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Elsie's Kith and Kin by Martha Finley

M >> Martha Finley >> Elsie\'s Kith and Kin




"Hollo!" cried Max, in a perfectly good-humored tone, "what do you lock
a fellow out for? It looks as if you're up to some mischief. I just came
to tell you there's company in the parlor, and they've asked for you,
both of you."

"Who are they?" asked Lulu, glancing at her reflection in a pier-glass
opposite, to make sure that dress and hair were in order.

She was neat and orderly by nature, and her father very particular about
the appearance of his children; not caring to have them expensively
attired, but always neat and tidy.

"The Oaks young folks," replied Max,--"Horace and Frank and their two
sisters, Maud and Sydney."

"Come, Gracie," said Lulu, turning to her little sister: "we both look
nice, and we'll go right down."

The children all felt rather flattered by the call, because the Oaks
young people were older than themselves. Horace, Frank, and Maud were
all older than Max, and Sydney was between him and Lulu in age.

With the Dinsmore girls, the Raymonds were quite well acquainted, having
seen them frequently at Ion, and sometimes met them elsewhere; but the
boys, who had been away at school, were comparative strangers.

Violet was in the parlor chatting pleasantly with her young cousins, the
call being intended for her also; and her cheerful presence set her
little step-daughters more at their ease than they would otherwise have
been.

They had not been long in the room ere they learned that the special
object of the visit was to invite them and Max to the Oaks, to spend the
greater part of Christmas week.

"It is to be a young people's party, you must all understand," said
Maud, who seemed to be the chief speaker, "and so the captain and cousin
Vi are not invited: not that cousin Vi is not young, you know, for she
is that; but there are to be no married folks asked.

"There is to be the usual Christmas-eve party at Ion for all the family
connection, Christmas-tree and all that, and the grand dinner-party on
Christmas Day; then all the boys and girls of the connection are invited
to the Oaks to stay till the next Saturday evening.

"We hope, cousin Vi, that Max and his sisters may come?"

"If it depended upon me," returned Violet pleasantly, "I presume I
should say yes; but of course it will have to be as their father says."

"Oh, yes! certainly. Is he in?"

"No, and I fear he will not be for an hour or two; but if you will stay
to tea, you will be pretty sure to see him."

The invitation was declined with thanks; "they had other calls to make,
and must be going presently:" but they sat for some minutes longer, the
whole four joining in an animated description of various diversions
planned for the entertainment of their expected guests, and repeating
again and again that they hoped Max and his sisters would be permitted
to come.

"I do wish papa may let us go!" cried Lulu, the moment the visitors had
departed. "I'm sure it will be perfectly delightful!"

"So do I," said Max. "Mamma Vi, do you think papa will consent?"

"I really cannot say, Max," she answered doubtfully. "Do you want to go,
too, Gracie?" drawing the child to her side, and softly smoothing her
hair.

"Yes, mamma, if--if I could have you or papa there with me. I don't want
to go very much 'less one of you goes too."

"And you are such a delicate little darling, that I hardly think your
papa will feel willing to have you go, without either of us along to
take care of you."

"I can take perfectly good care of Gracie, mamma Vi," asserted Lulu
with dignity.

"Here comes papa," cried Max, as a step was heard in the hall.

Then the door opened, and the captain came in.

"We've had an invitation, papa, and hope you will let us accept it," Max
said, coming eagerly forward.

"O papa! please, please do!" cried Lulu, running to him, and taking hold
of his hand.

"Let me hear about it," he said, sitting down, and allowing Lulu to take
possession of one knee, Gracie of the other; "but speak one at a time.
Max, you are the eldest: we will let you have the first turn."

Violet sat quietly listening, and watching her husband's face, while the
eager children told their tale, and expressed their wishes.

He looked grave and thoughtful; and before he spoke, she had a tolerably
correct idea what he was about to say.

"I am glad my little Gracie does not care to go," he said, caressing the
child as he spoke, "because she is too feeble and too young to be so
long among comparative strangers, without papa or mamma to take care of
her. I am sorry Lulu does want to accept the invitation, as there is an
insuperable objection to letting her do so."

