Part 18 (1/2)

All the foliage began to turn and fall. The late flowers hung their heads. It had been a beautiful autumn, people said to pay up for the late spring.

There had been a little discussion about a school again.

”She seems so small, and in some things diffident,” Chilian said. ”The winters are long and cold, and she has not been used to them. Cousin Giles thinks her very delicate.”

”She isn't like children raised here, but she's quite as strong as common. She oughtn't be pampered and made any more finicking than she is. A girl almost ten. What is she going to be good for, I'd like to know?”

Cousin Giles had not made much headway with her. He was large and strong with an emphatic voice, and a head of thick, strong white hair, a rather full face, and penetrating eyes. He had advised about investments, though he thought no place had the outlook of Boston. But Salem was ahead of her in foreign trade.

Chilian Leverett felt very careful of the little girl. For if she died a large part of her fortune came to him. He really wished it had not been left that way. There was an East India Marine Society that had many curiosities--stored in rooms on the third floor of the Stearns building.

It had a wider scope than that and was to a.s.sist widows and orphans of deceased members, who were all to be those ”who had actually navigated the seas beyond Cape of Good Hope, or Cape Horn, as masters or supercargoes of vessels belonging to Salem.” To this Anthony had bequeathed many curiosities and a gift. There was talk of enlarging its scope, which was begun shortly after this.

Matters had settled to an amicable basis in the Leverett house. Rachel had won the respect of Elizabeth, who prayed daily for her conversion from heathendom and that she might see the claims the Christian religion had upon her. Eunice and she were more really friendly. She made some acquaintances outside and most people thought she must be some relation of the captain's. She had proved herself very efficient in several cases of illness, for in those days neighbors were truly neighborly.

Cynthia did shrink from the cold, though there were good fires kept in the house. This winter Chilian had a stove put up in the hall, very much against Elizabeth's desires. Quite large logs could be slipped in and they would lie there and smoulder, lasting sometimes all night. It was a great innovation and extravagance, though wood seemed almost inexhaustible in those days. And it was considered unhealthy to sleep in warm rooms, though people would shut themselves up close and have no fresh air.

Then the snow came, but it was a greater success in the inland towns, and there were sledding and sleigh-riding. The boys and girls had great times building forts and having s...o...b..lling contests. But the little girl caught a cold and had a cough that alarmed her guardian a good deal and made him more indulgent than ever, to Elizabeth's disgust.

She was not really ill, only pale and languid and seemed to grow thinner. She was much fairer than any one could have supposed and her eyes looked large and wistful. Chilian put some pillows in the big rocking-chair and tilted it back so that she could almost lie down on it.

”You are so good to me,” she would say with her sweet, faint smile.

Bentley came in now and then of an evening, and she liked to hear what they were doing at school. Polly, too, made visits; they had a half-holiday on Sat.u.r.day. She always brought some work, and Elizabeth considered her a very industrious girl. She was going to a birthday party of one of her mates.

”What do they do at parties?” inquired the little girl.

”Oh, they play games. There's stagecoach. Everybody but one has a seat.

He blows a horn and sings out, 'Stage for Boston,' or any place. Then every one has to change seats. Such a scrambling and scurrying time! and the one who gets left has to take the horn.”

”It's something like puss in the corner.”

”Only ever so many can play this. Then there's 'What's my thought like?'

That's rather hard, but funny. I like twirling the platter. If you don't catch it when it comes near you, you must pay a forfeit. And redeeming them is lots of fun, for you are told to do all sorts of ridiculous things. Then there's some goodies and mottoes and you can exchange with a boy. But Kate Saltonstall's big sister had a party where they danced. Eliza wanted some dancing, but her mother said so many people did not approve of it for children.”

”And don't you have some one to come and dance for you?”

”Oh, what a queer idea! The fun is in dancing yourself with a real nice boy. Some people think it awfully wrong. Do you, Miss Winn?”

”No, indeed. When I was a child in England we went out and danced on the green. Everybody did. And when there were doings at the great houses--like Christmas, and weddings, and coming of age--the ladies, in their silks and satins and laces, came down in the servants' hall and danced with the butler and the footmen, and my lord took out some of the maids. I don't think dancing hurts any one.”

”I'm glad to hear you say that, Miss Winn. They are talking of having a dancing-cla.s.s in school. I hope mother will let me join it.”

”And they teach it in schools there.”

”And why shouldn't they here?” said Polly.

To be sure. Cynthia was much interested and made Polly promise to come again and tell her all about it. Old Salem was awakening rapidly from her rigid torpor.

”I wonder if I could ever have a party,” she said to Cousin Leverett that evening. ”When father comes home we might have what they did at the Perkinses when they went in their new place--a house-warming. Is that like a party?”