Part 8 (1/2)

Liddy was essentially a home-loving girl and cared but little for company. A few friends, and good ones, might be considered as the text of her life, and even at school it had been the same. Her home duties and her father's needs were a sufficient kingdom, and over it she was a gracious queen. For the first three months after her mother's death she and her father lived a life of nearly silent sadness. Almost daily he visited the town, dreading far worse than Liddy ever knew lest he must return with sad tidings. He knew what was ever in her heart, and as her life-happiness was dear to him, he wasted no time in discussing war news with his friends in the village. When June came Liddy felt that a change in the morose current of their lives must be made, and in her peculiar way set about to carry out her idea. She knew his fiftieth birthday came during that month, and when the day arrived she said to him:

”Come home early to-night, father, I have a great, big favor to ask of you.” All that afternoon she worked at her little plot, and when tea time came and he entered the house a surprise awaited him. The dining-table had been moved into the sitting-room, set with the best china, and in the center was a vase of flowers. Draped from the hanging lamp above it, and extending to each corner were ropes of ground pine, and around his plate was a double row of full-blown roses. It was a pretty sight, and when he looked at it he smiled and said: ”Expecting company, Liddy?”

”Yes, you,” was her answer; ”and I've made a shortcake, and I picked the strawberries myself.”

When he was seated in his accustomed chair he looked at the array of roses, and in a surprised voice remarked: ”Why didn't you put some around your own plate, Liddy?”

”Because it's not my birthday,” came the answer; ”count them, father.”

The thoughtful tribute touched him, and a look of sadness crept in his face. ”I had forgotten how old I was,” he said.

Liddy made no reply until she had poured his tea, and then she said, in her earnest way: ”Now, father, I don't want you to think of that any more, or anything else that is past and gone. Please think how hard I worked all the afternoon to fix the table and how much I want to make you happy.”

When it came time to retire, he said: ”You haven't told me yet what that big favor is, Liddy!”

For answer she went to him and taking his face in her hands, she kissed him on either cheek and whispered: ”Wait till to-morrow!”

CHAPTER XVIII.

A FEW BRIGHT DAYS.

The next evening after supper Liddy showed unusual cheerfulness. She had that day received three letters from the absent one, though of different dates, and all contained a.s.suring words. Then she had a little plan of loving intent mapped out in her mind and was eager to carry it out. Her father noticed her unusual mood and said: ”It seems good to see you smile once more, Liddy.”

”I am trying hard to feel happy,” she answered, ”and harder still to make you feel so as well.” And then, drawing her chair close to him, she sat down and rested her face against his shoulder. It was one of her odd ways, and it must be now stated that when this winsome girl most earnestly desired to reach her father's heart, she always stroked his shoulder with her face.

”Well,” he said, recognizing her method, ”I know you have something on your mind; so tell me what it is right away!”

She made no immediate reply, but softly stroked him for a moment and then replied: ”Yes, I do want something; I want a clock!” and then, straightening herself up, she continued earnestly: ”I want a lot of things; I want a pretty clock to put on the mantel, and I want you to put the tall one up into the attic, for it gives me the blues; and say, father”---- and here again her face went to his shoulder, ”I want a piano!”

”Is that all?” he answered, a droll smile creeping into his face.

”No,” she said, ”that isn't all; but it's all I dare ask for now.”

”Better tell me the rest,” he replied, stroking the head that still rested against his arm. ”You haven't surprised me yet.”

And then there was a very pretty scene, for the next instant that blue-eyed heart-breaker was sitting in her father's lap, with both arms around his neck.

”Do you mean it, father?” she whispered. ”Can I have a piano?”

”Why, of course,” he answered softly, ”if you want one.”

In a week the old cottage organ that had felt the touch of Liddy's childish fingers learning the scale, was keeping company with the tall clock in the attic, and in its place stood a piano. In the sitting-room a new clock that chimed the hours and halves ticked on the mantel. These were not all the changes, for when so much was won our heart-breaker renewed her a.s.sault by her usual method, and pretty portieres took the place of doors between parlor, hall and sitting-room, and delicate lace curtains draped the windows. Then Liddy surveyed her home with satisfaction and asked her father how he liked it.

”It makes a great change in the rooms,” he replied, ”and they seem more cheerful.”

”Do you notice that it also makes the carpets look worn and shabby?”

said Liddy; ”and the parlor furniture a little old-fas.h.i.+oned?”

Mr. Camp sat down in one of the parlor chairs and looked around. For a few moments he surveyed the room in silence and then said: ”Liddy, did you ever hear the story of the bra.s.s fire-dogs? I don't think you have, so I will tell it. There was once a good woman who persuaded her husband to buy a pair of bra.s.s fire-dogs for the parlor, to take the place of the old iron ones. When the new ones were in place she polished them very brightly and asked him to look into the room. 'Don't you think,'