Lulu's countenance had assumed an expression of woful disappointment not
unmingled with anger and wilfulness.

"I want to go, papa, and I do think you might let me," she said with an
ominous frown. "I'm not sickly, and I'm a good deal older than Gracie."

"You cannot go, Lucilla," he said gravely, and with some sternness of
tone. "Max," in answer to the eagerly questioning look in the lad's
eyes, "if you are particularly desirous to go, you have my permission."

"Thank you, sir," said the boy heartily.

"Papa, why can't I go?" grumbled Lulu.

"I think a moment's reflection will tell you why," he answered. "I will
talk with you about it at another time. And now not another word on the
subject till I mention it to you first."

Lulu was silenced for the time; but after tea, going into the library,
and finding her father sitting there alone, she went up to him, and in
her most coaxing tones said, "O papa! won't you _please_ let me go? I'll
be"--

"Lulu," he interrupted sternly, "go immediately to your room and your
bed."

"Papa, it isn't my bedtime for two hours yet," she said, in a half
pleading tone, "and I want to read this new 'Companion' that has just
come."

"Don't let me have to repeat my order," was the stern rejoinder; and she
obeyed, trembling and in haste.

She felt sorely disappointed, angry, and rebellious; but, as her father
had said, a few moments' reflection showed her the reason of his refusal
to allow her to accept the invitation to the Oaks: and, as she glanced
round her rooms at the many pretty things his indulgent kindness had
supplied, her anger changed to penitence and love.

"Of course, papa was right," she sighed to herself, as she moved about,
getting ready for bed; "and it wasn't because he doesn't love to see me
happy; and I wish, oh, _how_ I wish, I'd been good about it!"

She was not at all drowsy; and it seemed a long, long time that she had
been lying there awake, when at last she heard her father's step in the
hall: then he opened the door, and came in.

He had a lighted lamp in his hand. He set it on the mantel, and drew
near the bed.

"You are awake, I see," he said.

"Yes, papa; and I'm sorry I was naughty."

"You understand why I sent you to bed? and why I refused to grant your
request?"

"Yes, sir; you can't trust me to pay that visit, because of my bad
temper; and you sent me to bed for disobeying you, by asking again,
after you had told me to say no more about it."

"Yes: you must learn to be more obedient, less wilful. Did you obey me
about going immediately to bed?" he asked, drawing up a chair, and
seating himself close beside her.

"Yes, papa,--just as quickly as I could get ready."

"I hope you did not neglect to kneel down and ask forgiveness of God?"
he said inquiringly, in a gentle, tender tone, bending over her, and
smoothing her hair as he spoke. "You do not need to be told, that, when
you are rebellious and disobedient to your earthly father, you are so
toward your heavenly Father also; because he bids you 'honor thy father
and thy mother.'"

"Yes, papa, I know; I did ask him; and won't you forgive me too?"

"Yes," he said, giving her a kiss. "I am sorry to have to deprive you of
the pleasure of accepting that invitation, but I cannot yet trust you
anywhere away from me; and it was to spare your feelings that I did not
state my reason before your mamma and brother and sister."

"Oh! I'm sorry I was naughty about it, papa," he said, again putting her
hand into his.

He held it in a kindly pressure, while he went on talking to her.

"I intend you shall go to Ion to the Christmas-eve party, and the
dinner-party the next day, as I shall be there too."

"Thank you, dear papa: I'd like to go ever so much, but I don't deserve
to," she said humbly, "or to have any Christmas gifts. If I were you,
and had such a bad child, I wouldn't give her a single thing."

"I hope she is going to be a better girl, in future," he said, kissing
her good-night.

It was a joyful surprise to Lulu when, at the breakfast-table the next
morning, her father said, "Children, your mamma and I are going to drive
into the city, and will take you all along: and, as I suppose you would
like to do some Christmas shopping, I shall advance your next week's
allowance,--perhaps furnish something over," he added, with a kindly
smile.

