Elsie's children by Martha Finley

M >> Martha Finley >> Elsie\'s children

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

ELSIE'S
CHILDREN

A SEQUEL TO
"ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD"

By
MARTHA FINLEY

Complete Authorized Edition

Published by arrangement with
Dodd, Mead and Company

A.L. BURT COMPANY

PUBLISHERS
New York Chicago

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.

1877

1905, BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY.

Preface.

With this volume, bringing the Story of Elsie
and her Children down to the present time, the
series closes.

It was not by request of the author's _personal_
friends, that either this or any one of the previous
volumes was written, but in acquiescence with the
demands of the Public--the friends and admirers
of Elsie herself; and we know that as child, as
young girl, as wife and mother, she has had many
friends who have been loath to part with her.
May they find neither her nor her children less
lovable in this, than in the earlier volumes, and
may their society prove sweet, comforting and helpful
to many readers and friends both old and new.

M.F.

Elsie's Children.

CHAPTER FIRST.

"Of all the joys that brighten suffering earth,
What joy is welcom'd like a new-born child."
--MRS. NORTON.

A merry scene in the nursery at Viamede, where the little Travillas are
waiting for their morning half hour with "dear mamma." Mammy coming in
smiling and mysterious, her white apron thrown over something held
carefully in her arms, bids the children guess what it is.

"A new dolly for me?" says Vi; "I'm going to have a birthday to-morrow."

"A kite," ventured Harold. "No, a balloon."

"A tite! a tite!" cried little Herbert, clapping his hands.

"Pshaw! it's nothing but a bundle of clothes mammy's been doing up for one
of you girls," said Eddie. "I see a bit of lace or work, or something,
hanging down below her apron."

"Is it a new dress for Vi, mammy?" asked Elsie, putting her arm about her
sister and giving her a loving kiss.

"Yah, yah; you ain't no whar nigh it yet, chillens," laughed mammy,
dropping into a chair, and warding off an attempt on the part of little
Herbert to seize her prize and examine it for himself.

"Oh, it's alive," cried Harold, half breathlessly, "I saw it move!" Then
as a slight sound followed the movement, "A baby! a baby!" they all
exclaim, "O, mammy, whose is it? where did you get it? oh, sit down and
show it to us!"

"Why, chillen, I reckon it 'longs to us," returned mammy, complying with
the request, while they gathered closely about her with eager and
delighted faces.

"Ours, mammy? Then I'm glad it isn't black or yellow like the babies down
at the quarter," said Harold, eying it with curiosity and interest.

"So am I too," remarked Violet, "but it's got such a red face and hardly
any hair on the top of its head."

"Well, don't you remember that's the way Herbie looked when he first
came?" said Eddie.

"And he grew very white in a few weeks," remarked Elsie. "But is it
mamma's baby, mammy?"

"Yes, honey, dat it am; sho's yer born, 'nother pet for ole mammy,--de
bressed little darlin'," she answered, pressing the little creature to
her breast.

The information was received with a chorus of exclamations of delight and
admiration.

"Tate a bite of cacker, boy," said Herbert, offering a cracker which he
was eating with evident enjoyment.

Mammy explained, amid the good-natured laughter of the older children,
that the newcomer had no teeth and couldn't eat anything but milk.

"Oh, poor 'ittle fing!" he said, softly touching its velvet cheek. "Won't
'oo tum and pay wis Herbie?"

"No, it can't play," said Violet, "it can't walk and it can't talk."

"Where's mamma, mammy?" asked Eddie, glancing at the clock; "it's past her
time; I wonder too she didn't come to show us the new baby herself."

"She's sick, chile," returned mammy, a grave and anxious look coming into
her old eyes.

"Mamma sick?" exclaimed little Elsie, "oh, may I go to her?"

Mammy shook her head. "Not jes now, honey darlin', byme by, when she's
bettah."

"Mamma sick?" echoed Violet. "Oh, I'm so, so sorry!"

"Don't fret, chillen, de good Lord make her well again soon," said mammy,
with cheerful hopefulness, for she could not bear to see how sad each
little face had grown, how the young lips quivered, and the bright eyes
filled with tears; for dearly, dearly, they all loved their sweet, gentle
mother.

"Herbie wants mamma," sobbed the baby boy, clinging to his eldest sister.

"Don't cry, pet," Elsie said chokingly, hugging him close and kissing away
his tears. "We'll all ask God to make her well, and I'm sure he will."

"Why! why! what's the matter here?" cried a cheery voice, as the door
opened and Mr. Travilla stepped into their midst. "What's the matter with
papa's darlings?" he repeated, gathering them all into his arms, and
caressing each in turn.

