Part 14 (2/2)
”I see the Randalls almost every day. The house where they are boarding is only a little way from our cottage. Jack looks ever so much better than when he came, and papa says the sea air is making him stronger every day. He can stand all by himself now, and walk a little with his crutches. Papa thinks by the autumn he will be able to walk as well as anybody. Mamma has given him a go-cart, and Betty and I push him about in it. We all go down to the beach, and when we have made a nice seat in the sand for Jack, he gets out of the go-cart and sits there. I like Betty and Jack ever so much, and mamma likes to have me play with them.
”Mrs. Randall has a good many pupils already, and mamma thinks she will have more by and by, when all the summer people get here. Aunt Daisy is taking music lessons from her, and says she is the best teacher she ever had. She plays beautifully too. Mamma had her come over and play for some people the other day, and they all enjoyed it very much.
”I am having a lovely time, but I do miss you very much. Can't you really come and make me a visit? Mamma and Aunt Daisy would love to have you, and there are two beds in my room. I should be so very, very happy if you would only come.
”My hand is getting tired, so I shall have to stop.
”Betty and Jack send their love, and say they would love it if you would come. Please answer this letter right away, and believe me, with lots of love and kisses,
”Your true friend, ”Louise M. Bell.”
”That's a lovely letter,” said Winifred in a tone of profound admiration. ”Lulu writes beautifully, don't you think so, mother?”
”She certainly expresses herself very well,” said Mrs. Hamilton, smiling.
”She writes stories too,” Winifred went on, putting her letter carefully back into the envelope; ”she intends to be an auth.o.r.ess when she grows up. She did think once that she would be a missionary, but now she has decided that she would rather be an auth.o.r.ess like her aunt.”
”Wouldn't you like to go to Navesink and make Lulu a visit?” Mr.
Hamilton asked.
Winifred looked a little wistful, but she shook her head decidedly.
”Not without mother. If mother could go too, I should love it better than anything else in the world.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton exchanged glances, but they were both silent, and nothing more was said on the subject.
As soon as they rose from the breakfast table, Winifred went to put her letter away in the little box where she kept all her treasures, but before doing so she sat down on the edge of her bed, and read it all over again from beginning to end. When she had finished, her face looked even more wistful than before.
”I should like to go, oh, I should like it very much,” she said, with a long sigh, ”but I couldn't go anywhere without mother. I suppose when people have only had mothers a little while like me, they feel differently about leaving them from the people who have had them all the time.”
The fact was, Winifred was feeling a little bit lonely. It was very warm in the city, and now that school was over, and all her friends had left town, she found time hang somewhat heavy on her hands. The children were a great comfort, of course, and her mother was everything to her, but she missed the work and the companions.h.i.+p of school, and there were times on those hot summer days when even story books seemed to have lost their charms.
She and Betty had become great friends during the time when Jack was in the hospital, and when Dr. Bell had decided that the seash.o.r.e was the place for Jack, and the Randalls had given up their flat, and gone for the summer to board at Navesink--the kind doctor having procured accommodation for them in a house not far from his own--Winifred, although rejoicing heartily in her friends' good fortune, could not help feeling very forlorn without them. It was two weeks now since the Randalls had gone away, and Lulu's letter was the first news Winifred had received from any of her friends.
On this particular morning things were unusually dull. It was very hot, for one thing, and then her mother and Lizzie were both very busy in the kitchen, putting up strawberry preserves. Lulu's letter had suggested so many pleasant possibilities too. Certainly sea bathing and playing s.h.i.+pwreck in a real boat sounded much more attractive than reading story books in a hot little bedroom on the second floor of a New York apartment house. She did her duty faithfully by the children; dressed them all; set Lord Fauntleroy, Rose-Florence, and Lily-Bell at their lessons, arranged Miss Mollie's hair in the latest fas.h.i.+on, and gave Violet-May a dose of castor oil. Then when there was really nothing more to be done for her family, and she had learned from her mother that her services were not desired in the kitchen, she took up ”Denise and Ned Toodles,” and settling herself in the coolest spot she could find, tried to forget other things in the interest of a new story.
”Well, mousie, here you are; deep in a story book as usual.”
At the sound of the familiar voice, Winifred dropped her book, and sprang up with an exclamation of pleasure.
”Oh, Aunt Estelle, I am glad to see you!” she cried joyfully, running to greet the tall, bright-faced young lady who was standing in the doorway. ”How did you get in? I never heard the bell.”
”I didn't ring, the door was open,” said her aunt, laughing and kissing her. ”I've been here for some time, talking to your mother in the kitchen, and now I've come to have a little talk with you.”
”Won't you sit down?” said Winifred, hospitably drawing forward the comfortable rocker in which she had been sitting. ”You look awfully warm. You sit here, and I'll fan you; that'll be nice.”
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