All three young faces had grown very bright, and there was a chorus of
thanks.

"We expect to start in a few minutes after prayers," the captain went
on, "and so there will be no school to-day."

"We like school, papa," said Grace. "I never liked it half so well
before."

"Nor I." "Nor I," cried the other two.

"But you are glad of a holiday once in a while, nevertheless?" their
father said, with a pleased look.

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! 'specially when it is to go somewhere with you,"
replied Grace; and again the others gave a hearty assent.

When family worship was over, the captain handed a little roll of
bank-notes to each, saying, "Now run away, and get yourselves ready for
your ride. Put on your warmest clothing, for the wind is sharp."

They flurried out into the hall; then Lulu hesitated, turned about, and
ran back.

"Papa," she said, rushing up to him, where he sat beside a table, with
some papers before him, and throwing her arm round his neck, "dear papa!
you are just too good and kind to me! Oh, I don't mean to be
disobedient, wilful, or passionate ever again!"

"I am rejoiced to hear you say that, my dear little daughter," he
replied, putting his arm round her, hugging her close, and kissing her
tenderly; "and I do not think I shall ever regret any thing I have done
for you or either of the others. It is, to me, the greatest pleasure in
life to do whatever I can to make my children happy."

"I am so, _so_ sorry I was naughty and disobedient last night," she
murmured, laying her cheek to his.

"Dear child," he said, "it is fully and freely forgiven. Now run up to
your room and dress."

Grace called to Lulu as she came up the stairs, "O Lu! come in here a
minute, into my room. Look, look, on the bed! see how many papa has
given me,--ten nice new one dollars."

Lulu counted them as they lay spread out in a row.

"Yes, ten," she said. "O Gracie! isn't it nice? isn't papa kind?"

"'Course he is; kindest man ever was made," said Grace. "Now see how
many you have."

Lulu hastily spread out her roll, and counted the bills. "Nine ones, and
one two," she announced.

"Just as many as mine," said Grace; "and I've got this besides," holding
up a bright new silver half-dollar. "So mine's the most this time, isn't
it?"

"No, because one of my bills counts two: that makes mine fifty cents the
most. Papa has given us each ten dollars besides our regular allowance."




CHAPTER XXIII.

"At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
For Christmas comes but once a year."
--TUSSER.


The morning of the twenty-fourth found Grace almost too ill, with a
heavy cold, to be out of bed; and it was quite evident that she would
not be able to go to the Christmas-eve party at Ion, or the dinner on
Christmas Day.

The captain was just finishing his morning toilet when Lulu knocked at
his dressing-room door. She had come with the news of Grace's illness,
and he followed her at once to the bedside of the sick child.

"My poor darling," he said, bending over her in tender concern, "you
seem quite feverish. I think you must stay in bed, and we will send for
your doctor."

"And can't I go to-night, papa?" she asked, the tears starting to her
eyes.

"I'm afraid not, darling; but don't fret; papa will try to find some way
to make it up to you."

"I'll stay with her, papa, and read her stories, and do every thing I
can to help her enjoy herself," cried Lulu eagerly. "I may, mayn't I?"

"You may, if you choose," he said; "but I thought you were very anxious
to go."

"I was, but I'm not now," she said. "I'd rather stay with Gracie. I
shouldn't be one bit happy there without her."

"O Lu! I'd love to have you! but I don't want you to lose all that fun
just for me," Grace said, with a wistful, loving look into her sister's
eyes.

"It wouldn't be fun without you, my Gracie," was the quick rejoinder.

"I am glad indeed that my little daughters love each other so dearly,"
the captain said, kissing first one and then the other. "Well, we will
see what can be done. If it were not for the disappointment to your
mamma, I should stay at home with you, my darlings; as it is, I shall
spend at least a part of the evening with you."

He left them, and sought Violet in her dressing-room.

"My dear, what has happened? I am sure you look anxious and troubled!"
she exclaimed, the instant she caught sight of his face.

