________________________________________________
_ Ben was not too tired, and the clearing-up began that very
night. None too soon, for in a day or two things arrived,
to the great delight of the children, who considered moving
a most interesting play. First came the phaeton, which Ben
spent all his leisure moments in admiring; wondering
with secret envy what happy boy would ride in the
little seat up behind, and beguiling his tasks by planning
how, when he got rich, he would pass his time
driving about in just such an equipage, and inviting
all the boys he met to have a ride.
Then a load of furniture came creaking in at the
lodge gate, and the girls had raptures over a cottage
piano, several small chairs, and a little low table, which
they pronounced just the thing for them to play at.
The live stock appeared next, creating a great stir
in the neighborhood, for peacocks were rare birds
there; the donkey's bray startled the cattle and convulsed
the people with laughter; the rabbits were
continually getting out to burrow in the newly made
garden; and Chevalita scandalized old Duke by
dancing about the stable which he had inhabited for
years in stately solitude.
Last but by no means least, Miss Celia, her houng
brother, and two maids arrived one evening so late
that only Mrs. Moss went over to help them settle.
The children were much disappointed, but were appeased
by a promise that they should all go to pay
their respects in the morning.
They were up so early, and were so impatient to be
off, that Mrs. Moss let them go with the warning that
they would find only the servants astir. She was mistaken,
however, for, as the procession approached, a
voice from the porch called out, "Good-morning
little neighbors!" so unexpectedly, that Bab nearly
spilt the new milk she carried, Betty gave such a start
that the fresh-laid eggs quite skipped in the dish, and
Ben's face broke into a broad grin over the armful of
clover which he brought for the bunnies, as he bobbed
his head, saying briskly, --
"She's all right, miss, Lita is; and I can bring her
over any minute you say."
"I shall want her at four o'clock. Thorny will
be too tired to drive, but I must hear from the
post-office, rain or shine;" and Miss Celia's pretty
color brightened as she spoke, either from some
happy thought or because she was bashful, for the
honest young faces before her plainly showed their
admiration of the white-gowned lady under the
honeysuckles.
The appearance of Miranda, the maid, reminded the
children of their errand; and having delivered their
offerings, they were about to retire in some confusion,
when Miss Celia said pleasantly, --
"I want to thank you for helping put things in such
nice order. I see signs of busy hands and feet both
inside the house and all about the grounds, and I
am very much obliged."
"I raked the beds," said Ben, proudly eying the
neat ovals and circles.
"I swept all the paths," added Bab, with a reproachful
glance at several green sprigs fallen from
the load of clover on the smooth walk.
"I cleared up the porch," and Betty's clean pinafore
rose and fell with a long sigh, as she surveyed the late
summer residence of her exiled family.
Miss Celia guessed the meaning of that sigh, and
made haste to turn it into a smile by asking anxiously, --
"What has become of the playthings? I don't see
them anywhere."
"Ma said you wouldn't want our duds round,
so we took them all home," answered Betty, with a
wistful face.
"But I do want them round. I like dolls and toys
almost as much as ever, and quite miss the little 'duds'
from porch and path. Suppose you come to tea with
me to-night and bring some of them back? I should
be very sorry to rob you of your pleasant play-place."
"Oh, yes, 'm, we'd love to come! and we'll bring
our best things."
"Ma always lets us have our shiny pitchers and the
china poodle when we go visiting or have company at
home," said Bab and Betty, both speaking at once.
"Bring what you like, and I'll hunt up my toys,
too. Ben is to come also, and his poodle is especially
invited," added Miss Celia, as Sancho came and
begged before her, feeling that some agreeable project
was under discussion.
"Thank you, miss. I told them you'd be willing
they should come sometimes. They like this place
ever so much, and so do I," said Ben, feeling that
few spots combined so many advantages in the way of
climbable trees, arched gates, half-a-dozen gables, and
other charms suited to the taste of an aspiring youth
who had been a flying Cupid at the age of seven.
"So do I," echoed Miss Celia, heartily. "Ten years
ago I came here a little girl, and made lilac chains
under these very bushes, and picked chickweed over
there for my bird, and rode Thorny in his baby-wagon
up and down these paths. Grandpa lived here then,
and we had fine times; but now they are all gone
except us two."