"Is mamma, dear mamma, very sick?" they asked, Vi immediately adding in
joyous tones,

"No, no, she isn't, or papa wouldn't look so happy."

"I am very happy," he said with emotion, glancing toward the bundle in
mammy's lap, "we are both very happy over the new treasure God has given
us; and I trust she will soon be well."

"Can we go and speak to her?" they asked.

"After a while," he said, "she is trying to sleep now. What do you all
think of the little sister?"

"Sister," cried Elsie. "Oh, that is nice, nice! I thought it was a boy.
What's its name, papa?"

"It has none yet."

"I sorry for it," remarked Herbert, gazing with curious interest at the
tiny creature, "I sorry for it; cause can't walk, can't talk, can't eat
good fings; dot no teef to eat wis. Do, boy, try to eat cacker, cacker
dood, Herbie likes," and breaking off a fragment he would have forced it
into the wee mouth, if papa and mammy had not interfered for its
protection.

"No, no, my son, you would choke it," said Mr. Travilla, gently drawing
him away.

"It isn't a boy; it's a girl, Herbie," corrected Harold.

"Oh!" cried Vi, who was gently feeling the top of the tiny head, and she
looked aghast at her father, "O, papa, its head's rotten!"

"No, daughter, don't be alarmed," he said smiling slightly, "there's
nothing wrong there; all young babies' heads are soft like that on the
top."

"Oh, are they?" she said with a sigh of relief, "I was afraid it would
spoil soon and we couldn't keep her."

"No, she seems to be all right," he said with a grave and tender smile.
"God has been very good to us."

"Yes, papa. Oh such a pretty darling as it is!" said Elsie.

"Yes, indeed," chimed in the others; Vi adding, "and I'm so glad she's a
girl: 'cause now we have two sisters, Elsie, just the same as the boys."

"Oh, but we have three now!" said Eddie, laughing good naturedly at Vi's
crestfallen look.

"Oh, yes," she acknowledged, then brightening, "but we have three
brothers, and you only two; so it's even all around after all, isn't it,
papa?"

The children were full of delight over their treasure, and eager to show
it to grandpa, grandma, Aunt Rosie, Aunt Wealthy and Aunt May; regretting
much that the rest of their friends had left Viamede before the advent of
the little stranger.

She proved a frail, gentle little creature, with violet eyes and pale
golden hair, so fair and delicate that Lily was the name that most readily
suggested itself and the one finally settled upon as really hers.

Lily became a great pet with them all, but Violet claimed a special
property in her because as she would say, "The darling came to us almost
on my birthday and she's just the sweetest, prettiest birthday present
mamma ever gave me."

The weather was growing very warm at Viamede and Aunt Wealthy and the
little Duncans found the heat oppressive; so when Lily was three weeks old
and the dear mamma able to be up again, looking bright and well, that
party bade good-bye and set out on their return to Lansdale.

The Dinsmores and Travillas lingered until the middle of May, when they
too set their faces northward, not parting company till very near to Ion
and the Oaks.

CHAPTER SECOND.

"Envy is but the smoke of low estate,
Ascending still against the fortunate."
--BROOKE.

It was dark and raining a little when the carriage turned into the avenue
at Ion; but the whole front of the house was ablaze with lights, the hall
door stood wide open, and a double line of servants in holiday attire,
each sooty face dressed in smiles, stood waiting to welcome the weary
travelers home.

There were many hearty shakings and kissings of hands; many fervent
ejaculations: "God bless you, Massa and Missus!" "Tank de Lord you's got
home again, honey. We's been pinin' for you darlin's and for de sight of
de new baby," and with the last words the voices were lowered at a sign
from Aunt Chloe, in whose arms the little Lily lay sleeping sweetly.

There was some fretting among the weary little ones, but mamma and nurses
were kind and gentle, and a good supper and bed soon cured all their
troubles for that night.

Little Elsie was roused from her slumbers by a gentle shake, and starting
up in bed, found the sun shining and Vi standing by her side with eager,
excited face.

"Come, come to the window!" she cried. "It does seem as if I must be
dreaming; it wasn't there before, I'm sure."

"What?" asked Elsie, springing out upon the floor and hurrying after Vi to
the window from which she had witnessed the burning of the schoolhouse.

"There!" said Violet, pointing with her finger, "there! can you see it
too?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Elsie, clasping her hands in a sort of ecstasy of delight,
"oh, aren't papa and mamma good? How did they ever come to think of it!
and how could they get it done while they were away?"

