Part 8 (2/2)

All that week it was a talisman whose touch helped the homesick little soul to be brave and womanly.

When Maria, the coloured housekeeper, went into the hall to light the lamps, the Little Colonel was sitting on the big fur rug in front of the fire, talking contentedly to Fritz, who lay with his curly head in her lap.

”You all's goin' to have tea in the Cun'ls room to-night,” said Maria.

”He tole me to tote it up soon as he rung the bell.”

”There it goes now,” cried the child, jumping up from the rug.

She followed Maria up the wide stairs. The Colonel was sitting in a large easy chair, wrapped in a gaily flowered dressing-gown, that made his hair look unusually white by contrast.

His dark eyes were intently watching the door. As it opened to let the Little Colonel pa.s.s through, a very tender smile lighted up his stern face.

”So you did come to see grandpa after all,” he cried, triumphantly.

”Come here and give me a kiss. Seems to me you've been staying away a mighty long time.”

As she stood beside him with his arm around her, Walker came in with a tray full of dishes. ”We're going to have a regular little tea-party,”

said the Colonel.

Lloyd watched with sparkling eyes as Walker set out the rare old-fas.h.i.+oned dishes. There was a fat little silver sugar-bowl with a b.u.t.terfly perched on each side to form the handles, and there was a slim, graceful cream-pitcher shaped like a lily.

”They belonged to your great-great-grandmother,” said the Colonel, ”and they're going to be yours some day if you grow up and have a house of your own.”

The expression on her beaming face was worth a fortune to the Colonel.

When Walker pushed her chair up to the table, she turned to her grandfather with s.h.i.+ning eyes.

”Oh, it's just like a pink story,” she cried, clapping her hands. ”The shades on the can'les, the icin' on the cake, an' the posies in the bowl,--why, even the jelly is that colah, too. Oh, my darlin' little teacup! It's jus' like a pink rosebud. I'm so glad I came!”

The Colonel smiled at the success of his plan. In the depths of his satisfaction he even had a plate of quail and toast set down on the hearth for Fritz.

”This is the nicest pahty I evah was at,” remarked the Little Colonel, as Walker helped her to jam the third time.

Her grandfather chuckled.

”Blackberry jam always makes me think of Tom,” he said. ”Did you ever hear what your Uncle Tom did when he was a little fellow in dresses?”

She shook her head gravely.

”Well, the children were all playing hide-and-seek one day. They hunted high and they hunted low after everybody else had been caught, but they couldn't find Tom. At last they began to call, 'Home free! You can come home free!' but he did not come. When he had been hidden so long they were frightened about him, they went to their mother and told her he wasn't to be found anywhere. She looked down the well and behind the fire-boards in the fireplaces. They called and called till they were out of breath. Finally she thought of looking in the big dark pantry where she kept her fruit. There stood Mister Tom. He had opened a jar of blackberry jam, and was just going for it with both hands. The jam was all over his face and hair and little gingham ap.r.o.n, and even up his wrists. He was the funniest sight I ever saw.”

The Little Colonel laughed heartily at his description, and begged for more stories. Before he knew it he was back in the past with his little Tom and Elizabeth.

Nothing could have entertained the child more than these scenes he recalled of her mother's childhood.

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