Captain Horace Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  AT GRANDPA PARLIN'S.

  It was over at last--the long, tedious journey, which Horace spoiled foreverybody, and which nobody but Horace enjoyed.

  When they drove up to the quiet old homestead at Willowbrook, andsomebody had taken the little baby, poor Mrs. Clifford threw herselfinto her mother's arms, and sobbed like a child. Everybody else cried,too; and good, deaf grandpa Parlin, with smiles and tears at the sametime, declared,--

  "I don't know what the matter is; so I can't tell whether to laugh orcry."

  Then his daughter Margaret went up and said in his best ear that theywere just crying for joy, and asked him if that wasn't a silly thing todo.

  Grace embraced everybody twice over; but Horace was a little shy, andwould only give what his aunties called "canary kisses."

  "Margaret, I want you to give me that darling baby this minute," saidMrs. Parlin, wiping her eyes. "Now you can bring the butter out of thecellar: it's all there is to be done, except to set the tea on thetable."

  Then grandma Parlin had another cry over little Katie: not such astrange thing, for she could not help thinking of Harry, the baby withsad eyes and pale face, who had been sick there all the summer before,and was now an angel. As little Prudy had said, "God took him up toheaven, but the tired part of him is in the garden."

  Yes, under a weeping-willow. Everybody was thinking just now of tiredlittle Harry, "the sweetest flower that ever was planted in thatgarden."

  "Why, Maria," said Mrs. Clifford, as soon as she could speak, "how didyou ever travel so far with this little, little baby?"

  "I don't know, mother," replied Mrs. Clifford; "I think I could neverhave got here without Grace: she has been my little waiter, and Katie'slittle nurse."

  Grace blushed with delight at this well-deserved praise.

  "And Horace is so large now, that he was some help, too, I've no doubt,"said his grandmother.

  "I would have took the baby," cried Horace, speaking up very quickly,before any one else had time to answer,--"I would have took the baby,but she wouldn't let me."

  Mrs. Clifford might have said that Horace himself had been as muchtrouble as the baby; but she was too kind to wound her little boy'sfeelings.

  It was certainly a very happy party who met around the tea-table at Mr.Parlin's that evening. It was already dusk, and the large globe lamp,with its white porcelain shade, gave a cheery glow to the pleasantdining-room.

  First, there was cream-toast, made of the whitest bread, and thesweetest cream.

  "This makes me think of Mrs. Gray," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling; "I hopeshe is living yet."

  "She is," said Margaret, "but twelve years old."

  Grace looked up in surprise.

  "Why, that's only a little girl, aunt Madge!"

  "My dear, it's only a cow!"

  "O, now I remember; the little blue one, with brass knobs on her horns!"

  "Let's see; do you remember Dr. Quack and his wife?"

  "O, yes'm! they were white ducks; and how they did swim! It was a yearago. I suppose Horace doesn't remember."

  "Poh! yes, I do; they were _spin-footed_!"

  "Why, Horace," said Grace, laughing; "you mean _web-footed_!"

  Horace bent his eyes on his plate, and did not look up again for sometime.

  There was chicken-salad on the table. Margaret made that--putting in newbutter, because she knew Mrs. Clifford did not like oil.

  There was delicious looking cake, "some that had been touched withfrost, and some that hadn't," as grandpa said, when he passed thebasket.

  But the crowning glory of the supper was a dish of scarlet strawberries,which looked as if they had been drinking dew-drops and sunshine tillthey had caught all the richness and sweetness of summer.

  "O, ma!" whispered Grace, "I'm beginning to feel so happy! I only wishmy father was here."

  After tea, grandpa took Horace and Grace on each knee, large as theywere, and sang some delightful evening hymns with what was left of hisonce fine voice. He looked so peaceful and happy, that his daughterswere reminded of the Bible verse, "Children's children are the crown ofold men."

  "I think now," said Mrs. Clifford, coming back from putting the baby tosleep, "it's high time my boy and girl were saying, 'Good-night, andpleasant dreams.'"

  "Aunt Madge is going up stairs with us; aren't you, auntie?"

  "Yes, Horace; your other auntie wouldn't do, I suppose," said Louise."That makes me think of the way this same Horace used to treat me whenhe was two years old. '_Her_ can't put me to bed,' he would say; 'her'stoo _little_.'"

