrooch, which was considered a fine thing then, and put a pretty garnetring on Hanny's finger. 

Hanny guessed what the word had been. Mother was going to bring Steveand Dolly down to dinner. Dolly had changed her mind, for she had saidshe could not come. That was what they were smiling about. 

At ten Stephen brought mother down in the sleigh, and they were moremysterious than ever. 

Peggy and the little girl must bundle up and go back with him, for hehad such a wonderful Christmas present to show them. 

"But why didn't you bring Dolly and stay to dinner? And oh, Mother!Christmas morning wasn't splendid at all without you!" said the littlegirl, clinging to her. 

Mrs. Underhill stooped and kissed her and said in a full, tremulous sortof voice:

"Run and get your hood, dear, and don't keep Stephen waiting. "

The horses tossed their heads and whinnied as if they too, said, "Don'tkeep us waiting. " The sun was shining and all the air seemed infusedwith joy, though it was a sharp winter day. The weather knew itsbusiness fifty years ago and didn't sandwich whiffs of spring betweensnow-banks. And the children were blowing on tin and wooden horns, andwishing everybody Merry Christmas as they ran around with the reddest ofcheeks. 

Steve took Hanny on his lap. What did make him so laughing andmysterious? He insisted that Hanny should guess, and then kept saying, "Oh, you're cold, cold, cold as an icehouse! You should have put on yourguessing cap, " and the little girl felt quite teased. 

They stopped down-stairs to get good and warm and take off their wraps. Then Stephen led them up to the front room. It was a kind of library andsitting-room, but no one was there. In the window stood a beautiful vaseof flowers. Hanny ran over to that. Roses at Christmastide were rareindeed. "Here, " said Stephen, catching her arm gently. 

She turned to the opposite corner. There was an old-fashioned mahoganycradle, black with age, and polished until it shone like glass. It waslined overhead with soft light-blue silk, and had lying across it asatin coverlet that had grown creamy with age, full of embroideredflowers dull and soft with their many years of bloom. 

On the pillow lay her brother's Christmas gift that had come while thebells were still ringing out their message first heard on the plains ofJudea. 

"Oh!" with a soft, wondering cry. She knelt beside the cradle that hadcome from Holland a century and a half ago, and held many a Beekmanbaby. A strange little face with a tinge of redness in it, a round broadforehead with a mistiness of golden fuzz, a pretty dimpled chin and amouth almost as round as a cherry. Just at that instant he opened thebluest of eyes, stared at Hanny with a grave aspect, tried to put hisfist into his mouth and with a soft little sound dropped to sleep again. 

A wordless sense of delight and mystery stole over the little girl. Sheseemed lifted up to Heaven's very gates. She reached out her hand andtouched the little velvet fist, not much larger than her doll's, but oh, it had the exquisite inspiration of life and she felt the wonderfulthrill to her very heart. Something given to them all that could loveback when its time of loving came, when it knew of the fond heartsawaiting the sweetness of affection. 

"That's my little boy, " said Stephen, with the great pride and joy offatherhood. "Dolly's and all of ours. Isn't it a Christmas worthhaving?"

"Oh!" she said again with a wordless delight in her heart, while hereyes were filled with tears, so deeply had the consciousness moved her. There was a sort of poetical pathos in the little girl, sacred to love. She had never known of any babies in the family save Cousin Retty's, andthat had not appealed with this delicious nearness. 

Stephen bent over and kissed her. Margaret came to look at the baby. 

"He's a fine fellow!" said the new father. "We wanted to surprise you, "looking at Hanny and smiling. "We made Joe promise not to tell you. Andnow you are all aunts and uncles, and we have a grandmother of our veryown. "

"Oh!" This time Hanny laughed softly. There were no words expressiveenough. 

