Part 3 (2/2)
”Horace,” said Aunt Madge, ”your Uncle Augustus is gone, and that is one reason, you know, why I begged for company during the holidays. You will be the only gentleman in the house, and we ladies herewith put ourselves under your protection. Will you accept the charge?”
”He needn't _pertect_ ME,” spoke up Miss Dimple, from the depths of an easy-chair; ”I can pertect myself.”
”Don't mind going to the Museum alone, I suppose, and crossing ferries, and riding in the Park, and being out after dark?”
”No; I'm not afraid of things,” replied the strong-minded young lady; ”ask Prudy if I am. And my father lets me go in the horse-cars all over Portland. That's since I travelled out west.”
Here the bell sounded, and the only gentleman of the house gave his arm to Mrs. Allen, to lead her out to what he supposed was supper, though he soon found it went by the name of dinner. Neither he nor his young cousins were accustomed to seeing so much silver and so many servants; but they tried to appear as unconcerned as if it were an every-day affair. Dotty afterwards said to Prudy and Horace, ”I was 'stonished when that man came to the back of my chair with the b.u.t.ter; but I said, '_If_ you please, sir,' just as if I 'spected it. _He_ don't know but my father's rich.”
After dinner Fly's eyes drew together, and Prudy said,--
”O, darling, you don't know what's going to happen. Auntie said you might sleep with Dotty and me to-night, right in the middle.”
”O, dear!” drawled Flyaway; ”when there's two abed, I sleep; but when there's three abed, I open out my eyes, and can't.”
”So you don't like to sleep with your cousins,” said Dotty, ”your dear cousins, that came all the way from Portland to see you.”
”Yes, I do,” said Fly, quickly; ”my eyes'll open out; but that's no matter, 'cause I don't want to go to sleep; I'd ravver not.”
They went up stairs, into a beautiful room, which aunt Madge had arranged for them with two beds, to suit a whim of Dotty's.
”Now isn't this just splendid?” said Miss Dimple; ”the carpet so soft your boots go in like feathers; and then such pictures! Look, Fly! here are two little girls out in a snow-storm, with an umbrella over 'em.
Aren't you glad it isn't you? And here are some squirrels, just as natural as if they were eating grandpa's oilnuts. And see that pretty lady with the kid, or the dog. Any way she is kissing him; and it was all she had left out of the whole family, and she wanted to kiss somebody.”
”Yes,” said aunt Madge.
”'Her sole companion in a dearth Of love upon a hopeless earth.'
”If that makes you look so sober, children, I'm going to take it down.
Here, on this bracket, is the head of our blessed Saviour.”
”O, I'm glad,” said Fly. ”He'll be right there, a-looking on, when we say our prayers.”
”Hear that creature talk!” whispered Dotty.
”And these things a-s.h.i.+nin' down over the bed: who's these?” said Flyaway, dancing about the room, with ”opened-out” eyes.
”Don't you know? That's Christ blessing little children,” said Dotty, gently. ”I always know Him by the rainbow round His head.”
”Aureole,” corrected Aunt Madge.
”But wasn't it just _like_ a rainbow--red, blue and green?”
”O, no; our Saviour did not really have any such crown of light, Dotty.
<script>