"I confess that I am a little troubled about Gracie," he replied: "she
seems to have taken a very heavy cold. I shall send at once for the
doctor. And, of course, she has to be disappointed in her expectations
for this evening."

"Then, let us all stay at home," returned Violet promptly. "I could not
enjoy myself, leaving the poor darling at home, sick. Besides," glancing
from the window, "do you see? it is snowing fast, and I should not like
to expose baby to the storm. So I propose that we change our plans
entirely, and have a private Christmas of our own," she went on in a
lively tone. "What do you say to it, my dear?"

They discussed the idea for some minutes, presently growing quite
enthusiastic over it.

Their plans were nearly matured when the breakfast-bell rang; and,
shortly after leaving the table, they began carrying them out.

Max was taken into their confidence, and allowed to assist; and a proud
and happy boy was he, going about with an air of mystery, as one to whom
secret and important business is intrusted.

The little girls, shut up in their own apartments,--Grace reclining on a
couch, Lulu with her as constant companion, and making every exertion
for her entertainment, while papa, mamma, and Maxie came running in now
and then to ask how she was,--knew nothing of messages sent back and
forth through the telephone, of packages of various shapes and sizes
brought into the house, of mysterious goings and comings, and much time
spent by papa, mamma, Maxie, Christine, and others in a certain large
room, hitherto but little used.

Grace frequently fell asleep: then Lulu would darken the room, go into
the adjoining one, leaving the door ajar, so that she could hear the
slightest movement her little sick sister might make on waking, and
amuse herself with a book or her own thoughts.

Their meals were brought to them, and set out in their sitting-room upon
a little round table, covered with a snowy damask cloth, whereon were
arranged a set of dainty china dishes of a size just suited to the
occasion, and toothsome viands such as "papa" deemed they might eat and
enjoy without danger to health.

It was very nice, they thought; almost nicer, just for a change, than
going to the larger table down-stairs with the rest of the family.

Soon after they had had their supper, their father came in, bringing the
doctor with him, for his second visit that day.

"Ah! she is a good deal better," Dr. Conly said, when he had examined
his little patient. "Hardly well enough yet to go to Ion," he added with
a humorous look and smile; "but I think, if well wrapped up, she may
venture a trip down-stairs in papa's arms, and even stay a little while,
if she finds the change to the parlor a pleasant one."

"Should you like it, papa's dear pet?" the captain asked, leaning over
her.

"Yes, sir, if you and my doctor think it will be good for me," was the
reply, in a submissive and rather languid tone, "and if my Lulu is to
come too," she added, with a loving look at her sister.

"Oh, yes, indeed! we would not think of going without Lulu!" their
father said, smiling affectionately upon her also.

So a large shawl was brought, and carefully wrapped about Gracie's
little slender figure; and she made the short journey in her father's
strong arms, the doctor and Lulu going on before, hand in hand,
chatting and laughing merrily.

Max heard them, and threw open the parlor-door just as they reached it.

Then what a surprise for the little girls! A large, handsome
Christmas-tree, loaded with beautiful things, burst upon their
astonished sight, and was greeted by them with exclamations of wonder
and delight.

"Oh! oh! oh! it's the very prettiest Christmas-tree we ever saw! And we
didn't know we were to have any at all! And how many, _many_ lovely
things are on it! Papa, papa, how good and kind you are to us!"

He looked as if he enjoyed their surprise and delight quite as much as
they did the tree.

"Other folks have been kind to you, too, my darlings," he said, seating
himself, with Gracie still in his arms, "as you will see presently, when
the gifts are distributed."

"Who, papa?" asked Gracie, laying her head on his shoulder, and gazing
with delighted eyes, beginning to single out one beautiful object from
another as she sent her glances up and down, here and there.

"Grandma Elsie, and everybody else in the Ion family, I believe; the
Oaks and Laurels and Fairview friends; and Roselands people too; to say
nothing of mamma and Maxie."