"And now you will have to knit him some little boots, and save yourmoney to buy him Christmas gifts. And what's that new work--crochet hima cap. Dear me! how hard you will have to work. "

"There were such lovely little boots at Epiphany Fair. If I only hadknown! But I'm quite sure I can learn to make them;" her eyes lightingwith anticipation. "Oh, when will he be big enough to hold?"

"In a month or so. You will have to come up on Saturdays and take careof him. "

"Can I? That will be just splendid. "

He was silent. He could not tease the little girl in the sacredness ofher new, all-pervading love. 

The nurse entered. She had a soft white kerchief pinned about hershoulders, and side puffs of hair done over little combs. She nodded toMargaret and said "the baby was a very fine child, and that Mrs. Underhill was sleeping restfully. They had been so glad to have Mr. Underhill's mother. " Then she patted the blanket over the baby, and said"it had been worked for his great, great grandmother, and they put itover every Beekman baby for good luck. "

Margaret declared they must return. Mother was tired, and the Archerswere coming up to dinner after church. 

"Could I kiss it just once?" asked Hanny timidly. 

"Oh, yes. " The nurse smiled and turned down the blanket, and the babyopened his eyes. 

Hanny felt that in some mysterious manner he knew she loved him. Herlips touched the soft little cheek, the tiny hands. 

"He's very good now, " said the nurse; "but he can cry tremendously. Hehas strong lungs. "

Stephen took them back and then went down to Father Beekman's. There wasso much to do, the little girl and the big girl were both busy enough, helping mother. The boys and her father had gone out, but they had allheard the wonderful tidings. 

Hanny ran back and forth waiting on Martha and carrying dishes to thetable, so there would be no flurry at the last. 

"Hello, Aunt Hanny!" laughed Jim, bouncing in with the reddest ofcheeks. "You'll have to grow fast now to keep up with your dignity. Well, is he Beekman Dutch or Underhill English?"

"He's just lovely. His eyes are blue as the sky. "

"Hurrah for Steve! Well, that was a Christmas!"

Her father was coming with the two cousins, and she ran up-stairs towish them Merry Christmas and tell her father what she thought of thebaby. The baby and the Christmas sermon and the rheumatism and coldweather seemed to get jumbled all together, and for a little whileeverybody talked. Then John and Joe made their appearance, and Martharang the bell, though the savory odors announced that all was ready. 

They had a very delightful dinner. Mrs. Underhill had a pretty newconsequence about her, and was not a bit teased by being calledgrandmother. Dolly's advent into the family had been a source ofdelight, for she fraternized so cordially with every member. And of lateshe and Mother Underhill had been tenderly intimate, for Mrs. Beekmanwas kept much at home by her husband's failing health. 

When they had lingered over the mince pies which certainly weredelicious, and finished their coffee, they went up-stairs to chat aroundthe fire. After the dishes were dried Hanny ran into the Deans' tointerchange a little Christmas talk and tell the girls about Stephen'sbaby. She was so excited that all other gifts seemed of little moment. 

Daisy Jasper had been confined to the house for a week with a severecold. 

"I began to think you had forgotten me, " she said, as Hanny entered thebeautiful parlor. "And Doctor Joe said you had something special to tellme. Oh, what is it?" for the little girl's face was still in a glow ofexcitement. 

"I can never have any nieces or nephews because there is only one ofme, " said Daisy, with a sad little smile. "I _almost_ envy you. If Icould have one of your brothers out of them all I should choose Dr. Joe. He is so tender and sweet and patient. He used to take me in hisarms and let me cry when crying wasn't good for me either. I was somiserable and full of pain, and he always understood. "

Hanny was so moved by pity for Daisy that she felt almost as if shecould give him away--she had so much. Not quite, however, for he wasvery dear to her. And when she looked into Daisy's lovely face andremembered her beautiful name and glanced at the elegant surroundings, it seemed strange there should be anything to wish for. But healthoutweighed all. 

