MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – Timeless Children Classics & Other Novels. Finley Martha
hospitable folks, too, disposed to be kind to strangers tarrying in their midst, and, Miss Stanhope being an old resident, well known and highly esteemed, spite of her eccentricities, her friends had received a good deal of attention. Elsie had already become slightly acquainted with a number of pleasant families; a good many young girls, and also several young gentlemen had called upon her, and Lottie assured her there were many more to come.
"Some of the very nicest are apt to be slow about calling—we're such busy folks here," she said, laughing. "I've a notion, too, that several of the beaux stood rather in awe of your papa."
They were talking together over their sewing, after Elsie had come down from finishing her letter, and sent Chloe to the post-office with it.
"I don't wonder," she answered, looking up with a smile; "there was a time, a long while ago, when I was very much afraid of him myself; and even now I have such a wholesome dread of his displeasure as would keep me from any act of disobedience, if love was not sufficient to do that without help from any other motive."
"You are very fond of him, and he of you?"
"Yes, indeed! how could it be otherwise when for so many years each was all the other had? But I'm sure, quite sure that neither of us loves the other less because now we have mamma and darling little Horace."
"I should like to know them both," said Miss Stanhope. "I hope your father will bring them with him when he comes back for you."
"Oh, I hope he will! I want so much to have you know them. Mamma is so dear and sweet, almost as dear as papa himself. And Horace—well, I can't believe there ever was quite such another darling to be found," Elsie continued, with a light, joyous laugh.
"Ah!" said Aunt Wealthy with a sigh and a smile, "it is a good and pleasant thing to be young and full of life and gayety, and to have kind, wise parents to look to for help and guidance. You will realize that when you grow old and have to be a prop for others to lean upon instead."
"Yes, dear auntie," Elsie answered, giving her a look of loving reverence, "but surely the passing years must have brought you so much wisdom and self-reliance that that can be no such very hard task to you."
"Ah, child!" replied the old lady, shaking her head, "I often feel that my stock of those is very small. But then how sweet it is to remember that I have a Father to whom I never shall grow old; never cease to be His little child, in constant need of His tender, watchful care to guard and guide. Though the gray hairs are on my head, the wrinkles of time, sorrow, and care upon my brow, He does not think me old enough to be left to take care of myself. No; He takes my hand in His and leads me tenderly and lovingly along, choosing each step for me, protecting me from harm, and providing for all my needs. What does He say? 'Even to your old age I am He; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you'!"
"Such sweet words! They almost reconcile one to growing old," murmured Lottie, and Aunt Wealthy answered, with a subdued gladness in her tones, "You need not dread it, child, for does not every year bring us nearer home?"
The needles flew briskly until the dinner-bell sounded its welcome summons.
"We shall finish two at least this afternoon, I think," said Lottie, folding up her work.
"No, we've had sewing enough for to-day," replied Miss Stanhope. "I have ordered the carriage at two. We will have a drive this afternoon, and music this evening; if you and Elsie do not consider it too much of a task to play and sing for your old auntie."
"A task, Aunt Wealthy! It would be a double delight—giving you pleasure and ourselves enjoying the delicious tones of that splendid piano. Its fame has already spread over the whole town," she added, turning to Elsie, "and between its attractions and those of its owner, I know there'll be a great influx of visitors here."
Elsie was a very fine musician, and for her benefit during her stay in Lansdale, Mr. Dinsmore had had a grand piano sent on from the East, ordering it in season to have it arrive almost as soon as they themselves.
"Yes, Lottie is quite right about it, Aunt Wealthy, and you shall call for all the tunes you want," Elsie said, noticing her friend's prediction merely by a quiet smile.
"You don't know how I enjoy that piano," Lottie rattled on as they began their meal. "It must be vastly pleasant to have plenty of money and such an indulgent father as yours, Elsie. Not that I would depreciate my own at all—I wouldn't exchange him even for yours—but he, you see, has more children and less money."
"Yes, I think we are both blessed in our fathers," answered Elsie. "I admire yours very much; and mine is, indeed, very indulgent, though at the same time very strict; he never spares expense or trouble to give me pleasure. But the most delightful thing of all is to know that he loves me so very, very dearly;" and the soft eyes shone with the light of love and joy.
It was nearly tea time when they returned from their drive, some lady callers having prevented them from setting out at the early hour intended.
"Now I must run right home," said Lottie, as they alighted. "Mother complains that she gets no good of me at all of late."
"Well, she has Nettie," returned Miss Stanhope, "and she told me Elsie and I might have all we wanted of you till the poor child gets a little used to her father's absence."
"Did she, Aunt Wealthy? There, I'll remind her of that, and also of the fact that Nettie is worth two of me any day."
"And you'll come back to spend the evening? Indeed you must, or how is Elsie to learn her visitors' names? You know I could never get them straight. But there's the tea-bell, so come in with us. No need to go home till bed-time, or till to-morrow, that I can see."
"Thank you, but of course, auntie, I want to primp a bit, just as you did in your young days, when the beaux were coming. So good-bye for the present," she cried, skipping away with a merry laugh, Miss Stanhope calling after her to bring Nettie along when she returned.
"We have so many odd names in this town, and I such an odd sort of memory, that I make a great many mistakes," said the old lady, leading the way to the house.
Elsie thought that was all very true, when in the course of the evening she was introduced to Mr. Comings, Mr. Tizard, Mr. Stop, Miss Lock, and Miss Over, and afterward heard her aunt address them variously as "Mr. In-and-out," "Mr. Wizard," "Mr. Lizard," "Mr. Quit," "Miss Under," and "Miss Key."
But the old lady's peculiarity was so well known that no one thought of taking offence; and her mistakes caused only mirth and amusement.
Lottie's prediction was so fully verified that Elsie seemed to be holding a sort of levee.
"What faultless features, exquisitely beautiful complexion, and sweet expression she has." "What a graceful form, what pleasant, affable manners, so entirely free from affectation or hauteur; no patronizing airs about her either, but perfect simplicity and kindliness." "And such a sweet, happy, intelligent face." "Such beautiful hair too; did you notice that? so abundant, soft and glossy, and such a lovely color." "Yes, and what simple elegance of dress." "She's an accomplished musician, too, and has a voice as sweet, rich, and full as a nightingale's," remarked one and another as they went away. The unanimous verdict seemed to be, that the young stranger was altogether charming.
Across the street, Mrs. Schilling's boarder paced to and fro, watching the coming and going, listening to the merry salutations, and gay adieux, the light laughter, and the sweet strains of music and song, till the desire to make one of the happy throng grew so strong upon him that it was no longer to be resisted.
"I will go in with those," he muttered, crossing over just in time to enter directly in the rear of a lady and gentleman, whom he saw coming up the street. "Miss Stanhope invited me to call again, without particularizing how soon, and I can turn my speedy acceptance into a compliment to their music, without even a white lie, for it does sound extremely attractive to a lonely, idle fellow like me."
Miss Stanhope met him at the door, would scarce listen to his apology—insisting that "none was needed; one who had come to her with such an introduction from so valued a friend as Mrs. Waters, must always be a welcome guest in her house"—and ushering him into the