"They're ever so good and kind! they always are," she said in grateful
tones. "Oh!" for the first time perceiving that Violet stood near her
with the baby in her arms, "mamma and baby too! and how pleased baby
looks at the tree!" for the little one was stretching her arms toward
it, and cooing and smiling, her pretty blue eyes shining with delight.

When all, children and servants,--for the latter had been called in to
enjoy the sight also,--had looked to their full, the gifts were
distributed.

They were very numerous,--nearly everybody having given to nearly
everybody else,--and many of those received by the parents and children
were very handsome. But their father's gift--a tiny watch to each, to
help them to be punctual with all their duties, he said--was what gave
the greatest amount of pleasure to Lulu and Grace.

Both they and their brother went to bed that night, and woke the next
morning, very happy children.

The weather being still too severe for the little ones to be taken out,
the captain and Violet went to Ion only for a call, and returned early
in the day, bringing a portion of the party that usually gathered there,
to dine with them at Woodburn.

Among these, to Lulu's extreme satisfaction, was Evelyn. She staid till
after tea; and all the afternoon, there was much passing to and fro of
the different members of the large family connection.

Evelyn was to be at the Oaks for the next few days, with the other young
people, and regretted greatly that Lulu was not to go too.

But Lulu's rebellious feeling about it was a thing of the past. She told
Evelyn frankly her father's reason for refusing his consent, adding that
she felt that he was right, and that he was so dear, so kind and
indulgent in every thing that he thought best to allow, that she was now
entirely satisfied to stay at home; particularly as Gracie was not well,
and needed her nursing.

Grace went early to bed and to sleep. Max and Evelyn had gone to the
Oaks: there were only grown people in the parlors now; and Lulu did not
care to be there, even if she had not wanted to be near her sleeping
sister.

There was an open, glowing fire in their little sitting-room, a high
fender of polished brass obviating all danger from it to the children's
skirts. Lulu seated herself in an easy-chair beside it, and fell into a
reverie, unusually deep and prolonged for her.

She called to mind all the Christmases she could remember,--not very
many,--the last two spent very pleasantly with her new mamma's
relatives; the two previous ones passed not half so agreeably, in the
poor apology for a home that had been hers and Grade's before their
father's second marriage.

But what a change for the better that had brought! What forlorn little
things she and Gracie were then! and what favored children now! What a
sweet, sweet home of their very own, with their father in it!--as she
had said to Eva that afternoon, "such a dear, kind father; interested in
every thing that concerned his children; so thoughtful about providing
pleasures for them, as well as needful food, shelter, and clothing;
about their health, too, and the improvement of their minds; reading
with them, even in other than school-hours; talking with them of what
they read, and explaining so clearly and patiently any thing they did
not quite understand; but, above all, striving to lead them to Christ,
and train them for his service in this world and the next."

He had read with them that morning the story of our Saviour's birth, and
spoken feelingly to them of God's wonderful love shown in the
"unspeakable gift" of his dear Son.

"Certainly, there could not be in all the world a better, dearer father,
than theirs. How strange that she could ever grieve him by being
naughty, rebellious, passionate! Oh, if she could only be good! always a
comfort and blessing to him! she would try, she _would_, with all her
might!"

Just then the door opened softly; and he came in, came noiselessly to
her side, lifted her in his arms, and sat down with her on his knee.

"What has my little girl been thinking of sitting here all by herself?"
he asked, pressing his lips to her cheek.

She told him in a few words, finishing with her longing desire to be to
him a better child, a comfort and blessing.

"Indeed I ought to be, papa," she said; "and you are such a dear, kind
father! you have given me--and all of us--such a lovely home, and such a
happy, happy Christmas,--the very happiest we have ever known!"

"And it is God our heavenly Father who has put it in my power to do all
that I have done for you, and for all my darlings," he said with
emotion, drawing her closer, and holding her tenderly to his heart;
"and, O my dear child! if I could know that you had begun this day to
truly love and serve him, it would be to _me_ the happiest Christmas
that _I_ have ever known."

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