"We haven't got any father, either," said Bab, for
something in Miss Celia's face made her feel as if a
cloud had come over the sun.
"I have a first-rate father, if I only knew where
he'd gone to," said Ben, looking down the path as
eagerly as if one waited for him behind the locked gate.
"You are a rich boy, and you are happy little girls
to have so good a mother; I've found that out already,"
and the sun shone again as the young lady
nodded to the neat, rosy children before her.
"You may have a piece of her if you want to, 'cause
you haven't got any of your own," said Betty with a
pitiful look which made her blue eyes as sweet as two
wet violets.
"So I will ! and you shall be my little sisters. I
never had any, and I'd love to try how it seems;"
and Celia took both the chubby hands in hers,
feeling ready to love every one this first bright morning
in the new home, which she hoped to make a very
happy one.
Bab gave a satisfied nod, and fell to examining the
rings upon the white hand that held her own. But
Betty put her arms about the new friend's neck, and
kissed her so softly that the hungry feeling in Miss
Celia's heart felt better directly; for this was the food
it wanted, and Thorny had not learned yet to return
one half of the affection he received. Holding the
child close, she played with the yellow braids while
she told them about the little German girls in their
funny black-silk caps, short-waisted gowns, and wooden
shoes, whom she used to see watering long webs of
linen bleaching on the grass, watching great flocks of
geese, or driving pigs to market, knitting or spinning
as they went.
Presently "Randa," as she called her stout maid,
came to tell her that "Master Thorny couldn't wait
another minute;" and she went in to breakfast with
a good appetite, while the children raced home to
bounce in upon Mrs. Moss, talking all at once like
little lunatics.
"The phaeton at four, -- so sweet in a beautiful
white gown, -- going to tea, and Sancho and all the
baby things invited. Can't we wear our Sunday
frocks? A splendid new net for Lita. And she likes
dolls. Goody, goody, won't it be fun!"
With much difficulty their mother got a clear account
of the approaching festivity out of the eager
mouths, and with still more diffculty, got breakfast
into them, for the children had few pleasures, and this
brilliant prospect rather turned their heads.
Bab and Betty thought the day would never end,
and cheered the long hours by expatiating on the
pleasures in store for them, till their playmates were
much afflicted because they were not going also. At
noon their mother kept them from running over to
the old house lest they should be in the way; so they
consoled themselves by going to the syringa bush at
the corner and sniffing the savory odors which came
from the kitchen, where Katy, the cook, was evidently
making nice things for tea.
Ben worked as if for a wager till four; then stood
over Pat while he curried Lita till her coat shone like
satin, then drove her gently down to the coach-house,
where he had the satisfaction of harnessing her "all
his own self".
"Shall I go round to the great gate and wait for
you there, miss?" he asked, when all was ready,
looking up at the porch, where the young lady stood
watching him as she put on her gloves.
"No, Ben, the great gate is not to be opened till
next October. I shall go in and out by the lodge, and
leave the avenue to grass and dandelions, meantime,"
answered Miss Celia, as she stepped in and took the
reins, with a sudden smile.
But she did not start, even when Ben had shaken
out the new duster and laid it neatly over her knees.
"Isn't it all right now?" asked the boy, anxiously.
"Not quite; I need one thing more. Can't you
guess what it is?" and Miss Celia watched his
anxious face as his eyes wandered from the tips of
Lita's ears to the hind-wheel of the phaeton, trying
to discover what had been omitted.
"No, miss, I don't see -- " he began, much mortified
to think he had forgotten any thing.
"Wouldn't a little groom up behind improve the
appearance of my turnout?" she said, with a look
which left no doubt in his mind that he was to be the
happy boy to occupy that proud perch.
He grew red with pleasure, but stammered, as he
hesitated, looking down at his bare feet and blue
shirt, --
"I ain't fit, miss; and I haven't got any other
clothes."
Miss Celia only smiled again more kindly than
before, and answered, in a tone which he understood
better than her words, --
"A great man said his coat-of-arms was a pair of
shirt-sleeves, and a sweet poet sang about a barefooted
boy; so I need not be too proud to ride with one.
Up with you, Ben, my man, and let us be off, or we
shall be late for our party."
