Part 39 (1/2)

He came and kissed his unfortunate little girl.

”Oh, do!” entreated Hanny softly. ”You see, it will be like the ladies of long ago when they went out in their chairs. There's some pictures in the old books Miss Lois sent us, and the funny clothes they wore. I'll bring them over some day. I read about a lady going to Court in her chair. And there were two or three pretty maids to wait on her. We'll make believe you are the Countess Somebody, and we are the ladies in waiting. And we'll all go to the Palace. The King will be out; they're always on hunting expeditions, and the Prince, that will be Charles, there was a bonnie Prince Charlie once, will take us about and show us the 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 good stage manager. There, could you have it planned out any nicer, Daisy? I shall have to be on hand to see the triumphal procession as it goes down Broadway.”

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 was smaller she might be exhibited along with Tom Thumb, but she's spoiled that brilliant enterprise, and yet she stays so small that we begin to think she's stunted.”

”Oh, Joe, do you really?” she cried.

”We shall have to call her the little girl all her life. And you know she'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 little mite of a thing and to be called Hanneran is pretty bad. And now, little mite, we must go back home. When will the cavalcade start? I must be on hand 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 pretty doubt in her tone. ”I did grow last year, for mother had to let down my skirts.”

”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's mother and her Aunt Ellen went, Mrs. Dean and Margaret, and four little girls, including Nora Whitney, who was growing ”like a weed.” They went out to Broadway and then straight down. Of course people looked at them.

The children were so merry, and really, Daisy in her chair with her colored attendant was quite an unusual incident. Aunt Ellen had let her carry her pretty dove-colored sunshade. It was lined with pink and had a joint in the handle that turned it down and made a shelter from too curious eyes. There were a good many people out. It was not necessary then to go away for the whole summer in order to be considered fas.h.i.+onable. People went and came, and when they were home they promenaded in the afternoon without losing caste.

Stores were creeping up Broadway. ”Gerard & Co.” was on the block above the Astor House, a very attractive notion and fancy store. The window was always beautifully arranged, and the cases were full of tempting articles. There were seats for customers, and across the end of the long store pictures and bijou tables and music-boxes were displayed. In a small anteroom there was a workshop where musical instruments, jewelry and, trinkets were repaired.

Sam lifted out his young mistress and carried her in. Charles came forward to receive his guests, and though he flushed and showed some embarra.s.sment, acquitted himself quite creditably. Mr. Gerard, with his French politeness, made them very welcome and took a warm interest at once in Daisy. She sat by the counter with Sam at her back, and looked quite the countess of Hanny's description. Mr. Gerard brought her some rare and pretty articles to examine. The others strolled around, the children uttering e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of delight. Such elegant fans and card cases and mother-of-pearl _portemonnaies_ bound with silver and steel!

Such vases and card receivers--indeed, all the pretty bric-a-brac, as we should term it nowadays.

But the greatest interest was aroused by the music-boxes. The children listened enchanted to the limpid tinkle of the tunes. It was like fairy-land.

”Oh,” cried Daisy, with a long sigh of rapture; ”if I only could have a music-box! Then I could play for myself. And it is so beautiful. Oh, mamma!”

Mrs. Jasper inquired prices. From twenty-four dollars to beyond one hundred. There was one at forty dollars that played deliciously, and such a variety of tunes.

”And when you tire of them you can have new music put in,” explained Mr.