A Little Girl in Old Washington. Douglas Amanda M.
I'd rather have Sally Brown to play with, and the great woods. I think I shouldn't even mind Indians, nor dark nights."
"Has Charles been cross to you?"
"No, I like Charles. Let me go find mamma."
"You can't have her just now," said Louis in a soothing tone. "Father has to have her on a little matter of business."
"You all have her!" resentfully.
"That is because she is so charming and sweet."
Annis looked up into the face that was smiling and sympathetic.
"Tell me the trouble. Surely Patty or Jacky have not been scolding you? For you couldn't have done anything bad. You are such a shy, quiet little thing."
"I was playing with the babies – "
"Surely it wasn't Aunt Jane?"
"No." She had stopped sobbing and raised her sweet eyes, the tears still beading the lashes.
"Why do you want to go away, then?"
There was no answer. Did she really want to go? The arm about her was very friendly. She had felt almost afraid of this big brother, but his voice went to her heart.
"I think we cannot spare you. I know we cannot spare your mother."
"Annis! Annis!" called the clear girl's voice.
"Here, Patty," answered her brother, and the young girl ran down to them. She smiled at Annis.
"What happened?" Louis asked.
"It was that little cat Rene! She didn't scratch, though. Rene has been spoiled by everybody, and she believes now that no one has any rights but herself."
"And we'll stand by Annis. Come – you do like us a little, do you not?"
He put both hands on her shoulders and smiled in a very winsome manner.
"Of course she does." Patty stooped and kissed her. "You must not mind Rene when she gets in a temper. See, there's Jacky and I, two girls on your side, and Louis and Charles, I am quite sure. Don't you know Jack told you we were always taking sides?"
"But – what will – Rene do?"
The tone was so half-reluctant, pity fighting against inclination, that Louis could not forbear smiling while he hugged her to his heart.
"Rene must be punished. It isn't the first time she has been snappy, Louis. She quarreled with Charles the other day because – "
Patty finished the sentence with raising her brows and making very big eyes.
"Because," said Annis in a low tone, "he was reading to me and would not leave his book to go and play."
Annis looked very pretty with her downcast eyes and the softened truth in her tone.
"Charles was a gentleman. All Virginia boys should be. And now, little Annis, isn't it all made up? You will not want to go away?"
"I like you both," Annis said simply.
"Come back and see the babies," and Patricia held out her hand.
Louis bent down and kissed her. Of course no one would ever grudge her any love, not even Rene when she understood. It was a mere childish ebullition.
Jaqueline had come in and heard the story, and, as she was quite accustomed to authority, Rene had been handed over to Mammy Phillis with strict injunction to keep her a prisoner for the next two hours. Jane had come out on the lawn and little Floyd was rolling over the short turf in the care of a laughing darkey boy, while Arthur lay on his back crowing and chewing his fat fists for an interlude. There was her mother with some needlework in her hand, and Annis flew to her, hiding her face in the little hollow between neck and shoulder, with a great heart-throb of thankfulness.
No one remarked on Rene's absence at the dinner table. It was a jolly family gathering, and there was a great deal of talk about what was going on in the City and the coming election and the return of Louis to college. Jaqueline would go with him and pay Aunt Catharine her first visit, that she was very urgent about. She missed the young people sadly, she admitted.
They also discussed a tutor for the younger children. Although education had not taken a very wide range for girls as yet, the necessity was beginning to be felt. Ministers appointed abroad would want intelligent wives, and even now, in Washington, foreigners appeared in society, and it was considered an accomplishment to talk French and to be entertaining.
The elders went to take an afternoon nap, a favorite habit with the squire when he could.
"Come," Charles said to Annis, "let us go down under the pines and read," and she was nothing loath. The old heroes of Froissart were like fairyland to the children. Then there were marvelous pictures, the roughest kind of woodcuts, but they picked out their heroes with great satisfaction.
Annis had seen few books. There were some old French volumes belonging to her father, and Patricia had begun to teach the little girl as a solace for her long and often weary hours. This was a garden of delight, even if Charles did puzzle over the long words and miscall them.
Jane took Varina home with her, which was a great source of elation after the enforced seclusion of the day. She gave Annis an indifferent nod as she stepped into the carriage.
"You must be a good little girl and mind Aunt Jane," said her father.
"Children's tiffs are natural," he remarked to his wife. "Varina has been the baby so long she cannot tolerate a rival. Years ago she crowded Charles out of his place."
He was not quite sure but the winsome little Annis, with her shy sweet ways and ready interest, was the more companionable. Yet he must not be disloyal to his own.
Were they all on her side? Annis wondered. And would she need to take sides anywhere? She was very happy and content. Louis took her out riding on Varina's pony. She demurred at first, but the squire promised to look up a suitable one for her in a day or two.
The new wife soon became settled in her agreeable surroundings. She had not an aggressive nature, and the house servants soon learned that her rule was not as severe as Miss Catharine's, while quite as wise. She really desired to win the affection of her husband's children. Neighbors were near enough for pleasant rides and drives. There was much hearty sociability among these Virginian people. There had grown up a certain ease and carelessness since the strenuous days of the war. Though finances had been troublesome and grave questions, as well as bitter disputes, had come to the forefront of the young republic – in spite of all there had been a certain degree of prosperity on the large estates, where nearly everything was raised and much made for home consumption. Georgetown was rather a thriving and fashionable place. Bladensburg was quite a summer resort, on account of a mineral spring many thought efficacious for numerous diseases. Vessels laden with tobacco still sailed from its wharves down the Anacostia. There was the noted dueling-ground also, where proud-spirited men went to satisfy their "honor." Around, in many directions, were handsome Colonial mansions with picturesque grounds. Washington was slowly emerging from the chaos of unfinished streets and buildings, but had not yet outgrown the flings of the envious and disappointed. The Capitol shone in its white glory. The President's mansion was imposing and habitable, though, through the administration, it had been graced largely by Mrs. Madison, the charming wife of the secretary of state, and one of her sisters.
When Annis Bouvier went over with her mother and stepfather to bring home Rene, who had tired of the babies and was longing for her pony and the larger liberty, and, perhaps, her disputes with Charles and the teasing of Louis, as well as the merriment of her sisters, the child stared at the stately row of buildings that quite met her idea of a palace. The long and wide avenues running off into unfinished spaces, the trees already beginning to make a brave show, the handsome dwellings here and there were a fair augury of things to come, and seemed wonderful to her. Out in the settlement it had been vaguely speculated upon. Was it not a dream?
They drove about in some of the most passable streets. People were out for an airing this pleasant afternoon; numbers of men stood in groups in eager discussion, some gesticulating quite as fiercely as Grandfather Floyd had done. There were pretty young women on horseback, with their attendant cavaliers,