Daisy was delighted with the Christmas Eve anniversary, the singing of"bonnie Prince Charlie, " the fair, and was wonderfully interested in thelittle Chinese girls. She meant to send some money toward theireducation. 

Mr. Bradbury was to give a concert in February with the best childsingers of the different schools. Charles was to take part, his fatherhad promised him that indulgence. 

"I hope I shall get strong enough to go, " began Daisy wistfully. "It isthe sitting up straight that tires my back, but last year it was so muchworse. Doctor Joe says I shall get well and be almost like other girls. See how much I have gone to school. It is so splendid to learn for yourown very self. You don't feel so helpless. "

Daisy's Christmas had been a beautiful Geneva watch. We had not gone towatchmaking then and had to depend on our neighbors over the water formany choice articles. And a watch was a rare thing for a little girl topossess. 

When she went home Hanny had to get out her pretty new work and show thevisitors. She had nearly four yards of lovely blue edging she was makingfor Margaret, but she had not hinted at its destination. 

"Why, " exclaimed Aunt Nancy, "I've seen mittens knit with a hooksomething like that. Not open work and fancy, but all tight and out ofgood stout yarn. They're very lasting. "

"I do believe they're like what Uncle David makes, " said John. "Don'tyou remember, he used to give us a pair now and then?"

"Well, I declare, there's nothing new under the sun!" laughed AuntPatience. 

Hanny was quite sure there could not be any connection between herdelicate lace and stout yarn mittens, and she meant to ask Uncle Davidthe next time they made a visit. Both ladies praised her a good deal, especially when they heard of the shirts she had been making withMargaret. 

"It used to be a great thing, " said Aunt Patience. "When I was six yearsold I had knit a pair of stockings by myself, and when I was eight Ihad made my father a shirt. All the gussets were stitched, just as youdo a bosom. My, what a sight of fine work there was then!"

"I'll tell you something I read the other day in a queer old book Ipicked up down at the office, " began Ben. "When little Prince Edward wastwo years old, the Princess Elizabeth who was afterward queen made him ashirt or smock, as it was called, with drawn work and embroidery. Andshe was only six. "

"Children have more lessons to study now, " said Mrs. Underhill, half inapology. "And Hanny has done some drawn work for me, and embroideredsome aprons. "

"And Queen Elizabeth spent enough time later on with gay gallants, "remarked Aunt Nancy. "So I do not know as her early industry held out. "

"I'd rather have had her splendid reign than to have made shirts for anarmy, " declared Ben. 

"Well, we all have our duties in this world, " sighed Aunt Patience. "Ilearned to make shirts, but I never had a husband or boys to make themfor. "

They all laughed at that. But what would a little girl say now if shehad to stitch down the middle of a shirt bosom, following a drawnthread, and taking up only two threads at every stitch?

There certainly was great need of Elias Howe. 

The visitors declared they must get home by dark. There was the poorcat, and the fires must need looking after. Mrs. Underhill was fain tokeep them to tea, but instead packed them up a basket of cold turkey andsome delicious boiled ham, a dozen or two crullers, and a nice mincepie. John was to see the old ladies home. 

When they were gone Hanny went up to the "spare" room, for in one drawerof the best bureau she had kept her beautiful doll, which had never beenpermanently named. She opened it and kneeling down raised the napkinthat covered her, as one tucks in a little child. 

Yes, she was lovely, really prettier than Stephen's baby, she felt, though she would not say it. But when you came to kiss on the coldwax--ah, that was the test. And Stephen's baby would grow and walk andtalk, and have cunning little teeth and curly hair, maybe. She did solove curly hair. 