  "I remember," said Margaret, "how he dreaded cold water. When his mothercalled him to be washed, and said, 'Ma doesn't want a little dirty boy,'he would look up in her face, and say, 'Does mamma want 'ittle _cold_boy?'"

  The happy children kissed everybody good-night, and followed their auntMadge up stairs. Now, there was a certain small room, whose one windowopened upon the piazza, and it was called "the green chamber." Itcontained a cunning little bedstead, a wee bureau, a dressing-table, andwashing-stand, all pea-green. It was a room which seemed to have beenmade and furnished on purpose for a child, and it had been promised toGrace in every letter aunt Madge had written to her for a year.

  Horace had thought but little about the room till to-night, when hisaunt led Grace into it, and he followed. It seemed so fresh and sweet in"the green chamber," and on the dressing-table there was a vase offlowers.

  Aunt Madge bade the children look out of the window at a bird's nest,which was snuggled into one corner of the piazza-roof, so high up thatnobody could reach it without a very tall ladder.

  "Now," said aunt Madge, "the very first thing Grace hears in the morningwill probably be bird-music."

  Grace clapped her hands.

  "And where am _I_ going to sleep?" said Horace, who had been listening,and looking on in silence. His aunt had forgotten that he was sometimesjealous; but she could not help knowing it now, for a very disagreeableexpression looked out at his eyes, and drew down the corners of hismouth.

  "Why, Horace dear, we have to put you in one of the back chambers, justas we did when you were here before; but you know it's a nice cleanroom, with white curtains, and you can look out of the window at thegarden."

  "But it's over the kitchen!"

  "There, Horace," said Grace, "I'd be ashamed! You don't act like alittle gentleman! What would pa say?"

  "Why couldn't I have the big front chamber?" said the little boy,shuffling his feet, and looking down at his shoes.

  "Because," said aunt Madge, smiling, "that is for your mother and thebaby."

  "But if I could have this little cunning room, I'd go a flyin'. Graceain't company any more than me."

  Aunt Madge remembered Horace's hit-or-miss way of using things, andthought of the elephant that once walked into a china shop.

  Grace laughed aloud.

  "Why, Horace Clifford, you'd make the room look like everything; youknow you would! O, auntie, you ought to see how he musses up my cabinet!I have to hide the key; I do _so_!"

  Horace took the room which was given him, but he left his sister withouthis usual good-night kiss, and when he repeated his prayer, I am afraidhe was thinking all the while about the green chamber.

  The next morning the children had intended to go into the garden brightand early. Grace loved flowers, and when she was a mere baby, just ableto toddle into the meadow, she would clip off the heads of buttercupsand primroses, hugging and kissing them like friends.

  Horace, too, had some fancy for flowers, especially flaring ones, likesunflowers and hollyhocks. Dandelions were nice when the stems wouldcurl without bothering, and poppies were worth while for little girls,he thought, because, after they are gone to seed, you can make them intopretty good teapots.

  He wanted to go out in the garden now for humming-birds, and to see ifthe dirt-colored toad was still living in his "nest," in one of theflower-beds.

  But the first thing the children heard in
the morning was the patteringof rain or the roof. No going out to-day. Grace was too tired to caremuch. Horace felt cross; but remembering how many messages hisgrandmother had sent to her "good little grandson," and how often auntMadge had written about "dear little Horace, the nephew she was so proudof," he felt ashamed to go down stairs scowling. If his good-morningsmile was so thin that you could see a frown through it, still it wasbetter than no smile at all.

  The breakfast was very nice, and Horace would have enjoyed the hotgriddle-cakes and maple sirup, only his aunt Louise, a handsome younglady of sixteen, watched him more than he thought was quite polite,saying every now and then,--

  "Isn't he the image of his father? Just such a nose, just such a mouth!He eats fast, too; that is characteristic!"

  Horace did not know what "characteristic" meant, but thought it must besomething bad, for with a child's quick eye he could see that his prettyaunt was inclined to laugh at him. In fact, he had quite an odd way oftalking, and his whole appearance was amusing to Miss Louise, who was avery lively young lady.

  "Horace, you were telling me last night about Mr. Lazelle: what did yousay was the color of his coat?"