"Grandpa, Uncle Horace and Cal," suggested Vi. "Oh, aren't you glad?
Aren't you glad, Elsie?"

"I should think so! and the boat is ever so pretty. Let's hurry and get
dressed and go down and see it closer."

Rowing and sailing upon the bayou and lakelet had been the children's
greatest pleasure at Viamede, their greatest regret in leaving it. Knowing
this, their ever indulgent parents had prepared a pleasant surprise for
them, causing a small tract of barren land on the Ion estate to be turned
into an artificial lake. It was this, shining in the golden beams of the
morning sun, and a beautiful boat moored to the hither shore, that had
called forth from the lips of the little girls those exclamations of
almost incredulous wonder and delight.

"Yes; I'll ring for Dinah," cried Vi, skipping across the room and putting
out her hand to lay hold of the bell pull.

"Wait, Vi, our prayers first, you know," said Elsie.

"Oh, yes! I do want to thank God for being so good to us; the pretty lake
and boat and all."

"Dear kind parents, safe journey home, too, and oh more things than we can
count," added Elsie, as they knelt down side by side.

This duty performed with no irreverent haste, the maid was summoned and a
careful toilet made in season to afford them time for a walk before mamma
would be ready to see them.

They found their father in the lower veranda talking with the overseer,
while Solon stood waiting with Beppo's bridle in his hand, the horse
pawing the ground with impatience.

Eddie was there, too, caressing Bruno who seemed as glad to be at home
again as any of the rest. Uttering a joyous bark he left his young master
and bounded to meet the little girls.

Mr. Travilla turned at the sound and with a kind fatherly smile, held out
his hands.

"O papa," they cried running to him, "how good of you to have it made for
us!"

"Good-morning, my darlings," he said, giving and receiving caresses, "but
what are you talking about?"

"Why the lake, papa; the lake and the boat."

"Lake?" exclaimed Eddie, "why where?"

"Oh, you couldn't see it from your windows," said Elsie. "Papa, papa, may
we go now and look at it?"

"Yes," he said, taking a hand of each. "Larkin, I'll see you again after
breakfast. Come, Eddie, my son, you too, and Bruno."

A brisk five minutes' walk brought them to the shore of the lake, a tiny
one, scarce a quarter of a mile in circumference, not very deep and the
water so clear that the pebbly bottom could be distinctly seen; gold and
silver fish, too, gliding hither and thither; while a pretty, gayly
painted row-boat lying at the water's edge, rocked gently in the morning
breeze.

Eddie hailed the scene with a shout of delight; the little girls danced
about gleefully, Vi clapping her hands and asking eagerly if they might
get into the boat.

Papa looked at his watch, "Yes, there will be time for a row; one trip
around the lake. Step in, all of you, and I will take the oars."

Vi was quite ready and Eddie gallantly handed her in, then turned and
offered his hand to Elsie. She demurred. "But mamma! shouldn't we have
mamma with us the first time?" and she looked up inquiringly into her
father's face.

"Yes, yes, of course!" cried the others making haste to step ashore again,
"we want dear mamma with us the very first time."

Papa smiled approval. "Then we will go back," he said, "and after
breakfast, if mamma is willing, we will all come and take a row together;
the boat is large enough to carry us all at once."

Mamma's consent was readily obtained, for to please her children was her
great delight. So shortly after breakfast they all repaired to the lake
and rowed round and across it several times, a merry, happy party.

At Roselands the family were gathered about the breakfast table and the
principal topic of conversation was the return of the party from Viamede.
Calhoun had been to the Oaks the previous evening and learned of their
safe arrival.

"We must all go this morning and call upon them," said Mr. Dinsmore.

"We'll divide our forces," said Cal, laughing. "Suppose grandpa, mother
and Aunt Enna, go first to the Oaks; and we younger ones to Ion?"

"Very well," replied the old gentleman, "I shall spend an hour with my
son, then ride over to see Elsie and her little flock. How many of you
young folks want to go to Ion in the first division?"

"I!" "And I!" "And I!" cried one and another.

"But you can't go all at once," returned their grandfather, looking
around upon them with an amused smile; "the carriage is roomy, but really
you are too many for it. Besides wouldn't there be some danger of
overwhelming your cousins?"

"Well, I'm going, let who will stay at home," observed Molly Percival with
cool decision. "The boys can ride, I mean Cal, and Art, and Dick and Wal;
they all have ponies and the two carriages will hold the rest of us if we
crowd a little."

"I'm not going to be bothered with Bob or Betty," said her mother; "they
may go with you, or wait till another time."

"Then they'll wait," remarked Isadore Conly, "for I shall wear my best
silk suit, and I have no notion of having it tumbled."

