Part 23 (2/2)

In the course of that day Elsie's plans were made known to the Keiths, Virginia, and her cousins d.i.c.k Percival and his half-brother Bob Johnson, joyfully accepted by the two gentlemen, and half ungraciously by Virginia, who said complainingly, that ”Viamede was a pretty enough place, to be sure, but would be dreadfully lonesome for her when the boys were away.”

”Then you can amuse yourself with a book from the library, a ride or drive, as the horses and carriages will be left here for your use and that of d.i.c.k and Bob,” Elsie answered pleasantly, while Isadore, blus.h.i.+ng vividly for her sister, exclaimed, ”O Virgie, you could not have a lovelier, sweeter home, and I think Cousin Elsie is wonderfully kind to offer it!”

”Of course, I'm greatly obliged to her,” Virginia said, coloring slightly as though a trifle ashamed of her want of appreciation of the kind offer ”and I'll not damage anything, so that the house will be none the worse for my occupancy, but possibly a little better.”

”Yes, perhaps it may,” Elsie said pleasantly, ”though the servants usually left in charge are careful about airing it and keeping everything neat and clean. I really think you will have no trouble with your housekeeping, Virgie.”

”That seems a pleasant prospect, for I never liked housekeeping,”

returned Virginia, ”and I really am much obliged to you, Cousin Elsie.”

”You are very welcome, and I hope will be happy here,” was the kindly reply.

Another fortnight of constant intercourse between the three places--Viamede, Magnolia Hall, and the Parsonage--of rides, drives, walks, sailing or rowing about on the lagoon, and every other pleasure and entertainment that could be devised, then the party began to break up, those from the north returning to their homes, most of them by rail, as the speediest and the most convenient mode of travel. However, Mr.

and Mrs. Dinsmore, Evelyn, Grandma Elsie and her youngest two, Cousin Ronald and the Woodburn family, returned together by sea, making use of the captain's yacht, which he had ordered to be sent to him in season for the trip by the Gulf and ocean.

There was no urgent need of haste, and the captain did not deny that he was conscious of a longing to be, for a time, again in command of a vessel sailing over the briny deep; besides, it would be less fatiguing for the little ones, to say nothing of their elders.

The little girls were full of delight at the prospect of both the voyage and the return to their lovely homes, yet could not leave beautiful Viamede without deep regret.

It was the last evening but one of their stay; all were gathered upon the veranda looking out upon the lagoon sparkling in the moonlight, and the velvety flower-bespangled lawn, with its many grand and beautiful old trees. The little ones had already gone to their nests, but Evelyn, Lulu, and Grace were sitting with the older people, Grace on her father's knee, the other two together close at hand.

There had been some cheerful chat, followed by a silence of several minutes. It was broken by a slight scuffling sound, as of a negro's footstep, in the rear of Elsie's chair, then a voice said in mournful accents, ”Scuse de in'truption, missus, but dis chile want to 'spress to you uns dat we uns all a'most heart-broke t'inkin' how you's gwine 'way an' p'r'arps won't be comin' heah no mo' till de ol'est ob us done gone foreber out dis wicked worl'.”

Before the sentence was completed every eye had turned in the direction of the sounds; but nothing was to be seen of the speaker.

”Oh, that was you, Cousin Ronald,” laughed Rosie, recovering from the momentary start given her by the seemingly mysterious disappearance of the speaker.

”Ah, Rosie, my bonnie la.s.sie, how can you treat your auld kinsman so ill as to suspect him of murdering the king's English in that style?”

queried the old gentleman in hurt, indignant tones.

”Because, my poor abused cousin, I am utterly unable to account in any other way for the phenomenon of an invisible speaker so close at hand.”

Cousin Ronald made no reply, for at that instant there came a sound of bitter sobbing, apparently from behind a tree a few feet from the veranda's edge, then a wailing cry, ”Oh, Miss Elsie, Ma.s.sa Dinsmore, and de res' ob you dar, doan' go for to leab dis po' chile! She cayn't stan'

it nohow 'tall! her ole heart like to break! Doan' go way, ma.s.sa an'

missus; stay hyah wid de n.i.g.g.ahs dat lubs you so!”

”Oh, Cousin Ronald, don't!” Elsie said in half tremulous tones. ”It seems too real, and almost breaks my heart; for I am greatly attached to many of these poor old men and women.”

”Then I think they will not distress you with any more complaints and entreaties to-night, sweet cousin,” returned the old gentleman in pleasant, though half regretful tones.

CHAPTER XIV.

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