"Dolly, " she began gravely, "I am going to put you away. I shall beeleven next May, and though I shall always be father's little girl, Ishall be growing up and too old to play with dolls. Then I shall have somuch to do. And I should love the real live baby best. That would hurtyour feelings. Sometime there may be another little girl who will be asglad to have you come on Christmas Day as I was. I shall love you justthe same, but you have a different kind of love for something that ishuman and can put truly arms around your neck and kiss you. When girlsare little they don't mind the difference so much. You won't feel reallonesome, for dolls don't. We only make believe they do. And now I shallnot make believe any more, because I am getting to know all about realthings. There are so many real and strange things in the world that arelovely to think about, and I seem to have learned so much to-day. Ican't feel quite as I did yesterday. "

She put on the wadded satin cloak and the dainty hood and laid it backin the box. There was room for the muff and the travelling shawl. Sheput the cover on softly. She folded the pretty garments and packed themin the corner, and spread the towel over them all. 

There was no morbid feeling of sacrifice or sense of loss. A greatchange had come over her, a new human affection had entered her soul. She had a consciousness that could not be put into words. She hadoutgrown her doll. 

Margaret was going to an oratorio with Dr. Hoffman. The boys were toattend the Christmas celebration at Allen Street church with the Deans. Hanny had not cared to go. Her mother kept watching her with a curiousfeeling as if she saw or suspected some change in her. 

The room settled to quiet. The fire burned drowsily. Mrs. Underhill tookthe big rocking-chair at one side, and Hanny came and settled herself ona footstool, leaning her arms on her mother's knee. 

"I shall not hang up my stocking next Christmas, " she said, in a soft, slow tone. "It is very nice when you believe in it, and real funafterward when you don't believe in it but like it; when you seem littleto yourself. "

"You do grow out of it, " replied her mother; but at heart she washalf-sorry. "You get just the same things. At least you get suitablethings. "

Was she glad to have them all growing up?

"Dear me, there's no little children, " she continued, with a sigh. "You'll be eleven next May, Hanny. "

"But there's Stephen's lovely little baby. Doesn't it seem just as ifGod had sent him at the right time, when we were all growing big?"

She took the little girl's hands in hers and said dreamily, "You weresent that way, at the right time. I was so glad to have you. I canrecall it so plainly. Old Mother Tappan was there. I was so afraid you'dbe a boy, and we had boys enough. And she said, 'Oh, what a nice littlegirl. You'll be glad enough, Mrs. Underhill. ' And so I was. "

"As glad as Stephen?" said Hanny, with shining eyes. 

"Yes, dear. Even if it wasn't Christmas. You were a welcome little Mayflower. "

In Bethlehem of Judea the other child had been born with the mightysignificance of a great gift to the world, a gift that had madeChristmas possible for all time to come. Just how the world was redeemedno little girl of ten or so could understand. But it was redeemedbecause the little child of Bethlehem bore the sins of the whole worldin His manhood. Ah, no wonder they wrote under the picture of Hismother, when He was gone, "_Mater Dolorosa_. " But the years of Hischildhood must have been sweet to remember. "The young child and Hismother. " The wise men coming with their gifts. The sweet song goingaround the world, the great love. 

Her mother's hands relaxed from their clasp. She was very tired and hadfallen asleep. Her father folded his paper and looked over at herwistfully. Hanny came and dropped softly on his knee and his strong, tender arms enclosed her. 

Was there any child quite like the little girl? They had been so proudand happy over Stephen, so delighted with Margaret. He had loved themall, and they were a nice household of children. But they were growingup and going their ways. They would be making new homes. Ah, it wouldbe many a long year before the little girl would think of such a thing. They would keep her snug and safe, "to have and to hold, " and he smiledto himself at the literal rendering. 

The chime of the clock roused Mrs. Underhill. It was Hanny's bedtime, and she had been so busy all day, so full of excitement, too, that herchecks had bloomed with roses. She glanced across. The fair flaxen headwas on the shoulder half hidden by the protecting arm. The other head, showing many silver threads now, drooped over a little. The picturebrought a mist to her eyes, and there was a half sob in her throat. Thesame thought came into her mind. She would be their "little girl" whenthe other one had gone to her new home. 

She could not disturb them. It was "good will and peace" everywhere.