  "I said it was _blueberry_ color," replied Horace, who could see, almostwithout looking up, that aunt Louise was smiling at aunt Madge.

  "He is a _musicianer_ too, I think you said, and his hair _crimps_. Dearme, what a funny man!"

  Horace was silent, and made up his mind that he should be carefulanother time what he said before aunt Louise.

  Soon after breakfast he and Pincher went "up-attic" to see what theycould find, while Grace followed her grandmother and aunties from parlorto kitchen, and from kitchen to pantry. She looked pale and tired, butwas so happy that she sang every now and then at the top of her voice,forgetting that little Katie was having a nap.

  Pretty soon Horace came down stairs with an old, rusty gun much tallerthan himself. Mrs. Clifford was shocked at first, but smiled the nextmoment, as she remembered what an innocent thing it was, past its"prime" before she was of Horace's age.

  The little boy playfully pointed the gun towards Grace, who screamedwith fright, and ran away as fast as she could.

  "I don't care," cried she, coming back, a little ashamed at beinglaughed at; "how did _I_ know it wasn't loaded? Do you think 'twouldlook well for a little girl _not_ to be afraid of a gun?"

  This speech amused everybody, particularly Horace, who was glad to haveGrace say a foolish thing once in a while. It raised his self-esteemsomehow; and, more than that, he liked to remember her little slips ofthe tongue, and tease her about them.

  It was not long before he had seen all there was to be seen in thehouse, and wanted to "_do_ something." As for reading, that was usuallytoo stupid for Horace. Grace kindly offered to play checkers with him;but she understood the game so much better than he did, that she won atevery trial.

  This was more than he could bear with patience; and, whenever he sawthat she was gaining upon him, he wanted to "turn it into a_give-game_."

  "But that isn't fair, Horace."

  "Well, ma, just you see how mean Grace is! There, she wants me to jumpthat man yonder, so she'll take two of mine, and go right in theking-row!"

  "But, Horace," said Grace, gently, "what do I play for if I don't try tobeat?"

  "There now," cried he, "chase my men up to the king-row, so I can'tcrown 'em, do!"

  "Just what I'm doing," replied Grace, coolly.

  "Well, I should think you'd better take 'em all, and be done with it!Before I'd be so mean as to set _traps_!"

  "Look, Horace," said Grace; "you didn't jump when you ought to, and I'mgoing to _huff_ your man. See, I blow it, just this way; old Mr. Knightcalls it _huffing_."

  "Huff away then! but you stole one of those kings. I'll bet you stole itoff the board after I jumped it."

  "Now, Horace Clifford," cried Grace, with tears in her eyes, "I neverdid such a thing as to steal a king; and if you say so I won't play!"

  "Horace," said Mrs. Clifford, who had been trying for some time tospeak, "what do you play checkers for?"

  "Ma'am? Why, to beat, of course."

  "Well, do you consider it work, or play?"

  "Work, or play? Why, it's a game, ma; so it's play."

  "But Grace was so obliging that she wished to amuse you, my son. _Does_it amuse you? Doesn't it make you cross? Do you know that you havespoken a great many sharp words to your kind sister?

  "Shut the board right up, my child; and remember from this time never toplay checkers, or any other game, when you feel yourself growingfretful! As you sometimes say, 'It doesn't pay.'"

  Horace closed the board, looking ashamed.

  "That's sound advice for everybody," said aunt Madge, stroking herlittle nephew's hair. "If children always remembered it, they would getalong more pleasantly together--I know they would."

  Grace had been looking ill all the morning, and her mother now sawsymptoms of a chill. With all her tender anxiety she had not known howtired her little daughter was. It was two or three weeks before thechild was rested; and whenever she had a chill, which was every thirdday for a while, she was delirious, and kept crying out,--

  "O, do see to Horace, mamma! Mr. Lazelle will forget! O, Horace, now_don't_ let go my hand! I've got the bundles, mamma, and the milk forthe baby."

  And sometimes Mrs. Clifford would call Horace to come and take hissister's hand, just to assure her that he was not lying cold and dead inthe waters of Lake Erie. It was really touching to see how heavily thecares of the journey had weighed on the dear girl's youthful spirits.