"Last year's suit is quite good enough for the occasion," said her mother,
"they're only cousins."

"But rich ones, that can afford to dress, and I'll not go a step if I have
to look shabby."

"Nor I," chimed in her sister. "So mamma you may as well resign yourself
to the situation. It's no good finding fault or objecting," she added with
a laugh.

"Take your own way, then," returned her mother indifferently, "but
remember there'll be no more new dresses this season."

"Dear me, why aren't we as rich as the Travillas?" pouted Isadore. "I do
think things are very unequally divided in this world."

"Never mind; the wheel of fortune often takes a turn," said her mother.
"You may have money left you some day (some of your father's relations are
still rich), and you may make a grand match."

"How long will it take you girls to don your finery?" ask Cal, pulling out
his watch. "We'd better start as soon as we can: the sun will be getting
hot."

"I'm done," said Molly, jumping up, "and I'll be ready by the time the
carriage can be brought to the door. Come Isa and Virgy, you've eaten
enough. Cousin Elsie will be sure to treat us to something good." And she
ran gayly from the room.

Molly, just turned thirteen, and already as tall as her mother, was a
bright, lively girl, full of fun and frolic. She was not a beauty, but had
a clear complexion and fine dark eyes, and good humor and intelligence
lent a charm to her face that made it more than ordinarily attractive.

Dick had always been fond of her, and was beginning to take a brotherly
pride in her good looks and intellectual gifts.

Enna's feelings toward her were divided between motherly pride and
affection on the one hand, and on the other the dread of being made to
appear old by the side of so tall a daughter; a dread that made her
jealous of Dick also.

The Conly girls, too, were growing fast, giving promise of fair, graceful
womanhood, Isadore particularly of great beauty; which her mother fondly
hoped would be the means of securing her a wealthy husband; for Mrs.
Conly's affections were wholly set upon the things of this life; by her
and her sister Enna, wealth and beauty were esteemed the highest good, and
their children were trained in accordance with that view; the moral
atmosphere of the house being very different from that of Ion, where the
lives and conversation of the parents were such as to leave no doubt in
the minds of their children, that to them the things of time and sense
were as nothing in comparison with those of eternity.

Enna followed her daughter into the dressing-room they used in common.

"Wear the very best you have, Molly," she said, "I don't want you to be
looked down upon as a poor relation, or to have it said that the Conlys
dress better than my children."

"I'm sure they don't," said Molly, ringing for the maid, "though they'd
like to if they could, and are always jealous when grandpa makes me a
present."

"Of course they are, and they manage to get more than their fair share,
too," acquiesced the mother in a tone of irritation; "but do you see to it
that they don't get ahead of you at Ion; remember Elsie is as rich as a
Jew, and likes the credit of being generous, so keep on the right side of
her, if you want handsome presents."

"I'm sure she is generous and doesn't give only for the credit of it,"
said Molly.

"Don't give me any impudence," returned her mother sharply. "Rachel," to
the maid who just then came in in answer to the bell, "dress Miss Molly
first, and be quick about it."

Enna superintended the business in person, and in a way that sorely tried
the temper and nerves of both Molly and the maid; the child's sash must be
tied and retied, her hat bent this way and that, her collar and brooch
changed again and again, till she was ready to cry with impatience; and
when at last she started for the door, she was called back, and Rachel
ordered to change her slippers for gaiter boots.

"I don't want to wear them!" cried Molly, fairly stamping with impatience.
"The heels are so high and narrow, I can't bear them."

"They're just the style and make your foot look beautiful," said her
mother, "sit down and let Rachel put them on you."

"Grandpa says they're dangerous, and so does Dr. Barton, too," grumbled
Molly.

"Put them on her, Rachel," commanded Enna. "Molly, behave yourself, or
you'll stay at home."

The child submitted rather sullenly, muttering that she would be late.

Rachel was fastening the second boot, when Isadore and Virginia were heard
running down the stairs, calling out that the carriage was at the door.

"There! I knew you'd make me too late!" cried Molly. "Oh, Rachel, do
hurry!"

"Yes, Miss Molly, best I kin; dar dat's de las' button."

Up sprang Molly, and away in hot haste. She gained the landing, caught her
heel in the carpet on the first step of the next flight, and a wild shriek
rang through the house, accompanied by the sound of a heavy body tumbling
and rolling down the stairs.

Echoing the scream, Enna rushed out into the upper hall.

Calhoun at the foot of the stairs, was picking Molly up.

"Is she hurt? Is she killed?" asked the mother, "Molly, Molly, how did you
come to be so awkward?"