With one bound the new groom was in his place,
sitting very erect, with his legs stiff, arms folded, and
nose in the air, as he had seen real grooms sit behind
their masters in fine dog-carts or carriages. Mrs.
Moss nodded as they drove past the lodge, and Ben
touched his torn hat-brim in the most dignified manner,
though he could not suppress a broad grin of delight,
which deepened into a chuckle when Lita went off at
a brisk trot along the smooth road toward town.
It takes so little to make a child happy, it is a pity
grown people do not oftener remember it and scatter
little bits of pleasure before the small people, as they
throw crumbs to the hungry sparrows. Miss Celia
knew the boy was pleased, but he had no words in
which to express his gratitude for the great contentment
she had given him. He could only beam at all
he met, smile when the floating ends of the gray veil
blew against his face, and long in his heart to give the
new friend a boyish hug, as he used to do his dear
'Melia when she was very good to him.
School was just out as they passed; and it was a
spectacle, I assure you, to see the boys and girls stare
at Ben up aloft in such state; also to see the superb
indifference with which that young man regarded the
vulgar herd who went afoot. He couldn't resist an
affable nod to Bab and Betty, for they stood under
the maple-tree, and the memory of their circulating
library made him forget his dignity in his gratitude.
"We will take them next time, but now I want to
talk to you," began Miss Celia, as Lita climbed the
hill. "My brother has been ill, and I have brought
him here to get well. I want to do all sorts of things
to amuse him, and I think you can help me in many
ways. Would you like to work for me instead of the
Squire?
"I guess I would!" ejaculated Ben, so heartily that
no further assurances were needed, and Miss Celia
went on, well pleased: --
"You see, poor Thorny is weak and fretful, and
does not like to exert himself, though he ought to be
out a great deal, and kept from thinking of his little
troubles. He cannot walk much yet, so I have a
wheeled chair to push him in; and the paths are so hard,
it will be easy to roll him about. That will be one thing
you can do. Another is to take care of his pets till he
is able to do it himself. Then you can
tell him your adventures, and talk to him as only a
boy can talk to a boy. That will amuse him when I
want to write or go out; but I never leave him long,
and hope he will soon be running about as well as the
rest of us. How does that sort of work look to you?"
"First-rate! I'll take real good care of the little
feller, and do every thing I know to please him, and
so will Sanch; he's fond of children," answered Ben,
heartily, for the new place looked very inviting to him.
Miss Celia laughed, and rather damped his ardor
by her next words.
"I don't know what Thorny would say to hear you
call him 'little.' He is fourteen, and appears to get
taller and taller every day. He seems like a child to
me, because I am nearly ten years older than he is;
but you needn't be afraid of his long legs and big
eyes, he is too feeble to do any harm; only you
mustn't mind if he orders you about."
"I'm used to that. I don't mind it if he won't call
me a 'spalpeen,' and fire things at me," said Ben,
thinking of his late trials with Pat.
"I can promise that; and I am sure Thorny will
like you, for I told him your story, and he is anxious
to see 'the circus boy' as he called you. Squire
Allen says I may trust you, and I am glad to do so,
for it saves me much trouble to find what I want all
ready for me. You shall be well fed and clothed,
kindly treated and honestly paid, if you like to stay
with me."
"I know I shall like it -- till father comes, anyway.
Squire wrote to Smithers right off, but hasn't got any
answer yet. I know they are on the go now, so may
be we won't hear for ever so long," answered Ben,
feeling less impatient to be off than before this fine
proposal was made to him.
"I dare say; meantime, we will see how we get on
together, and perhaps your father will be willing
leave you for the summer if he is away. Now show
me the baker's, the candy-shop, and the post-office,"
said Miss Celia, as they rattled down the main street
of the village.
Ben made himself useful; and when all the other
errands were done, received his reward in the shape
of a new pair of shoes and a straw hat with a streaming
blue ribbon, on the ends of which shone silvery
anchors. He was also allowed to drive home, while
his new mistress read her letters. One particularly
long one, with a queer stamp on the envelope, she
read twice, never speaking a word till they got back.
Then Ben was sent off with Lita and the Squire's
letters, promising to get his chores done in time
for tea. _
Read next: CHAPTER IX. A HAPPY TEA
Read previous: CHAPTER VII. NEW FRIENDS TROT IN
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