"I wasn't! it was those heels; I knew they'd throw me down some day!"
cried the child in tones of mingled anger, fright and pain.

"H'm! you're not killed; haven't even had the temper knocked out of you,"
remarked Enna, going back to her dressing.

"Poor child, you must be hurt," said Calhoun, laying her gently on a sofa,
"but no bones broken, I hope?"

"I--I don't know," sobbed Molly, "it's my back. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

"Oh, Molly, are you much hurt? shall I go for the doctor?" asked Dick,
coming to her side pale with fright. "Mac's right here at the door, ready
saddled and bridled, and----"

"Go for the doctor?" interrupted Molly. "No, indeed! It's very good in
you, Dick, but I don't want him; I am going to Ion with the rest of you.
I'm ready now."

"You don't look much like it; you're as pale as a ghost," he said, Calhoun
adding, "You'd better lie still for a while, Molly; Dick or I will take
you over this evening, if you find yourself able to go then."

"Thank you, but I'm going now," she answered with decision, getting up and
taking Dick's arm.

He helped her to the carriage, where Isadore, Virginia, and some of the
younger ones sat waiting, and placed her in it.

She wiped away her tears and tried to smile, while answering the questions
and condolences of the others, and the party moved on.

By the time Ion was reached, most of them had nearly forgotten Molly's
accident, till Elsie remarked that she was looking pale, and asked if she
were quite well.

That brought out the story of her fall.

Elsie heard it with grave concern but asked few questions as Molly seemed
annoyed that the subject had been introduced. It was a habit of her
mother's to scold her for awkwardness, and the child was sensitive on that
point.

When the young people had left and the older members of the Roselands
family called, Elsie seized a favorable opportunity to speak of Molly's
pale looks and urge the importance of calling in a physician that if there
were any reason to apprehend serious results from the fall, measures might
be promptly taken to avert the danger.

"She can't have been seriously hurt," returned Enna coldly, "or she
wouldn't have been ready to get into the carriage the next minute and ride
over here."

"By the way," said her father, "I haven't heard what caused her fall."

"She's an awkward child, always tumbling about," returned Enna reddening.

"Especially since she wears those fashionable boots with the high narrow
heels," he remarked. "Had she them on when she fell?"

Enna reluctantly admitted that such was the fact.

"I'll send them into town to-day, with orders that full half the heel
shall be taken off," he said with angry decision.

CHAPTER THIRD.

"'Tis a goodly scene--
Yon river, like a silvery snake, lays out
His coil i' the sunshine lovingly."
--HUNT.

The family at Ion presently fell into the old routine of study, work and
play, Elsie resuming the duties of governess; but as the heated term drew
on, she and the little ones, especially the babe, began to droop.

"You must go north for the summer," said Dr. Barton, "start as soon as
possible and don't return till October."

"Would you recommend the seashore?" asked Mr. Travilla.

"H'm! that might answer very well, but mountain air would, I think, be
better."

"Oh then, mamma!" cried Vi, who was present and had been an eager but
hitherto silent listener, "won't you accept Aunt Lucy's invitation?"

"Perhaps, daughter," Elsie said smiling indulgently into the bright little
face, "but we will take time to consider what will be best."

"Where is that?" asked the doctor, "Lucy Ross, I suppose, but I've
forgotten where they live."

"On the banks of the Hudson a few miles south of Newburgh. The Crags they
call their place, and a beautiful one it is. 'Twas only yesterday I
received a letter from Lucy, urging us to come and spend the summer with
her."

"I should say go by all means," said the doctor, taking leave.

There were reasons for hesitation on the part of the careful parents of
which the physician knew nothing. The young Rosses, all unused to control,
were a willful set not likely to exert a beneficial influence over other
children; that was the demur.

However the final decision was in favor of the visit, and a few days later
they set out upon their journey; Mr. Horace Dinsmore taking charge of
them, as business made it inconvenient for Mr. Travilla to leave just at
that time.

From New York they passed up the Hudson in a steamboat; the carriage from
the Crags was found in waiting at the landing, and a short drive brought
them to the house, which stood high up above the river, in the midst of
magnificent mountain scenery.

The Ion children, taught from early infancy to notice the beauties of
nature, were in ecstasies of delight, exclaiming anew at every turn in the
road, calling each other's, mamma's or grandpa's attention to the
sparkling river, the changing shadows on the mountainsides, here a
beetling crag, there a waterfall or secluded glen. Having rested the
previous night, sleeping soundly at a hotel, they were not wearied with
travel but seemed fresher now than when they left their home.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16